The Legacy of Villains by Juliet Lockwood

Author:Juliet Lockwood [Lockwood, Juliet]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-03-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 32

“Neverland's only national holiday, Opposite Day, usually occurs during the hottest day of the summer month. Don’t be alarmed if you suddenly find yourself speaking backwards or loving a food you might have once hated.”

- The Mostly Accurate Traveler’s Guide to the Ancient World of Neverland

“P-pan–” she tried to cough out, but the rough hand on her throat only tightened. Her hips bucked up against him. He was strong, so much stronger than her. Tears sprang to her eyes but her hands couldn’t wipe them away, too busy trying to pry his arm off of her.

Her wild, frightened gaze caught his. Unfocused, dark, still lost in a nightmare.

“Peter please!” she strained out, a last helpless plea as dark spots forced their way into her vision. She did not want to die like this. On her back. Captured. Alone. This was not an honorable death, this was not a pirate’s death.

Suddenly, and all at once, the grip of her throat released. Jo immediately turned her head to the side, her legs still straddled and trapped, coughing and sputtering as air came back to her. Her chest heaved as she dragged it down, wheezing coughs the only sound until–

“Are you okay? Dust, what happened. I don’t...can you breathe? Can you talk?”

She turned her head back to look at her attacker. His eyes, back to green, back to focused, staring at her, pleading with her to answer him. To tell him she was okay.

Was she okay?

She couldn’t quite steady her breathing, nor her heart, which railed violently against her chest.

Then he was grabbing her around her shoulders and pulling her up. She tensed at first, nearly expecting another onslaught, but he fit her so perfectly against his chest that for a moment she wondered if he had cast some spell. He was sweaty and clammy but, then again, so was she. He was strong where she was soft, holding her up where she wanted to slip over and fall away. He tucked her head to his chest and cradled the back of it, smoothing his hand across her hair.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he chanted in a hush, over and over. Jolie’s hands finally started working again and she reached up, putting them against his chest, laying them flat on his heart. Was it exploding as hers was?

“I’m okay,” she muttered, voice hoarse, so unknown to her that it might have belonged to someone else. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m okay.”

Peter only repeated his words, stuck on them like a skipping record. Jolie tilted her head up, pulling back slightly so that she could see into his eyes. Green eyes.

“I’m okay,” she whispered.

He stopped his muttering. His eyes tracked over the lines of her face, the red spots on her cheeks, the rosebud mouth, the wide eyes. “You’re okay?”

She nodded. “I’m okay.”

A sigh, soft and full of relief. His eyes slotted shut and she caught the brief flash of peace flit across his face. When he opened them again, he seemed to realize their compromising position.

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