WINNIE

Neverland may be filled with magic, but I think the greatest trick ever performed was performed by me when I somehow talked all four boys into going to brunch in my world.

They’re all lined up in front of a row of manicured bushes in the park just down the street from my old house. Despite two out of four of them complaining about this outing, they all dressed up for it.

There’s Peter Pan in black trousers and a white Oxford shirt, the top two buttons undone, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing the black ink on his forearms. He’s wearing a belt with a shiny silver clasp that glints like the silver rings on his fingers. 

Beside him is Vane who is entirely in black making his pale skin stand out even more in the late morning light. There is a deep scowl on his face as he smooths back his dark hair.

Then, the twins, both of them in black trousers, white shirts, and black waistcoats. They’re even wearing black ties.

Kas has his hair tied back in a bun, several strands hanging along his face. Bash’s hair is combed over neatly. As he said earlier, “If I’m going to brunch, I’m going to look the fancy fucking part.”

Now that we’re here in my world, I’m supposed to lead the way to the restaurant, but I didn’t think beyond getting them here.

Where the hell am I going to take my four mythical, slightly villainous boyfriends where they won’t stand out like…well, villainous boyfriends?

The town where Mom and I settled into the rented Victorian is called Sherburn. It’s a small town. Not quite the kind of place where everyone knows everyone. But it’s still possible to run into acquaintances without trying too hard to find them.

And how long has it been since I left anyway? Without a calendar, it’s impossible to know.

I turn a circle and scan the park. The air is warm, but some of the leaves are starting to turn on the trees that surround Emerald Pond.

It’s nearing autumn. I’ve been gone for months? I know time moves differently between Neverland and the mortal realm, but it’s never more apparent than right now when I’ve missed entire seasons.

Pan comes up beside me. He smells different here. Less myth, more man. Like the cynicism of the mortal realm has diluted his power.

I’m not sure that I like it.

“We’re waiting for you to lead the way, Darling,” he says, his voice raspy.

One guess on which of the two men didn’t want to come today.

Bash drapes his arm around my shoulders. “Yes, please show us the way to this mortal dine-in of yours where the food will surely not compare to mine.”

As usual, Bash has somehow twisted this adventure into a challenge he intends to win.

He might be right, of course. But then he’s a fae prince—I think he has a slight edge.

Okay think think. Where the hell do I take them? Suddenly all of the restaurants are gone from my brain. It wasn’t like I was a regular in any of these places when I lived here. The only time I went out to eat, it was when my hook-ups footed the bill.

And then it comes to me—

Anthony loved a teahouse downtown where it was equal parts country club and grandma chic.

The boys might stick out there, but at least the food will be good.

“You have thirty seconds to start walking, Win,” Vane says behind me. “Thirty seconds and then I leave.”

Can’t let that happen. We’ve come too far.

I surge ahead and lead the way.

*

 We all gaze up at the sign hanging over the front door of a two-story building. “Mrs. Brannigan’s Tea House?” Kas says next to me, the warm breeze ruffling the hair along his jaw.

Behind us, autumn wreaths have been hung from the lampposts that are set into the sidewalk. Across the street, string lights are lit in the windows of a café and a garland of orange and red silk leaves hangs in the sill.

I forgot how much I love fall.

Depending on how this brunch goes, maybe I can talk the boys into coming back for Halloween

“What does this Mrs. Brannigan have that I don’t have?” Bash asks me, waggling his eyebrows.

“The best Monte Cristo,” I answer.

Pan scowls. “Who the fuck is Monte Cristo?”

“Not who,” I tell him, trying not to laugh. “It’s a sandwich.”

“Who the fuck names a sandwich Monte Cristo?” Vane asks.

“The French,” I tell him.

He practically rolls his eyes.

The door opens on the restaurant and a couple walks out. They’re in their Sunday best. Slacks and polos. The man has a cardigan draped over his arm. When I was in elementary school, I wanted to be friends with a girl who had parents just like this. Sometimes I would daydream about them adopting me and taking me for brunches just like this.

It’s easy to want what you don’t have and don’t understand.

The couple takes one look at the boys and then darts the other way down the sidewalk.

I may regret this.

“Come on,” I tell the boys. “You’ll love it here.”

*

The hostess smiles brightly when the bell above the door announces our arrival. The smile lasts all of two seconds when her eyes land on my men.

Her gaze goes from awe to fear to desire in less than three seconds, which I think must be some kind of record.

And then her attention lingers on Bash.

I step in front of him and clear my throat.

“A table for five please.”

She blinks and looks from Bash to me. I’m wearing a dress I bought in Darlington Port with little firecracker flowers printed on emerald green fabric. The skirt is pleated and short, the neckline a deep V.

I’m not wearing any make-up. I stopped wearing it when Peter Pan kidnapped me and brought me to Neverland with nothing but the clothes on my back.

Old insecurities rear their ugly head and I’m suddenly self-conscious about how I look.

The only girls I have had to compete with on Neverland were from Darlington. But those girls are not these girls and I can’t help but wonder what the boys will think about them. Are they like an exotic fruit, these mortal girls, naive and starry-eyed in the face of my immortal men?

The hostess shifts her attention to Vane and Peter Pan next, then blushes. “Let me go check on a table. I’ll be right back.”

It’s weird, being home again. Everything is the same except for me. But I can feel this place wanting to mold me back into shape. The girl frightened of madness, dedicated to self-destruction, secretly worried that she lacked something everyone else had.

Kas leans into me and takes my hand in his. “What’s wrong?”

Am I that transparent?

“I think we should go,” I whisper.

He frowns down at me. “Why?”

“I…we…don’t belong here,” I finish.

“On the contrary,” he says at my ear, “this place would bow to us with barely any effort at all.” He unlocks our hands and then threads my arm through the crook of his elbow, like a gentleman.

The hostess returns a little breathless. “We have a table for you in the garden room. Right this way.”

The Tea House sound system is playing soft classical music as we cross through the main dining room. The place is busy and eyes track us.

I think the boys would be hard to miss even if you were in a dark room with your eyes closed.

There is more to them than just tattoos and broad shoulders and dark gazes.

There is something magnetic. And here in Mrs. Brannigan’s Tea House, on a bright autumn morning, Peter Pan and the Lost Boys stand out like violence in a meadow.

The hostess takes us to a round table that sits in front of one of the tall windows that overlooks the courtyard where more diners eat alfresco.

Kas pulls out my chair for me and I sit. He takes the chair on my right. Vane takes the chair on my left. Pan and Bash sit across from us.

“Can I get you all started with drinks?” the hostess asks as she lays the leather-bound menus in front of us.

“You have any bourbon?” Bash asks.

“I’m afraid not.”

“Whiskey?” he tries.

“We don’t serve alcohol.”

“Shame.” Bash pulls out a flask from inside his waist coat.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the girl says. “But we don’t allow alcohol to be brought in either.”

In a blink, the flask turns into a water bottle. “You mean this?”

The girl wrinkles her nose and leans closer to read the label. “Oh…I must be mistaken. I thought…never mind.”

Bash winks at me, unscrews the cap, and takes a long drink. I know he’s getting his fill on sweet Neverland rum. It’s his fae magic that’s hiding it behind an illusion. The things he can do with his magic…

Just thinking about it makes heat rise to my cheeks.

I know their magic, and Vane’s and Pan’s, doesn’t work the same here as it does in Neverland, but it does work.

Vane opens his menu and scans the text. Pan leans back in his chair, slouched, a little bored, but the weight of his gaze on me could sink rock into earth.

I immediately flash back to his room while he was getting ready.

He was shirtless, his trousers on, but the zipper undone. I could make out the ridge of his cock through his underwear and because I sometimes can’t help myself, I went over to him and groped him.

He thickened as a growl reverberated low in his chest.

“Keep doing that and I’ll tear that dress off your body and shove you onto the bed.”

I smiled and increased the pressure and the growl deepened. “Maybe when we get back.”

His eyes popped open, only to narrow again into a scowl. “Are you baiting me?”

“Am I?”

“Careful, Darling girl,” he’d said. “You may regret the animal you catch.”

Now here we are in the middle of a tea house and I’m wondering if maybe his words will turn out to be true.

He looks like he could tear my dress off and fuck me right here if I let him.

But Shelburn is not Neverland. In fact, the woman at the next table is damn near clutching her pearls just being near the boys. She keeps looking over at Vane, her attention fixed on his scars and his black eye.

I make a point to lean forward to catch her gaze and give her just the barest shake of my head.

She quickly turns back to her avocado toast.

I’m just finally settling into my menu when someone says my name and I look up, not immediately recognizing the voice.

And I nearly choke on my own spit.

“Anthony?” I say.

“Where have you been?” he asks and comes over, a little aghast, and then looks at the boys.

And the boys look at him.

“I…uh…moved away,” I tell him.

“Moved away—we’ve all been worried about you! We tried asking your mom where you were, but she kept talking about brownies and pans and Briley legit thought your mom murdered you and I was starting to believe it too. Why haven’t you answered your goddamn phone? I—”

Vane shoves his chair back and rises to his full height.

Anthony was on the football team at school and spends a lot of his free time in the gym. He’s brawny, average height, and he’s always had the overwhelming belief that he’s significant.

With Vane staring him down, it’s clear that he’s not.

Anthony clamps his mouth shut.

Vane says, “Speak to her that way again, and you’ll be wearing your fingers as a necklace.”

Anthony pales. Which is a major feat, considering he spray tans regularly. The line of his Adam’s apple sinks as he swallows and then he turns around and scurries away.

Bash rocks back in his chair and laughs. “An old boyfriend of yours, Darling?”

Anthony was never a boyfriend, but he was also never not a boyfriend.

I grab Vane’s hand and yank him back into his chair. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” he barks back.

With a grumble, I open my menu and try to make sense of the words listed on the paper. When our server finally comes over, I order so fast, I think I give him whiplash.

Thankfully our server seems extremely disinterested in the boys and how they look. I order the Monte Cristo because I’ve been craving it for days. Kas orders some kind of open-face sandwich with peanut butter, apples, and pomegranate seeds. Vane orders coffee. Pan orders nothing. Bash goes for the pancakes.

The server taps in our orders on a tablet, then disappears from the room.

Bash takes another drink from his flask-water bottle, then hands it off to Pan.

Pan tips back the bottle and the plastic crinkles in his grip even though the flask itself is made of steel.

Bash’s illusion is damn near perfect.

“Darling,” Pan says after he returns the liquor to the prince.

“Yes?”

“Was that boy’s cock ever in your pussy?”

The pearl-wearing lady at the next table chokes on her spritzer.

Bash laughs. Kas sighs. Vane turns to me, waiting for the answer.

“Yes,” I answer, because I have nothing to hide. It isn’t like I throw a fit over all the girls he’s fucked.

“He seems to think he still holds possession of you,” Vane says.

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Look at him. Yes, he does.”

I lean forward and search the main dining room and spot Anthony on the other side at a long table with half his family. He’s watching us with confusion and interest.

“Okay well, I maybe told him I’d hang out with him the weekend you kidnapped me.”

The pearls lady lets out a little gasp of surprise.

“So maybe he’s still a bit shellshocked.”

“Then perhaps we should go over there and properly break his heart,” Pan says.

“Could you expand on that? Do you mean ‘break’ or ‘rip out’?”

Pearl lady drops her fork and it lets out a loud clatter on her plate.

“Break,” he answers. “I’ll give him a warning. If he doesn’t get the idea, then rip.”

“I’m not going over there.”

“I’m with Pan on this one,” Vane says. “Clearly this boy needs to know who Win belongs to now.”

“You’re always with Pan,” Kas says.

“Oh I’m sorry, prince,” Vane says. “I forgot about all of the zero times you sided with me instead of your twin.”

“Stop it, all of you,” I say. “None of us are going over there because it doesn’t matter.”

“It always matters, Darling,” Pan says.

Somehow I feel like we’ve come full circle. That we’ve returned to his bedroom and his warning.

Careful, Darling girl.

He doesn’t say the words now, but I sense them anyway.

Our server walks past again, hurrying on his way to another table, but Pan cuts him off. “Boy,” he calls. “Come here.”

It’s hilarious, hearing Pan refer to the server as a boy considering they look not far off from the same age.

Pan waggles his fingers, gesturing for the server to lean over so Pan can whisper in his ear.

Oh crap.

The server frowns, but gives a quick nod, and then hurries to the swinging door at the kitchen’s entrance.

Pan locks his bright blue eyes on me.

Vane straightens in his chair.

The twins pass off the flask. When it’s in Kas’s hands, I snap my fingers at him and he gives it over.

I take a long drink from it. The liquor is warm and sweet and heats up my belly and when I pull it away, some spills out and drips down my chin.

Pan’s eyes flare to life.

Vane reaches over and wipes the spill of liquor from my bottom lip with the pad of his thumb and sucks it into his mouth.

I’m suddenly buzzing and warmth spreads between my legs.

And when the server returns with a whole cucumber, I know I’m in for some trouble.

“Thank you,” Pan says and takes the vegetable.

The server nods and hurries to his next table.

Pan wraps his long fingers around the thickest part of the cucumber and looks right at me.

I suck in an excited little breath.

The heat between my legs intensifies and I rub my thighs together.

What is he going to do with that?

There are fancy white table clothes on these tables so he could slip beneath one and use that cucumber on me but someone would notice and—

Pan hands the cucumber to Bash.

Bash smiles at me.

The fae prince makes a circle with his thumb and forefinger and positions the head of the cucumber at the ring.

Oh god.

Oh god he’s—

Bash shoves the cucumber through the circle of his fingers and I immediately feel the sensation in my pussy.

I jolt and instinct has me reaching beneath the table, but Vane and Kas both take my wrists, locking my hands in place on the table.

Bash pulls the cucumber back and I’m immediately empty of the sensation.

“Again,” Pan says.

Bash pushes in again and my pussy fills up and blood rushes to my clit, pulsing with the need to be touched.

“Faster,” Pan orders.

Bash fucks the circle of his fingers faster, harder and his magic echoes the sensation between my legs.

My breathing quickens. The rest of the tearoom disappears.

I think deep down I knew that teasing Pan would get me here to this place where the unholy exists with the sublime.

It’s so wrong, getting fucked with fae magic in the middle of a fancy dining room and that makes it ten times more exciting.

Vane lets go of my wrist and sinks his hand beneath the tablecloth. He leans into me, the rough tenor of his voice at the soft shell of my ear. “Open your legs for me, Win.” I do as I’m told and his nimble fingers come to the triangle of fabric between my legs. “Your panties are soaked,” he adds and puts pressure on his touch.

I writhe beneath him and the fabric builds friction between us.

I want to sink into the pleasure.

The buzzing grows.

Bash keeps up his pace, fucking me from across the table while Vane teases at my clit.

“Darling,” Kas says and with heavy eyes, I look over at him. There’s a spoon in his hand. He brings the curved underside of it to his mouth and then breathes over it, then touches the metal to his fingertip.

The sensation echoes to my nipple and I hiss out. It’s a dual sensation, hot and cold at the same time and my nipple tightens.

He rubs the spoon in a circle over the soft pad of his finger and the pleasure flares through my nipples.

The wave charges toward me.

I couldn’t stop it if I wanted to and why the fuck would I?

Don’t stop, I think.

If Pan really wants to punish me for teasing him, then he’ll make this end before I come.

I look over at him still slouched in his chair. His body is bored, but his eyes are alight.

“Come for me, Darling,” he says beneath his breath.

Of course I will. He knows I will.

Vane slips his fingers in around the seam of my panties and the wetness of my pussy reaches my ears.

“Be a good girl,” Vane says. “And come for us in this crowded restaurant like a good whore.”

The wave overwhelms me as the pleasure races through my body. I grit my teeth, clamp my mouth shut, and sink into the table as the orgasm breaks.

I jerk. Kas grips my thigh. Vane rubs my clit, wrenching every last ounce of pleasure from me as Bash’s pace comes to an end.

And when I exhale in a loud rush, body still blinking through the aftermath, Kas tucks an errant strand of hair behind my ear, and trails his fingers down my temple. “Our Darling girl,” he says. “You are never more beautiful then when you come for us.”

At his words, a shiver takes over my body.

“Darling.” Pan’s voice cuts through the clattering of dishes and conversation.

With considerable effort, I pull myself upright and gaze over at him.

“You belong to us,” he says. “And it matters that everyone knows it.”

As if I could ever belong to anyone else.