Always by Megan Slayer

Another night, another pain in the butt.

Peter sat back in his seat and folded his hands in front of his mouth. Dealing with another rant from his second in command wasn’t his idea of a hot night, but once Tinker Bell got on a roll, there was no stopping her.

“The damn fool wants to run the club. What does a guy who thinks he’s God’s gift to the universe need with our club? He’s not even a sympathizer.” Tink folded her arms. Her wings fluttered in a blur. “You’re not going to let him take over, are you?”

After the fires and the war destroyed Neverland, he’d vowed not to deal with the humans. For the most part, humans were dangerous. Being in London had been dangerous. He hadn’t wanted to move Neverland across the pond, but the decision ended up being for the best. The Fae stuck by him through thick, thin and the move. And now he had to deal with the humans again. He ground his teeth together. Full-blooded humans with a healthy hatred for the Fae and things they didn’t understand personified a threat to the Fae’s existence. Fuck.

A certain human stayed in his head like a video loop. She was the reason he’d opened the damned club. He wanted to see her again. She also served as part of the reason he’d run out of money.

“Are you even listening to me?” Tinker Bell leaned forward on his desk and slapped the oak surface with her palms. “This is serious. Our livelihoods are at stake.”

“I’m listening, Tink.” He blew out a long breath. “Hook wants to take over Neverland. Again. I know.”

“And you’re sitting there hemorrhaging money and pining over a woman you don’t even know still wants anything to do with you.” She groaned and flopped down in the leather chair opposite his desk. “Look, why don’t you put your energy into finding her? See if she’s got a business degree or something.”

“She does, remember? You brought up her profile on my tablet. I don’t know why she turned to writing, and right now I don’t care.”

“You don’t care or you’re more interested in connecting with her?” She waved her hand. “I get it. There’s something about you two. You balance each other — if it’s actually meant to be. She’s famous. She probably won’t want you hanging around.”

Although Tink’s words stung, he understood what she meant. His heart ached. He knew from the moment he saw her fifteen years before that he wanted Wendy for the rest of eternity.

“Balance.” He picked at the buckle on his leather boot. “What if I’m — we’re wrong? She might not get it even if she writes about it.”

“If by ‘it’ you mean your club and your Dominant needs, you’re right. She might not. Too many humans come in here looking to be controlled and shocked rather than to find freedom.” She tapped the tablet on his desk. “But you won’t know until you find her, so look her up. She’s got the money to help us, and she’s sympathetic to our struggle. She’s really one of us.”

“Tink, look. I’m not losing that much money — I’ve got plenty of new Republic currency in the bank and in my safe. We’ll be okay for at least another six months. But you’re right, the Fae money isn’t good any longer. What the members are paying me is basically worthless and neither you nor I trust many humans. Yes, Hook knows how to generate money for the club that’s not coming out of my pocket, but I’m not comfortable taking it. I’m running out of options. Besides, you and I don’t know Wendy will care. You said so yourself, she’s famous.”

“You are so hard to follow sometimes.” Tink sighed and toyed with the spiked hair at the front of her head. “You know she’s the one for you, don’t you?”

“Possibly.”

“Peter, honey, I love you. I do. You’re not my type, but no one’s perfect. Those facts aside, I’m not about to sit here and let you allow that sorry excuse for a man take over the club. I trust you to make the right decision, but I won’t stick around if he’s in charge. Find her and convince her we need… help. Anything. Got it? So do it.”

Tink stood and stomped out of the room. She slammed the door, leaving him to his thoughts.

Peter swiveled in his chair and closed his eyes. He stroked the hairs on his chin. The last time he’d seen Wendy Darling, she wasn’t more than eighteen. He’d longed to kiss her since the moment he’d seen her five years before that. In fifteen years’ time, she’d aged gracefully. The last time he checked on her, he hadn’t aged at all. The body of a teen and the mind of a man. What a fuck-up. Would she even remember him so many years later? He scrubbed both hands over his face and opened his eyes. He twisted the thick braid of silver around his wrist. He owned a fetish club for Fae and the mongrels — the grown children of both Fae and human blood. What would she think if she came to visit him? Bodies in contorted positions, couples engaged in lascivious acts… moans and groans of pain and pleasure… Many of the humans he’d once known ran from him and called him a monster and Fae sympathizer. Sympathizer. Fuck. He was a Fae!

A knock at the door tore him from his thoughts. “I know you’re in there, Pan.”

A dull ache started behind Peter’s eyes as he turned towards his desk. The door swung open and Hook stood in the doorway, taking up the space. His hair was slicked back from his forehead, and a black patch covered one eye. His arms bulged with muscles and dripped with tattoos. The harness he wore across his chest glinted with grommets and spikes.

“You’re running this place into the ground.” Hook crooked his uncovered brow. “I understand these people. I’m willing to get down and play with them.”

“You do like to wield a whip and a paddle.”

“And you don’t. You couldn’t dominate if your life depended on it. Sell the club to me. I can make Neverland great. I’ve got the money and clout to bring this club the promotion it never got. We humans will supply the funds to make the club public.”

Peter clamped his teeth together to bite back his response. He didn’t want Neverland to be a public domain. He didn’t really want much of anything anymore.

“Oh, wait, you want to find your precious Wendy.” Hook rolled his black eye. “You have Tiger Lily. Isn’t she enough?”

Again with Tiger Lily. God damn it. Tiger Lily was his friend. Sure, she had beauty to match any actress or celebrity, but she didn’t interest him in anything other than platonic ways. Besides, she wanted two men of her own and he wasn’t one of them. Peter massaged his temple. He wanted someone entirely different. Was he a fool to fantasize about Wendy Darling? Probably, but he didn’t care.

“You won’t answer. Figures.” Hook snorted. “You’ll find one of these nights that your precious club won’t be yours. The Fae money won’t last much longer. You’ll have to take the Republic currency to stay afloat. Give me the damned club and I’ll turn a profit. You can chase your ghosts all you want and check in with me on a monthly or maybe weekly basis.”

“No.” Check in with the bastard? Not gonna happen. Ever.

“For fuck’s sake. You wouldn’t know a deal if it slapped you in the face.” He, too, slammed the door as he left.

Peter groaned and massaged both his temples. He’d opened the club to give Fae a place to do what they pleased without punishment from the Republic. He never said he wanted to take part in most of the acts. Not with the members. He wanted to share certain indulgences with the woman of his dreams. Fuck. Why would he believe Wendy would want anything to do with him if he hadn’t even talked to her in such a long time?

Peter opened his desk drawer and placed his hand on the cover of the paperback book. He caressed the worn dust jacket. Cuffs. He’d never expected to find Wendy Darling writing about BDSM. He’d read the novel cover to cover more than ten times. She knew her kink. He imagined her being his submissive as they did the things she’d described in the book.

Tink’s words came back to him in a wave. He wouldn’t know if Wendy would help him unless he found her and explained what he needed. Would she think of him as a gold digger? As much as the money would help, the Republic currency was worthless if he couldn’t have her as the better part of the deal. He’d give up the club in a heartbeat if it meant she’d be in his life. She’d helped him before. Would she offer her body a second time if it meant offering her heart as well?

He could only hope.

* * *

“Just once I’d like a hot guy to fall from the sky and land in my living room.”

Wendy sighed and raked her fingers through her hair. Having a penthouse apartment didn’t mean jack without someone to share it with. She peeled the elbow-length dishwashing gloves down her arms and stood. At least the bathroom was clean.

Her phone rang in the other room. Wendy flicked the light switch in the bathroom and headed into the living room. She grabbed the phone on the third ring. The caller ID read Michael Darling. Just who she wanted to hear from… her baby brother. “Darling’s House of Ill Repute. We stuff ‘em and buff ‘em so you can cuff ‘em.”

“Normal people say hello when they pick up the phone.”

She snorted. “Since when have I been normal?”

“Very true. You’re the only girl I know who can write sex books by day, make millions, and insist on doing her own laundry because as she says, ‘it keeps the whites whiter and the brights brighter’.” Something crackled on Michael’s end of the call. “Shut up. I’ll ask,” he muttered. “Sometimes I’d like to string him up.”

“I don’t think I make millions, but look, Michael, you called me. You can do one of two things: talk to me or talk to the person right there with you. Which is it?” She tapped her bare foot on the hardwood floor as she waited for him to speak. When he didn’t, she groaned. “Seriously. I don’t have time for this.”

“You’ve got a date? Tell him congrats, then offer him my sympathy.”

“Turd.” Damn. She couldn’t lie when he had her in the crosshairs. “I’m having a lovely evening with Mr. Clean and the toilet bowl, then edits for Master, Mine. Get to your point.”

“It should bother me knowing you write that stuff, but I’m used to it.” He sighed. “Have you seen him lately?”

Him? “For crying out loud, Michael. Who should I have seen? Mr. Clean? Yeah, I saw him not ten minutes ago. Nice guy. Bald, but nice. Might write a kink scene with him and a bondage bed. ‘Oh, please, Master, not the pony plug again? We just used that last night and my ass is still chafed from the barbs on the end of the tail’.”

Michael groaned. “Why can’t you be serious?”

“I don’t know how.” She drummed her fingers on the countertop. “Fine, then tell me what the deal is. I’m listening.”

“He’s back.”

Trust Michael to be cryptic. “I tried to play serious but you give me no choice. Tell me or I’ll come over to your house when you’re not expecting me and shave all the hair from your head. Who is back?”

“Childish. You never did know when to grow up either.” He grunted. “Peter’s back.”

“Pan?” Peter Pan? Wendy sank down into the nearest chair. She hadn’t heard his name in so long, she’d almost forgotten about him. Images of the suave, redheaded teen flashed in her head. His smile had warmed her tender little thirteen-year-old heart back then. Her chest tightened. If he was back, what in the name of God did he want?

“Be careful. Okay? I don’t know what he wants you for or why, but I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“You don’t trust me.” Probably wisest not to trust her around Peter. He brought out her inner wild child. Fever washed over her body. They’d had some great adventures. She’d fallen head over heels for him before she even understood what love was. Then he left. She’d snapped out of the infatuated haze. With Peter she did need to be serious and cautious.

“I do trust you, but he’s persuasive. Use your head, okay? Please?”

“I’ll do my best to stay away from the Pan menace.” Wendy pressed the button to end the call and tossed her cell onto the kitchen table. She signed and stared out at the balcony. “What exactly do you want, Peter, and how do you expect me to help?”

A shadow moved on the balcony. Footsteps thumped on the concrete. A man stepped into the moonlight and folded his arms. “How about you play my submissive for a couple nights, help me save my business and my soul?”