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His blade hesitated at my throat for a heartbeat until he finally relented, releasing his hold on me. Before I could whirl on my would-be attacker, his boot planted solidly on my back. With a quick shove, I was on my knees. The hoots and hollers of his men echoed off the trees.
I’d made a vow never to kneel before another man. I’d die before I broke that promise. I was on my feet in a flash, and before the man even registered the threat, my fist connected to his bearded jaw. The blow sent the hulking man down on one knee. “Are we done now?” I asked, pulling my dagger in one fluid motion, prepared for his counterattack. “I’m not your enemy, old man.”
“Don’t just sit there. Take him out!” The one they called Brix shouted, but the man remained on his knee.
He ignored the cocky little fucker, inspecting his jaw and dabbing at the blood leaking into his thick beard, turning the strands of gray to red. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t the hearty chuckle that rolled from his lips.
That wasn’t the only thing that struck me as odd about the man. He was too old to be a Lost Boy. From the looks of him, I’d say middle-aged. His dark hair, peppered with gray, was slicked back into a ponytail. The sides were clean-shaven, reminding me of a savage Viking. The sun bronzed his weathered skin, and lines of a desperate life were etched across his face. He adjusted a pair of cloudy spectacles, pushing them up his nose as he took measure of my character.
“I still don’t believe you’ve graced me with your name yet, stranger?”
“The name’s James. And might I have the pleasure of your name, sir?”
“Alfred Acton Smee,” he stated gruffly as he got to his feet and offered me his hand. “The boys call me Smee.” My eyes flicked to the unkempt bunch. They appeared even more juvenile as they fidgeted. All but the little pissant, Brix, who glared at me and did nothing to hide the scowl on his face.
To settle the tension, I obliged and shook Smee’s hand. The possibility of a new alliance took shape with his firm handshake.
“I believe a man such as yourself can understand the need to be overly cautious,” he explained, all the while keeping my hand in his crushing grip. “At ease, boys. Let’s give Mr. James a chance to explain. This is Jukes, Cookson, Mullins, and Brix,” he said as he pointed to the boys. “I ain’t never seen you on the island before, and it’s a small island. What’s this life you say Pan owes you?”
“You’re a fool, old man. He’s probably in league with Pan, and you welcomed him right in. About all he’s good for is that hot piece of ass he brought with him,” Brix ranted.
I cocked my head as I appraised the boy. My sanity was hanging on by a thread. I stalked over to him, calculating how many painful ways I could end his life. With his shirt clutched in my fist, I lifted him off the ground until we were face to face.
“Now, now, the boy didn’t mean nothing by it,” Smee said as he took a step toward us, trying to regain a grasp on the situation. The muscle in my jaw ticked. I had a short fuse when it came to Katherine. But I needed information. If I killed this boy now, I’d never be able to forge a deal with the rest of them.
“This is the only warning you get. Do not look at her. Do not talk about her. Don’t even think about touching her. If you cross me, I’ll take pleasure in stripping your skin from your body. Do you understand me?”
He nodded quickly, and I set him back on the ground before shoving him backward.
Smee moved in, grabbing the grubby boy and backhanding him like a petulant child. “Apologize to the lady right now and keep your fecking gob shut. Or you’ll wish Pan had taken you out when he was done with you.”
The shock and humiliation on his flushed face drew a sinister smirk to my lips.
“Sorry, milady,” he grumbled, his eyes never leaving Smee’s. Insincerity rang clearly in his voice.
Smee turned to me. He had the decency to look ashamed for the actions of his man. “My apologies to you as well, Mr. James. Some are still learning how to behave outside of Pan’s fantasy world. Now, you were about to tell me what business you have with Pan. I am interested in hearing what you have to say.”
“Not sure there’s time for the full story, but let me be clear, no one hates Peter Pan more than I. I may have been lost to Neverland for a time. But I’ve returned to seek my revenge.”
The man eyed me warily before the tense set of his shoulders eased. Pan had wronged this man in one way or another. I could see it in his eyes. It was all the leverage I needed to form a useful alliance. But if these were Pan’s rejects, they wouldn’t have aged significantly since I’d left Neverland’s shores. I had been the first Lost Boy. This man was older than me, and he hadn’t been in Neverland when I left. His presence here was a mystery.
“Welcome back to the island, Mr. James. Would you and your entourage care to join us for a bit of mead at our camp? We may be of use to each other?”
“The enemy of my enemy is my friend. As you said, this is a small island, and I could use as many allies as I can find. Lead the way.”
The camp, if you could even call it that, was situated in a glade of ancient oaks. There was nothing more than a few thatched lean-tos camouflaged with foliage around a central fire pit. The wayward boys had shown us their best attempt at hospitality. A few meager rations rounded out their idea of a feast. It gave a new meaning to the idea of living rough, and I wondered how long they’d called this place home.
Smee situated himself on a stump while the others settled in for the night. They obviously hadn’t entertained any guests since they’d been relegated to the forest. They looked starved for news of the outside world. And the idea of a group of strangers with a vendetta against Pan was a truly exciting story. There hadn’t been a private moment to speak to my men, but a few pointed looks were all they needed to keep up their guard. I would wager these boys had all been enamored with Pan at one time. Even I hadn’t seen past his charm. And I wouldn’t be truly at ease until I determined if any of that loyalty remained.
I kept Katherine close to my side. The warmth of the evening had left her skin dewy, and the way my white linen shirt clung to her body drew more than a few interested glances from the young men. Not to mention the comments from that bastard, Brix. She was temptation wrapped in a beautiful package. One I’d succumbed to myself. I may have been a fucking hypocrite, but I’d be damned if I let any of them touch what’s mine.
The other boys hadn’t so much as spoken a word to me since we reached camp. A husky fellow covered in tattoos approached me. Wary eyes peered out from under a mop of dark curls as he handed me a clay jug. Aside from Smee, he was the oldest of the younger men, and I found myself instantly curious. What stories did these boys have to tell? Were they similar to my own?
Nothing had changed. Pan was still the only player in his sick and twisted game. The one rule still held firm over his band of boys—never, ever grow up.
“It’s only mead,” he said when I was too slow to bring the drink to my lips.
His words pulled me from my thoughts, and I brought the bottle to my nose. The tang of alcohol and honey wafted up. “One can never be too sure,” I countered. “You’re Jukes, right?”
