his lips. “And then everything went wrong,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t want you to hate me.” He spoke slowly, deliberately.
Wendy’s brows furrowed. She didn’t understand what he meant, but she couldn’t think through the heady fog. Wendy didn’t remember leaning in, or Peter moving closer. Their shoulders pressed against each other. Peter’s startling blue eyes were wide. His cheeks flushed. His fingers brushed against hers. Wendy’s heart fluttered in her chest.
At first, she thought she was trembling, but it was Peter.
“You’re shaking,” Wendy said.
Peter’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, giving a barely perceptible nod of his head.
“I thought you weren’t afraid of anything?” Wendy heard herself say. She was lightheaded and breathless.
“I’m terrified,” he said quietly. His starry eyes held hers and she couldn’t look away. She didn’t want to.
“Of what?” Wendy asked.
Peter’s words brushed against her lips. “Losing you.”
Wendy leaned in closer and placed a hand in the center of his chest. She could feel his heartbeat thudding against her fingertips. His palm pressed against her cheek. Her head swam as she drowned in the smell of humid jungles and salty oceans.
The acorn around her neck burned bright in the small space left between them. It gleamed in his eyes.
“Can I stay with you?” Peter whispered, ghosting over her lips.
Wendy balled the front of his shirt in her hands, pulling him to her.
There was a moment of lips pressed to lips, the taste of honeysuckle, and an unbearable lightness that made her feel like she would float away if she didn’t hold on to him.
But then the window burst open, an exploding backdraft of darkness that tore them apart and threw Wendy to the ground.
CHAPTER 20
Truth
The tiny bulbs lining the room popped and burst, snuffing out the lights. The window clattered and swung violently on its hinges. Wendy tried to push herself up, but pain splintered through her head. A groan sounded at the back of her throat and the room beneath her swayed.
Peter let out a cry that snapped her out of her daze. He lay splayed on the floor a few feet away from her. His eyes were squeezed shut in a grimace. His entire body writhed in pain, fingers dragging against the floor. His back arched unnaturally. The muscles in his neck bulged and strained under his skin. His usually warm hair was dark with sweat and plastered to his forehead. His breaths sawed in and out, mixed with guttural cries.
“Peter!” Wendy got herself up and tried to run to him, but her feet wouldn’t move. Her body weight pitched her forward. Her feet were caught in something like sticky black tar. She tried to tug them free, but they wouldn’t budge.
High-pitched laughter filled the room and cut into her head, setting her teeth on edge. She clamped her hands over her ears.
Lounging on the window seat was the shadow. It leaned back comfortably and smiled its jagged grin. “That was almost too easy!” it said before laughing again. With a flick of its wrist, thick black strands bound Peter’s arms and legs, jerking him up. Peter cried out as he hung suspended in mid-air.
Wendy tried to lunge forward again, to get to Peter, only to fall back to her knees. “What are you doing to him?!” she demanded, her lips peeling back in a snarl. “Let him go!”
The shadow turned to Wendy. Its fingertips, thin and pale like bones, pressed together and drummed rhythmically. “I should really be thanking you,” it said to her, its lips quirking into an angular smile. Its mouth looked like it had been carved into its face with a serrated knife.
Her face screwed up in anger and confusion.
“Wendy,” Peter groaned through agonized gasps, his lips pale white. Sweat beaded his forehead. “Run.”
She shook her head fiercely. Fear dragged its claws over her skin, but there was no way she was leaving his side. She wouldn’t let the shadow take him. “What are you talking about?” Wendy asked, turning back to it.
“Isn’t it obvious?” the shadow said with a puzzled look. “Our dear Peter Pan has kissed his magic away!” It smiled fondly at Peter, pressing a skeletal hand affectionately to his heart. Peter strained against his bindings.
Wendy’s heart leapt into her throat. She could see the color draining from Peter’s face. Not like when someone became suddenly ill and their skin tinged green, but like his face was fading to the color of ash. Dark bruises blossomed under his eyes. Even the warm auburn of his hair