Warning: Mentions of injury, weapons, and blood. Mentions of nudity.

He held onto me like I was a lifeline, his face buried into the crook of my neck. I could feel his heart racing against my sternum, and I wondered if he could feel my own heartbeat or if he was too caught up in the idea of me being safe to even realize I wasn't as relieved to see him as he was to see me.

"Are you alright?" His breath was hot against my neck, and I nodded, wrapping my arms tighter around his neck. He squeezed me even tighter, making it hard to breathe.

Even when his grip relinquished enough so that I was able to slide my arms from around his neck, he still held me close, one arm snaked protectively around my waist as he looked at Benj and gave a nod of thanks. Benj returned it without a word, a mutual understanding between the two of them. Peter didn't ask where we hid, and Benj didn't indulge. They simply understood that when things got dangerous, Benj did whatever he could to protect me and kept me safe until Peter could return.

Peter peered over his shoulder at the small band of boys that had accompanied him. "Find the oldest boys and have them come to the dining hall. I'd like to discuss something with them." The band of boys nodded and began to make their way back in the direction they had come from. Then, almost as an afterthought, Peter shouted after them, "I want all the other boys on guard duty tonight. No one enters the castle grounds, and no one leaves it. If anyone tries to disobey those orders, I want them taken care of immediately."

A few of the boys gave a salute. "Yes, sir!"

Then, Pan turned his attention to me. He cupped my face with one hand and looked at me, his bottle-green eyes soft yet firm. "I want you to go back to our room for the night. I'll have guards posted outside, and I don't want you to leave under any circumstances." His lips brushed mine softly as though to seal the deal, but I put my hands on his chest and pushed him back slightly.

"I want to stay with you," I said, hoping to appeal to his possessive side. I looked up at him, and tried my best to look worried about being left alone in our room.

Peter tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Sweetheart, I don't think—"

"Please," I begged, curling my fingers into the front of his tunic.

Peter thought about it for a moment, his thumb tracing softly across my cheek. "Fine," he said before kissing me again, and I pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

When I pulled away, his cheeks were flushed, and there was a mischievous look in his eyes that made my heart falter. I smiled shyly up at him as I felt my own cheeks flush, which deepened when Benj cleared his throat behind me.

"Shall we," he asks, looking at Peter. His eyes flickered to me, but he immediately looked away, his lips set in a hard line.

Peter didn't seem to notice. Instead, he agreed and took my hand in his before leading me back towards the dining hall.

I peered over my shoulder at Benj, but he still wouldn't meet my gaze. I frowned, and something that felt like guilt swished in my stomach.

###

It didn't take long for the oldest boys to gather in the dining hall. There were fifteen of them, including Peter and Benj, and they seemed more than happy to be missing guard duty.

Normally, I would sit to Peter's left and Benj to his right, but Peter offered my chair to Lester, the burly boy with his blood-stained club. I hated him the most. Sometimes, I hated him more than I hated Peter.

I took my place at Peter's right hand, and Benj took his place next to me. Peter excused himself for a moment in order to meet with the rest of the Lost Boys at the entrance to the castle grounds. He would assign them where he saw fit and where he felt more eyes were needed in the city.

Along with his blood-stained club, Lester was carrying a pile of parchment, a container of ink, and a quill. He dumped them unceremoniously onto the table, making a mess. I watched him curiously, my brows furrowed.

"What're you lookin' at?" He growled at me as he slumped into his chair. His body was far too large for the chair and it creaked under his weight. I found myself wishing that it would splinter underneath him and send him tumbling to the floor.

"Just wondering what all this is for," I said, waving at the parchment.

"Pan asked me to write up posters that'll be hung around the city," he replied, his voice smug as he puffed up his chest.

I arched my brow. "You can write?"

"Of course I can write, you bitch," he hissed.

I smirked, pleased that I had hit a nerve.

"And I can read!"

Covering my mouth in feign surprise, I gasped. "Who knew you were so talented?"

The legs of his chair scraped against the floor, drawing the attention of everyone else in the dining hall. His skin was burgundy, his beady eyes reminding me of a snake's. Large, chubby hands reached across the table at me, ready to wrap around my neck.

Benj moved so quickly that I hardly had time to process what was happening, but it was unmistakable when Lester snatched his left hand back with a hiss. He cradled it close to his body, but crimson blood was already beginning to stain his shirt and run down his arm.

"Don't touch her," Benj growled, holding the knife out as a warning. A bead of Lester's blood fell from the blade's tip and fell to the table.

Lester mumbled something, called Benj and I some nasty names, but returned to his chair. A boy sitting near him handed him a strip of stained cloth, and Lester wrapped it around his hand. All the other boys, bored with the anti-climatic scuffle, turned back to their own conversations.

"You're lucky I write with my right hand," he grumbled, glaring at Benj.

Benj cleaned his blade on his trousers and took his seat next to me. He didn't acknowledge Lester.

I jumped when I felt his fingers brush the back of my hand. "Are you alright," he whispered.

Not trusting my words, I nod. The heat in my cheeks worsened and I saw him notice, his own cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink. While his hand didn't cover mine, our fingers were still touching, and I felt him curl his fingers under mine, almost shy.

I didn't pull away, caught off guard by how much I liked the feeling of his fingers in mine.

When the doors to the dining hall opened and Peter strolled back through, Benj immediately snatched his hand away and I nervously tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, eager to show Peter that my hand was only where it was supposed to be.

Not that he would know anything different, but I still felt the need to prove it.

As Peter made his way down the long table, he said, "Alright, you lot, sit down and shut up. We have some business to attend to."

All conversation immediately ceased, and we all watched Peter as he made his way to his seat. He pulled his chair back, but he didn't immediately sit. Instead, he leaned forward, his hands splayed on the table, his eyes scanning all of us.

"Well, I think it's safe to say that today didn't go as planned." He said it with a sneer, which all the boys mirrored. A few of them chuckled and nodded their heads. "But I must say," Peter continued, "that we handled it well."

More nods of agreement.

A boy down near the other end of the table asked if any Lost Boys were lost, to which Peter told him no. When the boy inquired about the other casualties, Peter's grin grew. It made my stomach turn.

Benj answered for him. "One hundred."

My heart ached. One hundred that were too old or too sick to make it to the square. And who knew how many had just flat out refused? And their punishment was death.

"We'll have the younger boys gather them and bring them to the square to burn," Peter continued, no sympathy in his voice for the families who had lost loved ones.

"Shouldn't we just let them bury their dead," Benj asked. "It's less work for us that way."

My heart swelled at his question. My pinky stretched out to lightly touch his.

Thank you, I wanted to say, and I screamed it in my mind as loud as I could, hoping he would hear it somehow.

Peter pursed his lips while he considered it. He tilted his head. "Actually, let's have the families bring their dead to the square and to the burn pile themselves. It's less work for us that way, and I still get to watch them burn." He said the last part with a sadistic smile that made goosebumps rise on my arms.

Benj's pinky touched mine then hooked over the top, the only bit of warmth my body could feel. Still, he matched Peter's smile in order to keep face.

Seemingly content with his twisted plan to burn one hundred bodies in the square for all to see, Peter finally took his seat at the head of the table. When he held out his hand for me to take, I felt Benj's hand slip away. Without skipping a beat, I took Peter's hand and smiled at him, squeezing his palm before he raised my knuckles to his lips.

None of the other Lost Boys seemed to mind or even care, except for Benj, who had drawn a knife from his belt and began to run it across the table, peeling up shavings of wood as he did so. To anyone else, he would probably look bored, but to me, he seemed tense. Uncomfortable even.

"Now," Peter said, jolting me out of my thoughts, "let's get down to business."

The boys nodded and mumbled their agreement. Benj nodded, keeping his eyes trained on Peter as he carefully ran the blade back and forth over the wood.

Peter spoke about how he believed that the people of Mystasia needed to be punished for their behavior earlier that day. "How they treated their princess was disgusting, and how they treated me as their new king should be unforgivable. However, I am trying to be understanding. Change is difficult. I mean, how long did it take for our little lost girl to figure out how to live with the lot of us?"

He gave me his best smile and winked at me. The boys at the table sniggered.

I tried to smile. It faltered, but Peter didn't notice. He was already moving on. He spoke about needing to unite as a people, as a kingdom. "And what better way to bring us all together than a good, old fashioned game of Hide and Seek with the boys of Mystasia?"

The Lost Boys whooped and hollered, their approval evident in the way they pounded their fists against the table and made animal noises like they did when they would run through the forest back at camp.

These were not boys. They were wild animals that were thirsty for blood.

And Peter was going to unleash them on an entire city of unsuspecting sheep.

As my stomach threatened to empty its contents, I smiled. I smiled so large that it made my cheeks hurt with the strain, and I hoped the fear in my eyes would be mistaken for excitement.

There was no possible way for me to protect all of those boys. I had already failed one of them earlier that day.

Peter squeezed my hand, his face shining like a boy who was offering someone the best gift. "You said you were feeling more like a princess than a Lost Girl, and I know how much you love Hide and Seek so…" He shrugged, bashful.

I loathe Hide and Seek, I wanted to say, and maybe he knew that deep down. But I didn't say that. Instead, I reached across the table, held his face in my hands, and kissed him. Hard.

The Lost Boys' howling intensified as he returned the kiss with the same amount of vigor, his hands coming up to tangle themselves in my hair as he kissed me harder, our teeth clashing. I tried not to wince, and I breathed a silent sigh of relief when he pulled away enough so that he could speak, his lips still brushing mine as I did so.

"You're quite welcome, Sweetheart."

But Peter wasn't finished. As I leaned back in my seat, my cheeks aflame as I became keenly aware of Benj's eyes on me, Peter ordered Lester to get his quill and ink ready, that the rules of the game were going to be slightly different than usual.

When a few of the boys gave him a questioning look, Peter simply said, "We want to make sure that every boy — or girl," he said with a wink, "—has an equal chance at winning."

They sniggered. They knew as well as I did that no one from Mystasia would be winning. It would be a Lost Boy; most likely Peter.

Many aspects of the game were staying the same. We would gather in the square an hour before sunset and would have until dark before the seeking commenced. There was nowhere in the city or surrounding areas that were off limits when it came to finding a hiding spot. The game would go through the night and would only stop when the first rays of sun peeked over the horizon.

The goal was to stay hidden, but if one was found and captured, they would be returned to the square to await the morning.

"Will we let them have weapons?" Benj inquired, twirling his blade lazily between his fingers.

I straightened, and so did the other boys.

Peter nodded. "Yes. They'll have the same fighting chance we all have when we play back at camp. Now, there's never a promise that they won't sustain injuries if they are found and attempt to flee or fight their way out, but that is a risk they take if they choose to fight."

It should have come as a relief that they would at least have the opportunity to defend themselves with weapons, but it wasn't. Fighting back usually led to serious injury, and there had been more than once back at Pan's camp that a boy died trying to get away after being found.

Lester scribbled furiously, taking notes of the rules so that they could be copied and hung up around the city. The people of Mystasia would have a fortnight to prepare.

The boy sitting next to Lester shook his head. "I don't think giving them a fortnight is a good idea. That's plenty of time to try to get themselves on a ship and away from here."

Peter smirked. "You act like I hadn't thought of that."

Along with the announcement of the game and the rules, Peter also had Lester scribble down instructions of what was to take place in the next few days.

The game would require a brand for all those who were participating, including Peter, the Lost Boys, and myself. The brand would be placed on the inside of the wrist so that it was easily noticeable.

I grimaced, rubbing the insides of my wrist nervously at the thought of the flush bubbling beneath the red hot heat of a branding iron. I tried to take deep breaths through my nose to keep from giving in to the tickle of tears that was starting to swell in the back of my throat.

I didn't know that I could handle another scar. Another scar meant another story of trauma that I wasn't sure I was strong enough to carry. The milky white of my wrists were two places on my body that had not been scratched, cut, sliced, ripped, broken, or burned by Peter and the Lost Boys, and that was all about to change.

My nails dug half moons into my palms until Benj slipped his hand into mine, entwining our fingers.

I knew it was dangerous. I knew that at any moment someone would notice what we were doing and alert Peter. Or, Gods forbid, Peter would be the one to discover it himself. Who knows what would happen to us if he found out.

I squeezed Benj's hand tight.

I didn't care. He was the only thing keeping me grounded, the only thing keeping me from running from this hall screaming.

"The brandings will take one day to complete. If any boy is found without a brand after tomorrow, he is to be killed on sight. Any adult found hiding a child or keeping a child from receiving the brand will also be killed on sight."

I nodded along numbly and tried to focus on Benj's thumb as it brushed rhythmically back and forth across the back of my hand.

Lester scribbled down notes frantically, the quill scratching incessantly against the parchment. Once he was finished, Peter ordered him to create at least one hundred posters with the information. Once they were finished, the rest of the boys would disperse them.

"I want one on every corner, hung on the door of every business. I want them to see one of these—" he held up a blank piece of parchment, "—everywhere they look."

The boys nodded their understanding, the older boys smirking with approval. They reveled in the idea of the impending nightmare lingering over the heads of the people in the city, unable to escape what was to come of them and their young boys.

A boy near the middle of the table lifted a hand to get Peter's attention. "Humor me," he said, a sadistic smile already spreading over his face. "What happens when we find the little brats?"

Memories of my first game of Hide and Seek rushed to the front of my mind, a wave of nausea following close behind.

Running through the woods with my feet sliced to ribbons.

Branches covered in long thorns ripping my clothes and slicing my skin.

Lester's club coming down over John's skull.

The cold edge of Benj's blade at my throat…

I pulled my hand away like I had been burned, and I could feel Benj's eyes on me, a question burning there that I didn't know how to answer. He couldn't watch me for long, though. It would be too noticeable. I kept my eyes on Peter, trying my best to focus on his words, praying that he wouldn't notice Benj's eyes on his favorite treasure.

Peter smiled and leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet up onto the table. "Bring 'em to the square, like I said. They'll wait there until the game is over. There will be a punishment like always. If they can withstand it, they go home. If they can't—" Peter shrugged, "—Feed 'em to the croc. We're due for a boost of life force, wouldn't you say?"

My whole body tensed. So, the croc was in Mystasia. It had traveled through the ocean to come here.

But I hadn't heard the ticking noise since I arrived, not even down at the docks.

So, where was it?

While Peter and the boys continued to talk details, I sat silent and still, trying to breathe steadily and appear relaxed, bored even. I didn't want Peter to sense any hesitation or anxiety. I didn't want to give him any reason to make the game more deadly than it already was, which he would if he sensed my distaste. He would do it just to spite me, to remind me that I was not in charge. He was.

Finally satisfied, Peter dismissed the boys. Lester and every other boy that was able to read and write was ordered to finish the announcements by morning, and the others were reminded that they would be responsible for hanging them.

"Now," Peter said, clapping his hands together and putting his feet back on the ground, "Let's all go freshen up and get back down here for dinner. Tomorrow is a big day."

###

Peter held my hand all the way back to our room, our fingers entwined, and we hardly made it in the door before he was pulling me to him, his lips brushing mine before making their way along my jaw and down my neck.

"I love you in this gown," he whispered huskily into the crook of my neck, "but I would love to see the skin that's hiding underneath it."

My grip tightened on his arms at his words, my stomach tightening as my skin flushed crimson. I didn't say anything, but Peter didn't mind. He just chuckled, taking my silence as shyness as his hands began to expertly untie the ribbon of my corset. And while my lungs now had the room to expand properly, I couldn't seem to take a breath.

I didn't try to catch the dress as it fell to the floor in a pool of fabric at my feet, and I didn't break eye contact as he took in the valleys of my milky skin, hunger and lust turning his bottle-green eyes a dark shade of forest green that reminded me of the trees back on the island.

"Come here," he said as he made quick work of his jacket and tunic. He pulled me against him, the thin fabric of my undergarments the only thing separating me from him completely. His fingers danced across my shoulders as he pushed my hair back, and then tickled down my spine, making me push against him, my breath caught in my lungs as I continued to blush. He chuckled, the sound resonating deep in his chest as he picked me up and tossed me onto the bed. I automatically began to push myself back so that I was laying against the pillows, my toes and fingers curled, the only hint that I was nervous and trying not to bolt for the door.

Peter stood at the end of the bed, his trousers hanging loosely around his hips, revealing rippling muscles and a toned body. Freckles dotted his face and chest like constellations, his skin gold from being kissed by the sun.

"Take them off," he said and he gestured to my undergarments. He made no move to get on the bed, and his predatory gaze made something in my lower stomach tighten.

Slowly, I reached up and snapped open the button that held my brazier in place. With a soft click it fell open, and Peter's eyes sparkled as he hummed his approval. I slid the straps down my arms, the fabric feeling like electricity as I tossed it to the side before laying back against the pillows.

He still made no move to climb onto the bed, and I felt my heart begin to hammer and my throat close.

Not today, I pleaded silently. Please, not today.

His eyes slid over my body, lower and lower until they landed below my navel. I tried to take a deep breath, but my chest was far too tight. I lifted my knees, trying to block his view, and he arched a brow at me.

"Those, too, Sweetheart."

I hooked my thumbs into my underwear, and I prayed that if he saw my hands shaking that he would mistake it for anticipation. I prayed he didn't notice the mistiness in my eyes at all.

He ordered me to look at him as I tossed them to the side, his voice dangerous and low and dripping with lust. I blinked hard, forcing the tears back as I met his gaze.

A moan escaped his lips as he looked at me, taking in every inch of me laying in the middle of an otherwise empty bed. He slipped off his trousers, revealing his own body to me, and I felt a knot form in my throat as my entire body flushed a deep shade of reddish-purple.

Peter held out his arms. "Like what you see, Sweetheart?"

I took a breath, ready to lie, but Peter wasn't interested in my answer. To him, my body's reaction was enough. Instead, he crawled onto the bed, his muscles rippling across his arms, chest, shoulders, and back, and came to rest on top of me, his skin hot against me.

His weight pressed the air from my lungs, but it blended in with his own sigh of approval.

He kissed me deeply and moaned into my mouth as I gasped.

"It's been far too long, my little lost girl," he growled. "I don't know if I'll be able to take it slow."

"Peter," I tried to protest, my fear getting the better of me, but he quieted me with another deep kiss. I felt his entire body weight on my chest as his hands found the back of my thighs and gave them a sharp tug, allowing him to settle in between them.

I gasped, feeling him, and dug my fingernails into his shoulder blades, trying to stay calm.

There was no stopping it. It was happening. Soon, I would fully belong to Peter Pan.