The story is going in a slightly different direction than I had initially anticipated, but I like it! Hope you enjoy.
"When I find you, you'll be sorry!" I whispered. I looked at each of the trees, and heard his voice as clearly as it was whispering in my ears.
"You can't find me, and then you'll be caged for a day!"
His face disappeared from tree to tree. I closed my eyes and ran out ahead of me, trusting my instincts. My hands grabbed at flesh, and I had his shoulders.
"I got you!" I yelled, laughing. Peter shook me off and scowled.
"You got lucky."
"Pay up!"
He tossed over the apple, which I caught expertly.
"It isn't poisoned is it?" I teased. He rolled his eyes.
"There's hardly any sense in killing you, Priya."
"Except that I think the Lost Boys may like me better than you. After all, I've beat you four times in the past week."
"Lucky," he insisted.
We raced back to the camp. I loved the feeling of the wind blowing through my hair and against my face, of my clothes pressing against my skin and my feet bounding along the ground. We raced, and I won.
"I think I'm better at all your games than you are Peter," I said, out of breath. I plopped down onto the dirt beneath the enormous oak and stretched.
"Absolutely not. I go easy on you, that's all."
"I seriously doubt that."
I merely laughed and walked over to the blazing fire.
"Is it ever sunny here, Peter?"
"Not as long as I've been here," another voice said. I turned, confused.
"Felix, you scared me," I gasped in mock alarm.
"Things don't change like they do in other places. It's a lot slower."
"Still, I've been here for weeks and I don't think I've never even seen the sun."
"Could be because of the trees. Or because it's nearly always nighttime."
"It's a bit sad, don't you think?" I asked, looking into the flames.
"It's peaceful. You don't like it, you should leave."
I sighed. I was well aware of Felix's disapproval of me. From the day I'd been accepted by Peter as a Lost Girl, Felix had not hidden his dislike for me. He had only grown colder as I grew closer to Pan, becoming his second in command. Felix hated me, and was jealous of my standing with Pan. I knew that if Peter hadn't made it law not to kill me, I'd have been dead in the first week.
"I like it here just fine, Felix," I said, keeping my voice calm. I sure wasn't going to invite a fight.
"Then get used to it," he said coldly, "and have some fun."
The comment was accompanied by a seemingly friendly punch in the arm. It threw me off balance, and I fell off the log I'd been sitting on.
"Not so tough, eh, Lost Girl?"
I resisted the urge to glare at him and walked away from the fire. I pulled up my sleeve to look at my shoulder. It was already red and beginning to bruise. I should have gone back and beat the boy senseless, but Peter had rules about senseless fighting in camps. "Good form," he called it. Whatever it was, I didn't like it. I walked down into Peter's dwelling- hidden beneath the roots of the oak. Peter was a comfort to me- he didn't know it necessarily, but he was. Of course, the character had always been my comfort, but this real Peter was even more so.
"Peter?" I called quietly, in case the boy was sleeping. He was awake, though, he sat on his bed playing his flute. I felt instantly better, the anger at Felix, the pain in my shoulder, all that was gone with the melody that came from his lips. I sat down at the edge of the bed, waiting for him to talk to me. Surprisingly, he was silent. That worried me, and even the tune from the flute couldn't wash this concern away. Peter usually welcomed me with a smirk or a cruel joke, but now it was as though I wasn't there at all. I inched closer to him.
"Peter, are you alright?"
He finally pulled the flute from his lips and relief washed over me. His eyes were dark, though, and I could see plainly that he was not in a joking mood. I scooted closer to him, putting a hand on his knee. He flinched- flinched! I pulled my hand back, upset.
"Don't touch me. Please."
"Peter, I'm sorry, I just wanted to know what…"
"I'm fine," he spat darkly.
I wasn't used to the cruel tone of voice he took now. I'd never heard him use it with me. With the boys when they disobeyed, but not, NEVER, with me. I risked his rage, and reached out to touch his chin. I pulled it towards me and looked him in the eye.
"Please, talk to me, Peter. You know that I will listen," I murmured.
His eyes were flaming, his lips pulled down into a grimace, and his hand moved swiftly towards my face. I squeezed my eyes shut, awaiting the slap.
His hand grabbed my hair and pulled my lips to him, crushing them against his, hungrily moving his lips against my own. I'd never once thought of him in a physical way, never once imagined our bodies pressed against each other the way our lips were now, but the heat burst like flames from my lips down to my belly, where it waited, wet and eager. I began to wrap my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. His hand pressed against my thigh as I gasped for breath and pressed closer to him. I forgot everything for a moment, everything but the feeling of his touch was like wildfire, spreading and claiming everything else. His teeth grazed my bottom lip, and I shuddered, grasping his hair and pulling him closer. I couldn't seem to breath right as his hand moved closer towards my center, going gently up my thigh. There was so much that I wanted now, more than I knew had ever existed.
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