Page 52 of The Last Lost Girl

I wait for him to pick the glass up, knowing full well that my knot-work can’t prevent his movement in the least, but when I look at him, there’s a dare in his gaze. It reminds me that I chose to come here, chose to use the rope on him instead of allowing him to use it on me or to ignore it altogether… I ordered the wine and food.

He expects me to follow through now. To hold his glass and offer a drink like the others in the room are doing, Paris included.

My hands feel slick on the glass stem. I bring the rim to his lips and gently ease the bottom up until the lavender liquid meets them. When he takes a sip, I lower it.

Hook groans and closes his eyes, like the drink was almost too much. But when they snap open, a dangerous craving has been ignited in them.

“Fairy wine is rare. Do you know why?” he asks.

My brows kiss. “Is it because all the ingredients come from the island?”

He leans back in his chair and gets comfortable. “Neverland isn’t our only resource, thank the stars. There are a few other islands in the Never Sea. We’ve built our lives on the sea so that we can preserve the resources they offer. There are animals on the outer islands that we harvest at times. Plants, too, of course. What we take, we sow back in return, as best as we’re able.”

Oh. “What makes fairy wine rare, then?”

“The fairies haven’t made it in many years.” He stares at the lavender wine. “This vintage is very old.”

“And I’m guessing it’s very expensive.”

He inclines his head.

I wonder why they don’t make it anymore… “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Don’t apologize. We’re allied, are we not? We have an arrangement,” he purrs.

I lean toward him and whisper, “Don’t say it like that. People will get the wrong impression.”

“Like what?” he asks innocently, even as a roguish smile teeters the corners of his lips.

“Don’t call it an ‘arrangement’,” I air quote. “When you say it like that, it sounds… illicit.”

Hook scoots his chair closer and leans in. “Did you know, Lifeguard, what it means when one person offers another fairy wine here?”

My stomach drops at the same time goosebumps spread up my arms. “No,” I whisper.

“It signifies exactly such a torrid intent.”

My heart claps against my sternum. “Are you serious?”

He nods, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “Everyone in this room thinks you want to –”

I squirm and move a little farther from him. Maybe people will see the distance and assume I’m ignorant of the norms here.

The server returns, placing a steaming bowl of soup, a small loaf of crusty bread, and a plate of sliced apples and pears on the table. I can’t even form words to thank her, so Hook obliges, which makes her very happy before she flits away.

He flicks a finger to indicate everyone in the room. “What they think doesn’t matter, Lifeguard. We both know you don’t want to have your wicked way with me, so you should enjoy the wine. If we’re successful, this might be your last or only trip to town. You could be back with your work bestie in no time.”

I’ve read books about fae. In most of the stories, humans who drink fairy wine are affected by it in ways I don’t want to be. They lose all inhibition.

But Hook is calm and steady.

He doesn’t look bothered at all.

“Are you completely human?” I ask as I decide whether to sip.

“Unfortunately,” he grumbles.

I lift a hand and bring it to the side of his face. He tenses as I brush his dark hair back to check the tips of his ears. They’re round and smooth. I breathe easier the moment I see them and take up the glass, deciding a tiny sip won’t hurt.

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