Venom: Rosewood Realm, #1

By Dee Garcia

It's no secret I've always despised Peter Pan.

A common threat amongst the factions, I should've killed him when I had the chance, long before he sank his claws deep into Tinksley's heart.

But his death at my hands wasn't what the plan called for…

I'd always been drawn to the girl, innocently enough at first…until that vile abomination marked her with his stamp, unleashing a sense of propriety I had no rights to.

Didn't matter—he had her...and I wanted her.

Then like magic, he disappeared.

I thought my time had come, but the road to owning Tinksley's heart comes with a price. A price so dark and depraved it strips her of her purity and awakens the beast within. 

All because of the truth.

Sometimes, there is honor in revenge, and it will be my utmost pleasure to watch as Peter Pan finally meets his maker.

His maker who will now always and forever be my Queen.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dee Garcia
• Release date: Oct 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393041283

Book preview

Venom

Copyright 2019 © Dee Garcia

All Rights Reserved

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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, and real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the Author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, organizations or places is entirely coincidental.

All rights are reserved. This book is intended for the reader of this ebook ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the express written permission of the Author. All songs, song titles and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

Cover Design & formatting: Dee Garcia w. Black Widow Designs

Editing:: N. Isabelle Blanco

CONTENTS

Dedication

Trigger Warning

Playlist

Note from the Author

Prologue

Act 1

1. Hook

2. Tinksley

3. Hook

4. Tinksley

5. Hook

6. Tinskley

7. Hook

8. Tinksley

9. Hook

10. Tinksley

11. Hook

12. Tinksley

Thank You’s

13. Hook

Act 2

14. Tinksley

15. Tinksley

16. Hook

17. Tinskley

18. Hook

19. Tinksley

20. Hook

21. Tinksley

22. Hook

23. Tinksley

24. Hook

25. Tinksley

26. Hook

27. Tinksley

28. Hook

29. Tinksley

30. Hook

Act 3

31. Tinksley

32. Hook

33. Hook

34. Tinksley

Acknowledgments

Also by Dee Garcia

About the Author

DEDICATION

For anyone who’s suffered a broken heart:

Love will find you when you least expect it.

Don’t give up.

And yes, you’re worth it.

TRIGGER WARNING

WARNING: Although Venom is a re-telling of Peter Pan, please note that it is a dark paranormal romance. There are several themes within this book that may trigger those who have experienced similar traumas. If you are someone easily triggered by dark content or have any triggers, period, proceed with caution and at your own discretion.

PLAYLIST

Requiem, K. 626: Lacrimosa - Mozart

Do I Wanna Know? - Arctic Monkeys

Lost boy - Ruth B.

Ride - Twenty One Pilots

Superficial Love - Ruth B.

Duality - Set If Off

Wildest Dreams - Taylor Swift

Glad You Came - The Wanted

Not About Angels - Birdy

Instead - Ryan Amador

Little Do You Know - Alex & Sierra

Sail - AWOLNATION

Never Grow Up - Taylor Swift

Blood // Water - grandson

Still Here - Digital Daggers

My Immortal - Evanescence

O Magnum Mysterium - Nordic Chamber Choir

Faded - Alan Walker

Never Be Like You - Flume feat. Kai

DISPOSABLE FIX - The Plot In You

Señorita - Camila Cabello

In For The Kill (Remix) - Skrillex

Moonlight Sonata No. 14 - Ludwig van Beethoven

Hollywood’s Bleeding - Post Malone

Unsteady - X Ambassadors

Beautiful - Bazzi feat. Camila Cabello

I Wanna Be With You - Mandy Moore

It Will Rain - Bruno Mars

Titanium - David Guetta

Dusk Till Dawn - ZAYN & Sia

Look What You Made Me Do - Taylor Swift

Death of a Bachelor - Panic! At The Disco

Crazy In Love (Remix) - Beyoncé

Blood - In This Moment

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Click to listen here: https://spoti.fi/2VEPe4H

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

Dear readers,

Before you jump headfirst into the magical realm of Rosewood, I feel compelled to advise you that, while Venom is a stand-alone, it is also the first installment of an interconnected series. Yes, the installments to follow will also be stand-alones, however, there will absolutely be elements and certain details that will be clarified and answered as the series goes along. That means you will one-hundred percent still have questions as each couple receives their HEA. I’ve done this with purpose to keep things, not only interesting, but to keep the interconnected aspect of suspense intact as well. ;)

Don’t hate me too hard, okay?

XOXO—Dee <3

PROLOGUE

♫ Requiem, K. 626: Lacrimosa - Mozart ♫

Everything aches.

No—it screams.

Every inch of my body screams in agony to the point that, I can’t move. Yet, somehow, I am moving. The haziness in my mind won’t allow me to make sense of the how; I just know I am.

Can feel the cool night air whipping across my face with such speed, I grow colder by the second. Oddly enough, it feels good. So freeing, like flying once felt.

That’s when it hits me. This must be…

My lips quirk in a faint, pained smile. 

I did it. I actually did it. I finally found my peace.

But as I crack my heavy eyelids open and see the tops of the palms blurring past the dark, starry sky, what’s left of my fragile heart sinks to the deepest pit of my stomach.

I’m upside down.

How am I…?

Takes me a moment to realize I’m being carried, by a formidable source, no less, that doubles my size. We’re running, too, flashing through the lush tropical forest of the island at lightning speed.

I know who it is before he can so much as speak.

Forgive me, love. It’s Callan—Captain Hook to most of Rosewood. I can just make out his booming voice, but it’s seemingly distant despite our proximity. Forgive me, please. It was the only way... 

I haven’t the slightest idea what he’s talking about, but almost instantly, that longed-for sense of freedom, of peace, vanishes and I’m left with nothing but fear. Instinct calls for me to move, to wriggle free from his embrace and take flight, but my wings won’t even so much as flutter. 

Of course they won’t. How could they when I...

Tears spring to my eyes as the harrowing memory slowly comes back to me. All the while, I lay here limp. Broken. Terrified. I’m literally dead weight in his arms, and it’s all my fault. 

I should’ve known it wouldn’t be so easy.

Streams of grief trickle down my cheeks, distorting my view of the full moon overhead. The breeze, one that’s far too cold now, amplifies the anguish radiating through my limbs. I don’t even bother screaming. Why should I?

I probably wouldn’t be able to anyway.

Callan squeezes me as if sensing my sudden realizations, cradling me tighter against his taut chest. I try catching a glimpse of him, but I can’t do that, either. My head hangs heavier than an anchor.

It’s right about then I finally grasp the full extensity of what I’ve done to myself.

I really am that broken now.

As mangled as he left my heart.

Flashes of our time together hit me in a reel, reminding me of why I became so irrational in the first place. Of how I ended up here.

Stay with me. We’re almost there, Callan coos. Don’t think about the pain, just stay with me.

Except the pain he speaks of seems to be dissipating.

The more I dwell on it, the more I try to feel it, the less I can seem to grasp it. It’s like my body is somehow dulling it.

But how…

I can’t even finish contemplating it. From one moment to the next, a whole new kind of pain envelopes me from head to toe. My mouth is drier than a desert, tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. And my gums, dear God, my gums burn, as though I’ve poured acid in a glass and drank the entire thing.

Thirsty—I’m so thirsty.

No, famished.

My stomach contracts at the thought, bursting forth a protest off my tongue.

Callan tenses then, and curses under his breath as he bangs on a door with all his might. His door, I note the door to his home.

Callan, I whisper, wincing at the havoc raging through my mouth.

Glancing down at me in his arms, he flashes me a look that screams nothing short of remorseful and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. "Forgive me, Tinksley. When it’s all said and done, please forgive me. It was the only way.

ACT 1

♫ Do I Wanna Know - Arctic Monkeys ♫

Watching Tinksley has become one of my favorite things. 

She’s a wicked little creature, that one. And she doesn’t even know it; a heady combination of innocent and sexy.

Poised.

Demur.

Yet there’s such sass on her, too—a wild, mischievous side she can barely contain.

I would love nothing more than the chance to tame her, to own her, but Tinksley’s heart is spoken for.

Might be a good thing, honestly, because if I were ever to get my hands on her—may the Gods have mercy. I’d corrupt that little pixie with a singular swipe of my tongue.

Hence why I watch her from the obscurity of the shadows instead. Indulge in the rare moments she’s in her own company, free of that repulsive abomination.

Some of the things I’ve witnessed her do? Jesus. They’d ruin any man. But I pride myself on having ironclad restraint, a practice that took someone like me centuries to master. 

And even now, I have days where impulse runs rampant.

The scenario playing out before me is a perfect example. Teeth bared, I’m barely withholding myself from remaining in place. Tinksley just emerged from a shower, her petit and deliciously curvaceous figure glistening with scattered droplets. Towel to her long blonde tresses, she stands before the gold-encrusted mirror of her vanity completely bared, drying off that almost translucent mane with meticulous strokes. The steady motion bounces the full swells of her tits, her pert little ass jiggling as well.

She’s a dream, a glorious dream I can fantasize about at any given moment of the day or night.

Especially after moments like these.

I can almost taste her on my lips, feel the delicate planes of her skin shivering beneath my palms. Every part of me vibrates with the need to possess her, to show her what a real man feels like. What a real man could do to her…

One day, I keep telling myself. Because one day, he will fall.

Won’t ensure my place with her, of course. We’re very different, her and I.

Where she’s purity and light, I’m maleficence and darkness.

Not that he’s any better. He, Peter Pan; the boy who never ages.

He’s a man, really, mid-twenties based on the in-depth examinations provided by my personal physician, but he’s yet to age a day since then. Somehow, he’s been granted the gift of immortality—or perhaps cursed—yet he’s not of my kind. Pan is human, complete with warm flesh and a beating heart. 

How that’s possible? No one is for certain. 

He’s one of a kind; cracked open his eyes one morning upon the island with no recollection of how he got here, let alone a thing about his past. 

All he had to give was a name.

It’s been years since then. Many, many years in which I’ve watched Tinksley age by his side. When she befriended him within the luminous range of the Incandescent Forest, she was nothing but a wee little thing—a curious halfling disregarding any and every warning she’d heard about the mysterious man. As she grew older, they grew exponentially closer, spent countless hours together day in and day out. And upon her eighteenth birthday, he finally made his wicked move…

Tap, tap!

Tinks, open up! The abrupt sound of his whisper-hiss refocuses my attention from the not-so-distant memories.

Pinning him with my stare, I watch as Tinksley slips into her pearlescent robe and rushes to the window with a sneaky smile tugging her lips. As soon as she cracks it open, Pan pushes it up the rest of the ways and slides inside the feminine confines of her room.

Red-hot, irrational jealousy rushes through my veins like acid at the sight of her wrapping her arms around his neck. Even more so when his filthy hands slither down to her ass and squeeze. With a dip of his head, he seals their mouths together, reeling her in impossibly closer.

Her appeased little moans—I can hear them from here. My lip curls in a disgusted sneer. I loathe every single last one, loathe how he’s the one eliciting such sweet sounds from her, how he’s the one who can make her feel this way when he shouldn’t be.

Not in this realm or any for that matter.

That should be me. The incessant thought crosses my mind once more. Indignation then meets its green-eyed brother, balling my fists at my sides. I shake it away before it can fester any further and spin on my heels as Tinksley pushes Peter back onto her dainty cloud of a bed. 

I can’t watch this. 

Can’t hear it or even be near.

Yes, I’m fully aware it’s beyond foolish I feel this way. I have no right to it, no claims over this girl, but I can’t fucking help it. I’ve always been drawn to Tinksley, as though there were some sort of invisible tether luring me toward her. During her adolescence, the pull was strictly intemerate. Watching her grow and blossom into the woman she is today filled me with nothing but pride. But the closer she grew to Pan, the more it began to evolve of its own accord. 

Wasn’t until he got his hands on her that such proprietary carnal desires arose like a wild blaze.

He had her…and I wanted her.

And it’s been that way ever since.

Peter, Tinksley mewls from behind me.

I have to grind my jaw together to keep the rage at bay as a white-hot flame licks up my spine. I’m tempted to see what exactly triggered such a delectable sound, but I quickly decide against it. I can barely stand the sight of them sharing a kiss.

That very image attaches itself to the soundtrack behind me, forcing my eyes shut. I clamp them tightly and shake the torment from my mind, a torment that comes and goes with each passing day in which she’s none the wiser. I’ve tried finding a way around it, but that goddamn spell is bound too tight. 

One last moan breaks through, then I’m gone. Lush grass to the soles of my boots, I evanesce my way north through the forest, cutting through the Fae’s shadowy domain that opens up to the town’s square. Spares me from risking a run-in with the Native’s and the Lost Boys.

They’re not exactly Captain Hook fans these days.

T igerlily! Her name erupts from deep within my throat, the monstrous sound reverberating through the palace as the front doors crash into the walls. TIGERLILY! I bellow a second time.

A sudden flash of light on my right grapples my attention.

It’s Samuel, my right-hand man, sauntering out of the parlor as he adjusts his belt. Behind him trail Nina and Brielle hand-in-hand, two of the Sacred Six. Each of them don a flustered blush and a cheeky smirk. The witches then quickly inch up on their toes, plant a kiss to either side of Sam’s face, and scurry out with a giggled, Goodnight, Captain, in tow.

Once they’re out of sight, Sam drags his gaze to meet my stare, his lips spreading slyly at my unamused expression. What? He shrugs.

Aren’t they like…a thing?

Sam’s smile widens all the more. They are, but they enjoy a good cock every now and then.

And your dick just happens to be there ‘every now and then,’ correct?

I wonder where the hell Tigerlily is.

Sometimes. Others it’s Armand. Malik and Kaz have indulged, too. Tigerlily was in the library last time I saw her, by the way, he explains, clearly reading my mind.

At the roll of my eyes, he snickers knowingly like the little maggot he can be. 

I detest when he does this, though, it’s not always intentional, if I’m being honest—the boy can’t control it. You see, Sam once obtained the gift of telepathy, and while he still has some access to such powers, it’s not nearly as adept and accurate as it once was. Still, he can oftentimes read me—and everyone else—as if immortality hadn’t claimed the bulk of his abilities. 

Rather than get on his case for infiltrating my mind yet again, I simply tip my head and cut my eyes up to the top of the staircase. Why hasn’t this girl shown her face yet? You’d do well to remember that, despite how alluring they may be, they’re still witches. Witches who don’t particularly agree with our way of life.

They’re not like the rest. Nina and Bri are far more laid back, he argues.

When they’re playing with your dick, I look to him once more, yes, I believe it. However, they’re still a very large part of the Sacred Six. Just be—

I’m not thick, Cal. His growl echoes through the foyer. If I felt I were in any danger when in their presence, I wouldn’t entertain their advances.

His short-fused temper amuses me. 

Chuckling, I squeeze his shoulder and shake my head. Never said you were, brother. Just be mindful is all I ask.

Sam nods in understanding, and with a curt nod of my own, I leave him at the entryway to go in search of Tigerlily. But as my boot hits the first step of the grand spiral staircase, another morsel of advice begs to be delivered.

Oh, and Sam? I peer over my shoulder. The next time you decide to invite them or anyone else over, be sure you’ve run it by me first. I’m not too keen on their kind having access to my home.

I’m gone after that, not bothering to hear his reply. The boy should know better than to open my doors without my knowledge. He’s lucky I’m so fond of him.

Taking the steps two at a time leads me into a deadly silence, a silence that flashes Tinksley back to the forefront of my mind.

Tinksley bared.

Tinksley bared for Peter.

Moaning and mewling beneath him as he impales her.

I’m livid all over again, nostrils flaring, fangs aching from Tigerlily’s sweet scent wafting through the air. She’s definitely close—still in the library, just as Sam had advised.

Already tasting her on my tongue, I rush up to the grand doors and throw them open with thoughtless force. The girl is unshakeable as always, doesn’t even flinch from her place at the bay window, tilted almond-shaped eyes the only thing that acknowledges my presence as they cut toward me in a glare.

Can I help you? she asks, returning her attention to the book in her hands.

The snip in her tone only adds fuel to the fire. With thundering, hulking steps, I close in on her. You can, actually. Did you not hear me calling for you?

No, I didn’t. In case you’ve forgotten, I don’t possess supernatural hearing.

How could you not have heard it? I yelled it at the top of my lungs!

"Seems you didn’t hear me. Just a simple human here. Doesn’t matter that you yelled it—this place is massive. Then again, she turns back toward me, defiance etched on her pretty face, I don’t answer to you, so perhaps it’s more a case of simply not giving a shit."

My reaction is instantaneous. 

The roar that rips free from my chest is positively volatile. In a flash, I’m yanking her onto her feet by her silken ebony locks, pressing her back to my front. She cries out, the book fumbling from her grip as I give another brutal yank, revealing the bronze column of her neck.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

There it is—the hitch in her indomitable facade. She can pretend to be the Chief’s fearless daughter all she wants.

A wild pulse never lies.

Tigerlily simpers in my grip, choking on countless pleas and objections. She knows what’s coming; she also knows this could be vastly different if only she listened.

Given the shrill of her scream as I latch onto her neck, I suspect she’ll beg for the full extent of my proposition soon.

Quite soon.

♫ Lost Boy - Ruth B. ♫

It’s quiet. 

So utterly quiet and serene.

The clear night sky twinkles with stars, incandescent rays from the moon pouring in through my bedroom window.

Peter lays on my chest, passed out like a light.

And me? I lay still, contentedly so, raking my fingers through his light caramel locks as I watch his back rise and fall with each breath. I can never manage to sleep in these moments. I love them too much.

Long for them too much when we aren’t together.

Not to mention, I wouldn’t fare well if I happened to doze off and my mother came in for whatever reason. She doesn’t care much for Peter, let alone approve of our friendship.

If she knew it exceeded platonic lines, that I’ve given him my heart—and my body—she’ll likely enlist my father to aid her in plotting a horrific death at the hands of the Faes. 

So these moments right here, I take great care in hiding them. I know it’s wrong, know I should respect her wishes and keep him out of our home. But I’ve been the respectful, good-mannered daughter my entire existence and, quite frankly, I’m tired of it. Whether she likes it or not, I will be with Peter. Will continue to honor and love him.

Don’t misunderstand me—her advice is appreciated, something I know she offers because she loves me and wants the best for me, but I’m not a child.

I’m a woman. The choice is mine to make. Not hers nor my father’s. 

Mine.

I just have to figure out how to get out of this house first... 

Peter, I whisper reluctantly, squeezing his bicep. Peter, wake up.

Groaning softly, he stirs in my grasp and cracks his chocolate brown eyes open. Huh?

I have to bite my lip to contain the mewl trying to break free as he rests his chin between the valley of my breasts and gazes up at me. He looks more boyishly perfect than usual.

Sleepy eyes.

Mussed up hair from my restless fingers. 

It’s almost morning. You have to go. I don’t want him to leave, but it’s getting awfully late—or rather, quite early. The sun will rise soon and mother is always up with the first golden rays peeking over the horizon.

Did I sleep through again? he rasps, pushing up onto his elbows.

I nod and smile softly, spreading my legs wider to accommodate him. Peter smirks knowingly. His eyes shine deviously as he crawls over me and fuses our lips together, the tip of his hard length probing me immediately.

He could slide right in if he wanted to. I’m still wet for him, so wet, more so now that his mouth is on mine again...

I hate leaving you, he mumbles, rotating his hips just enough to tease me.

It’s maddening. 

He loves doing this, loves to make me beg.

Wriggling beneath him, I roll my hips as much as his weight will allow, seeking far more friction than he’s willing to give me at this hour. So don’t, I breathe. Take me with you.

You know I can’t, T. Your mama would have my head.

I don’t care. If we hid away together, we could have this all the time without fear of being overheard. We could sleep together, wake up together, have meals together, even laugh together. It’ll be just like this, only so much better.

But as always when I suggest such things, Peter shakes his head solemnly and breaks free from my hold. He’s on his feet faster than I can blink, shoving his legs into his hunter green trousers. You know that’s not even a possibility right now. They’d find us one way or another.

On the one hand, I know he’s right. My parents would tear Rosewood apart if I simply disappeared without notice. They’d align forces with other willing factions, send search parties out until I was found. And yet, on the other hand, I can’t help but think that, if he truly wanted me by his side, he knows Rosewood isn’t our only option. Sure it seems that way with how far overseas other territories lie, but it’s not impossible.

In any case, I don’t ever press him on the topic further than the initial suggestion. Mostly because I’d rather have him like this than not have him at all. I have no desire to quarrel with him about the future when it could very well be that he’s not ready for such a commitment yet. I would never want to force or rush him into something of this nature. I want him to want it in the same equal measure as I. 

One day, I keep telling myself. One day he won’t want to crawl into an empty bed, and I’ll be there.

I’ll always be there.

I’ll see you later, okay? Fully dressed now, he looms over me, flashing me that boyish grin. 

My lips spread coyly in return. As soon as I’m up, I’ll be at our spot.

Peter nods and reaches out for me. Give me one last kiss, T. Come here…

He doesn’t have to ask me twice. I’m on him in a flurry, winding my limbs around him like a vine.

A bare vine at that.

His warm hands grip my backside as he walks us toward the window, our lips locked, tongues dancing ever so sensually.

I love you, Peter, I vow, all but whimpering as he sets me down on my toes and slips out the window into the cool dawn.

And I you, Tinks, he whispers. Dream of me.

Always, I answer, but he doesn’t hear it, not only because it’s a murmur carrying in the wind, but because he’s already gone, dashing his way through the forest to  the safety of Lost Lake.

G ood morning, my mother says rather ambiguously as I amble into the kitchen just hours after Peter left.

That tone.

I know that tone. It’s one she’s given my father on more than one occasion—when she’s not pleased. Combined with the sideways glance she cuts my way, my heart rate spikes, but I remain as indifferent and unaffected as possible, only faltering a step or two along the way. Sometimes I think