“Not real, not real,” she rasped, squeezing her eyes tighter closed.
“What isn’t real?” he asked in a voice that was nothing like the one he’d used before. This voice was deep and rich, oddly leisurely, with just a hint of a rumble beneath it.
“You, this place,” she said, barely able to keep her voice from quivering with fear. “Everything. None of this is real. I-I’m supposed to be clearing out my father’s office…supposed to be—”
The bed creaked again, and there was a whisper of something across fabric. A moment later, the flat of the knife—now dry—slid along her forearm from the inside of her elbow toward her wrist. Alice flinched, unable to hold back a whimper.
“Do you feel that?” he asked.
“I-It’s still not real.”
“How is it not real if you can feel it?”
“It’s a simulation. We’re in an asylum. None of this is real, they just want us to believe it is.”
Why is he acting so different? Why does he sound so different?
He took hold of her chin with his long, strong fingers and turned her face toward him. She swore she could feel the light press of claws against her skin. He tenderly stroked her cheek. His velvety touch was strangely familiar—but not from when he’d thrown her onto the bed and restrained her.
“Open your eyes,” he coaxed. “They’re far too pretty to keep them hidden from me for so long.”
For one terrifying, gut-wrenching instant, Alice envisioned him gouging her eyes out with that blade. “What are you going to do to me?”
“I didn’t really have any plans. Was there something specific you wanted done to you?”
“Let me go. Please, just let me go.”
The flat of the blade trailed in the opposite direction. “Are you going to open your eyes or not? It’s not helping me assess you as a rational person when you’re sitting here with them squeezed shut ranting about how reality isn’t real.”
Steeling herself, Alice opened her eyes, and was completely caught off-guard by the face in front of hers.
“It’s you,” she breathed. She hadn’t been insane, hadn’t been seeing things.
She’d seen those eyes and that grin before—and not on the Hatter. This was the stranger who’d been in the crowd when she arrived here, the stranger with whom she’d briefly made eye contact. The stranger she’d been compelled to seek out afterward.
Though his face was human-like, he undoubtedly wasn’t human. He was covered in short, suede-like fur that was dull gray on his face and jet black on his neck. His jaw-length black hair was sprinkled with strands of gray, hanging in tousled locks from beneath the brim of the Hatter’s top hat. Long, feline ears jutted from either side of his head, and his face was dominated by that wide, fanged grin. His intense eyes—intent upon her—were aglow in that vibrant teal. Despite his alien features, he was handsome.
That attractiveness, however, didn’t take away from how unsettling he was.
“What a silly thing to say,” he replied.
Alice’s brows lowered. “W-What? What’s silly?”
“Of course I’m me. Who else would I be? Are you not yourself?”
“I…I thought you were the Hatter.” Her eyes flared as she stole a glance at the open doorway. “The Hatter! Where is he?”
The stranger’s grin tilted to one side as he lifted the knife away from her and spun it between his long, dexterous fingers. He raised his other hand and tipped his hat forward, hiding his eyes behind the brim.
Alice’s heart skipped a beat when she realized that the top of the hat was glistening with blood.
“You don’t need to worry about him for now,” the stranger said. “Though, perhaps, you can take some satisfaction in knowing that he’s going to be late for his own party this evening.”
“Who are you?”
He arched a brow. “I thought we’ve already established that I am me. Really, are you paying any attention?”
“You never…you never told me your name.”
“Well that’s a little more complicated than simply asking who I am, isn’t it?” He leaned forward slightly. “What’s your name? I’m fairly certain it’s not Little Dolly.”
“Alice. My name is Alice.”
“Alice,” he said, putting more gravel into her name than she’d thought possible. Were his voice not quite so deep, she might’ve considered it a purr. His eyes drifted toward the ceiling, and his brow furrowed as though in contemplation. Then he nodded. “It suits you. I approve.”
Alice tightened her grip on the chains. “What should I call you?”
“That depends on what you would like to call me.” He leaned back, propping himself up on one arm, and continued twirling that big knife with impossible speed and steadiness. “People call me all sorts of things. Shadow is what I usually go by. I’m not sure if that means anything to a woman who disbelieves reality, though.”
Alice glanced down Shadow’s body. His clothing was as rich and old-fashioned as the Hatter’s had been, but it was even fancier. He wore a long, crimson velvet coat with black cuffs. A black button-down shirt with a high collar was beneath his satiny crimson vest, which was adorned with shimmery patterns that almost looked like plants and flowers. His long legs were clad in straight black pants, and his black leather boots looked freshly polished. He appeared as though he’d just stepped out of nineteenth century London. But none of that caught her attention nearly as much as the long, black-furred tail swishing lazily behind him.
He suddenly tossed the knife aside, swung his legs off the bed, and lay on his belly with hands—which did indeed include dark claws—beneath his chin. “I like your clothes, too.” As though to prove it, he raked his eyes over her body. Slowly.
A blush stained her cheeks. Sitting the way she was, with her heels against the headboard and knees bent, her skirt had fallen down to her lap, exposing her thighs above the striped stockings. And she felt his eyes on her. Alice’s body warmed beneath his gaze, and her skin tingled as though craving his touch; it was like the concoction’s effects weren’t fading at all.
“Are you going to hurt me, Shadow?” she asked.
“No. I rather like you. I’d hoped we might get to know one another better, Alice.” His eyes flicked toward the chains binding her to the headboard. “Seems you’ve nowhere better to be at the moment.”
Alice shifted her wrists toward him. “Could you…free me?”
Shadow pushed himself up on his arms and swung his legs up again, folding them beneath him. His tail fell on the bed beside him, its tip flicking back and forth with subdued excitement. The position, given his height and leanness, appeared almost comical—but the blood drying on his hat eliminated the humor from the situation. It reminded her that for all his carefree, strange ways, he was still dangerous.
He settled his hands on his knees and said, “Absolutely.”
“Do you know where the key is?”
Suddenly, his grin eased into something subtler, something smoldering, and his hypnotic eyes were half-lidded. “I’ve found that such bindings can often make things more interesting. If it makes you feel better, I can take a turn in them afterward.”
Alice’s breath hitched. Heat coalesced low in her belly, and her sex clenched in sudden arousal. Her reaction to him was so swift, so shocking, that she reared away from him. “No. No. I-I would prefer to be out of them. Now.”
“If they aren’t real, how are they still holding you?” He leaned his face closer to her. “That must mean you want to be here, at least a little.”
Alice stared into his eyes. “That’s not…that’s not how it works. They want us to feel that this is real, but it’s not.”
“Oh, you’re the most delightful sort of mad, aren’t you?” Shadow nimbly leapt backward off the bed, landing lightly on his feet, and tipped the bloody hat. “Grant me but a moment, sweet Alice, and I will fetch the key for you.”
Relief eased some of the tension from her limbs. “Thank you.”
His features—save for his eyes and his grin—faded into obscurity when he reentered the shadows around the edge of the room. As he neared the doorway, he turned his back to her, becoming little more than another black shape in the darkness before disappearing entirely.
Alice forced herself to breathe slowly, listening for any sign of him, but only silence came from the room beyond.
His gentle humming was the first indication that he was returning, followed shortly after by the gleam of his piercing eyes. He hopped onto the foot of the bed and walked across it to drop into a crouch beside Alice. She’d never seen anyone move so gracefully.
Shadow raised one hand. A set of remarkably mundane keys dangled from between his forefinger and thumb, their metal smeared with crimson.
“Sorry. They were in his coat pocket, and, well…his knife is rather large, don’t you think?” He flicked his arm. Several droplets of blood spattered the headboard.
Alice felt the color drain from her face. “A-And you won’t…use that knife on me, will you, Shadow?”
Shadow arched a brow, staring at her as he slipped a key into the manacles’ keyhole. “When I said I wanted to know you better, I didn’t mean from the inside.”
“That’s…reassuring.” And it was, despite knowing that he’d killed the Hatter.
Shadow’s grin widened as he lightly ran the back of a claw along her outer thigh from her knee toward her hip. “Well, I mean, I would very much like to get to know you from the inside, but not in a way that has anything to do with a knife.”
A shiver stole through Alice, and her flesh broke out in goosebumps. The farther his claw traveled, the more aroused she became. Something was definitely wrong with her to be reacting this way when she knew the hand touching her was covered in blood, when she knew the man Shadow had killed was likely lying on the floor in the next room.
Or perhaps it was him—Shadow. His hypnotic eyes, with their glimmer of madness, enthralled her, promising wicked delights.
I’m going crazy. This is absolutely insane! It…it has to be the drugs still in my system.
Thankfully, the click of the lock saved her. The manacle on her right wrist opened and fell away, hitting the bed with a dulled thump, and Shadow turned his attention toward the remaining manacle, taking it delicately in his left hand while inserting the key with his right. As soon as Alice was fully free, Shadow wrapped his unnaturally long fingers around her forearms and guided her hands closer to him. He leaned forward to examine the chafed, bruised skin around her wrists.
“That damned fool,” he muttered. He brushed a thumb over the red skin; despite the wicked claw at its tip, his touch was whisper-soft, and his short, suede-like fur felt as velvety as it looked.
Alice watched Shadow in silence. From what she’d seen of him so far, he was unpredictable, unfocused, and absolutely mad. She had the sense that he was…untethered, like his presence had no grounding in this virtual world, like he’d just float away at any second. But for a moment he seemed almost sane; as he examined the damage on her wrists, he looked like he actually…cared.
I can work with this. I can use this to my advantage.
“Shadow?”
He lifted his eyes, and his grin widened as he purred, “Hmm?”
“Would you help me escape this place?”
His thumb continued its gentle caress. “Escape? That seems a bit overly dramatic, doesn’t it?”
Alice’s brow lowered as she struggled to focus on the conversation, on the situation, and not on the way his tender ministrations made her skin tingle and warm—or how his other hand was moist and sticky with blood. She reminded herself for the thousandth time that this was not real.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Escape is such a strong word, Alice. I was just going to walk out the front door.” He looked away for a moment. “At least I think it’s the front. Sort of hard to tell by looking at the outside of this place, isn’t it?”
Without thinking, Alice lifted her hand and placed it on his cheek, turning his face back toward her. He didn’t relinquish his hold on her. “No, I don’t mean just this place, I mean the simulation.”
He stared into her eyes for several seconds as though searching for something. Then his brow smoothed, his eyes lit up, and his grin—which she should have found deeply disturbing rather than intriguing—only grew. “I’ve met a lot of crazy people in my time, Alice, but you may be the maddest of all.”
Alice dropped her hand from his face. “I’m not crazy, Shadow.”
Holding her gaze, he tilted his head to the side. “That’s exactly what a crazy person would say.”
Frowning, Alice turned away from him.
“And because that makes you the most interesting person here, I’ll help you, Alice.”
She looked back at him as hope sparked inside her. “You will?”
“Let’s see it through to whatever end we reach. It sounds exciting.” He leaned closer to her, his expression falling into that eyes-half-lidded smolder. “And it should give us some valuable alone time.”
Alice’s heart fluttered, and she blushed. “I’m not a…dolly, Shadow.”
Shadow moved closer still—close enough that she could feel the tickle of his warm breath against her skin. “No, you’re not a dolly, Alice. But you’re mine all the same.”
Chapter 5
Alice’s delectable pink lips parted as she sucked in a sharp breath. Her vibrant blue eyes flared, and her cheeks flushed beneath her pale makeup.
She and Shadow stared at each other for what seemed a long while, her lips occasionally moving as though she meant to speak—but she didn’t utter a single word. And Shadow was content to stare. He’d not seen anyone as beautiful as her in all his time here, and he suspected she was even more beautiful without the makeup the Hatter’s people had caked on her face.
This Alice was a strange creature, an intriguing creature, and she heated his blood in a way he’d never experienced. Many of the people who came to Wonderland were confused and disoriented, sometimes for a great while, but she was different. She was unique. No one, in all his time here, had so adamantly and confidently proclaimed reality unreal. It only piqued his curiosity further.
He had the sense—nearly overwhelming in its surety—that spending time with her would be far more entertaining than his games with the Hatter and the Red King. His time with her would be far more…fulfilling.
Alice’s eyes shied away from him as she cleared her throat. “Are we…leaving, then?”
Shadow blinked. “Oh. You meant you wanted to leave now?”
She looked at him again, and the corners of her lips twitched as a hint of humor entered her gaze. “Yes. I’d rather not stay here any longer than necessary.”
“All for the best,” he replied with a resigned sigh, taking her hand as he slipped off the bed. “As you’re currently not interested in deepening our relationship, I suppose this peace and quiet would’ve eventually grown stifling, especially after my eighth or ninth hour of staring at you.”
“Eight or nine hours…” She arched a brow. “You’d stare at me for that long?”
Shadow helped her off the bed and onto her feet. “I don’t mean to be insulting. I’d gladly stare at you for longer, but I would think you’d be quite ready for a break by that point. I don’t want to assume your endurance.”
“My…endurance? From staring?”
“I can only imagine that constantly looking as beautiful as you do is a tiring affair, and I don’t want to overburden you.” He led her through the door and into the Hatter’s parlor, where the cakes and the carpet alike had soaked up much of the blood. The carpet made little squelching sounds as he stepped over the body.
Alice gasped behind him, and her arm stiffened, suddenly resisting his lead.
Shadow paused and glanced back to find her staring down at the Hatter, her face paling beneath her already ghostly white makeup. “You were in such a hurry a moment ago, and now you want to dawdle? Do you really want to be here when he gets back?”
She looked up at him, startled. “When he gets back? What do you mean? He’s…dead.”
“For now.” A flicker of silver caught his eyes. Shadow turned his attention to the bracelet on Alice’s wrist. Eat Me was written upon the charm attached to it. He grinned. With quick, nimble movements of his fingers, he unlatched the bracelet and held it up between forefinger and thumb. “I’ll have to make good on this later.”
Her gaze caught on the bracelet and a delectable blush stained her cheeks. “What?”
Shadow chuckled, pocketed the trinket, and took her hand again. He tugged on her arm gently. “Come along. This building is far more pleasant from outside.”
Her hold on his hand tightened, but she came without resistance. The small, simple action—her clutching his hand—made him feel warm inside. She was taking comfort in his presence.
He liked that feeling. He liked it very much.
When he reached the door leading out of the Hatter’s quarters, Shadow produced the keys he’d taken from the Hatter once again. He slipped the appropriate key into the lock, unlocked it, and left the keys dangling in the door as he pulled it open.
The Hatter’s door guard, a broadly built human who was roughly the size of a small house, turned to glance at Shadow and Alice as they emerged from the darkened chamber. His eyes widened.
Without missing a step, Shadow led Alice past the guard, giving the man a hardy slap on the shoulder.
“Hey, stop!” the man called, seeming to snap out of his shock as he hurried after them.
Shadow turned, slipped an arm around Alice’s waist, and swept her onto his lap as he sat on the sloped, curving bannister. He curled his tail around her middle.
Alice threw her arms around his neck. “What are you doing? We’ll fall!”
“That would be a more direct way down,” Shadow replied. Wrapping her securely in his arms, he kicked off one of the steps just as the guard lunged toward him.
He and Alice slid down, leaving the guard’s hands to close on empty air. Their speed rapidly increased, and Shadow’s stomach flipped; he laughed in delight as they passed doors, hallways, and startled patrons on their way down, everything soon becoming a blur.
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