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Escaping Wonderland

Page 6

by Tiffany Roberts


  Alice shrieked and buried her face against his neck, clinging to him. Her lips brushed his throat as she muttered quietly but frantically to herself.

  “Enjoy yourself, Alice. It’s not real, after all!”

  She only clung to him tighter.

  Shadow grinned.

  Guards shouted on the levels above him, patrons gasped as he sped past them, and the hypnotic music from below grew steadily in volume as he wound lower and lower around the cylindrical chamber. His heart raced, adding to his giddiness; its speed was almost matched by the heavy footsteps thumping on the stairs overhead.

  When they finally neared the place where the staircase met its twin and merged into one, Shadow unwound one arm from around Alice and thrust himself off the bannister. His momentum carried him and Alice through the air for a few yards. He swept an arm beneath her legs, cradling her against his chest, until his feet came down on the central landing.

  The people around him cried out in startlement; for a moment, all eyes were upon Shadow and Alice.

  Shadow unwound his tail from Alice and settled her on her feet, keeping an arm around her waist as he dipped into a low bow and swept the hat off his head with his free hand. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Please, do not allow me to interrupt your debaucheries.”

  “You!” A woman in a red gown and a beaked mask broke from the thick crowd below—the Tea Party’s madame, Cecilia. “You don’t belong here!”

  Shadow laughed as he straightened. “None of us do. None of this is real!”

  Alice turned her face toward him, and he could feel the question in her eyes. But she had no opportunity to ask it aloud; Shadow swept her off her feet, clutching her against his hip, and bounded down the steps three at a time. She released a startled squeak and clung to him, her fingers digging into the fabric of his clothing. His ears perked in unexpected satisfaction; suddenly, he was quite interested to learn what her blunt little nails would feel like against his chest or his back without any clothing in the way.

  At the edges of his vision, guards were shoving through the crowd, forcing their way toward him, and he knew more were hurrying down the stairs in pursuit.

  He’d not been sure how any of this would turn out when he’d followed Miraxis and Alice inside earlier. Though he always hoped for excitement, those hopes were rarely fulfilled—but this was thrilling on so many levels.

  And the Hatter would be livid when he came back.

  Shadow darted through the crowd, carrying Alice as he dodged and wove between patrons and dollies.

  “Stop,” Madame Cecilia shouted. “Release her, or you will bring the wrath of the Red King upon us all, you cowardly wretch!”

  Shadow spun around and met the woman’s gaze. “You’ll have to catch me first!”

  A guard shoved toward him, reaching out with one large hand. Shadow swayed backward. The guard’s fingertips brushed over the fabric of Alice’s dress, but the man was unable to get hold of it. Shadow turned toward the exit; he reached it in a few quick strides and tugged the door open, darting through.

  He ran for the railing ahead, stooping slightly to lift Alice fully into his arms again.

  She looped her arms around his neck, her wide blue eyes meeting his. “We’re too high!”

  “Maybe,” he replied. He leapt into the air. His leading foot came down atop the railing, and he used it to launch himself forward. That fluttery feeling returned to his stomach, and, for a few wonderful moments, he and Alice were weightless, soaring at least fifteen or twenty feet above the ground.

  Alice made a frightened sound and closed her eyes. She squeezed him, holding his head against her breasts in a viselike grip as though she were facing her impending demise. The hat tipped back and fell off his head. He caught it on the tip of his tail. The fabric of their clothing fluttered, and her hair streamed around them.

  Once again, he couldn’t help but notice how much he enjoyed the feel of her clinging to him—especially the way her soft breasts yielded to him. Her scent filled his nose, almost overpowered by whatever spicy floral perfume they’d sprayed on her when they dolled her up, but unmistakable—warm honey and vanilla, so subtle and pure. There was no one who smelled quite like she did, no one whose scent could make him feel intoxicated.

  His feet came down on one of the paved pathways that formed a convoluted web around the Hatter’s Tea Party. The impact jolted up his legs; his knees bent, but he remained upright, stumbling a few steps before resuming his run. The pain caused by his landing was fleeting, like most pain was for him—there for an instant and then gone, carried away on an unseen wind never to be felt again.

  “This is insane,” Alice whispered. She lifted her face from the top of his head. “They’re running down the stairs.”

  Shadow shifted his gaze to the nearby woods. He had an urge to slow his pace, to give up his lead, so the guards would chase him into the forest. He could keep just ahead of them for hours, leading them deeper and deeper in. Most people couldn’t find their way anywhere in those woods without the aid of a path. The thought of the Hatter’s goons lost and wandering for days amidst the towering trees was an appealing one.

  But he found himself far more tempted by the thought of having time alone with Alice; he couldn’t have a very meaningful conversation with her while they were fleeing, not while she was in the clutches of fear. She needed some time in relative safety to learn that she had nothing to be frightened of—at least not while she was at Shadow’s side.

  He wouldn’t allow any harm to come to what was his.

  Shadow ran his tongue across his teeth, held Alice a little closer, and increased his speed.

  Perhaps her madness is rubbing off on me.

  The shouting behind them faded as the surrounding vegetation gradually thickened. By the time Shadow and Alice had entered the forest proper, the guards were little more than a memory. Shadow shoved aside his pang of disappointment. He had the greater prize right here, in his arms.

  Ignoring the purple-stone path, he sprinted between massive trunks, bounded past towering flowers and giant mushrooms, and carried his female deep into the woods. Eventually, he slowed. Alice’s grip on him—to his regret—eased. In retaliation, he tightened his hold on her.

  “I think they’re gone,” she said.

  “Quite easy to shake pursuit when you’re lost,” he replied.

  Alice leaned back to meet his eyes. “We’re lost?”

  Shadow arched a brow. “Obviously. Isn’t that the best way to avoid capture? If you can’t find yourself, how is anyone else meant to find you?”

  Her features were strained with worry. Even wearing that expression, she really was an exquisite thing—especially because of her revealing, vibrant eyes. His hands, one of which was on her bare thigh, flexed. Were he to slide that hand up, he’d feel the intimate heat between her legs. It was a tempting thought.

  “You look worried, Alice,” he said huskily, barely resisting the desire to shift his hand.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” Her gaze flicked behind them. Her fingers idly twirled and brushed through the longer fur at the back of Shadow’s neck, sending delicious pulses of pleasure down his spine. “Everything here is…different. Strange. The things I’ve experienced here, all the fear, pain, the um…” Her cheeks reddened. “It all feels so real even though I know it’s not.”

  Shadow continued onward in a casual stroll, paying no mind to direction. He was more focused on her; she’d not tried to get down yet, and he wouldn’t relinquish his hold on her voluntarily. “Ah, so we’re back to that again. Have you ever stopped to consider that this is real?”

  Her eyes locked with his. “But it’s not, Shadow. I saw them. The coffins. The…pods they put us in. There were wires and tubes and needles. They’re keeping us asleep, keeping us in this simulation like prisoners.”

  He raised his tail and delicately settled the hat over his head again, tipping it to a sideways angle. He drew in a deep breath; the air was scented with life, w

ith the smells of earth and growing things, with the perfume of at least a dozen different species of flower—and with her sweet, mouthwatering aroma, which only grew stronger as time passed. “You can see all this, smell it, hear the wind in the leaves and the wood creaking, touch it, taste it, if you were so inclined. This, my dear Alice, is as real as it gets.”

  “Drugs can make you feel that way, and they’re pumping us full of them.”

  “I don’t partake,” he replied. “They make me feel unbalanced.”

  She frowned, appearing to be in deep thought before her eyes widened. “The Hatter!”

  “What about him? He’ll be furious, but we’ve no need for concern.”

  “You said he’d come back, right? But he’s supposed to be dead. If this was a real world, he would stay dead. He wouldn’t come back. So how does that make sense?”

  “Because that’s how things work.” Shadow shook his head and chuckled. “Really, just saying people ought to stay dead doesn’t make it reality. And how dull would that be, anyway?”

  “Because that is how the real world works, Shadow. People die.”

  “Yes. In the real world, people die. And then they come back—usually angry that they were killed to begin with.”

  Alice stared at him for several seconds, searching his face. “You really believe that.” She sighed, and her body sagged. “You can set me down now, Shadow. I can walk.”

  He lifted his chin slightly. “I rather prefer carrying you, Alice. I enjoy the way you cling to me.”

  “But I’m not—” She hurriedly loosened her hold on him. “I wasn’t clinging.”

  With a heavy sigh of his own, Shadow halted and stooped to set her on her feet. She did, in fact, cling to him as she found her balance.

  “You’ve a strange way of looking at things, sweet Alice.”

  “I could say the same about you,” she replied, glancing up at him before stepping away and looking around. “So…you really have no idea where we are?”

  He felt oddly incomplete without her in his arms. He ran his palms down his coat, smoothing the fabric, and tossed the feeling aside. Things between him and Alice had only just begun; there was plenty of time for her to warm up to him. He spun in a slow circle, studying their surroundings. “We’re in the woods, of course.”

  She chuckled. “Aside from the obvious, I mean.”

  Shadow turned to face her, arching a brow and tilting his head. A soft smile lingered on her face. He couldn’t recall anyone reacting to him like this, with genuine humor, with warmth. He’d been an outsider here for as long as he could remember—and even if he couldn’t quantify his time in Wonderland, he knew it had been a great, great while.

  “We’ll find our way to wherever it is we’re going,” he said.

  “I suppose if we keep walking one way, we’ll end up somewhere.”

  “That makes more sense than anything you’ve said so far, Alice.” He folded one arm across his chest, leaned his opposite elbow on the back of his hand, and took his chin between forefinger and thumb. “So, we need to find a way to return you to unreality, correct?”

  “To reality, yes. I need to find some way to…wake up, I guess. There have to be others like me here—people who know all this isn’t real.”

  “Hmm…” Shadow tapped his chin. “I suppose we just need to find other crazy people, then.”

  “I don’t think they’re the—” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

  A sudden thought occurred to Shadow. His eyes widened, and he raised a finger into the air. “We’ll go talk to Jor’calla. He’s the maddest person in Wonderland. The two of you should get on well.” He narrowed his eyes on her. “But not too well, mind you.”

  A crease formed between her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

  He stepped closer to her and slipped his tail around her waist, tugging her against him. Before she could pull away, he cupped her face in his hands and looked into her lovely eyes. “Have you forgotten already, Alice? You’re mine.”

  * * *

  Alice flattened her hands on Shadow’s chest, eyes rounding at his declaration.

  You’re mine.

  He’d said the same in the Hatter’s bedroom. She’d thought little of it at the time—she’d been preoccupied with more pressing matters and had dismissed the words as those of a madman. But hearing them again now—while looking into his eyes—she had a feeling that he truly meant them.

  The tips of his claws were settled lightly against her skin, his warm, hard body—including one particular hard part against her belly—was flush with hers, and his tail was wrapped possessively around her waist. She should’ve been frightened—she should’ve found him frightening. Shadow was an unsettling individual, and she should’ve been running from him as fast as her legs could carry her. Fleeing was logical. Fleeing was smart.

  But Alice didn’t want to run; she only wanted to get closer to him. He was compelling, but more than that, she felt safe with him. And, for some inexplicable reason, her body reacted to him fiercely. She wanted to feel him, all of him—his lean, fur-covered muscles, his strong, long-fingered hands, his lips. Everything.

  Maybe I am crazy?

  She didn’t know who Shadow was or what he was capable of—apart from murder. What would he do if she angered him, or if he grew tired of her? They were in an asylum. People would be unpredictable here, and she had a feeling he was even more unpredictable than most.

  No, we’re not just in an asylum. We’re in a simulation in an asylum. None of this is real. Even if I feel pain…he can’t actually hurt me.

  Can he?

  Alice cleared her throat and looked away from him. Though his hold was by no means painful, she could sense his dormant strength—he made Miraxis seem weak in comparison. If he didn’t want to let her go, she’d never escape his grasp. She needed to distract him if she wanted to open some space between them. “So where is this Jor’calla?”

  His thumbs trailed over her cheekbones, and he shrugged. “In a house somewhere, I imagine.”

  For a moment, she leaned into his touch, nearly letting her eyes drift shut. His caress shouldn’t have felt so good.

  Focus, Alice.

  She met his gaze, reached up, and took hold of his wrists, guiding his hands away from her face. “And you can find him, right?”

  He didn’t resist, but neither did he remove his tail from Alice’s waist. “I always wind up where I intend to be eventually.”

  “We should go now then, just in case the guards are still behind us.”

  Shadow turned his head, glancing first over one shoulder and then the other. “Behind or in front. They’re somewhere, that’s for certain. I doubt they’ve followed us into the woods, though. Only a mad person would wander off the path.”

  Alice pointedly looked at the grass-covered ground—there was no path in sight—before returning her eyes to his with one brow arched.

  He raised an eyebrow in response. “Is something wrong?”

  “We’re not on a path.”

  “I did already mention I always make it to wherever it is I intend to be, didn’t I? I’m not the crazy one here.”

  “Do you not realize how ridiculous that is? How you’re…contradicting yourself?”

  “I do prefer to keep things interesting,” he said before turning away. His tail finally fell from her waist as he put his hands on his hips and scanned their surroundings, facing a different direction every few seconds. He hummed thoughtfully, his catlike ears drooping, and muttered, “If I were Jor’calla, where would I be?”

  Alice watched him, unable to keep the smile from her face. There was something charming about him, something almost childlike.

  But he’s a killer, Alice. Don’t forget that.

  His ears perked. “Silly question, simple answer. I’d be exactly wherever I was. Let’s go, Alice!”

  Shadow started off in a seemingly random direction, his long legs carrying him a great distance rather quickly.

  Startled,
Alice hurried after him. “Shadow! Wait! Slow dow—ouch!” She cursed as she stumbled and her foot bent to the side, sending a jolt of pain through her ankle. Gritting her teeth, she hopped on her other foot until she regained her balance before bending forward.

  Something soft brushed down her arm.

  “Are you all right, Alice?” Shadow asked from immediately beside her.

  Alice blinked and glanced at the tail stroking her arm. She tipped her head back, brows high. How he’d get to her so fast? He’d been at least fifty feet ahead of her a second ago. She hadn’t even heard him approach.

  “I’m fine. Just need to get rid of these.” She tugged one shoe off, lowered her leg, and kicked away the other. Her stockinged feet sank into the soft grass as she stood up straight.

  “Now you’re even smaller than before,” he said, leaning closer to her.

  She looked up at him. “Or you’re just very…tall.”

  And he was. He towered over her, standing at least a foot taller—likely more.

  “I’m exactly the size I’m meant to be. You, on the other hand, have changed sizes. It’s quite inconsiderate.”

  “In…considerate…” she said slowly. “Well, don’t you think it’s inconsiderate that you took off and forced me to run after you in heels?”

  He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow, making another thoughtful humming sound. He sank into a crouch, extending an arm and settling his palm on her bare thigh just beneath the hem of her skirt and above the top of her striped stocking. She sucked in a sharp breath. His hand was so warm, so soft, and yet also so solid and strong, that she found herself unable to immediately react; it felt good.

  Shadow slid his palm down her leg, catching the stocking and drawing it down, too. He brushed his thumb over her knee, and his fingertips grazed the sensitive flesh behind her knee before moving lower. His hand cupped her calf. A shiver stole through her, and warmth pooled between her legs.

  “What are you doing?” She couldn’t muster the willpower to pull away from him.

 
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