Escaping Wonderland

by Tiffany Roberts

  “Don’t be frightened,” he said, sweeping off his hat and tucking it away behind his back. “This is all perfectly natural.”

  Alice swept her gaze over him as though her eyes could somehow stop him from disappearing again. “B-Because none of it is real. It’s…like a dream.”

  He shrugged again and took her hand in his, drawing it to his mouth. He pressed his lips to her knuckles; she was too stunned to react.

  “And it has been the sweetest of dreams since you arrived,” he said.

  Heat blossomed on her cheeks, and a pleasant warmth swirled low in her belly. “How do you do that? Why does no one else?”

  His gaze flicked past her for an instant. She turned her head to look—had the figure behind her moved?—but he released her hand and caught her chin with his fingers first, guiding her face back toward him.

  “I just do it, Alice. It’s likely because I’m the only sane one in this entire world,” he said with such genuine solemnity that she wasn’t sure how to take the statement.

  If this simulation had its own particular laws of physics, he was clearly not beholden to them.

  No wonder he’d been all over the place while they were traveling through the woods yesterday.

  “You said you found me while I was asleep?” she asked.

  “Mmhmm,” he purred.

  Alice waved a hand toward the sleeping figures in the mist around them. “Like them?”

  He turned his head and scanned their surroundings slowly, his persistent grin making his expression largely unreadable. “More or less. But these are the ones that never woke.”

  “Why didn’t they wake? And how did they all get here?”

  Shadow lowered his hand from her chin and turned to face one of the indistinct figures off to the side—as though he couldn’t see the one directly behind Alice. The one that looked like him.

  He shrugged again. “Maybe they’re still tired?”

  “And that one?” Alice asked, pointing behind her.

  He turned his head slowly to look past her. “What about that one? Same as all the others, I imagine.”

  Alice tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “He bears a bit of a resemblance to someone I know.”

  Shadow lowered his gaze to meet hers. “Are you saying his back looks like my back?”

  She stepped backward. “Do you think his front looks like your front, too?”

  His grin changed; Alice didn’t quite have the words to encompass what was different, but somehow it shifted from an expression of unhinged but mostly harmless glee to one of an exasperated parent trying hard to maintain calm while dealing with a petulant child.

  “These are the sleepers, Alice. I don’t know who brings them here, but they’re in this place so they are left in peace. Even I know better than to play with them.” He vanished again—like an afterimage that had been cast by intense light fading suddenly out of her view—and slipped one of his arms around her waist from the side a moment later.

  Alice turned her head to see him standing beside her, the hat in place atop his head once more.

  “We’re wasting daylight,” he said, guiding her along as he walked forward. “If you still want to find a way out of this unreality, we really should be on our way, shouldn’t we? This place isn’t meant for those of us who are awake.”

  “Then why did you let me wander here in the first place? You could’ve stopped me at any time.” Another thought suddenly occurred to her; she tensed, digging her heels into the soft ground, and glared at him. “Why didn’t you stop the Hatter sooner?”

  “Because I knew he wouldn’t do anything without his hat.” Shadow lifted a hand and flicked the underside of the hat’s brim, tipping it back slightly. “He is a woefully predictable fellow. I’ve tried to break him of his habits, but he’s quite stubborn.”

  “What do you mean he wouldn’t do anything without his hat? He only lost his hat because I got him angry! What if I had eaten his cakes like he wanted me to? What if I had complied and went along with his commands like a good little dolly?” She pressed her hands against his chest and shoved away from him. “He had a knife to my throat, Shadow! He was going to-to…”

  “Yes, Alice, he was going to. But he didn’t.”

  “Even though he didn’t, do you understand how terrifying that was?”

  Shadow shook his head and sighed heavily, scratching his cheek with the tips of his claws. “No. I don’t.”

  She’d never heard his voice so small, so solemn; he’d spoken with his eyes averted, his signature grin nowhere to be seen.

  His brow furrowed, and the carefree glee that so often sparkled in his gaze was replaced by confusion and worry when he looked at her again. “But I stopped him. I stopped him before he did anything more, and…isn’t that good?”

  Alice searched his eyes, and all the heat went out of her. This was the second time she’d seen a more vulnerable side of him. Who was this man who called himself Shadow? Who had he been before he was committed to this awful place?

  Whatever Shadow’s reasons for not stopping the Hatter sooner, it didn’t matter now. What mattered was that Shadow had stopped him. In truth, Shadow hadn’t been obligated to do anything at all. He could have looked the other way and moved on without a backward glance.

  She stepped closer to him and cupped his face with one hand. The short, suede-like fur beneath her palm was soft, and she stroked it with her thumb. “It was. Thank you, Shadow. And…I’m sorry. I am more grateful for what you did for me than you know.”

  Because he’d done more than simply delay the Hatter; Shadow had killed the man.

  He’d killed the man for Alice.

  Shadow raised his hand, brushed the pads of his fingers over her cheek, and frowned. Reaching into his coat with his free hand, he removed one of her wadded-up stockings and crouched. He dipped the stocking into a crystal-clear puddle and stood up again. With surprising gentleness, he used the cool, wet stocking to wash her face; the stocking was soon stained with the white, black, and blue makeup that had been caked on her skin.

  When he was done, he tucked the stocking away and studied her face. A soft smile settled on his lips as he placed his hand on her cheek and ran the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone. “There you are, my sweet.”

  Alice’s heart swelled; for the first time in a long while, she felt seen. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. She’d had so little human contact, so little comfort since her father died, and Shadow’s simple gesture was almost her undoing. She wanted more, she needed more.

  “I don’t know if you’re right or wrong about this world, Alice, but the way you make me feel…it’s new to me,” he whispered. “And I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to keep feeling it forever.”

  Alice opened her eyes in surprise. His words were completely unexpected—and too heartfelt and lucid to be untrue. “What do I make you feel?”

  He lowered his gaze, eyes shifting back and forth as he stared at the ground between them. “You make me feel…full.”

  “Full?”

  “Yes, like…” He looked at her again, and his lips slowly curled into a wide grin; crazy Shadow was back that quickly. “Trying to pry all my secrets out of me, Alice?”

  Once more, Alice wondered what had happened to make him this way—the man beneath his mask was confused, broken, and sorrowful. She couldn’t help but be drawn to him. Mad Shadow intrigued her, aroused her, and set her alight with anticipation despite the danger he represented, but Vulnerable Shadow called to her in an entirely different way. She wanted to wrap her arms around that side of him and draw him close, wanted to help him piece himself back together, wanted to hold him until he gave her not the grin of a madman, but the tender smile of someone finally at peace.

  Alice lowered her hand from his face. “It’s not prying if you were giving them willingly.”

  Shadow kept his hand on Alice’s face. “Since you’ve taken from me, I think it’s only fair I take something from you. That w
ay we’re even.”

  She furrowed her brow. “I didn’t take any—”

  He silenced her in a way she would never have expected—he slipped his hand to the back of her head to draw her closer, leaned forward, and slanted his mouth over hers. Her heart jolted, and her pulse pounded. His lips were firm and demanding, and they sent a thrilling shockwave straight to her core.

  Alice’s eyes widened, and she raised her hands to grasp his vest. Instead of pushing him away, she found herself pulling him closer. Her eyelids fluttered and closed as she gave in to the kiss; when his tongue brushed along the crease of her mouth, she opened her lips to him.

  Shadow groaned and looped his other arm around her middle, tugging her against him. Alice didn’t resist. She slid her hands up and buried her fingers in his hair, clutching the thick strands. His hand settled on her lower back, and the prick of his claws through her dress sent tingles of delight across her skin.

  His tongue swept past her parted lips. Alice met it with her own, flicking and caressing it; his tongue was rougher than a human’s, and that knowledge brought to mind delicious imaginings of where else his tongue might delve, where else it might stimulate and pleasure.

  She moaned as he took her mouth with a reckless abandon. His lips caressed, his tongue stroked, and his fangs grazed—and Alice submitted. She’d never felt so intensely as she did in that moment, wrapped in his arms with his mouth against hers. She’d never been so alive. Her sex clenched in desire, slickening with liquid heat. Her clothing felt suddenly burdensome and restrictive as it scraped against her sensitive flesh and hardened nipples.

  I want him.

  Shadow’s chest swelled with a deep inhalation, and he released a rumbling purr as he murmured against her mouth, “You smell even more delicious now.”

  Alice gasped.

  What am I doing?

  Play the game a while. Enjoy yourself while you’re here.

  And in playing that game, she risked losing herself completely to this place—to him.

  Alice wrenched herself away from him. There was a sharp prick of pain on her bottom lip as she stumbled back on unsteady legs. Her heart thundered, and her breath was harsh as she stared at Shadow.

  He stared back at her dazedly; his pupils were dilated, his ears perked, and the hat had fallen off his head. The hand that had been cupping the back of her head lingered in the air for another second or two before he lowered his arm and curled his fingers into loose fists. His tail flicked restlessly behind him.

  “I believe you’ve taken enough,” Alice said.

  “It’s not taking if you give it willingly,” he rasped.

  She narrowed her eyes, brows falling low; it wasn’t pleasant having her words thrown back at her, especially because they were true. She had given in willingly. Too willingly.

  Something tickled her lip, and she lifted the back of her hand to wipe it away. She stilled when she saw the streak of blood on her skin. Slipping her tongue out, she lightly dabbed the tiny cut and licked away the remaining blood.

  Shadow’s eyes were focused on her mouth, his pupils narrowed to tiny points of black. The heat in his gaze only intensified.

  Alice swallowed thickly and squeezed her legs together as though that could quell the desire raging through her veins. Her thighs were slick with her arousal. “Don’t we need to find Jor’calla?”

  “Yes… I suppose that is where we were going.” He slid his foot to the side, calling her attention down to the hat. She watched as he deftly kicked it into the air, caught it in one hand, and brushed the dirt and mud off it with the other. His eyes never left her throughout his movements. When the hat was in place atop his head again, he extended a hand to her. “Shall we, dearest?”

  “I-I think it would be best to keep our hands to ourselves.”

  His grin returned. He shrugged, flipping his palms skyward, before lowering his arm and turning away from her. He started walking without hesitation. “Keep close, Alice. I’d rather not see your lovely legs covered unnecessarily in muck again.”

  Chapter 8

  Alice stayed as close to Shadow as she could without touching him; sometimes, the fog was so thick that only five or six feet of separation seemed enough for her to lose sight of him, and she didn’t want to find herself alone in this place again. It wasn’t that it was frightening—okay, so maybe it was a little creepy—but it was a sad place. She couldn’t help but again liken it to a graveyard, even though the people here were alive. She had no idea why the sleepers had never woken, had no idea who any of them were, but there were so many of them here in this misty limbo that she couldn’t help but mourn the lives they were missing out on.

  It felt like she and Shadow walked forever, picking their way across narrow patches of relatively solid land that stood above the water. They were forced to cross the water in several places. Alice was left shivering after the first such crossing—the water was colder than seemed reasonable—and Shadow took to carrying her across those spots afterward, ignoring her protests.

  And, despite those protests, she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him every time, silently appreciating his caring and thoughtfulness.

  Still, it seemed like the swamp would never end, like she’d already spent a lifetime traversing it with those dark, motionless figures always nearby in the mist.

  Shadow stopped when they came to another stretch of deeper water. She didn’t bother complaining as he scooped her up; it had become routine by now, and the body heat radiating through his clothes was too comforting to forego.

  “It feels like we’re never going to get out of here,” she said as he trudged into the water.

  He was up to his waist after a few strides. “Do you mean the swamp or the simulation? Either way, I’m content—it gives me an excuse to hold you.”

  When Alice met his gaze, he grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

  She laughed and rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

  “I suppose it’s easier to be impossible when nothing is real, isn’t it?”

  Her laughter faded, and her smile eased. “You are real, Shadow.”

  His expression took on an uncharacteristically solemn cast. “I believe that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me, Alice.”

  “People must not say nice things to you often, then.”

  “Usually its things like get the hell out of here or I’m going to gut you when I get my hands on you. I assume they mean it all in good spirits, as most everyone says something along those lines when they encounter me.”

  “I…don’t think they do, Shadow.”

  His grin returned, and he moved his face into her hair, brushing his nose along her neck and behind her ear. “But you say nice things. You smell nice, too.”

  Delightful shivers swept through her. Alice gasped and flinched away, her hands tightening around his jacket as her skin tingled in the places he’d touched. “Shadow!”

  He chuckled huskily and held her closer. “You smell even better when I’m nice to you.”

  Heat suffused her cheeks. She couldn’t believe how swiftly he’d caught scent of that. Of course, it didn’t help that she was wearing nothing beneath her dress, but still! To actually smell her desire while they were kissing? It was as embarrassing as it was arousing.

  “Are we almost there?” Alice asked.

  “Oddly enough, we are there. Or here, rather.”

  Her brow furrowed. “What?”

  She looked away from him, and her eyes widened when she realized they were no longer in the swamp, trudging through water and muck—they were back in the woods, and Shadow’s feet were planted on solid ground.

  She scanned their surroundings; there was no sign of the swamp anywhere behind them, not even a wisp of fog or a single dangling strand of moss. Afternoon light streamed through the forest canopy, which granted glimpses of a pure blue sky just a shade or two darker than her dress. It was as though they’d somehow teleported while he’d been talking to her.
<
br />   Alice turned her attention forward. The purple-stone path—or at least a purple-stone path—meandered past directly ahead of them, and on the other side of it, no more than ten feet away from the paving stones, stood a strange house.

  The structure looked like it was made of some sort of pale gray, hardened material—stucco or clay, perhaps. Its lower portion was a wide, squat cylinder with a small round window to either side of its comically front wide door, and the tiled roof swept outward from the central point high overhead and hung at least five feet past the exterior wall to give the entire structure a decidedly mushroom-like appearance.

  “How did we— Never mind,” Alice said. She should’ve known by now not to question this place. “This is him?”

  “No. That’s his home. Jor’calla is a person, not a building.”

  She chuckled. “I know that. I wasn’t asking if this was literally him.”

  “But that’s exactly what you asked.” He shook his head. “And people call me mad.”

  Alice glared at him. “You can set me down now.”

  “And if I don’t want to?”

  “You should.”

  “Well, when you put it that way, it all makes sense,” he said without a hint of irony before gently setting Alice on her feet.

  Alice brushed her hands down her skirt, tugging the hem a little lower on her thighs, and started toward Jor’calla’s house. Shadow fell into step beside her.

  “So, you think he can help?” she asked as they approached the door.

  Shadow shrugged nonchalantly. “Probably not. He’s a strange one. Doesn’t usually make much sense when he talks. It often seems like he’s never truly where he is.”

  “I thought you said he could help us.”

  “Hmm.” Shadow lifted a hand and tapped his chin with the tip of his finger. “I believe I said you’d get on well with him, as he’s one of the maddest people in Wonderland. I never mentioned anything about help specifically.”

  Alice made a mental note to very carefully choose her words when asking Shadow questions in the future—and to pay extremely close attention to the way he worded his answers. She shook her head and reached forward to knock on the door. Before her knuckles made contact, Shadow grasped the latch, pushed open the door, and stepped through.