I think on Flam’s words, how he wants me to wear his colors, but I’m nothing if not difficult, and I don’t take orders from anyone, even a handsome Flamingo. “Black,” I respond. “I want my dress to be black.”
After all, the Flamingo has more than one color to his name.
Chapter 4
Flam
I feel out of place at the Queen’s Garden Party even though I’m surrounded by creatures far more outrageous-looking than I am, but I don’t let my discomfort show as I lean against a stone pillar, watching the creatures arrive. I’m nervous, and it’s something I’m not really used to. I’ve never been nervous for a woman before, or really at all, but there’s something about the Dodo bird that calls to some primal beast in me. I’m barely able to contain myself when she’s around, and I’m not certain if that’s a good thing to encourage or not, but I don’t really care.
There’s a break in the crowd as the trumpet sounds, alerting everyone that someone new has arrived. I try not to look too eager as I watch carefully. The Mockingbird enters first, her lithe form wrapped in a purple dress. She smiles pleasantly at everyone she passes, no doubt excited about the secrets she’ll learn tonight. They say if you have a secret to keep, never speak it out loud, or the Mockingbird will know. She has her ways. If she wasn’t such an iron lock when it came to those secrets, she would be considered a threat, but she only tells the secrets that are trivial or that are a threat to Wonderland. I can’t help but respect her for that.
Doe follows slowly behind her, a nice enough smile on her face as she greets the people around her; it’s nice but fake. The Dodo bird doesn’t seem to have much patience for such events as these. I glance down her body and realize with a start that she’s not wearing pink at all. No, she wears the color of my father instead, of the other side of me. I stiffen at the sight of the black dress, frowning when I realize I like her just as much in the color as much as I do pink.
When her eyes lock on me, I smooth my expression out and let a tiny smile curl my lips. She says something to her mother, and makes her way in my direction. My eyes fall to the slit in the black material, a good portion of her leg is revealed with each stride. My body hums to life. She doesn’t wear any ornamentation around her slender neck, no earrings on her ears. No, the Dodo bird is plenty radiant with the rainbow feathers threaded throughout her hair.
She stops a few feet before me and smiles. “Hello, Flam,” she whispers. I shouldn’t be able to hear her, not with the bustle of the party around us, but her words vibrate through me just the same.
“You’re wearing black.” My eyes trail her body, taking in the shape of her waist where the dress curves inward. The skirt touches the grass, the whole outfit fitting the dress code easily. She shifts a little bit on her feet and a tempting bit of skin appears between the slit again. My hand twitches at my side.
“I’m wearing black,” she repeats, a twinkle in her eyes. “After all, pink isn’t your only color.”
“It’s the only color I claim.” I’ve long rebuked anything representing my father. My mother fell in love with the brute, and he loved her completely, but he wasn’t as gentle with his son or anyone else. No, it was best that he died in the extermination. I just wish my mother hadn’t followed him into the Here After.
“I’m also not a pushover,” she says, interrupting my thoughts. “You can request I wear a color, sure, but I am my own person, and I’ll wear whatever I want. Besides,” she grins, “I think you rather like this dress on me.”
Bold, so bold, the Dodo bird is, and yet, she shies away from other people. She’s a walking contradiction, a puzzle I want to figure out.
I reach forward slowly, waiting for her to slap my hand away or back up. She doesn’t, meeting my gaze boldly, so I continue forward and wrap my fingers around her hip. I tug her towards me, perhaps a little too rough, and she trips the smallest amount, falling against my chest. I’m required to wear a shirt for the Queen’s party–everyone is–and I’m damning that fact when I can’t feel her against my skin. We’re surrounded by people, many of their eyes on us as we stand far too close to be proper in their eyes, but that doesn’t stop me from dropping my other hand out of sight and finding the opening in the dress. I lean down and touch my lips to the shell of her hair, smiling when I feel her breath shake.
“I never said I don’t like the dress,” I whisper roughly, my fingers gently trailing along the skin of her upper thigh slowly, always giving her a chance to move away. “Such a risqué choice, little bird. Did you have plans of seduction tonight?”
Her nails pierce through my shirt and draw the smallest amount of blood on my chest. The feeling makes me growl softly, wishing that we weren’t at this party, that we weren’t being watched by the Mockingbird and the Queen.
“Perhaps, I did,” she responds, her words so low, I barely catch them. She leans away then, looking up into my eyes. She doesn’t seem to know how many people are watching us; that, or she doesn’t care. “Would you like to dance with me?”
I raise my brow. “What makes you think that the Flamingo dances?”
“I’ve heard you’re a beautiful dancer,” she chuckles, smoothing her hand against the tiny pinpricks of red on my shirt, a little distressed about the stain. I clamp my hand over hers, right over the marks.
“I don’t mind wearing your marks,” I tell her, my voice not so soft this time. Someone near us, a lizard creature, gasps and stares at us with wide eyes before scurrying off.
“Now, look what you did,” she chides, a smile pulling at her lips. “You’ve devastated that poor woman’s sensibilities.”
“Then let her be devastated.” I don’t wait for Doe to move to the dance floor. I simply spin her where we stand, before I dip her low enough that her leg automatically curls around my hip to steady herself. Her dress falls away, revealing her bare skin, and I run my hand along the smoothness there before hooking my fingers behind her knee. Her lashes drop a little as she meets my eyes.
“Please keep in mind my mother is in attendance, pretty bird.”
She’s teasing me, and damn it all to Wonder, it stirs my body in ways I never expected. I growl and stand her on her feet again before leading her towards the dance floor. “I’m not pretty.” I clamp my hand around her waist like expected before seamlessly moving us among the other waltzing couples. She was correct about me being able to dance. My mother made sure to teach me everything I would need to know to be a gentleman. Too bad my lineage was the only thing she couldn’t change.
“I think you’re beautiful.” Doe grins up at me, following my lead like the good girl she is. I have a feeling she’s not quite so good as her mother wants her to be. “There’s no reason to be ashamed.”
“Handsome, maybe. Sensual, definitely. I think most people would argue your comment.”
“Only because they’re idiots.” My eyes snap to hers from where I’d glanced towards her mother. I can feel the Mockingbird’s eyes on us with every step. “Those who think you anything less than glorious only fear the unknown. Fear does no one any good.”
I pull her closer to me, ignoring the etiquette. “Are you not afraid of me, little bird?”
She shakes her head, squeezing my hand in answer. “What have I to be afraid of,” she pauses, a smile curling her lips, “pretty bird?”
“You’ve heard of my exploits, I’ve no doubt.” I glance up again. This time, it feels as if every eye is upon us. I try my best not to tense at their gazes, but it’s difficult with so many. They range in different emotions–curiosity, confusion, and anger. It seems some of them don’t think I should be dancing with the Dodo bird.
“I’ve heard many things about you, Flam.” She shrugs. “That has nothing to do with fear. I don’t fear you because you’ve given me nothing to fear. Would you hurt me?”
“Not intentionally.” My powers have gotten stronger, almost too difficult to control at times. Sometimes, I go too far in the fights. Sometimes, I regret that I can’t be more l
ike my mother and turn the other way.
“Exactly.” She releases my shoulder, and her fingers gently cup my cheek, turning my gaze back to hers. “I do not fear death, Flam. I only fear not living.”
My nostrils flare. There’s too much in her eyes, too much understanding, and I can see how my father fell in love with my mother. It felt good for someone to look at me that way, to not judge me based on things I can’t control. If my mother looked at him the same, I know how she tamed the beast.
“He’s an abomination,” someone behind us whispers, not quiet enough for my sensitive ears to miss. “Should have been put down as a babe.”
I growl, preparing to turn, but Doe clamps both hands around my face, keeping me focused on her and nothing else. My hands clench hard at her waist as I try to control the anger in my blood, but she doesn’t even flinch.
“I heard he acts just like his father. Nothing but a leech.”
My body hums, eager for my power to release, but Doe keeps my eyes trained on her, her fingers strong on my face.
“No one can make you feel unworthy except for you,” she whispers, keeping the words just between us. “You are perfect the way you are, Flam. Their words mean nothing.”
So, she heard it, too. I take a deep breath and nod my head, focused on her bottomless dark eyes. She keeps me grounded, and I find my anger slowly shrink. I realize we’re not dancing anymore, and I start to swing us side to side, ignoring the other couples still waltzing around us.
“Girl is stupid if you ask me. The Dodo Bird must be nothing more than a harlot for hanging out with the abomination. No desirable man will have her when she associates with that lowlife.” The voice is definitely female, and the offending woman is standing right behind me.
I snarl, and Doe’s fingers clench hard around my face. My hands raise up to her wrists, grabbing gently, prepared to move her before I turn. “It’s okay,” she says. “Flam, it’s okay. I’ve never cared what people thought of me.”
“They’ll keep your name out of their mouths,” I bite. I’m careful not to hurt her as I move her wrists and spin on my feet, meeting the eyes of a woman with small goat horns curling elegantly around her curls. She stares at me for a moment, her eyes widening when she realizes I was able to hear her. I can’t help the roar that comes out of my mouth, the sound so un-flamingo-like that it startles everyone around us. The music stops, the party guests turn and stare, as the goat woman scrambles backwards, away from me as the ground shakes. Silence fills the garden, and shame floods me. Their eyes tell me the words that always pass their lips–abomination, heathen, lowlife. If I continue to pursue the Dodo bird, she’ll be subjected to the same looks.
Doe laughs, the sound so full of mirth, that I turn to her in confusion. And then the rest of the guests join in, happy to let the tension pass. The music starts back up again, and everyone returns to their tea.
“Are you laughing at me?” I ask, my chest rising and falling rapidly with anger at the goat woman.
Doe grins at me, wrapping the fingers of one hand through mine and threading her others into the hair at the base of my neck. My free hand falls to her waist automatically as we begin to move again. “Would you punish me if I said yes?” she asks. Her nails curl at the base of my skull, tugging gently. She leans forward, close, so no one else can hear her next words. “Would you kiss me if I said the sound of your roar made me tingle?”
I stop moving completely and look down at her, tilting my head. My eyes flick to the maze just to the right of us, and I’m dragging her that way so suddenly that she trips. I don’t wait for her to get her footing again; I scoop her off the ground and move swiftly into the hedges, taking turn after turn until the sounds of the garden party fade away. When I step into a small sitting area, I stop and set her on her feet.
She laughs, but I don’t let her say anything. I jerk the Dodo bird against my chest hard and claim her lips in hunger. She mews against my mouth in surprise but doesn’t back down. No, the Dodo bird tries to dominate me much the same I try to dominate her. I twist my fingers into her hair, careful not to pull her feathers as I angle her mouth for better access. My other hand falls to her ass as she hooks her leg around my waist. I should slow, I think, romance her more, but my body hums with pleasure at her taste of ripe blackberries and something tangy. Need slams through my body.
I break the kiss to trail down her neck, nipping against her skin. “I don’t think your mother approves of us talking to each other.”
“I don’t care,” Doe groans. “Wonder, I don’t care.” She moans when I latch onto the joining of her neck and throat and suck gently against her skin.
“I’m sorry I lost my temper.”
“It’s okay,” she chuckles, grinding her hips against mine. “Who would have thought the Flamingo could roar?”
I freeze, my jaw clenching against her skin before I pull away and look into her eyes. She looks at me with those dark hooded eyes, her lips parted on a sigh. Gently, I uncurl her leg from around my hip and set her on her feet. She stumbles, and I steady her to keep her from falling. And then I back away.
“Flam?” She frowns, reaching towards me, but I avoid her fingers. “Where are you going?”
Sadness fills me, shame taking over, and I take another step back. Here’s this glorious creature, drunk on my words, and she doesn’t even understand that she’s let a monster kiss against her flesh. A single twist of my wrist, a small shred of my control slips, and she will die. She jokes as if she doesn’t understand the beast I truly am.
“You know why I can roar, little bird,” I whisper, sliding my mask into place. I should stay away, no matter how badly my heart beats at that thought, how badly I want her to keep looking at me in wonder. “I have to go.”
Her eyes open completely at my words, the desire gone from her eyes. I immediately want to chase away the hurt she tries, and fails, to hide. “What?”
“I have to go,” I repeat, my voice hard. “You’re too beautiful to clip your wings.”
And then I turn and flee to the trees, trying my hardest to ignore her cry, her reaching fingers, the confusion in her voice. I try to tell myself that it’s for the best. . . .
But I fail at that, too.
Chapter 5
Dodo
Five days later, I turn the page on my book but I’m not really reading the words. I haven’t been able to sink into a good book since the Queen’s Garden Party, my mind stuck on the image of the Flamingo backing away from me in shame. I’d tried to go after him, but he was far too clever, disappearing much faster than I can run, and I’m the fastest in Wonderland.
Sighing, I drop the book on a table and stand, stretching my body out. Perhaps a bit of painting will keep my mind from fuchsia-colored eyes and tattooed skin.
The sky today is clear, not bright–Wonderland is never sunny like other worlds–but still plenty of light to see by. While the stars might not be out, like at night, some light source keeps our world from being pitch black.
I set up my easel and canvas away from my cottage, beneath the shade of a tree, and dip my brush into paint. I start with long strokes, blending colors together, losing my mind in the process of art. My mother thinks that it’s a great skill to have to obtain a husband. She doesn’t realize that it’s for my benefit more than anyone else’s. My whole cottage is decorated with paintings of various creatures in Wonderland, and I like it that way. Every now and then, I’ll paint over one of the murals and create a new one depending on my mood.
I drop my brush in a cup full of water and stare at the image on my canvas, of a tattooed man with bright-pink eyes. Even in my escape, I can’t escape the image. I rub my head. Five days, and Flam hasn’t come to find me. Five days, and I haven’t thought of anything but him and his kiss. All of Wonderland talks about us, about how they think I’m taming the Flamingo. They’re wrong.
The Flamingo isn’t meant to be tamed.
I don’t want to tame him. I want him to stay just as he is, bro
oding, perhaps a bit brutal, caring, intriguing. There will be no caging the Flamingo, and I don’t want to be his cage. I want to be his wings.
But the asshole hasn’t come back, so I can tell him that.
Huffing in annoyance, I grab the canvas from the easel and move to my porch, dropping it with the dozen or so other artworks of the same man. Yes, every time I’ve tried to paint, it’s the same process: decide I’m going to paint a nice landscape and end up with the Flamingo. It’s frustrating.
I’m walking through the high grass to retrieve my paints and easel when a large shadow passes over me. My face turns up, curious as to what creature is so large, and that’s when I see him. My breath rushes from my body, and I clutch for the small gate of my cottage to steady myself.
I’ve seen images of Jabberwockies in books, rough sketches of what they looked like when shifted. The only Jabberwocky I’ve ever seen in person was Flam’s father, but he was always in his human form. Flam has the structure of a Jabberwocky, the long serpentine body, the great weathered wings, the harsh black spikes running down his back; he even has a gentle mane around his head like all Jabberwockies have. There’s one major difference between a pure Jabberwocky and the Flamingo. Instead of the black scales I expected, he’s covered in bright-pink feathers, beautiful and yet a little ridiculous. He’s no less intimidating, however, as he swirls in the air, his eyes looking down to where I stand watching him.
I’m not afraid of him, though I feel as if he’s hoping I will be. I don’t run into my cottage and hide. I watch him with barely contained wonder and awe.
Flam dives suddenly for my clearing, his large body growing larger and larger, and he drops to the ground like a torpedo. I gasp, expecting him to crash to the dirt, but he rights himself at the last moment and lands gently on clawed feet. A massive gust of wind from his wings hits me in the face along with the scent of citrus fruits and night.
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