by A. K. Koonce
Too late.
The air knocks from my lungs. I’m tossed over his shoulder with ease, and I’m almost thankful to be carried away from whatever other creatures this village is hiding in its darkness.
Why am I so damn happy to be in my captor’s arms? What in the Law & Order: SVU is wrong with me? I swear I was a logical woman before I met him.
The firmness of his ass is right in my face as my arms dangle pathetically over my head. Strong hands hold my thighs as he walks casually through the forest.
“You know, I think I misjudged you, Fuck You.”
I roll my eyes at the name I gave myself and his unwillingness to forget it.
Why can’t he be like me? I forget ninety-eight percent of names the moment they’re spoken. But no, I give him a sarcastic name one time, and he refuses to let it go.
“Misjudged me how?” I peer down at the blade on his opposite hip as it shifts back and forth with his every step.
I’m not athletic. I’m that person whose arms get tired from holding her Kindle up for too many hours late into the night.
But I’m not the sort of person who gives up either.
“Maybe you are The One.”
My eyes widen just slightly. My fingers open as I quietly extend my hand toward the hilt.
“You’re definitely one big pain in my ass. Stop stretching, you’re never going to reach that, Prospect.”
My jaw tightens as I meld against his back, fisting his shirt in my hand to try to grip the shining sword. It’s a struggle, an embarrassing struggle that isn’t getting me anywhere.
“As big of an asshole that he is, he’s usually right,” a smooth voice says from behind us.
My palm presses against his lower back—God, is every part of him hard as rock?—and I heave myself up to see the person. With my other hand, I shove the long blonde locks from my face. I feel like such a shit show right now. I look like a toddler being carried out of the grocery store mid-tantrum. I’m astounded the wig has held in place this well.
The brick roads are no longer beneath us, and dirt and leaves take their place. The scent of pine fills the air as our surroundings become a bit darker among the trees.
Shining violet eyes meet mine. I can’t make out much of her features, but she seems to be a woman. What kind of terrifying woman, I don’t know. The way she walks is a calm and smooth movement. It’s like nothing in this world can get in her way. The slinking way she shifts through the trees captures my attention as she follows behind us.
“Another Alice?” she asks, her pretty eyes look up to the back of Kais’s head.
“One more to add to the list.” He keeps walking without pausing to see if our new friend is following. His steps become jarring, and I look down to find wooden steps beneath us. He pounds his boots against them without care, jolting my head against his lower back with every quick step he takes.
She’s right; he is an asshole.
Can he be a savior and an asshole at the same time? Well, I’m a good person and also a bitch at the same time, so I guess anything’s possible.
“I think you’re hurting New Alice,” the woman says.
“Temporary Alice can fend for herself.”
“You think so? She looks so delicate. Breakable. Delicious.” A long finger strokes along my cheek before I pull my face away from the woman’s hand.
“You don’t know Fuck You Alice like I do, Cat.”
Oh my God. My name keeps getting worse and worse with each passing second.
Harder he stomps, making the weak boards groan beneath us. I mentally try to calculate how much weight he and I are putting on the thin boards. My hand presses against his ribs to better adjust myself, meeting nothing but hard muscle underneath. Shit, muscle weighs more than fat.
It’s not looking good for us.
The dark forest slips away, and ocean breeze tangles my hair. I look down to see the crashing waves far below. The white water slaps against the rock, and I stare wide-eyed at it as he stomps up the stairs that are hanging off the side of the cliff.
The breath catches in my lungs, and I try not to recalculate our weight in my head. One forty plus two ten—my hands give a little press against his muscle tone once again, and once again I’m reminded that not a single part of him has ever tasted the bliss of a jelly doughnut—make that two twenty…
Just breathe. You’re okay. Everything is okay.
“Fuck You Alice is turning a little white, Kais. Is that anything to be alarmed about?” Cat sways her hips with each gentle step up the stairs that she takes. Furry pink ears twitch against her hair as she studies my expression, and I blink repeatedly at the sight of them.
This is a dream. This is just a fucking dream nightmare.
The cracking of a board sounds out just before my body jars against Kais’s back. A screech rips through me, and my nails dig into his back.
He groans as he stiffens. His arms flex against the wooden railing on either side. Carefully, he snaps his fingers, and with ease we rise. The board cracks again, but this time it mends itself. Kais’s spine straightens before he continues his task of carrying me higher and higher up the side of the cliff.
Cat waits, looking over the man’s handy work before taking another gentle step. Her small shoulders shrug as she trails after us.
“So Fuck You Alice, where are you from, my darling?” Those ears shift again along her thick hair.
My eyes close, and a breath slips from my lips. I get to leave soon, right? When they decide I’m not Alice, I can leave. I might as well just tough it out until then. Get this over with.
“I just moved to California. I’m a freshman at the University of Southern California.”
“Ah, the surface world. Such a terrible wasteland. I was a Princeton girl myself.”
I blink up at the…cat woman…she’s a cat woman.
“You went to Princeton?”
“Oh, yeah. I was one of their very first female graduates. Very scandalous. My mother cried about it for weeks.”
I look up at her smooth skin. Her beautiful smile. Her perfect voluptuous figure.
“What year was that, Cat?”
Full lips pull into an alluring smile. “The nineteen seventies.” It seems like a fond memory for her. It makes her happy, and it makes me confused.
She’s young. Just a bit older than myself. But she’s lived through the seventies…
“Where are you from, Kais?”
“Oh, you’re asking me personal questions now. I don’t think we’re at that point in our relationship yet. I—literally—don’t know your name, Prospect.”
“Stop deflecting and answer her.” Cat rolls her eyes with a sigh.
“My family came to America from Bordeaux, France.”
There is a hint of an accent in his words. It’s incredibly faint though. Hearing him speak of France is the first time I’ve actually heard the dip of his words. It’s like saying the country out loud triggers the pretty accent in his tone. Aside from that, his English is perfect.
Thank God he didn’t use the accent on me from the start or my infatuation with my captor would have blown right into planning the wedding of Mr. and Mrs. Fuck You.
“Tell her the other thing. Women love the other thing, Kais.” Cat nods enthusiastically.
“Women do not love the other thing.” He quiets for a moment, and I’m now genuinely curious about that other thing. Thankfully, he does tell. “I was a general in the Civil War.”
“The winning side,” Cat whispers while my head spins.
In my head, I swim through all the little middle school rhymes and tricks to remembering dates just to stutter out a vague timeline.
“In the eighteen hundreds?” My brow tenses as I blink hard at the ground.
“Yes.”
“You’re two hundred years old?”
“Not quite. Your math isn’t nearly as good as I had hoped for a Prospect.” His condescending tone is cutting and a little tired sounding, possibly from
chasing after me and hauling me around this Kingdom.
A few more blinks at the ground don’t help me understand their age at all. When I don’t speak for several long seconds, he finally pities me enough to explain.
“In Wanderlust, time does not exist. It doesn’t move forward. It doesn’t progress. We’re just here. Every day. Carrying on and waiting.” His boots hit solid ground, and his steps become just slightly slower.
“Waiting for what?”
Bright light washes over the grass. Footsteps sound all around us, growing closer and closer until bodies press in on us.
“Alice. It’s another Alice.”
“This one’s her, I just know it.”
“It’s her. It’s her.”
Voices carry and fingers snag against my dirty dress, but Kais just pulls me closer against his strong body.
When he speaks, his voice is low, barely a whisper among the chanting of that name.
“We’re waiting for you, of course.”
Five
We enter an estate of some kind, my fake blonde hair tangling around my face too much for me to see anything more than the floor. My ass hits shining tile, and once more, I’m glaring up into those careless sea blue eyes.
Warm golden light falls over us from big glass chandeliers overhead. They hang high on the domed ceiling, the towering walls making the room feel endless and extraordinary.
“It is my honor to present Fuck You.” There’s a noble sound to Kais’s voice, and even he can’t suppress the sarcastic glint in his gaze.
“I beg your pardon?” A woman’s voice carries over the crowd of people who are staring down on me.
I turn on the floor, my muddy heels slipping against the tile, leaving a streak of filth in my wake. It takes effort to contain my modesty in the short—slightly destroyed—blue dress. My fingers smooth against the clumps of dirt clinging to the once soft fabric. I spent hours on this dress. Sewing and stitching and making it look perfect for my first college party.
And now the come stain on the hem is hardly noticeable. It’s that bad.
My attention raises, and then I see her. Waves of silk bunch up to slim hips, a soft curve of her body, and delicate hands rest there. Long blonde hair curls slightly, and piercing gray eyes study every particle of dirt that I’m carrying around like armor.
Her chin tips up in a look of authority.
There are two golden thrones directly behind her on the far wall. All that’s missing is a shining crown.
I’ve never met royalty before, but I know a queen when I see one.
“I said it’s my greatest pleasure to introduce to you Fu—”
“My name is Madison Torrent.” My voice rings out over Kais’s adamant curse word.
Those steely eyes narrow on me. She crosses the wide golden tiles, coming closer and closer and closer. Until the ends of her sleek red gown kiss my fingertips.
“Stand up, girl.”
It’s been a few years since someone called me girl. The words Sick Girl spin through my mind, and my lips thin just thinking about it.
But I do as I’m told.
My heels click against the floor. Ashen particles of dirt drift down around me. It’s like my very own confetti of filth. This woman doesn’t seem to be too pleased about it.
“Profit. Profit!” Her voice snaps out the words.
My gaze drifts. Red hearts are painted on the golden doors we walked through. The same crimson hearts are embroidered into the hem of this woman’s long perfect gown.
The Kingdom of Hearts…The Kingdom of Wanderlust. And a man who’s obsessed with not being late.
I’ve dreamed up Wonderland. I’m in a sort of warped Wonderland.
I look to the loud and demanding woman before me. Is she the Queen of Hearts?
A young boy steps forward, parting the hundreds of people with ease as he drifts closer. The palest white hair I’ve ever seen lies in a disorderly state atop his head. Big brown eyes watch the woman closely as he takes his time striding over. It’s an odd confidence to see in such a little boy.
When he’s a foot away, I notice he only comes up to my shoulder. He’s maybe five foot at the most. His shoulders and arms are slight and delicate. I can’t help but wonder if he’s even a teenager yet.
“Profit, the King has not yet come down. Can you please tell us if she is the one?”
The One. I’m getting very Harry Potter–Neo vibes here.
I mean, sure The One sounds prestigious and all, but those guys went through a lot of shit. A lot. And they had a whole team of friends to help.
What do I have?
I can’t help but peer back at Kais. His attention never meets mine as he passes a lazy gaze over the crowd. He looks like he’s ready to clock out the moment this woman says he’s dismissed.
Yeah. I can’t be The One. I don’t have enough people who like me for me to be The One.
Warmth skims against my leg, soft and purring. A beautiful purple and pink cat sways between my heels, sending humming sounds of its contentment against my skin.
“She very well could be,” the boy says.
No, I couldn’t. Lack of friends, lack of good health, can’t be The One. Sorry.
The boy’s long fingers graze my hair, snagging on a tangled mess of the wig.
“She has the beautiful long blonde hair like I saw.”
For a moment, I consider ripping off the wig, throwing it at his feet and telling him he can be The One, but that doesn’t seem like proper royal etiquette.
“And the socks. Yes, she has the white socks.”
These are the specifics we’re tallying up for The One? The One is a blonde woman with white socks. Really? That’s all it takes? The bar is set incredibly low for qualified applicants.
The woman looks down at the white, brown, and blood-stained socks. Well, they were white. Before I came here, they were definitely white.
“Is she here?” The low rumble of his voice is calm and curious. It calls my attention immediately.
The lighting of the chandeliers reflects off of the golden floors and highlights his skin to a godly tone. Blonde curls are neat and trimmed along the edges of the crimson crown that rests on his head. Dark gray eyes meet mine.
For a moment, the room is quiet. Not one whisper sounds through the room as his gaze holds on mine. My shoulders square for some odd reason as I look up at the man who must be the King.
“She says her name is Madison Torrent,” the woman tells him.
“Madison.” The deep tone of his voice hums against my name. He searches my features, and I’m still not sure what I’m supposed to say to any of them.
Not that they ask me for my opinion.
“And she’s The One?” His attention slips to the boy who stands between him and the woman.
“She has the socks.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“There’s only one way to know for sure.” The woman’s voice holds a hint of amusement. It’s a cruel sound that makes me take a small step back from her and whatever it is she has in mind to find out if I’m their one true Alice.
As I step back, Kais steps forward. His arm brushes mine, and he never once looks my way. His jaw tips up to the woman, exposing his throat to her. The woman raises her hand, her index finger extending to show the shine of her sharp red nails.
She touches his neck lightly in an almost affectionate way that makes my stomach twist even more for some reason. Her nail rakes over his skin with an elegant wave of her hand. Smoke fumes from her fingertip and his skin. The distinct smell of burning flesh singes the air. When Kais grimaces just slightly, I lunge forward.
My hand grips her small wrist, and I tear her strange magic away from him.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” A thin line of anger seals her lips as she stares wide-eyed down on me. She’s tall. Taller than myself even in my heels. But she isn’t nearly as intimidating as she thinks she is.
A gentle warmth skims against my wrist.
“It’s alright, Madison.” At the sound of my name, I look up at him. His piercing blue eyes hold an exposed kindness to them. The anger and annoyance that he’s had since the moment we met isn’t there. It’s a vulnerable look that disappears the moment he realizes it’s there and too many people are watching. The vacancy in his gaze falls back into place.
The woman’s attention slips past my hand gripping hers to peer down at the way Kais’s fingers are resting against my wrist. It’s that minuscule bit of attention that has him pulling away.
“Let’s get this over with,” Kais says coldly. His chin tilts up once more, prepared for the pain she’s about to give him all over again.
This is a strange world. A strange place filled with customs and rules that I clearly don’t understand. It takes me longer than a second to release her. My fingers are stiff as I pry them away one by one. My legs feel the same way as I take a careful step back.
And watch as she finishes her handy work of burning his flesh in front of her court of adoring subjects.
My brow lowers, and that tightness constricts even more within my stomach. A soothing warmth sways against my legs, and the cat is right there, tangling itself around me, giving me a meager amount of comfort.
Moments pass. Kais’s teeth clench together hard as her finger grazes the strong angle of his throat and jaw. His lashes lower slowly, his breaths coming out in steady but deep exhales. And I wait with forced patience for the moment to end.
“There. Perfect. My best one yet, I think.” Her pale eyebrows rise, a pleased smile widening her lips. “What do you think, Constantine?” She settles her assaulting hands back on her hips and takes a small step back for the King to admire her work.
“It’s red, Sister.”
“Red indeed, Brother.”
Kais was just burned. Of course it’s red. My jaw hurts from how much effort I’m putting in to keeping my mouth shut.
“That is an excellent sign, my King.” The boy nods. The King nods. The King’s sister nods. Every single fucking person in this room nods.
Except for Kais.
“What does red mean?” My gaze remains on the angry, fire red numbers that are now etched across the side of Kais’s throat. Thousands of black numbers and dates line his body. This one, 4884, isn’t bleeding and scarred. It’s smooth and perfectly healed. But it’s crimson. Cherry red.
