The Mad King (The Dark Kings)

by Jovee Winters

  That’d been the night boys had finally started noticing her. Overnight, she’d turned from the nerd carrying around the worn Alice in Wonderland book to the hot nerd carrying around a worn copy of Wonderland. It’d also been the night of her first real kiss.

  Clinton Issac. Tall soccer player. Gorgeous, and with the cutest dimple in his right cheek. She’d closed her eyes, puckered her lips, and the rest was a gross blur of slobber and sweaty hands trying to unclasp her bra.

  Gross kiss notwithstanding, she wondered if lightning would strike twice. She bit the corner of her lip and wished.

  A large, stylish bow materialized in the palm of her hand, a small blood ruby winking from its center. She slipped it on, her stomach a nervous mass of butterflies. What would the Hatter think of her now?

  Two days left.

  Feeling like she might puke, she walked out, not knowing what she’d see today. Now that she was here, she was ready and willing to embrace the impossible.

  The hallway was just a regular hallway. She frowned, disappointed for a quick second that it all seemed so mundane. There were no empty frames on the wall, no vines appearing like slow-moving snakes. Instead, the walls were painted with fresco designs, a carnival at night, its neon lights aglow.

  She narrowed her eyes and walked to the wall. It all looked so real, and when she closed her eyes, she couldn’t help imagining the happy roar of a crowd. The sway of rides. For a moment, she could almost smell the greasy whiff of corn dogs and funnel cake. Her stomach rumbled, snapping her instantly back to reality.

  Food. Time for food. Lots of it. With a little sigh, she turned on her heel—and smacked head-on into an unmovable wall.

  “Oww.” She rubbed her forehead.

  Hatter chuckled, and the vibrations that laugh sent through her body weakened her knees. His hands slid down her arms, and his touch was like fire. Her skin prickled as every cell became hyperaware of his proximity.

  “You look...”

  Her stomach flopped. Did he like it? She held her breath.

  Then the heat in his glance died, leaving his eyes cold and distant. “Hungry.”

  The switch was almost too abrupt to follow. Hungry? She screwed her face up. “What?” After all the time she’d taken with her appearance—that was all he had to say to her? What about that initial heat, the look that said he wanted to turn out all the lights and do naughty things to her? She stifled a sigh of frustration. She wanted that heat back.

  “I’ve not fed you well.” His deep voice rumbled.

  She should be more than annoyed. She’d dressed up for him, tried her best to turn his head, and all he could talk about was food. In high school, that sort of passive-aggressive rejection would have sent her scurrying back to her Wonderland book, too embarrassed to try again.

  She pressed her lips together. That was the old Alice. The Alice who had been convinced by friends and family that her dreams were all just that—dreams. This Alice knew better. She knew her dream was real—he was standing right in front of her. And she wasn’t giving up without a fight.

  He waited, a strange wariness in his dark eyes.

  “I think food is a great idea. I’m starving.”

  She didn’t think he was aware of the way his body heaved a gentle sigh as the tension flowed out of his bones. She wasn’t sure how he’d expected her to react, but she was glad she hadn’t given voice to her annoyance over his less-than-desirable reaction to her attire. There would be plenty of time to be alluring later.

  Besides, when he smiled like that, her heart did a crazy tilt that left her feeling almost breathless. He really was gorgeous. She let him take her hand.

  He led her back down the hall, and then they were there. Wherever there was. They were still in the cottage, she supposed, as they’d never actually walked out... and yet she was now in a garden.

  She glanced behind her, staring back into the hallway, and shook her head with a tiny shrug.

  A sturdy white tea table sat in the middle of a large swath of sunlight, bathing the garden in a heated, buttery glow. Roses, dripping with scent and a multitude of colors, covered the garden from the ground up. Tiny yellow butterflies flapped lazy wings from petal to petal. It felt like stepping through a Monet.

  She smiled and clasped her clammy hands together. “High tea?”

  He shoved blunt fingers through his thick wavy hair, his posture unsure as he nodded. “If that’s okay?”

  Alice was proud of herself for not hopping and skipping around like Tweedledee and Tweedledum. She sat, trying to look elegant, but she was afraid that with the way she was dressed, she looked more like the best friend in Pretty Woman. Lowbrow hoochie, though the heat returning to his eyes made her think... maybe he didn’t mind?

  Dainty trays of food manifested, filling the tabletop to capacity. Tea cakes, finger sandwiches, salad, fruit, and cheese cubes as far as her eye could see.

  She groaned, mouth salivating at the sight.

  Two teapots appeared. Hatter grabbed the one with steam rising from its spout and poured a generous amount of the amber liquid into her cup. The heady aroma of anise and five-spice curled under her nose like a fog bank. She inhaled, taking the scent deep. Like a fine wine, it flooded her senses.

  “Thank you.” She grinned, adding, “I feel like I should be wearing gloves and a bonnet or something.”

  Cream lace gloves, with a string of small pearls laced at the side, appeared next to her hand. She snorted. “I have got to watch what I say here.”

  He glanced at the gloves, staring at them so hard she was sure he’d say something. But he didn’t. Instead, he dropped a sugar cube into his tea and nodded toward the bowl.

  “Yes, one, please.” Her voice quivered a little. The cube dropped into her cup with a soft plop, disappearing in moments. Alice slipped the fingerless gloves on, just to have something to do, and nodded. “Am I decent?”

  His brows lowered. “For what?”

  “For tea, of course.” She rolled her eyes, laughing.

  The cup in his hand paused at chest level. “I wouldn’t know. Tea is just tea.” He shrugged and then sipped.

  Embarrassed, she pressed her lips together. “Of course.” Suddenly she felt ridiculous in the gloves, in the dress, in the top hat that’d appeared from thin air atop her head. It was silly of her to get so excited. Just because this was straight out of her favorite scene from Alice in Wonderland. Just because it was the scene where she’d always felt the Hatter’s presence the strongest. She swallowed the tea but hardly tasted it. This was so stupid, so impossible.

  “But...”

  Alice hated that her heart fluttered. She didn’t want to care. Damn him, how many times would he make her feel like a fool?

  “You look very good to me.”

  Her gaze shot up, locking onto his. His compliment echoed in her ears, and she suddenly realized she was smiling. Pathetic—she was so pathetic. She hadn’t been a virgin for some time, and yet right now her stomach tickled and her knees knocked. He made her feel like she was back in high school, gazing adoringly at Clinton Issac, waiting for the day he’d finally notice her. All over one little compliment.

  Her smile wilted at the edges. Clinton had been an awful disappointment. She swept her eyes over Hatter’s face. Would he be too?

  “What’s your real name?” She hadn’t meant to ask him that, but it just sort of plopped out of her mouth. He looked at her, head cocked. Her eyes widened and heat rose in her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I don’t know where that—”

  He held a long-fingered hand up. Her stomach dove, remembering the feel of those hands on her body last night. How those hands had dipped lower on her waist until, for a moment, she’d thought he’d grab her. Pinch, knead, do something. Fire licked her veins, and she guzzled more of the tea, eyes burning as the hot liquid scalded her throat.

  He gave her a weak grin. “The longer I stay, the less I know. Hatter? Mad Hatter? T. T.” He shook his head and stared at his hands as if he could divi
ne the truth of the universe from them. He growled and rubbed his eyes. “I... can’t remember. Too long ago.”

  She was sorry she’d asked him. A frown tugged at the corners of his full lips. She wanted to smooth the anxious lines between his eyes. Instead, she plucked at the hem of her dress.

  “The longer you stay? What do you mean?”

  He looked up, butter knife held loosely in his hand. The smile she’d glimpsed only last night, the real one, the one that peeked out when he wasn’t afraid to relax, came out for a fleeting moment.

  “I was a man once.”

  She lifted a brow and gave him a knowing grin. “Oh, I think you’re still a man.”

  His lips twitched. “This”—he gestured, indicating their surroundings—“this is all an illusion. Frightening fragments of time and space, magic, moment, memory. Thoughts tumbling, tumbling down.” His eyes grew distant, and she knew she was losing him to the thoughts in his head. She tapped his arm, bringing his eyes back to her with a jerk.

  “Illusion? Madness? This place doesn’t seem so mad.”

  Hair slipped into his eyes. Emboldened, she reached up and patted it back.

  He stilled. She curled her fingers into a fist that she brought quickly back to her lap. “What I mean is”—her words faltered only a little—“I love this place.”

  “Why?” The question tore from someplace deep inside him. She sensed his desperate desire to understand her, understand why she felt as she did.

  “There’s magic here, and rooms that lead to nothing. Clocks that tick in perpetual motion, flowers that come alive at my touch, and...” There’s you... She looked down, distracting herself by taking a bite of the lemon-curd-laden scone. The sweet tang tingled her tongue and she moaned, a little jealous at his cook’s ability to make such delicious curd. Her stuff was good, but this was like biting into a lemon plucked fresh from a tree with a drizzle of sugar on top.

  “So good,” she cooed.

  She felt his gaze like a brand. “What was the last part you did not speak?”

  He’d caught that. She wiggled, took a deep breath, and gathered her courage.

  “I want to know you, Hatter. Is that so strange?”

  “Yes.”

  She licked her lips, the tip of her tongue swiping up a crumb from the corner of her mouth. His eyes homed in like a beacon and it was unnerving, exhilarating. She touched her chest, feeling suddenly very hot.

  “What am I to you? You do not know me.” His voice dripped scorn, anger, and something else. Hope? Maybe.

  She drummed her nails on the table. She knew he liked his poems. Pride shaded the corners of his lips when he threw out a particularly obscure one.

  His hands were long, fingers strong and firm. There was strength in those hands; she’d felt them tighten at her waist. He wasn’t an idle man with hands like that. Many might be tempted to think he drank tea all day and guzzled wine all night. Mad as a Hatter, they all said, but though at times he seemed to lose touch with reality, there was a hawk’s gaze behind those eyes. A quickness that saw more in a blade of grass than many could read within the pages of a book.

  And the hell of it was she didn’t know how she knew that. She just did. Alice had dreamed of him for years, talked to him, told him her most cherished and heartfelt dreams, knowing in her child’s heart that he heard her, understood her, and knew her just as well.

  “I know we have two days, Hatter.” She did not wish to give him hope. She had a life she needed to get back to. Responsibilities. She had a shoppe to run, and Tabby was probably crazy with worry. Not to mention her mother and father were probably, even now, calling every cop on the island to do a thorough search for their missing daughter. They’d all think something horrible had happened to her.

  Somehow, someway, she’d figure out how to save Hatter, how to get Wonderland to accept her. But she couldn’t stay permanently. If there was some way to hop between realms, that could be a definite possibility. But she had to go back eventually.

  The light in his eyes dimmed and he sat back, staring out at the garden with unseeing eyes.

  Her fingers shook as she reached for a small bowl of grapes. “The food is wonderful,” she said, desperate to get him to look back at her. She hated to see the sadness touch his eyes.

  “Leonard will be pleased.”

  Her lips quirked and she glanced around. A tiger-striped butterfly touched down on the table. Its gossamer wings moved gracefully. The animals and flowers were so normal today. She’d kind of hoped for more, maybe a butterfly with pats of butter for wings or rocking-horse flies. Of course, that had been a cartoon, and she shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up. “I’d like to tell him thanks. I know I love it when a customer tells me that.”

  He nodded, tapping the other teapot on the table. “Leonard, awake. Alice wishes to thank you.”

  Shock made her drop the succulent red grape an inch from her mouth as the furry head of a tiny mouse popped head out.

  “Oh my gosh!” She squeaked. “A mouse. A... a—”

  The food that’d settled in her stomach with the sweetness of sun-warmed honey suddenly felt like a brick. She breathed hard around the gag.

  He rubbed black little eyes, large ears twitching as he looked around with a furtive sneer. “Mice!” His high-pitched squeak matched her own. “Where? A pox on them.” The teapot rocked precariously as he shook a tiny fist. His nose wrinkled at a furious pace. “Nasty, flea-ridden vermin they are! And in me garden no less.”

  Huh? She looked at Hatter. What was... Didn’t the mouse know... he was the mouse?

  Hatter patted Leonard’s head with the indulgent grin of a proud parent. “Leonard’s my chef and friend. Are you not, wee one?”

  His voice had gone soft, gentle. The cadence left her spellbound, watching as a shaft of light suddenly filtered through a hole in a fluffy white cloud, illuminating his features. He looked like an angel.

  But only the fallen would make her feel the sudden violent lust rushing hot through her veins. She swallowed hard.

  “Righto, guv’nor,” Leonard chirped. “Indeed.” Black beady eyes glanced up at her.

  Alice tried to see him as Hatter did. Soft brown fur, long whiskers twitching with each breath. The little eyes turned soft, filled with light as he reached his hand out to her. “Oh aye, Yer Majestic Hatter, she is a lovely one. Ain’t she?”

  His hand was still open, plump pink fingers curled toward her, and she realized he wanted to shake hands. She smiled. He really was kind of cute. Alice gave him her finger and he shook it.

  “I loved your food, Leonard.”

  He beamed, winked at Hatter as if to say I told you so, and turned back to her.

  “I’m a bit of a foodie myself,” she said.

  “Are ye now?” Leonard twitched in delight. “And do ye prefer the sweet to the savory, as I do?”

  “She owns a cupcakery.” She glanced up at Hatter, who’d answered for her. “The creations would make you green with envy.”

  How did he know that about her? Had all the other Alices baked too? She bit her tongue at the irritating thought.

  Leonard gave her a sage nod of respect. “As they should. As they should.” He raised his arms high above his head, exposing sharp teeth and a pink tongue as he gave a mighty yawn. He smacked his lips and patted his head. “Perhaps, Alice girl, we’ll swap recipes.”

  “Did you make the curd too?”

  For a second the sleep left his eyes, and he nodded. “Me mum’s recipe, God rest ’er soul.”

  “Best I’ve ever had.”

  “True enough.” The little mouse accepted the compliment with the air of one who knew they weren’t idle words, tapped the side of his nose, and then yawned again. “Had meself a frightfully long night, miss. Apologies.” He slurred the last and then sank gracefully back down into the pot.

  She giggled. “What in the world could keep a mouse up all night?” She looked at Hatter, and the laughter died in her throat. He was giving her that look
again.

  The look that stripped away all pretense, that said he was looking at her soul. A woman could melt into that look, lose herself and never find her way back home. She gripped the edge of the table.

  “Have you eaten enough, Alice?”

  She shivered. She was warm, but not because of the sun. His voice, rough, scratchy, set her body on edge. Alice nodded, not able to speak.

  “Come.” He pushed away from the table and held his hand out to her.

  Holding his hand felt as natural now as breathing. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, she moved into step with him, getting inside his bubble just so that she could feel the heat from his body.

  His jaw tightened, but he didn’t move away.

  “Where are we going?”

  He was leading them deeper into the garden; a black wrought iron fence in the distance drew closer. The garden slowly morphed from swaying flowers to towering tree trunks whose overhanging branches obscured the sky.

  The moment they stepped through the gate, it was like someone had grabbed an enormous window shade and drawn it across the sky. The sunlight melted into moon glow. Stars studded the sky like thousands of glinting diamonds. The royal-blue veil of the heavens was broken only by an occasional fluffy white cloud floating past. The night smelled of heat and exotic spices. Somewhere, frogs croaked a gentle song.

  She shivered. “Where are you taking me?”

  He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. Her heart thudded. “A secret,” was all he said.

  It was becoming hard to remember why she needed to go home. Why staying here was a bad idea. When he looked at her like that, like she was a precious jewel and he was the dragon sworn to protect it, she forgot lots of things.

  Something in her recognized that for the first time, she was truly beginning to feel alive. That the world before was the dream and this one was the truth. That she’d finally come home. Scary how good the thought was.

  A small clearing opened up, revealing a placid lake that stretched a good distance in every direction. Bugs darted and zipped over calm water while small bubbles popped at the surface. Cattails swayed gently.