His tail curls around my bicep where I lean up on my elbows against the roof.
“Right now, It’s a kiss.”
Cheshire leans forward and for a moment, I think he’ll listen to me. I should have known. There’s a few inches between us before his lips curl up in a wicked grin.
“Not yet, Cal.”
I growl, but before I can grab him and slam my lips to his anyway, he pulls away and stands up. He walks to the edge of the roof and looks back at me.
“Tonight, I hope your brain runs over this scenario a million times, and each time you imagine the kiss a little different, so when it really does happen, it’ll blow away even your wildest imagination.”
He steps off of the roof, and my heart gives a hard throb before I remember the saying about cats, that they’ll always land on their feet.
“I hope you land on your ass,” I call down, not even sure if he can still hear me.
A tiny smile curls my lips when a husky chuckle meets my ears.
Fucking Cat.
Chapter 27
“Someone needs to fetch Absalom,” Hatter mumbles a week later. “He’s taking entirely too long. We can’t wait anymore. We need his guidance.”
“Can’t we just call him?” Attie asks.
I snort and cock my brow at him. “You got a Wonderland phone, little bro?”
“No but they might.” He crosses his arms defensively, and I chuckle.
“Unfortunately, we don’t have phones. Wonderland doesn’t like that kind of technology.”
“But you have electricity,” Attie points out, ever the obvious. There’s a chandelier hanging above us, indeed with electric bulbs.
“She doesn’t like certain types of technology. We’ve had what you call electricity for as long as I can remember. In fact, I think it was our technology that was stolen to power your world.”
Attie shrugs.
“They don’t teach us that in history class.”
Hatter smiles at him, clear affection on his face. In the two weeks we’ve been here, the Hatter has started to dote on Attie, showing him all sorts of things, teaching him how to fight with a sword. The others have taken it upon themselves to teach him whatever they can, too. My mom has been mostly distant, almost catatonic half the time. She hasn’t recognized us since we arrived at the Hatter’s house. I’m afraid she never will again.
“No, I doubt they would,” Hatter tells Attie, smiling at him.
“Who can go get Absalom?” Clara asks, worrying her lip.
It’s almost like the entire room shifts to look at me as I have my mouth open around a croissant.
“Really?” Exasperation coats my answer, and I glare at them all.
“Well, you and Cheshire are the next part of the prophecy,” Jupiter points out.
“Why me and Cheshire? I thought it was just me being part of the triad.”
Jupiter and Clara both look at Cheshire. He’s sitting beside me, sipping his tea, as if he doesn’t have any connection to this conversation. Both of them frown before Clara sighs. Cheshire glances up at the sound and meets her eyes.
“Oh, Cheshire,” she breathes.
Cheshire growls and looks away. “Drop it.”
“What?” I ask. “Drop what?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Cheshire drops his spoon a little too hard on the table, making the dishes clatter. Down the table, the Tweedles perk up, but I look away from them. I have no desire to deal with those weirdos. They give me a serious case of ‘run away’ vibes. There’s something about them that screams of harming, hurting, and destroying, and I get the feeling that they don’t belong to this world any more than they belong to mine.
Jupiter and Clara have been nothing but kind to me since I’ve been here, but I’ve been sticking to my mom and Attie’s side. Mom, for all her dementia and health issues in the nursing home, seems far more content here even if she doesn’t seem to be remembering us. When she’s not locked inside her mind, she’s talking with everyone as if she’s happy to be on this adventure. She grows weaker and weaker every day. The doctor had warned that she’s deteriorating, and that it would be her choice when she’s ready to go. It could take a while or it could be suddenly. Either way, it’s only a matter of her being called away.
My mom sits beside me right now, happily sipping Chamomile tea and eating a cupcake. She never questions the creatures, the odd people we sit with. She just pretends as if nothing is there, or as if she’s dreaming. It makes me unbearably sad, to think that she won’t at least recognize the oddness.
“You two will have to go get Absalom,” Clara says, nodding her head. “Flam said he’s finished purging.”
My eyes flick over to Flam. He winks at me when he sees me looking, but I don’t accept it as anything other than him being funny. His arm is around Doe as she sips her tea, her rainbow-colored feathers making them an even odder pair, and yet it’s obvious they’re completely in love.
“We’ll leave first thing tomorrow.” Cheshire is wearing his signature tiny smirk. “That is, if we can get you up from your beauty sleep,” he teases. “Although, you do have such a cute snore.”
“Shut up,” I grumble, taking another vicious bite of a sweet bread.
I’m so agitated, I don’t think to ask how he knows I snore.
Chapter 28
I step over a tree root thicker than my arm, and it rises with me, trying to catch my toes. I step high enough to avoid it, but it still pisses me off.
“Why do we have to walk through the forest? Why can’t you Fade in?” I go to step over another root, but this one rises higher than I expect, and it catches my toe. I trip, and nearly fall on my face. Luckily, I catch myself. The tree laughs at me, it’s woodsy sound grating on my nerves. “Fucking trees,” I grumble, kicking the root for good measure. It sends a sharp pain up through my toe, and I growl. “Someone should take a chainsaw to your ass.”
“Now, now,” Cheshire teases. “They can’t help it if you can’t handle your wood.”
I have yet to see a single tree branch rise up to trip Cheshire, and that only serves to piss me off more. I snort.
“That was a lame line, Cat. Does that impress the ladies?”
“Oh, I can assure you, they’re happy with my wood.”
I roll my eyes. I’d walked right into that one. “That’s what you think,” I mumble under my breath, but I completely forgot about Cheshire’s super duper gee wizz hearing.
He turns on the spot, his eyes looking me up and down, taking in the sight of my shirt stuck to my chest from sweat, and my jeans uncomfortable with all the walking.
“Is that a challenge?” He purrs.
“It’s a statement of a fact.” I stop and push my hair out of my eyes. “You tell yourself they’re happy because you’re an asshole, but I doubt you’ve ever stuck around long enough to ask.”
He shrugs. “No point in sticking around when we get what we came for.” I shake my head and start walking again. I go to pass Cheshire, but he grabs my wrist, locking me in place. “Does that bother you, little goddess?”
I look into his electric eyes, that always somehow seem brighter when filled with emotion. Right now, it’s amusement. I amuse him, and it fills me with such anger, I don’t know where to direct it. So, I don’t comment on it.
“I’ve learned my lesson with men like you,” I say instead. “You’re a good fuck, perhaps, a nice story to tell the girls, but nothing else. Because you refuse to be anything else, choosing to conquer one before moving on. So, no, it doesn’t bother me, Cheshire, because I expect you to act like that. You’re a bad boy, and the kind that will never change. I’m not jaded. I’m not ignorant. I know exactly what you are.”
“You know nothing about me,” he growls, his voice going straight through my body. I love when he gets all grumbly, but I’ll never tell him that. It would give him too much leverage.
“I know all I need to.” I jerk my arm from his grip, and I know he lets me go rather than my strength gi
ving me freedom. If Cheshire hadn’t wanted me to move, he wouldn’t have let me. The fact that he did, speaks to his character more than anything else.
I start walking through the forest again, weaving through the trees. I don’t look behind me to see if Cheshire is following; I can feel him, moving as quietly as a panther. I don’t know why I’m so aware of him, but I can practically feel his life force, and it sets my nerves on fire.
“You’re right,” Cheshire says from behind me, and I pause but don’t look back.
“About what?”
“I am a good fuck.”
I should have known it wouldn’t be some in-depth recognition of his attitude, or some grand gesture. I forgot for a moment that this isn’t really a fairy tale, and Cheshire certainly is no prince.
“No sex is worth you being an asshole,” I say. I still don’t turn around. I can’t, because I might just accept it for the challenge it is.
“Are you sure about that?” I can feel him move closer, just a little, like a shift in the air. “Aren’t you a little curious what it’s like to be wild, to be free, to let someone else take charge?”
“I don’t need a man to take charge. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” My fingers twitch at my side, his energy pushing against my own, stroking my fires.
“But why should you take care of yourself when I can do it for you? I can have you screaming your ecstasy to the trees, little goddess. Just let go.” He pauses. “I’d say it would be a good story to tell, but I get the feeling you don’t have any women you actually talk to about such things.”
And then my anger just disappears. I’m no longer pissed. I’m no longer angry. Because he’s right. Raising Attie and taking care of my mom has left me with no friends besides Rob, and he doesn’t really count. The girlfriends I’d had didn’t understand why I couldn’t have lunch or hang out on the weekends, and so we’d lost touch. It doesn’t bother me, but Cheshire poking fun at it, well, it brings a tiny pinch into my chest. I start walking again, but his presence is so close behind me that I can practically feel his heartbeat. How, I don’t know, but it’s slowly stroking my anger again, just a little bit.
“No response to that?” Cheshire goads. I don’t reply, even though I can literally feel the grin he’s sporting. He’s poking the bear, and I try my hardest not to respond. “Come on, Calypso. That must burn. No friends, all this responsibility. Have a little fun. What can it hurt? Pretty sure I’ll be the best you’ve ever had.”
“Why don’t you just fuck off, Pussy Cat?” I toss the words over my shoulder, annoyed with the smug bastard behind me. I’m trudging through a forest that’s literally trying to kill me, on a mission that I have no choice in, and he has the absolute audacity to keep that shit-eating grin on his face.
“I’d rather just fuck you,” he drawls, not even reacting to the nickname.
And just like that, the urge to fight with him, to give him a run for his money, fills my body, and I come to an abrupt halt right there in the middle of the forest. There are the sounds of birds and creatures in the distance that I probably have no interest in coming into contact with, not after the ones I’ve already seen. I have no idea how much further we have to go, or even if we’re going in the right direction. Jupiter and Clara said I would know where to go because I could feel it, but to be honest, all I feel at the moment is a mix of annoyance and lust that I seriously want to take out on the cat behind me.
I’d had the feelings before—the Cheshire Cat is too sexy for his own good—but I’d shrugged it off. Not anymore. This time, the urge is far too strong to ignore.
“What’s the matter?” Cheshire teases behind me. “Cat got your tongue?”
I whirl around, a snarl on my face but stumble when I realize just how close he had stopped behind me. I’m tall, tall enough to tower over a lot of the men at home, but Cheshire is still a few inches taller than me, enough that I have to turn my head up a little bit to meet his electric-blue eyes.
“What the fuck is your problem?” I hiss, curling my lip. “I’m here, aren’t I? I’m fulfilling some goddamn prophecy for people I don’t even know! Do you have to be such an annoying ass the entire time?”
His lip curls up the smallest amount at my outburst, as if I amuse him, and it sends me over the edge. I reach up and shove him as hard as possible. I’m not surprised when he barely moves; the small amount that he actually does is most likely from surprise rather than my strength. I’m strong from lifting car parts and weights, but I’m not Wonderland strong. In my mind, Cheshire becomes every man who’s walked into my mechanic shop and looked down on me because I’m a woman. He becomes every man who hits on me, and when I don’t agree and smile, calls me a “bitch” and walks away. He becomes the ones who felt threatened by the fact that I’m making my own way, that I’m successful on my own. And I want to take out my anger on him. I want to be the one who takes control. I want to be the one in charge.
Cheshire’s face changes from the smug curl of his lips to a snarl.
“What the fuck—?”
I don’t let him finish. I grab a fistful of his shirt and yank him back towards me, slamming my lips against his. He doesn’t respond immediately, perhaps too shocked to realize what’s happening, but it doesn’t last long. He growls beneath my lips and threads a hand through my hair, yanking me even closer against him with his other. I feel the briefest pinch, his claws scraping through the material of my shirt, even though I know he didn’t have claws a second ago.
Cheshire tastes like everything I never expected, like the wild honeysuckle he smells like, as if he’s so much a part of the earth, that he leaks its flavors. The feel of him against me is even better, his warmth wrapping around me like a caress.
Our kiss feels like a wrestling match, both trying to one-up the other. Our teeth clack together in the aggression, and I flinch under the sudden pain. It doesn’t slow us down. The anger, the lust, still flows through me, and I realize I’m tired of fighting it. I’m not worried about being wholesome. Hell, the mission I’m on could kill me. Why resist what will no doubt be a good fuck with those odds? Why not enjoy it while I can?
Cheshire doesn’t have to be a gentleman. I don’t have to be a lady. I only have one thing in mind, and for once, I don’t feel like I’m being judged because of my aggression. Instead, it only seems to fuel Cheshire even more, low rumbles in his chest letting me know he’s just as angry, just as turned on.
I loop one hand around his back, trailing down low enough to brush against the base of his tail. He tenses against me but doesn’t slow, not until I trail my other hand up his chest to wrap around his neck. The touch is gentle, just enough to sit there, but he breaks the kiss anyways and meets my eyes. We’re both panting heavily, sucking great lungfuls of air. It feels like I can’t breathe, and yet, at the same time, it feels like I have too much air in my body.
Cheshire’s eyes slit like a cat’s when my fingers twitch against his corded neck, and his fingers tighten in my hair until I feel his claws scrape my scalp.
“Would you choke the life from me if you could?” he purrs. “Would you watch the light leave my eyes?”
I frown, unsure how to answer. Am I a killer? No, but I would kill to protect those I love. Cheshire poses no threat to Attie or my mom, but he does pose a threat to me. Cheshire is the bad boy mothers always warn about, the ones they tell you you’ll want to change, but it’s hopeless because they’re too far gone. My mother’s words whisper in my mind.
Eventually, Calypso, you’re gonna have to let go and live a little. You’ll find your soulmate in someone completely unexpected, in someone you think isn’t right for you. That you’ll almost fight against wanting. That’s how you know.
Those words she spoke to me after my first big heartbreak in high school, when Steven Turner broke up with me, and I cried my eyes out. I’d been moping in my room for weeks, determined that it was the end of the world, and she’d come in with those words. I was too young, she’d said
, I’d barely tasted life. When it was meant to be, it’s meant to be. She’d told me that she and dad hadn’t seemed meant for each other, that they’d hated each other at first. I’d taken her words to heart.
I try not to focus too hard on those words now as I stare into those eyes slitted like a cat’s, that tiny curl of lip mocking me, the tail my fingers brush against flicking back and forth, but I can’t. Cheshire is going to be the end of me.
The only thing I can do in retaliation is to be the end of him, in return.
“No,” I whisper, answering his question. His ears twitch with the single word, his tail coming around his body to curl around my thigh. “I’d rather watch the fire there as I make you scream out my name.”
In answer, the flames I speak of spring to life in his gaze, that smile widening until he looks like the Cheshire from the storybooks, that grin temptation and sin.
“What makes you think I’ll be the one screaming?” he teases, a single claw scraping down my spine.
Goosebumps break out along my skin in answer, but I don’t change my expression. I squeeze my fingers around his neck, just enough to put pressure there. His eyes narrow the slightest bit, and those claws digs in just a little more at my spine.
“You’d best be careful how you proceed, Cal.” Cheshire’s hand tightens in my hair.
“Where’s the fun in that?” I ask and squeeze tighter. I feel the corded muscles in his neck flex beneath my fingers, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows with the gentle restriction.
“Last chance,” he growls, and I feel it in my hand as it vibrates in his throat. “You want to go to war, little goddess, we’ll go to war.”
A tiny smile is my only answer.
Chapter 29
For a moment, neither one of us moves, locked in an intimate, rough embrace, my fingers curled around Cheshire’s neck, his threaded through my hair and at my back. Now that the gauntlet has been dropped, it seems neither one of us wants to move.
Feral as a Cat (Sons of Wonderland Book 3) Page 12
