When I don’t leave and continue to stare at him, Cheshire sighs. “Fine. But we make it quick.”
“That’s what I said.” I roll my eyes and Cheshire’s focus finally snaps to me, his hand reaching out lightning fast and grabbing my hip before pulling me into him.
“Roll your eyes again,” he growls quietly in my ear, “and I’ll have to bend you over my knee.”
White hot desire slams into my body at his words, my heart threatening to burst from my chest. When he pulls away the smallest amount and looks into my eyes, I see the challenge there. We’re surrounded by people in the room, but still, I accept his challenge. I lean harder into his body and tap him on the nose. He blinks at me.
“Promises, promises,” I whisper, before pulling away and heading for the door.
A soft growl behind me brings a smile to my face even as I feel him follow me. Cheshire doesn’t like to lose, and I have no doubt he’ll take the opportunity to challenge me again later. I’d be lying if I said I’m not looking forward to it, because I am. It’s been so long since we had any action, our first collision bringing up all kinds of fears and making us stay away, but I ache for him more than I’ve ever ached for another man. And that tells me all I need to know.
Cheshire doesn’t wait long for me to get on the porch before he grabs my hands and starts to Fade us without warning. Hatter had explained before that we can Fade from the porch to anywhere to make it easier, but no one can Fade in unless they were within a certain boundary of the house. Something about keeping the Red Queen at bay, but the wards come with a price. Apparently, to get more safety, you have to lose a little in between.
When we reappear outside of a decrepit cabin covered in vines and moss, I frown. I expected March’s home to be nicer. Although, this certainly matches his appearance.
“Welcome!” March calls from inside, throwing open the door. He doesn’t come outside, but we take it for the invitation it is.
We make our way quickly up the stairs and inside where the decay doesn’t touch. I look around in confusion as Cheshire closes the door. When my eyes land on March, my eyebrows rise. “How the hell does that work?”
“The Cabin is charmed. March appears in one form inside, and another outside.”
March giggles at the words. “Two forms, three to lose, nothing as hard as having to choose.” More giggles.
I just shake my head and let it go. I’m not qualified to tackle that head case.
“We need the Reali-Tea, March,” Cheshire says.
“Of course, you do. There’s no other reason you come.” There’s a hint of resentment in his words, and I glance at Cheshire. He doesn’t seem to notice, that or he doesn’t care. I’m not sure which.
“Will you be able to leave the cabin once we defeat Alice, March?”
“Perhaps, perhaps . . .” He moves over to the kitchen area and starts crushing things in a chipped tea cup. I watch for a moment.
“What happens when we do?”
“I die.” No emotions in those words. No anger, or sadness, or excitement.
“What?”
“One is dead. Two is begotten. Three is alone. And Four is forgotten.”
“What does that mean?”
March pours something steaming from a teapot into the cup before coming to the table. He sets the teacup in front of me as I take a seat, and I look at the swirling red liquid that smells of chocolate, roses, and the metallic tang of blood.
“Drink up, Calypso,” March says, his voice suddenly serious. I lift the cup to my mouth and take a drink, the chocolate flavor coating my tongue. “This one will be the worst.”
“What?” I set the teacup back down, but it’s already too late. I can feel the liquid as it travels through my body, feel whatever power is in my blood being drawn upon.
“Brace her, Cat.”
Those are the last words I hear before the world snaps to black.
The first thing I realize when I open my eyes is that I’m no longer in March’s cabin. Wherever I am is so white it hurts my eyes, so sterile and yet at the same time, filthy. The paint is peeling from the walls, the floor is cracked and missing pieces, dirt seems to cover every available surface.
A man walks into the room, dressed in a doctor’s coat. He closes the door behind him and locks it, peeking through the window for a moment before he lowers the blinds. And then, as if by magic, a woman appears next to him, so weak, he’s half carrying her. Her pale-blonde hair covers her face as she droops, and he sits her down on a ratty couch.
“You’re going to have to feed, Alice. I can only push so much power into you without the feed.”
The woman lifts her head and for the first time, I see her, so frail, her arms so thin it hurts.
“What . . . do . . . you . . . mean?” Even her words are weak, so quiet I can barely hear.
“My blood,” the blond doctor says, pulling a knife from his coat. The poor woman doesn’t even flinch as he lifts it. He slices it across his wrist and holds it out to her. Her lips curl up at the sides in disgust. When she doesn’t lean forward, the man grabs her by her hair and forcibly places her mouth there. She fights for a moment, but she’s so weak, she accomplishes nothing. What the fuck am I seeing?
“Drink, Alice. My powers will fuel you, strengthen you, and you will become something so much more.” The man’s voice is sensual, persuasive, so much that even I can feel a draw to him, but I’m not weak, and so I watch in anger as he releases Alice’s hair, and she grabs his wrist on her own.
When she pulls away, I watch as her once blue eyes disappear within inky blackness and a smile touches her face.
I’m jerked violently backwards into another scene. This time, it’s chaos as doctors, patients, and attendants run screaming. They don’t make it far. Horrified, I move out of the way of an angry Alice, her hair flying around her in a phantom wind, her eyes black as night, blood dripping down a blue dress. People run from her as she slashes out with a large kitchen knife, ferociously stabbing anyone who gets too close, slitting necks that give out an arc of blood splatter across her face and the walls.
“You will all pay for what you’ve done to me. You will all die,” she snarls.
She passes a patient, a girl that can’t be older than fifteen. Instead of leaving her there, she squats down beside her and lifts her chin.
“Are you angry?” Alice whispers, her voice gentle.
“Y-yes.”
Alice hands the bloody knife to the child, the same age as Attie, afraid in a hospital gown.
“Then do something about it.” Alice stands and continues her massacre, swinging arms now tipped with claws. She bares her teeth at a doctor attempting to sedate her, the points sharp as she sinks them into his neck.
The little girl stands and charges into the fray in the opposite direction, but she only finds the dead and the doctor who made Alice drink, the one who I suspect is the Jabberwocky.
“Where are you going with such a big knife, little girl?” he asks, so calm in the face of this child armed with a bloody knife.
“I’m going to make them all pay.” Her voice is so tiny, so weak, that I can barely hear it over the screaming, but she holds the knife up in front of her. She throws herself at him, the knife lifted, but she doesn’t make it very far.
Faster than I can track, he has his hands around the little girl’s throat as he squeezes. She claws at his hand as his eyes begin to glow, begging him to let her go. The knife clatters to the ground.
“There can only be one Alice, child.” Tears prick my eyes as he drops her lifeless body to the ground, as if she’s worth nothing more than trash. He continues his path down the hallway, whistling as he goes.
This time, when the scene changes, we’re no longer in the building. I recognize the colors of Wonderland even if I’ve never seen the castle in front of me. It looks like melted candle sticks, like blood is dripping down its sides. We’re in some sort of garden, blood splattered across the green grass. Alice stands in h
er blue dress, now more red than anything. A man stands in front of her, handsome, a thin crown on his head. Her Jabberwocky stands at her flank, a tiny smile on his face.
“Alexander,” Alice mumbles. “You said you would wait for me.”
“It’s been years and years, Alice.” The man’s voice is strained, his eyes flicking to the side where the king and queen are restrained, their crowns on the ground beside them. “I waited, but you never came back.”
“I’m here now,” she chokes out, lifting a blood-coated arm towards the man. He doesn’t take it. He instead backs away.
“You’re not the Alice I remember,” he says shaking his head. “It’s too late. Stop this massacre,” he pulls a sword from his hip, “and maybe I’ll let you live.”
Tears fall from her black eyes as she watches someone she obviously cares about hold a sword towards her. I watch the exchange as the Jabberwocky leans down and whispers in her ear. I don’t think I’ll be able to hear it, but when he speaks, the words are crystal clear.
“You could destroy them all.”
I slam backwards out of the scene so hard my breath rushes from my body. The scene flies past me until I’m staring at the trees, the sky brighter than I’ve ever seen.
A little boy, somewhere around eight years old, comes running from the undergrowth, and I melt when I see the grey and blue cat ears on his head, and the tail trailing behind him. A little girl, a little bit younger, comes out behind him, laughing in glee, as she tries to catch him. Matching cat ears with bright green stripes sit on her head and a tail similar to Cheshire’s follows her.
“You can’t catch me, Dani,” Cheshire teases before scaling the tree with tiny claws. I watch, a small smile on my face, as the little girl tries to follow, and fails.
Before she can get too upset, a hand reaches down and lifts her into the tree top. Childish giggles reach my ears.
When the colors swirl this time, I’m afraid of what will happen. I wouldn’t have been shown such a happy memory if it didn’t end in tragedy. I know that, and still I clutch my chest when the scene sets again.
“Dani, wake up.”
Cheshire appears as he is now, fully grown. His sister lays in his arms, her chest not moving, a gaping hole through her sternum. Her eyes are still open, glazed over, as she stares at the black sky.
“Such a shame,” Alice pouts, “that the Hope Bringer had to die, isn’t it?”
I turn towards her, anger in my body at what she’s done to Cheshire but when I reach out to strangle her, my hand passes right through. This is only a memory, only the past. I can’t change history.
Cheshire gently sets Danica’s body on the grass before he lunges at Alice. He stops a foot from her, his arms outstretched, ready to shred her to pieces. It’s as if there’s a force field around her as she looks at him, a grin stretching her face.
“Beautiful, no? You want to punish me, but you can’t. Sorry, Cheshire, but you won’t stop me while I kill every last person in this world.”
Alice turns, laughter leaking from her lips. Cheshire screams into the air before slashing out his claws at the nearest topiary in anger. He shreds the flamingo shaped bush, anguish on his face, tears leaking down his cheeks. I ache to reach towards him, as fruitless as that would be, as he collapses beside Danica’s body, and cries for her.
“Dani, wake up.”
The scene changes slowly this time, as if prolonging the torture. I hastily wipe away the tears that roll down my cheeks and take in the scene.
We must be inside the castle now, grotesque art and golden statues everywhere. We’re in a bedroom, a great canopy bed taking up a large portion of the space. The blond man, the Jabberwocky, lounges on top of the mattress, naked, a sheet covering his groin. He’s all rippling muscle, should probably be attractive, but I see him for the monster he is, the beast he becomes flashing in my mind.
Alice sits at a mirror, a silk red robe wrapped around her, dark circles under her eyes. She’s clutching her chest in agony, tears leaking from her eyes.
“Alex,” she whispers, her skin so pale, it’s almost translucent. “They got my Knave.”
“You didn’t need him anyways,” the Jabberwocky says. “You have me.”
Alice doesn’t answer him as she barely holds herself together, but when she catches her reflection, she straightens and wipes her face, sliding a mask into place.
“I am a Queen,” she tells her reflection, tilting her chin up. “I am a Queen.”
The Jabberwocky stands from the bed, the sheet forgotten as he comes up behind her and kisses the back of her neck.
“You’re so much more than that, my love.” He meets her eyes in the mirror. “You are a world breaker.”
I’m thrown backwards out of the scene violently.
When I came to back in March’s cabin, it was to find myself wrapped in Cheshire’s arms and drenched in sweat. For a moment, I panicked, and tried to push myself from his arms in a hurry, but he’d only held me tighter, whispering that I was okay, that the visions were over.
Now, we walk through the forest, choosing to avoid the Bandersnatch rather than heading back right away. I can’t get the visions out of my mind, the carnage that follows Alice. I see young Cheshire and Danica over and over again, laughing and carefree.
Freedom. Cheshire’s dream has always been freedom.
But what if freedom comes with giving into your desires?
“I’m guessing you saw some shit after you drank the Reali-Tea?” Cheshire asks casually beside me.
“Truth,” I mumble, not looking at him. I focus on putting one foot in front of the other.
“I’m sure you saw some things about me there.”
“I did.”
He grabs my arm and pulls me to a stop, the sounds of the Bandersnatch far enough away that my ears don’t even twinge when they shriek. “Care to tell me which ones?”
I glance up into his eyes, attempting to hiding the haunting quality I know is there. “Not really,” I whisper, the blood, the death all flashing through my mind.
“Ah, it’s all the bad ones then.” Cheshire sighs and pulls me towards him. I’m surprised when he wraps his arms around me and hugs me tight. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“It’s not your fault.”
I mean those words. None of this is his fault. I’d been angry, so angry when we first landed in Wonderland, but now I realize that White was right to bring me here, even if it wasn’t in my plans. Attie is having the time of his life, and even though we lost mom, we got to spend her last hours with her knowing who we were. That wouldn’t have happened at home.
Cheshire has done everything in his power to make us comfortable, even if he won’t admit to that. The cat hides behind his mask, always avoiding the emotions, while also drawn to them.
I lean up and kiss him gently on the lips, feather soft, as if afraid he’ll push me away. I feel his tail curl around my hip, barely brushing under my shirt to tickle. When I lean back a little, I meet his curious eyes.
“What was that for?”
“For being you.” I touch my fingers to the side of his neck, caressing, teasing.
His fingers clench in the material at the small of my back when I lean up and kiss his Adam’s apple.
“This probably isn’t a good idea,” he starts, and I feel his claws gently resting against my spine when they peek out.
“I’m tired of good ideas. I need a bad one.” I nip his throat, and a soft rumble comes from his chest.
“You’re playing with fire,” he warns as his fingers slip up my spine, trailing those claws so feather-light along my skin.
“I know.” I push his leather jacket from his shoulders, and he removes his hands on me long enough to let it drop to the forest floor. “I still won’t say your name.” The challenge hangs between us, and for a moment, I think he’s going to pull away.
And then he’s growling and throwing me over his shoulder. I squeal and wrap my hands around his back as best a
s I can. He moves towards one of the large trees, one of the ones that doesn’t hiss at us, and begins to climb, one-handed, up the side. I gasp as the ground grows further and further away.
“What are you doing?” There’s panic in my words, but Cheshire doesn’t comment on it as he slows and carefully sets me down on a branch wide enough to stand on. I slam my back against the trunk, clutching at the bark.
“I’m a cat,” he growls, caging me in. It makes me feel safer, and I clutch onto him instead. After all, a cat always lands on its feet. “I like the trees.”
“Okay . . .”
I’m completely confused. I thought we were about to get intimate, and now we’re up way too high in a tree, and the Cheshire cat is looking at me as if he’s right at home.
He leans down and kisses my throat, nipping the skin there as his hands begin to roam. I groan as I cling to his shoulders, afraid of falling but trusting him to catch me. A stupid decision really. He would probably let me fall for fun.
“Relax,” he whispers against my skin.
“Easy for you to say,” I growl. “I’m not made for trees.”
“I won’t let you fall, little goddess.”
He pulls my shirt over my head, and the bark presses against my back as he drops the material towards the ground. I don’t even watch where it goes as I pull his own shirt over his head and throw it away before popping his leather pants open. His own fingers loosen my jeans and shove them down my hips. My balance teeters as I work on kicking them off, but true to his word, Cheshire’s arms keep me safe and prevent me from falling.
His mouth returns to my neck as one hands trails down my abs to tease my clit, stroking so soft, I growl.
I reach into his pants and free his cock, stroking the steel and drawing a groan from him.
“Fuck,” he speaks against my skin as he slips a finger inside me. “You’re gonna make me lose control.”
“Then do it,” I pant. “Give me all your feral.”
“You don’t want all of it.” As if to prove his point, he curls his finger inside me, and I gasp. “You don’t want me, little goddess.”
Feral as a Cat (Sons of Wonderland Book 3) Page 18
