Alice slept. Her silky black hair trailed along the white pillow like cracks in the earth, and he ached to touch her. To kiss her gently awake. To watch her eyes grow soft and liquid with lust, with love.
Hatter gripped the doorframe. Once he was certain she’d fallen asleep, he’d tiptoed back to her room and stood outside, watching. Hoping. Dreaming. Hating.
Hating his existence. Hating her for coming. For looking so much like the other one. Hating her because he needed her so much, knowing she’d leave him like all the rest.
Each Alice had been an adventure. Each wild, unpredictable incarnation had imprinted an indelible mark upon his soul. He remembered one who’d loved to fish out treasures from the sea and another who’d spun dresses from the cotton candy orchards. Some had sat three days locked away in their rooms, never venturing out, never trying to know him. He’d enjoyed some more than others and at the time had mourned their not staying.
In the end they’d all left, ripping out a piece of his soul. For a time, he’d grown excited knowing another Alice would come, dreaming the next one would be different. But after several years, the constant parade had lost its appeal and he’d yearned for the moment they’d leave him to his solitude.
She sighed and rolled over. Her outstretched arm pointed toward him. A wild sleeper, she’d moved from one corner of the bed to the other as if seeking something, even in sleep. Her fingers curled and her mouth tipped down.
So damn beautiful.
Skin the color of wild spring honey with hair like shadow, hanging long and low, with the tiniest widow’s peak on her forehead. A short thing, this Alice, barely reaching the top of his chest. Petite, but full figured in a ripe, luscious way. Her hips flared out, and his heart pumped harder. She was the perfect size to hang on to while she rode him, passion gleaming from the depths of her big doe eyes.
Heat pooled in his groin. It grew stiff, frustratingly so. But he did not touch himself. He’d stopped doing that a long time ago, when the other Alice Hu had left. After her, he’d sworn never again. Never again would he allow himself to care because to do so would weaken him.
It’d been years since she’d left, and with time, he’d realized he’d not loved that Alice at all. He knew because he’d survived, but it was that knowledge that made him fear to love. Because though he’d not loved her, the weeks that had followed had been some of the worst in his life. Only Danika’s stubborn willfulness had brought him back from the fog of his mind.
The episode had so frightened Danika that she’d stopped bringing him Alices for a while, and he’d reveled in the peace and quiet, thinking surely Danika finally understood there was no match for the Hatter.
Hatter leaned against the door, his eyes drinking her in. His body trembled, remembering the rush of heat and fire that’d blanketed him when she’d touched him and forced him to touch her. This Alice was more dangerous than any of the others because not only did he not mind her presence, he sought it out like a man parched for a drink. She needed to leave. To forget him in the hopes that he could forget her. In the hopes that, someday, he’d not be plagued with night terrors, with the dreams of having a life he was never supposed to have.
He was the Hatter, a lunatic, a madman. His life was nonsense and mayhem. Everyone within Kingdom said so. So had the other Alice Hu—she’d hurled the words at him like a blade, cutting him to the quick. He ground his jaw.
This Alice whimpered. He wanted to rush to her, soothe her. Touch her fine skin and inhale the sweet scent of her body.
His mouth tipped, remembering her startled look in the hall. The shorts that had exposed a long expanse of thigh. He’d nearly come undone. It had been all he could take to stand there and watch, his throat working with a need to yank her to him, to beg her to end his madness.
And he couldn’t stop the queer feeling that they’d met before. But she hadn’t looked like this. He frowned and grabbed his head. Why couldn’t he remember?
All he knew was that when he looked at her, he heard the haunting strains of a repetitive beeping noise. But then the sound vanished, and he was left with questions.
She mumbled.
She’d quoted Poe. So different than all the others, even her grandmother had never done that. Evil Alice had never tried to know him. But this Alice made him want to know her.
Other Alices had lied before. Some had claimed love, others kindness. None of it had been true.
His jaw flexed.
Why did he want to believe her?
“My Hatter,” she murmured, pink lips curling into a slow smile, and his heart turned over. Lovely. Deadly. Peril. He closed his eyes and backed slowly out.
***
Ignore her. Make her want to leave.
The room trembled as a thousand clocks rang loud with the new hour. He stared at one in particular—a simple clock, no adornments. Nothing about the small, round pocket watch seemed particularly valuable.
He traced the grain seam, fingers gentle, the wood smooth from years (or was it decades? centuries? he could never remember anymore) of touching. Time. Always too much of it and never enough.
It ticked on, endless, unceasing, unmerciful.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
Unable to roll the hands back, unable to make it stop. Moving, always, always moving on and on and on. Marching forward in an endless cycle of time, time, time...
He drew his hand back, squeezing his eyes closed. Beautiful brown eyes filled his head. The scent of vanilla was so strong, he swore he could still smell it.
Satin skin, buttery brown, smooth and delicate. Hair as black as midnight. His body strained and he hardened. It made him sweat. Made him need.
He would not surrender. It was madness. Wonderland would say no, and she would leave. As it’d always been.
But he’d never wanted another the way he did her. The moment he’d seen her, something inside him had quickened. Finally, he’d thought. Finally here. And that had confused him. He squeezed his eyes shut.
Her with the vanilla sunshine-y smile.
The widow’s peak, alluring, sexy, devilish. Beautiful, dangerous creatures, black widow spiders were. Luring you in with their beauty. Killing you without remorse.
“Dangerous creatures. Dangerous.” He closed his eyes, resting his head against the mantel. “Dangerous, dangerous beauty. Beauty. Beautiful. Alice.” His voice cracked.
She’d leave him. Like all the rest. He must make her go.
His spine stiffened, fingers clenched against his thigh. Did she think of him at all? Even a little? Beautiful, sane, wicked little Alice?
Tick.
Tock.
Time moved on.