When I look at the room again, I realize the entire space is clean, not a speck of dust left. At some point, my nose even stopped itching, and I just hadn’t noticed. Everything gleams, sparkling and fresh. There’s even a soft lavender smell in the room. I shake my head. I don’t even want to question how it had all happened. I’m thankful for it, though.
On the bed, I can see clothing laid out on the purple duvet. As I wander closer, I realize it’s a pair of black leather pants and a long, half dress jacket. The top resembles a long coat, the back a full dress that would flow behind me as I walk. From behind, no one would think I’m wearing pants. From the front, I’d look like I’m ready to do business. The jacket has a high neck, a pretty damask design in the purple that closely resembles the Hatter’s jacket. Mine is a lighter purple, though not by much. There’s a pair of combat boots sitting at the foot of the bed. I raise my eyebrows. The entire outfit is a more feminine version of the Hatter’s. Apparently, we’re matching now.
If it wasn’t so off-putting, it would be cute. Kind of.
Chapter 10
I completely lose track of time in my room. I lay down to take a nap, the trek through the forest catching up with me. I dream of White Rabbits, and rabid flowers reaching forward to take a bite. Someone I can’t see, says, “Feed me, Seymour.” I wake up disoriented, forgetting where I am for a moment until it all comes rushing back to me. I take a moment to remind myself of everything I know to be true. Eliminate all the illogical possibilities and you’re left with the only logical one, right? One, I’m in Wonderland. Two, I’m in the Mad Hatter’s house. Three, there’s a prophecy written that includes me helping take down the Red Queen. Four, I am not crazy. That about covers it. Somehow, I manage not to freak out.
I stand from the bed, stretching before moving to the window. I push aside the curtains, intending to see how dark it is only to realize the windows have been painted over on the outside. No light comes through at all.
With nothing else to do, I take advantage of the large bathtub. There are vials and pretty bottles full of sweet-smelling liquids and soaps. There’s no way to tell which is for bubbles and which is for washing. I end up dumping two different bottles that smell of lavender into the water and hope one of them foams. The result is a bathtub filled with froth so high, I end up turning the water off in a panic. The floor might or might not be dangerous to walk on now. The steam rising from the tub is exactly what I need. When I climb inside and sink into Heaven, it relaxes me in a way I hadn’t felt since I landed in Wonderland. I stay in until the water grows cold, and my fingers and toes look like raisins. It’s worth it.
Coming from the bathroom, I eye the outfit the Hatter had left for me. I’m tempted to go pick out my own clothing from the wardrobe sitting in the corner, but the outfit intrigues me. It isn’t something I would normally wear, usually going for pencil skirts and pant suits, but I’ve always had this dream of putting on a big dress and running down the hallways like a princess. It isn’t the big dress of my dreams, but I bet the flow on that skirt is amazing. I slowly dress in the outfit, taking the time to get used to the leather and the high neck. It definitely fulfills the flowy skirt urge. I feel like a badass, while simultaneously feeling like Cinderella, if Cinderella was a kickass monster hunter. The leather pants really give it some edge. The purple damask jacket-skirt gives it a feminine touch. The combat boots make me feel like I’m going to war, which I suppose, I will be. I’m just finishing wrapping my hair up in a messy bun when there’s a knock on the door.
I expect it to be the Hatter. Instead, I’m met by Dormouse staring at me dispassionately. I’m starting to think he’s not that much of a fan.
“It’s time for tea, Miss Clara,” he says before turning and walking away.
I assume I’m supposed to follow him, so I close the door behind me and hurry to catch up. My skirt floats behind me to my utter excitement. Next time, I’m requesting a cape, another thing I’ve always wanted to wear. Sometimes, I’ll wrap my bath towel around my neck and pretend it’s a cape while I’m getting ready in the morning. Don’t judge. We all want to be a superhero.
Dormouse doesn’t say another word as we walk through the maze of hallways until we arrive at the doors to the ballroom again. I turn to tell him thank you, but he’s already walking away. Not too friendly, that one. I push open the doors and step inside.
Again, there are a few creatures already sitting at different areas of the table. The first one looks like a giant frog, wearing a coat and tie. As I study him, he looks up and winks at me. I smile at the oddity of it and continue down the room. There’s more than last time; I count six. Three look like siblings, all with what looks to me like fox tails and ears.
“Hello, Clara Bee,” one rasps.
“Salutations, Clara Bee,” another practically yells.
The third sibling only nods as he sips his tea from a dainty tea cup, his pinky in the air like a gentleman. I smile at them sadly, distressed at knowing their fate. I need to ask the Hatter why so many people wind up at his table, but I suspect it’s all the Red Queen’s doing. It gives me a greater resolve to do what I can for these people, whether the prophecy knows my destiny or not. If I can’t help the dead the way the Hatter does, I’m going to damn sure try my best to help the living. It’s what I’ve done my whole life. Why stop now just because I’m in a world only written about in books?
There are two women this time, or females I should say. One looks normal, besides being naked, until I see the tentacles swirling around her, moving teacups around on the table. They leave a slimy film on everything they touch, the way slugs do on my balcony back home. Her smile is wicked when she looks at me, her teeth pointed and serrated like a shark. A film blinks across her eyes. I nod to her, but I don’t speak; she gives me the creeps, and to be honest, I’m not sure if she’s going to steal my voice or not.
The other woman isn’t so much a woman as she is a beast. She’s completely covered in fur. She’s wearing a pair of slacks and a military style jacket with medals and ribbons pinned to her breast. Her face has a definite wolf look to it while still retaining her human features, giving her a classic horror werewolf appearance. Her fur isn’t brown or black, though. She’s pure white and utterly beautiful. I have to remind myself not to stare, but I keep flicking back to her clear, blue eyes. They’re kind, and it’s the reason I feel no fear of her.
“Hello, Ms. Clara Bee.” Her voice is like warm honey, and it makes me wish she would just keep speaking. “I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time. How fortunate I have the pleasure before I move on to the Hereafter.”
“Hello,” I reply, pausing beside her. She’s sitting the closest to the Hatter, only three chairs away.
“I’m Tera.” She offers a hand tipped with claws, but I don’t hesitate to shake it. Her fur is the softest thing I’ve ever felt. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
“I wish it were under different circumstances.” I know my voice is sad. Even I can hear the sorrow-tipped words.
“The fact that you are here is reason enough to celebrate. It means the tide will be turning. I may not be here to see it, but I have a family who will. Thank you for fighting for us.”
I’m speechless. I’ve done nothing for Wonderland beside get sucked into a portal. In fact, I was tricked into that, so I’ve really done zilch. I understand I’m prophesied to be here and to fight for them, but I haven’t done a thing for these people. At least, not yet. I intend to do whatever I can to help. If that means taking on the Red Queen, then so be it.
“Come, Clara,” the Hatter speaks, rising and striding towards me. He offers me his hand. I slip mine into his and let him lead me towards his seat. The whole time, I fight the emotions threatening to overflow. I make a mental note to ask the Hatter about Tera’s family later. I want to see if there’s anything I can do for them, to ease the pain they must be going through at her loss.
Once seated, the Hatter takes his chair at the head again and smiles.
“Didn’t we just have tea?” I ask. This is the second time, and that’s not counting any I might have missed before the last one. I didn’t realize it’s something that happens more than once every so often. Once or twice a month, maybe. Once a week, a possibility. But every single day? That seems extreme. The fact that there has been a decent number of people at both parties worries me.
“It’s always tea time,” the Hatter replies solemnly. I don’t comment. Instead, I make a vow to change it and save the people I’m able to. “You must be starving.” The Hatter sounds way too excited about that fact, like he can’t wait to see me eat. If I was a nice normal girl like my mom always wanted, I would have been weirded out. Instead, I smile at his exuberance.
He snaps his fingers, and food appears on the table in front of me, a plate piled high with sweet-looking cakes and croissants. There’s a jam on the side that smells like Heaven and strawberries. My stomach growls loudly, and I realize I haven’t eaten since breakfast at the office. How long ago had that been? It was normal for me to forget to eat through the day when I had a lot of work to do. Has it only been a day or two?
Even though my stomach gives another thunderous growl, I hesitate.
“Should I be eating this?” I ask the Hatter, staring at the plate with longing. I’m pretty sure White mentioned a rule about food and that I shouldn’t be eating anything. The Hatter doesn’t answer me. He leans back in his chair, hanging one leg over the arm, spread eagled in a way that displays every inch of his body. He smirks when my eyes drop. “You said I shouldn’t trust you,” I point out. His smile widens.
“Take a gamble, take a bite. Is he trustworthy or is he not?” he sings.
The frog creature laughs as he digs into his plate. When I look closely, I can see his croissants are topped with flies. He’s slurping, and the sounds are entirely disgusting, but I’m growing accustomed to Wonderland. It doesn’t even give me pause. The other guests all have food tailored to their diets. I notice Tera’s has raw meat in between the slices of bread. I don’t ask what kind of meat it is for fear of the answer.
“I don’t know to trust you or not, but I accept your gamble with some thought,” I sing, mimicking his rhyming.
His eyes light up, and he straightens in his chair, leaning forward, as I take a bite of what I think is a Danish. The flavor explodes on my tongue, the taste unlike anything I’ve ever eaten before. I had thought the tea tasted like Ambrosia. The food makes the tea taste like ash. I moan as I take another bite, feeling my hunger take over. The Hatter watches me, enraptured as I begin to systematically clean the plate set before me.
It’s not until I’ve finished most of the food that I realize something is off, that I don’t feel right. There’s a buzzing under my skin, a crawling sensation that is usually the first sign I’ve had too much alcohol. The skin under my fingernails, and deep inside my ear canals where I can never possibly scratch, itches. Suddenly hot, I look at the Hatter in question.
“Was there something in the food?” I ask. With my own ears, I can tell my words are a bit slurred. Then I giggle. I roll my eyes internally. I’m such a predictable drunk. Soon, I’ll be dancing on the table and laughing hysterically over nothing.
“All the food in Wonderland has side effects.” The Hatter watches in amusement as I start to sway in my seat. Music fills the room—I have no idea from where—and I can’t stop myself from moving to the deep, pulsing beat. I can feel it in my toes, working its way through my body.
“I feel drunk,” I say, giggling. “Like really drunk.” Like, I’m pretty sure I’m going to be hurting tomorrow if this is anything like drinking twelve shots of tequila back to back.
“You’re beautiful.” The Hatter smiles with the words, and I suddenly feel as beautiful as he sees me. I feel like I can take on the world at this very moment and win.
“You might want to stop eating,” Tera says from beside me. “Or else you’ll wake up tomorrow without your memories.”
I turn to her sharply, my senses clearing for a moment, long enough to meet her eyes. I trust her to tell me the truth, and I somehow know she isn’t lying. Some gut instinct tells me she couldn’t lie to me if she wanted to.
“I’ll forget my memories?”
“Only if you have so much that you black out,” she clarifies, smiling. “So, I’d suggest slowing down.”
I push the plate away, the few crumbs on the plate calling to me. In the moment of sobriety, I flip the plate upside down, hiding the leftover pieces. The Hatter chuckles but doesn’t comment. The intense buzzing comes back with a vengeance, the music sending vibrations through my body until I can’t help but sway in my seat again, laughing along with the other guests as they toss playful banter back and forth.
“You couldn’t handle me,” Tera growls at the fox brothers, sniffing disdainfully at them. It’s the first time I’m seen her anything but kind, and it reminds me that she resembles a wolf more than a woman.
“Perhaps,” one of the brothers answers. “But you also can’t handle us.”
“What makes you think I would entertain that thought?”
I listen in on the conversation, enraptured with the turn of events. With a nice buzz going, I can’t control the word vomit that tumbles out.
“Just kiss each other already!” I clamp my hand over my mouth in surprise.
Tera looks over at me, her eyes dancing with a fire that’s as hot as the tension in the room. Then she throws back her head and laughs. The fox brothers join in. I watch, fascinated as Tera stands from her chair before stepping up and onto the table.
“Join me, Clara Bee.” She reaches out to me. I slip my fingers into her claw-tipped hand, and she hoists me onto the table with no effort. “Let’s dance.”
Back at home, I had been to the club with my girlfriends. I hadn’t done it since my college days, but I still remember the fun of pulling each other onto the dance floor and dancing together, drawing every eye in the room. This was kind of like that, only better.
Tera pulls me against her, and we begin to sway, her fuzzy tail swishing around my legs as we twirl. I laugh as dishes clatter off the tables and go crashing to the floor. Hatter smiles at us, completely at ease as he sips his tea. The frog moves over to the tentacle woman and sits beside her. They lean their heads together and talk, smiling at Tera and I as we sway to music. I have no idea where the upbeat song is coming from, but I don’t question it. I feel way too good for all that overthinking.
The fox brothers stand up from their seats as one. They leap onto the table, wicked smiles on their faces as they approach Tera. She faces off against them as I sway my hips and spin in circles atop the table. Thank goodness it’s a sturdy one. It would have been mortifying to fall off.
My attention is riveted on Tera and the fox brothers who begin to sway together in a sensual dance. The brothers surround her, slipping in sly touches here and there that would normally make my face flame. In the state I’m in now, I enjoy the show. I can’t seem to look away for a few moments until I feel the heat of another gaze on me. I turn and meet the flashing golden eyes of the Hatter. He isn’t watching Tera and the brothers. He only has eyes for me.
The song switches to something deep and sensual, the base notes pounding hard enough to travel through the table and into my body. I keep my eyes on the Hatter, taking him all in. He’s sitting in his chair still, leaning back lazily, one leg hanging over the arm again in a way that displays him completely. My body keeps swaying, my hips moving to the rhythm. I move towards him slowly, stepping over dishes that rattle with the bass. I kick a few dishes from the table when I judge the distance wrong, the fuzziness making me stumble a bit. Hatter straightens in his chair when I come to the edge, looking down on him. I gingerly kneel down and sit, spreading my legs on either side of him to dangle over the ledge. He grins at my position, his hands wrapping around my ankles before trailing up my leather-clad legs to cup the back of my knees.
“What can I help you with, Ms. Cla
ra Bee?” he asks. His voice is deep and husky, going right through me and into my core. A heat spreads low in my belly as I inhale the scent of chocolate and Chamomile tea.
Instead of answering, I lean forward slightly. The Hatter’s eyes drop to my lips, and I smile. I’m sure he expects something sexy, maybe a breathy whisper or a saucy pick-up line. What do I do instead in my drunken stupor? I boop him on the nose, giggling when a look of surprise crosses his face. I pluck the top hat from his head and settle it on mine, the messy bun having fallen out a long time ago. My hair is currently down and a frizzy mess, but it doesn’t bother me. Hatter growls at me for stealing his hat, a sexy sound that makes my breasts tighten. I’m pretty sure I just committed a big no-no. Did White tell me not to touch the Hatter’s top hat? I don’t remember. When the Hatter takes me in, sitting spread around him, laughter on my face, and the top hat on my head, his expression softens, the danger in his eyes disappearing as fast as it had come. His hands tighten on the backs of my knees before pulling me towards him. I slide from the edge of the table and land with an oomph on his lap. The top hat stays perched on my head.
Beneath me, I can feel his arousal pushing through his leather pants, and the heady sense of feeling wanted rushes through me. I’m glad I’m not alone with this overwhelming attraction; the Hatter seems just as affected as I am. Our eyes lock, pulling each other in, his gold wrapping around me and swirling with my grey. Everything else fades away, the laughter, the music, the other guests. There’s only the Hatter and me.
“I believe I owe you a kiss,” I whisper, my voice husky as I lean forward.
His face grows serious before I close my eyes, preparing for the kiss I’m sure will rock my world. My only hope is that I’m sober enough to remember it. I feel his hands clench at my waist, and I realize just how intimate we are being in a room full of other people. It doesn’t deter me at all. If anything, I feel more aroused because of it, that the Hatter feels no shame, no worry for me or my performance. I might be a bit drunk on Wonderland food, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s happening. I’m lingering there, damn near puckering my lips, but nothing happens. I open my eyes in confusion to the Hatter’s still serious face.
Mad as a Hatter (Sons of Wonderland Book 1) Page 6