The Mad King

by Jovee Winters

  Chapter 4

  “What kind of black magic is this?” Hatter hissed.

  Danika’s wings fluttered against his palm as she shoved and pushed at him. “Hatter!” she squealed. “For the gods’ sake, open your palm! Damn you, man. You’re bending my wings.”

  He shook his fist and eyed the little ball of light hard. “I told you not to bring her. Not only do you bring her, you bring her! What have you done? She should be old and withered, and yet she looks the same. How is that possible?”

  The muscle in his jaw tensed when she didn’t answer quickly enough. He shook his hand harder.

  “Open,” she roared, “or you’ll get no answers from me.”

  He flung her from his hand. She rolled in a ball through the air before finally righting herself and glaring at him. Danika pointed her wand at his chest. “How dare you!”

  “I dare much,” he growled. “What have you done, Danika?”

  How could Danika have done this? How could she have returned that venomous, viperous woman back to him? How was it even possible?

  How could he have these feelings for Alice, these soft feelings that made him face a snake’s constricting coils to help her? He should hate her; he did hate her. After all she’d done to him, he wanted to shake her, kiss her, whisper his undying hate in her ears. Hatter grabbed his skull, willing himself to ignore the huddled bundle on the grass behind him. Up is down, down is up. Emotions made no sense. No sense.

  “Look at me, I say.” Danika snapped her fingers.

  “What?”

  Danika’s face crumpled. “Are you not pleased, Hatter?”

  “Pleased.” He wanted to roar, wanted to stomp on Danika’s mushroom home and smash his fist through her tree. “Pleased?” he asked again. “Why have you returned her? How have you returned her? Wonderland said no. No. No.” He grabbed his head again. Dizzy. Gods, he could smell her. Like caramel and the salty brine of sea.

  When she’d clutched his jacket and pressed her nose into his back, he’d been aware, so very aware. Every inch of his body screamed for her. Wanted her. She was his Alice, the one he’d surrendered his heart to years before. Wicked, wicked Alice. She’d whispered of love, touched his body, made him yearn and need.

  Betrayer. His nostrils flared. Evil little Alice with the forked tongue, just like the snake. He should have let the snake have her. Damn her.

  “It’s not her, Hatter.” Danika grabbed his fingers, peeling them away from his eye.

  He shook her off. “Of course it’s her.”

  “No.” Her curls bobbed around her tiny head. “That Alice is nothing more than a withered husk.”

  For a moment, a yawning chasm of ice filled his empty, shattered soul.

  Danika pointed over his shoulder. “That is her great-granddaughter.”

  Not the same Alice? “But her eyes, and the face. Pretty, pretty hair. Long and black with a widow’s peak. The itsy-bitsy spider crawls up the waterspout ...”

  A sharp slap stung his cheek. “Snap out of it. Now is not the time to lose your wits.”

  Hatter blinked. “Why her? I hate her.”

  “Hatter, no.” Danika petted the cheek she’d slapped, her cold little hand soothing. “You do not hate her. You do not know her. She is not the same. I swear it.”

  He grabbed his head, trying to recall why he’d been so angry. Trying to hang on and remember, lest he lose the thought like he’d lost so many others. “You reached into the same bloodline. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She gave him a soft smile. “Because I know you. If you’d known, you’d never have come to get her.”

  He took a breath, and Alice was there, her sweet, caramel warmth permeating the breeze. Hatter looked over his shoulder. She sat huddled on the ground, staring at her foot, a tiny frown marring her brow. He’d been cruel, forcing her to march without shoes. Forcing her to follow without speaking a word.

  “I can’t, Danika.” He shook his head. “Take her back. Take her home.”

  “You know that’s not how it works. She’s here. For three days. Try, Hatter.” Her blue eyes filled with tears. “You must try.”

  He sighed. Couldn’t Danika see it was hopeless? And now she’d brought him the great-granddaughter of the woman who’d betrayed him, and expected him to what—trust that the same blood didn’t run through her veins?

  “Heal her feet. They... bleed.”

  “Oh, Hatter.” Danika sighed. “Open your eyes, boy, see what I can, before it’s too late.”

  He ran his hand through his wavy hair. “Wonderland’s not accepted her.”

  She frowned. “She’s only just gotten here. Give her time.”

  He curled his lips. Always so positive Danika was. Every time it was the same thing. Next time. The next one. He was sick of it.

  “No promises. Heal her feet,” he demanded again.

  With a sigh, Danika flew toward Alice, becoming a golden streak of light that bobbed and weaved around her feet.

  Alice yelped, snatching her feet back and then sighing happily when the bleeding stopped. Their eyes met and Hatter had no words; all he could do was stare and hope and hate. He clenched his jaw as Danika flew back to him.

  “Take her to the waters. Have her wash her feet. They’ll be healed after that.”

  Hatter nodded his thanks, then walked up to Alice and cleared his throat. “Come with me,” he said, much gruffer than he’d intended.

  She frowned, pulling her bottom lip between straight teeth. “Where?” Wariness shone in her gaze.

  “Just... come.” He grabbed her elbow, wishing he had more kindness in him. She wasn’t the same Alice, or so Danika said, and yet... The truth was hard to reconcile.

  Huffing, she stood and jerked her elbow from his lax grip. “I can walk just fine, thank you.”

  Hatter led them to the fairy waters a short distance behind the glen. Fairies, looking like lightning bugs the way they danced above the surface of the placid stream, added a magical, almost surreal quality to their surroundings.

  He pointed to a depressed section of verdant grass. “Sit.”

  She lifted a brow, an annoyed look creasing her forehead.

  “If you please.” The words were thick on his tongue.

  Reminding him of a queen the way she lifted her chin proudly, she sat cross-legged. “Well?”

  Knowing he should apologize, not knowing how to even begin, he did the only thing he could think of. Hatter knelt by her side, a shiver rippling through him as her scent of caramel and sunshine tickled his senses, filled his head. He dipped his hand into the water. “Give me your feet.”

  “Why? My feet feel fine really.”

  She grabbed hold of them, tucking them tightly against her shapely thighs. He’d put her through this. He’d make it right. Gently, he traced the instep of her left foot.

  “Give me your foot,” he asked again, gently.

  Her big brown eyes softened, and she didn’t resist when he tugged it free. Dipping his hand into the chill waters, he scooped up a palmful and let it drizzle against her soft flesh. She moaned when he rubbed the water in.

  “Oh wow, that’s so... Wow.” She sighed, leaning back on her hands, silently opening herself up to him further.

  He smiled, knowing the magical properties of the water did more than heal a scrape or seal a wound. The waters here were the purest essence of life, making new what was old. He rubbed the liquid in, kneading the hurt and rawness away.

  Leaning in so close, feeling the breath of her body flit against top of his head, he licked his lips. Alice Hu, whatever incarnation she came in, had a way of affecting him in the deepest marrow of his soul.

  Her body heat so close, wrapping around him like hug, made him forget that he couldn’t lean in and kiss her, that she wasn’t his. That he didn’t want her. All he knew was this moment, this touch, the rhythmic movement of her breasts as she exhaled slowly.

  His fingers trembled as he moved to her other foot, forcing himself to repeat the same
torturous massage, trying in vain to forget how soft she felt, how good she smelled, how her lips parted ever so slightly, fuller on the bottom than the top.

  Hatter swallowed hard. She wasn’t his. Not now. Not ever.

  Jerking back, he waved his hand over her feet. His own magic ran hot through his veins as he called forth a pair of sparkling silver flats to cover her feet.

  Standing, he nodded, molars grinding so hard his jaw ached. He could never forget who she was. What stock she hailed from.

  A snake could shed its skin many times in its life, but it never stopped being a snake. New Alice couldn’t be so different from Evil Alice.

  What do you want from me, Alice? What do you want?

  Chapter 5

  They walked again. Thankfully Alice’s feet were fine. Which was amazing. One second she wanted to cry from the stinging pain, and then the next second, the ball of firelight ran across her feet and she’d felt better. And then he’d washed her feet and she’d felt amazing. Not an ache or pain anywhere the water had touched. Like she was a new person. Well, from the feet down anyway. And though there’d been nothing erotic or even sensual about his ministrations, her stomach and heart had fluttered like a girl with her first crush. He’d washed her feet, stood, and stared at her.

  Maybe it’d been her imagination, but for just a moment, an infinite second in time, it’d seemed like he’d shared a piece of his soul, letting her peer deep into the burning depths of his heated gaze, but then he’d blinked and the spell (or whatever it’d been) had passed, leaving her shaken and tongue-tied.

  He seemed different now. Not completely kind. Hell no, nothing that drastic. But there was much less hostility, which, she supposed, was better than nothing.

  “I’m”—he cleared his throat and glanced at her from the corner of his eye—“the Hatter.”

  Alice lifted her brow. “I pretty much figured that out.”

  “Right.” He sighed and glanced to the side.

  She rolled her eyes and huffed. “I’m Alice. Alice Hu.”

  His jaw went rigid, but even so, her heart skipped a beat at the pure beauty and masculinity of his face. He was so much more than she remembered. Didn’t mean she’d forgiven him for what he’d done earlier. Not by a long shot.

  But she hated silence. “So is this a dream or what?” At this point, she was 99.9999 percent certain this wasn’t a dream, but she wanted to talk. Even if that meant talking with the most sexy, infuriating man she’d ever met in her life.

  “All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream,” he said, words laced with a bitter sadness that made her heart tremble.

  “Sure.” She was confused. Was he agreeing with her or not? Why did she suddenly want to wrap him in her arms? The haunted sorrow in his gaze touched something in her heart.

  She set her jaw and tapped her hand against her thigh. The man was ridiculous, spoke in riddles, and yet—her stomach did a somersault—she couldn’t stop the mental pictures of him nude with her sprawled on top of him.

  She groaned. He was mean. She didn’t like him. He’d freakin’ made her walk through a forest without shoes. Her tender feet had gotten bruised and bloody, and it was so easy to give in to the hate, but then he’d saved her from that damn snake, washed her smelly feet, and nothing made sense anymore. Since the moment they’d left the mushroom glade, he’d been acting different. Not so angry and cold.

  Stems of grass brushed against her ankles like the softest satin. Stars gleamed in the navy-blue sky, brighter than any diamond. Wind, pregnant with the fragrance of flowers, sifted gentle fingers through her hair.

  “I’d swear I was drunk as a skunk right now except for the fact that I don’t feel in the least bit tipsy. I just cannot accept I’m in Wonderland though. This is ridiculous.”

  A loud snore, like the braying of a donkey, startled her. She yelped, and Hatter pointed to a shadowy lump beside them. A huge skunk lay sprawled on its back, a glass bottle by its head. Its bushy black-and-white tail twitched back and forth, tiny feet jerking like a dog’s when asleep.

  “Is that a—”

  “Words have power.” His eyes narrowed, and he was looking at her differently now, not shocked or amazed exactly, but different. He turned. Alice hadn’t been aware he’d been standing so close until suddenly it seemed as if he took up all her space. She licked her lips, skin tingling with a rush of blood. He looked like he wanted to say more.

  “Alice—” His Adam’s apple bobbed as if he was working up the courage to say more.

  The hot shiver of the Hatter’s sherry-tinted breath fanned her face. She squirmed. She wanted to touch him, touch herself. Anything, just to end the madness of lust spreading through her veins like a sickness.

  Then his gaze grew hooded and he turned back around. She sucked in a shaky breath, knees suddenly weak. What was going on? Hadn’t she just been pissed at him?

  “What the hell happened back there? Did I make that thing appear?” she asked his back.

  He stopped and she caught back up to him. He looked down at her. “You tell me.”

  Pulse trapped in her throat because suddenly nothing made sense, she grabbed his hand. “Why am I here?”

  There’d been one other time in her life when words had shifted her reality, and it’d not been magic at all but a tumor the size of a golf ball in her brain. Was she sick again? Stomach revolting with worry, she squeezed his fingers.

  His jaw clenched. He looked at their clasped hands, and she expected him to let go. Hatter sighed and pulled her in for a hug.

  Stunned, she didn’t move. It didn’t seem like a kind hug, or even an I-want-to-strip-you-and-make-love hug. He trembled and she sensed that, much like the snake, power rippled behind the touch, and if he wanted to he could hurt her. Maybe he did want to.

  His hard fingers bunched into the back of her shirt. A part of Alice wanted to shove him back, make him let her go. But she just couldn’t because this was the man she’d loved her entire life. The man she’d craved since age thirteen.

  “You smell like cinnamon and tea,” she shyly admitted. “My favorites.”

  He cleared his throat. “It is time.” Was his voice shaking? Time for what? She wanted to ask but doubted he’d elaborate as he hadn’t done so yet, and if she’d learned anything in her short life, it was not to ask stupid questions she knew would never get answered. For now, she’d wait and watch.

  Alice looked and then blinked, trying to rattle the image loose. Much like the fictional Alice, she was presented with a table, empty, save for the small slices of strawberry-festooned cakes. Each one had a sign in it. One read: Eat Me. The other: Poison. And she couldn’t stop the delighted thrill that zipped down her spine as she recognized one of her favorite scenes from the book.

  Nibbling on her lip, she glanced at him. What was she supposed to choose? Alice hadn’t had a choice, so this was kind of different and whole lot confusing. Hatter didn’t move for one or the other, and his blank face gave nothing away. There’d be no taking a lead off his cue.

  Was he testing her?

  She looked around for any sign or clue, but it was pointless. Nothing could or would help her. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the Eat Me slice. Just as she ripped the tip off, the sharp slap of his hand made her drop it. Shocked, she glanced at her stinging hand. “Did you just slap me?”

  At least he had the good sense not to deny it. Most people would have said, “I didn’t do that,” or “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Bad is good. Good is bad.”

  Then he tore off two chunks from the poisoned cake and handed one to her.

  The white frosting looked delicious, but the cake was green. And not St. Patty’s Day dyed green either. No, this was sitting out on the counter, rotting from humidity green. She wrinkled her nose as the smell finally smacked her nostrils. Spoiled eggs and ten-day-old banana peels.

  Her stomach soured. “You know, I’m not actually all that hungry.”

  He rolled his eyes, p
opped his into his mouth, and before she had a moment to protest, he’d slid hers between her teeth. Reflex forced her to chew, her tongue bursting with the unexpected notes of strawberry cordial.

  But the delicious buzz lasted only a second before Alice was slammed with vertigo. The bit of rotten cake revolted in her stomach. She reached out blindly, almost falling as the world slid sideways and her with it, like looking at fun house mirrors while the walls around her rolled and rolled. She screamed. A firm set of hands clamped onto her waist and then she could breathe, because he felt so real and immovable. Blessedly still. She gulped in air and clung like a baby monkey to its mother’s back.

  “Breathe, Alice.” His hands petted her hair, calming the panic laying siege. After a second, trusting herself not to throw up, she opened her eyes.

  Either the world had grown or she’d shrunk. Grass towered around them.

  “Come.” He gripped her hand, and she allowed herself to be led, still feeling drunk and wobbly.

  He wound a tight path through the emerald forest. Any other time she might have enjoyed it, looked around and absorbed it all. She was finally in Wonderland. But right now she was too tired to care and simply wanted to get to where they were going.

  In the distance she spied a teapot with a twilight meadow scene on it. As they neared, she noticed at its center was painted a white cottage covered in thorny roses.

  He walked up to the teapot. What exactly did he plan to do with that thing? Gah, she hoped that wasn’t his house. While fitting, she had zero desire to curl up on a cold ceramic floor.

  Then he did a strange thing. Which was kind of stupid, because was the Hatter capable of doing ‘‘strange?’’ His name sort of implied the fact that he was as bizarre as seeing a man-sized white rabbit swearing at her.

  He reached for the red door of the cottage, and his hand phased through the teapot like it was little more than a mirage. The door swung open.

  She frowned and tapped the teapot, shocked at its solidness. He looked at her, and somehow she understood his intention.

  “This is your home?” she asked.

  “Yes.”