“How did you...” Then the light bulb came on, literally, a ball of silver light flashing above her head. Talk about weird. For a second she wondered where clichés had originated and if, perhaps, they’d come from a place like this. A place where words had power.
Of course he’d know. She wasn’t his first. Alice buried her nails in her palms.
A moon, heavy and round, materialized, flooding the hall-- which now looked more like a garden than a hallway-- with light. A gentle breeze, redolent with the sweet smell of fresh grass and rich earth surrounded her.
She looked around in awe. “What is this, Hatter?”
He was silent so long, she didn’t think he’d answer. “It’s me, Alice. It’s my magic, my moods. I create all this,” he tapped his head, “with just a thought.”
She wanted to tell him she knew that, that she’d wanted to know what the place was and if it held any significant meaning to him, but words failed her. Suddenly she wasn’t standing before him in boy shorts and a cami, but a frilly blue dress with thigh-high striped stockings and large, chunky heels.
She planted hands on her hips, fighting the grin, and tapped her foot instead.
He grinned. “Though I find I prefer you like this.”
For a second, she thought she’d be naked. But she was once again wearing her boy shorts and cami. His look, his voice, it did something to her. Curls of heat spread between her legs, tightened her belly, made her nipples tight. He was so beautiful. Like a gothic devil with his shaggy dark hair and sensual lips that promised wicked delights..
“Are you searching for me, Alice?” The teasing glint fled and his voice went empty and hollow again. Almost like he didn’t want to have fun with her, didn’t want to be easy going.
She sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
His hard gaze was steady. Such a short distance between them— it would take nothing to close the gap.
She’d had boyfriends in her life. Losers. Winners. None of them made her feel what she felt in that moment. Heat. Fire. Longing so profound she wondered if it were possible to die from it.
She wondered how her great-grandmother had acted. Alice could only picture her as she was now-- hunched over, an old, old woman well past her prime. How had her grandmother seduced him?
Because she wanted to be just the opposite. Alice never wanted him to see her grandmother again.
Be yourself, the echo of her mother’s gentle words flooded her mind.
He stared at her, waiting for something. For some sign. A truth to pass between them, a kindred sharing. Some awareness of who he was.
Alice remembered an elective she’d taken in high school. Who knew the meaningless English lit class would someday come to good use? Since he seemed to love Edgar Allen Poe so much she’d start there.
“The true genius shudders at incompleteness-”
He closed his eyes and his breathing hiked. She took a timid step forward.
“-and usually prefers silence to saying something...”
He recited the last part with her. “Which is not everything it should be.”
He stepped forward. The air shivered between them, a tremble, a kiss of wind at her temple. Her hand was on his cheek, the whisker-roughened skin tickling her fingers.
Haunted eyes stared back at her.
She pulled his face down until their lips nearly touched. “I’ve known you all my life.”
He gripped her fingers, squeezing hard.
“I discovered you when I was 10.” She looked deep into his eyes, peering into the mad soul, and poured out her truths. “I saw more than pages or a name in a book. I saw a brave man. A kind man. Even then I knew, even then I craved that which I could not name. And when I was 13...” she swallowed, wanting to share, wanting to see a flare of recognition in his eyes, a remembered memory.
He looked at her, brows drawn, waiting for her to finish. She couldn’t, not yet. If he didn’t remember, if he hadn’t cherished it as she had, it would be a wound.
She shook her head and smiled. “And when I was 13, I knew. I always knew, Hatter.”
“Alice, don’t. Don’t say these things. They aren’t true.” Wine-tinted breath stroked her lips and she sighed. And though his words begged her to stop, his hands wrapped around her waist like a vise, defying her to step out of the circle of his arms.
“I wish I was lying. I wish I didn’t feel this. Do you have any idea how hard it was to be in love with a man in a book?” She closed her eyes, aching as the memories flooded her. “It’s always been you, Hatter.”
For a weird second, she was sure the grass beneath her feet trembled. She looked at him, his gaze riveted to her face, searching her, like he was trying to peer into her soul.
He shook. “Three days, Alice. Three days and you’ll be gone just like your wicked grandmother. She also gave an oath of love.”
“I. Am. Not. Her.” She shook her head. “Three days to prove to you that I,” she grabbed one of his hands and forced him to cup her cheek, “am real. Three days to make you see me. Not her. But me, little Alice Hu. Lover of all things Hatter.”
He didn’t yank his hand away. “No, Alice.”