Stupid hope stirred like a lazy cat waking up, but Alice didn’t need hope. She needed to go home, back to the real world, and away from the pervasive temptation of a man who was no good for anybody.
“Do not abandon him now, there’s more to you than this.” Danika’s words echoed as she began to fade. When she was gone, the same door Alice had stepped through earlier reappeared.
It was her choice. She couldn’t look away from the door. The knowledge that he was on the other side of it was an incessant hammering thought. She bit her tongue. It was her choice.
No! She wouldn’t go to him.
She just couldn’t.
Her foot twitched.
***
Rain poured around Hatter. The thunderous boom of the darkened sky made him feel not so alone. He sat in his favorite recliner, in the center of a wildflower studded field. Wind howled, long saw grass swayed violently back and forth, cutting grooves into his bare hands, but he barely felt the pain.
Rain, like needle pricks, slapped at his face, drove hair into his eyes. He didn’t care, didn’t bother to move or turn. He welcomed the rain, welcomed the deluge, hoping it would somehow erase the torment gnawing at his guts. Because she was here, in his world, and he wanted nothing more than to be where she was. Bathe in the beauty of a simple smile, touch her soft flesh and inhale the sensual scent of her body.
He’d kept his place normal. For her. Seeing how she’d panicked when she’d walked through the twists and turns of his home. She was a mortal. Human. A being incapable of comprehending and accepting the dichotomous nature of Wonderland where up wasn’t always up, and down could sometimes lead nowhere.
So he’d muted it, kept it pretty. Banal. A white bird tumbled over and over, unable to catch its bearings in the tempest. It hurtled toward him, stick legs poking up in odd angles.
He snatched it just as it blew overhead.
What was this bird? He frowned. He should never have muted the magic. It was unnatural. And she wouldn’t stay. She should see it for what it really was and who cared if he scared her off? She’d leave and never come back. Just like the rest. All of them so fickle, foolish.
He’d sworn no more. Not after she’d left. The one he’d felt certain would be his Alice. But she’d been wicked, wanting nothing of him or what he’d offered.
The bird struggled in his grip, warmth flooded his palm, and suddenly the creature began to morph. Become what it really was. Its beak elongated, broadened at the tip.
So similar were the two Alices.
Its body thickened, turned a dusty shade of rose. Lightning struck right in front of him, but he didn’t jump. The bird flapped broad wings, the silver handle of its spoonbill tinkling with music as rain plopped harder and faster upon it.
Ozone swirled around him. He closed his eyes. But not all the same. This Alice was soft and sweet. She told him things. Wonderful, crazy things. Hunger for her, for his woman, clawed at his gut. He wanted to take her, claim her and make her forget any petty desires she’d ever had for returning to her world.
His fingers clenched and the bird grunted, clawed feet scrabbling to jump from his lap. But he held tight, squeezing harder.
Because the moment she returned to Earth she’d never come back, if she left, she’d stay gone. Alice would forget Wonderland. She would forget him.
The bird thrashed now, talons shredding his pant leg until he felt the heat of it grazing flesh.
“No Alice,” he muttered. Rain fell down his face like tears. Maybe they were tears. He swallowed hard, looking down at the bird. It labored for breath.
Ribs expanding, black eyes stared at him.
“Why do you look at me like that, bird?”
The spoonbill stopped struggling, but reproach burned in the depths of pain-filled eyes. He petted the wet feathers.
“Rose feathers. Tea roses. She rose in the moonlight. Moonlight shadows her face.” He closed his eyes again, his grip relaxing infinitesimally. “Face of a goddess. My Alice, my Alice.”
“Hatter?”
That voice. The singsong rhythm made him tremble, made his blood stir and his cock twitch.
Tiny hands caressed the lines of his jaw. His breath stuttered.
“Let the bird go, Hatter.”
Soft words, gentle, gentle. Like cashmere’s caress. Anything, anything for you, Alice.
He released the bird. And Hatter drowned in eyes that sparkled with shades of bitter beer. Her midnight hair was plastered to her face, the tiniest blue body-hugging dress he’d ever seen fitted to her like a second skin. Beautiful, so beautiful his Alice was.
“Why didn’t you leave me?” His voice cracked. “You always leave me. Always.”
She shook her head. “Hatter, I’m not them.” That luscious mouth turned down in a frown and he touched the corner, lifting it. Never wanting to see her sad, not her. Not his Alice.
She kissed the tip of his finger and it was fire. Flames. Scorching him, making him shake. Want, need. More than ever. More than before.