Red and Her Wolf (Kingdom, #3)

She touched his bite mark, feeling nothing. Her flesh was smooth. Violet licked her lips. Was she his mate?

Was that why she’d obsessed about the big black wolf for so long? Not because she wanted to kill him, but because she needed him?

She shook her head, not wanting to think about any of that right now. It was too much to process. She wished he would have told her where they were headed to next.

Glancing up at the trees above, she tried to remember the landscape. Recall the maps she’d learned by heart so long ago. These woods looked… familiar.

Well, not so much these, but the ones to the left. The forest she and Ewan camped within seemed mundane, but not a stone’s throw from where they sat was a copse full of twisted, thick bellied trunks. Limbs splayed out like crooked fingers, and the silver mist encasing those woods… something about them teased the edge of her consciousness.

But the thought was fleeting, the faint memory indecipherable. Huffing, she stood and dusted her butt off. She needed to stretch and take care of some business.

Ewan growled, yellow eyes piercing hers. A question blazed in their depths.

“I need to relieve myself,” she admitted, cheeks blazing. “I thought you were asleep.”

He shook his furry head.

“I won’t take long.” She pressed her lips together, humiliated beyond belief.

He sighed, and laid his head back down.

Violet moved silently, aware of her surroundings, but moving far enough away that he’d not hear.

Finally satisfied, she did her business and wondered when she’d stopped thinking of him as the big bad wolf.

Moonlight bathed everything in a pale blue glow. She’d not realized she’d gone so far, until she noticed the silver fog circling her legs.

“Little Red Riding Hood.”

The cultured voice wrapped itself around her throat, making her feel like she suddenly couldn’t take a breath. She didn’t feel like dealing with another monster right now, especially not without Ewan by her side. She turned, and started trotting back to their campsite.

“I suppose I should be offended at your running off so soon.”

Far from sounding threatening, the voice was inquisitive, which made her curious enough to stop and glance back. This time a face materialized with the voice. A floating orange head gazed at her, the cat’s sickle shaped smile revealed wicked long fangs.

She smiled, delighted. “I know who you are.”

He lifted a brow, and then the rest of his body materialized. A large fluffy tail whipped gracefully back and forth. “Oh, do tell. I often forget.”

“You’re the Cheshire Cat.”

Large brown eyes widened and then he nodded. “Ah yes, indeed I am.”

The fog was thickest where he floated. His fur was so silky looking, so soft. She had a strange urge to pet him, but curled her fingers by her side instead.

“That must mean these are the Hatter’s woods.”

“A biscuit for the lady,” he smiled, and licked his paw.

His coat of fur gleamed like somebody had taken a torch and infused the mesmerizing colors within it.

“You’re beautiful,” she murmured, and then jerked, wishing she hadn’t said that.

His eyes rolled down his nose, the whole time studying the length of her. “I wish I could say the same for you. Who did you eat tonight, Heartsong? You made quite a mess.”

She curled her nose; the description wasn’t that far off. “The old crone.”

“Oh my.” He seemed surprised, eyes popping back in their sockets. “No more kiddies for breakfast, eh? How terribly mundane.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say.”

He shrugged; his body hovered between two trees, never coming closer. She nibbled her lip, obsessed beyond reason with feeling the texture of his fur.

“You want to pet me.” It wasn’t a question.

Hesitantly, she nodded. “I’ve never seen fur like yours.”

He kept licking himself, fluffing the fur higher, drawing her eye like a dragon’s to a gem. “You can you know. Just come… closer.”

“Why don’t you come here?”

He inhaled deeply. “Do you see the fog?” He nodded. “That is the demarcation point between my world, and that one.” He curled his nose, long whiskers twitching.

“What do you mean, that one?”

“The one you stand in. Of course.”

She frowned, looking around. The trees on this side did seem more normal than the behemoth’s lurking on his side. “Have you ever come on this side?”

“How do you think I found my way in here? I came from that goddess awful place.”

A shudder rippled across his shoulders, down his spine and through his legs. It was a strange sight.

She lifted a brow. “Which means it won’t kill you.”

“Mmm. Debatable. It might as well, because you see, my dear girl, if I step one itty bitty paw beyond this boundary I’ll become normal,” he drawled, disgust dripping from his tongue.

Laughing, she said, “You make it sound like a fate worse than death.”

“Isn’t it?”