[Kingdom 01.0 - 03.0] Kingdom Series Collection Read online

  Her fear turned to laughter, and she couldn’t stop it. She grabbed her stomach and pointed. “I’m so sorry. I have no idea what I was thinking. I’ve never…” Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes as she lost all words and laughed until her sides ached.

  His anger quickly subsided, and he cocked his head as if confused by her. Which only made it funnier. He was the Hatter, yet she was the one acting like a complete idiot.

  She held up her hand. “I’m sorry.” She huffed, gulping in air. “Sorry. Won’t do it again.”

  “Yes, well, I… deserved it.” His lips tipped up, and she knew he fought back a smile. And seeing that was like pouring salt on snow; it killed her laughter cold. She grabbed her chest as her blood heated and her head swam with naughty thoughts.

  Like shoving the stupid jacket off his broad shoulders, stripping him of the colorfully striped pants, and then proceeding to lick her way down his body until she came to the bit of male beauty that would be hard and proud. Just for her.

  She shivered. His nostrils flared as if he sensed her thoughts. Something wicked, and not altogether displeasing, glinted back at her from the depths of his chocolate-brown eyes.

  The room charged with a snap of sexual hunger so intense, so arousing, she knew if she touched herself she’d find herself soaked.

  His hot gaze danced across her form, lingering in all the right places. Heat coiled like a sling between her thighs. Focusing, trying to remember to breathe around the lump in her throat, she held her ground, pretending he wasn’t making her tremble.

  Her reaction was more intense than any she’d had in years, maybe ever. She wanted him with a need that came a hair’s breadth to being insane.

  His mouth thinned. “Come on. Please.”

  She nodded regally and tried to pretend his words hadn’t just turned her insides to mush, then followed him down another hall. This one was full of closed doors. At least twenty. The dimensions of the place made her light-headed; it was small, yet large. Compact, yet unending. Madness. Like the man himself. Was he taking her to his room?

  The thought made her want to purr.

  Stopping at the seventh door, he turned the knob and opened it to her. “Is this okay?”

  Her eyes widened as she stepped in behind him. “My room?”

  Had it really been a dream? She could have sworn… She sighed. Seeing the clocks and scattered plants, all Alice could think was how drab it all looked. She’d gotten Wonderland all wrong. What must he think, seeing her room, knowing how silly her notions of his world were?

  She felt his eyes on her, hot and searching. Drawn to him, she looked back. And for a moment, it seemed like his eyes swirled with light, round and round and round. Mesmerizing her, locking her in place, black rolling into brown and then into amber. Around and around, over and over, pulling her in with its sad, haunting symmetry. A staircase that fell into forever; unending, unceasing torment.

  Then he blinked, and it was gone. His hand hovered above her head, so close she felt the heat radiating from his palm.

  His hand shook as it lowered inch by agonizingly slow inch. She moaned when he touched her—she couldn’t help it. His touch did something to her, made her feel alive, tingly and on fire. The sound spurred him on, and with a sharp groan, he wrapped a strand of hair around his shaking finger, lifting it to his nose.

  He closed his eyes and inhaled. Tremors wracked his body as he moved closer. Something thick and large pressed against her thigh. She purred, responding to primal lust. Alice wanted to touch him, hold him. She slid her arms around his back, wishing she could touch naked flesh, hating that he was so covered up. She settled for laying her head against his chest.

  Bump-bump. The beat of his heart was a song in her ears. Again her world tilted, flipped on its side, and made her question where up was, where she started and he began. She clung to him; he was the hope in a swirling torrent of senselessness.

  “I know everything there is to know about you, Alice.” His voice, whiskey rough, was an erotic caress against the nape of her neck. “I always have.”

  Alice’s heart thrilled, raced, and she could taste the adrenaline surge on her tongue. But then he stepped away, and she felt bereft. She dropped empty arms as he walked away.

  Chapter 6

  Hatter paced the length of his bedroom. His arms were crossed behind his back, fingers flexing as he contemplated what to do about Alice.

  Danika said she wasn’t the same Alice. But she looked the same. From her almond-shaped brown eyes to the beguiling widow’s peak at her forehead.

  He rubbed his jaw, pulse thudding. She even talked the same—soft, with an exotic lilt to it. And her hair, all black and silky, and when he’d inhaled he’d known she’d smell of salt and hints of buttery caramel. Just like the other.

  He paused against his bed frame. But she did not act the same. Watching his world, her eyes sparkled with wonder rather than greed. She’d called a creature. Other Alice hadn’t been able to do that. She’d only been able to summon small things. A teacup, butterflies… His pulse pounded so hard he thought he’d choke on it.

  Was this Alice really the one? Was she his? Blood rushed to his groin and he groaned. Danika wouldn’t lie; she was many things, but not a liar. She’d said this wasn’t the same girl, and as much as he wanted to hate New Alice for reminding him so forcibly of the evil one, it would be cruel and wrong.

  Damn that meddlesome godmother. This was all her doing anyway. His nostrils flared, the essence of Alice’s scent lingering on his coat, his skin. She was beautiful and spirited. His lips curved in a slow grin. She’d thrown bread at him.

  The minx.

  Hatter couldn’t stop thinking about the skunk. She’d called it. With her silly nonsense words, she’d called it into being. Other Alice had manifested magic, and he’d thought then she might have been the one, but it hadn’t been enough. Wonderland had said no.

  But a skunk, a large, fat, and drunken skunk, was vastly stronger magic than a mere cup of tea. His heart raced. And her look when he’d touched her—she’d not shied away from the contact but had leaned in. She’d wanted his touch, and he’d wanted to keep touching and petting and caressing. Pretty, silly little Alice. Maybe. Maybe…

  He jerked as if slapped; he’d not go down this road again. He punched the wall, heart hammering a wild rhythm in his chest. Sick beyond endurance, he slammed a mental door on that thought. He could not afford to grow soft.

  To want.

  She had to go.

  “I am not yours, not lost in you. Not lost…”

  Chapter 7

  Alice lay in her bed. The constant ticktock, ticktock of her Cheshire cat wall clock kept her from sleep. She stared with unfocused eyes at the ceiling fan, her breathing taking up the singsong rhythm of the clock. She shoved the silk sheets down, hot and confused, too awake to sleep and yet too tired to move.

  It was strange, the dichotomy of feeling like she was at home, when in fact, this wasn’t her house and she wasn’t in her room. She’d thought crossing that threshold would somehow usher her back to her own time and reality. But no, she was still here—in Wonderland—stuck, maybe forever.

  It was enough to make a person question her sanity. Too many times to count, she’d opened her door, thinking any moment she’d see her living room and hear the thud of Auntie Hamaka’s ten house cats running amok in the apartment next to hers. But each time she’d swing the door open, she’d simply seen door after door after door. Brightly colored throw rugs, frames with no pictures on the wall. Not her house.

  Her stomach rose with each breath. The fan turned. She didn’t blink.

  “Hello, dear.”

  Alice yelped. “Bloody freaking hell!” She grabbed her chest and then did a double take when she noticed who was in her room. Crazy Cupcake Lady, but smaller. Like ten times smaller. Fairy size and flitting through the air.

  “You’re that woman!” She stabbed her finger at her. “Who the hell are you? Where the hell am I? W
hat’s going on?” The last almost came out a wail, her words warbling, and she clamped her lips shut on the hysteria threatening to choke her.

  The fairy stared at her with sympathetic blue eyes, a soft smile on her round little face. “I know how you must feel, dear…”

  Alice snorted. “Oh, I seriously doubt that. What did you do to me? Who are you?”

  Crazy Cupcake Lady held up pudgy little fingers, shaking loose a blond curl of hair. “I’ll answer all your questions, but first”—she pointed to the bed—“let’s do sit.”

  Startled, Alice realized she’d stood to a defensive crouching position. How frightening she must look in her boy shirts and cami. She rolled her eyes at the absurd picture and plopped back down with a huff.

  She eyed the little woman evilly.

  “My name is Danika, fairy godmother extraordinaire, and this is very real.”

  Alice lifted a brow. “I’ve pretty much accepted I’m here. How that is even remotely possible, I can’t fathom. But why am I here? Why can’t I go home?”

  Crazy Lady didn’t bat a lash. “I told you.”

  “Umm. No, you didn’t. You laid a card on my table and walked off. You told me nothing.”

  The lady rolled her eyes. “You really must listen. I told you, you had a man—”

  “I thought you were freaking kidding. Like yanno, loco.” She rolled her finger against her temple. “Am I here forever? What’s happened? I can’t stay here; you know that. I’ve got a family. They’re probably worried…”

  Danika held up her hands. “Three days, Alice. That’s all. If in three days you two do not fall madly in love, you’re free to go home.” She said it as if it wasn’t a huge commitment she asked for.

  Alice wanted to laugh. Was she nuts? “Oh, is that all? Well, thank you for this honor.”

  Danika frowned. “You’re… welcome?”

  Alice scoffed. “Sarcasm, fairy. Ever heard of it? No, I will not stay here three days. He’s a tyrant. Do you know what he made me do? Walk barefoot for miles.” Alice curled her toes. “My heels were bloody—”

  Danika nodded. “Yes. Yes, he came and saw me. Total misunderstanding—he’ll be much nicer now.”

  Alice pinched the bridge of her nose. “What? When? I was with him, we never saw you.”

  “Yes, dear. In the woods.”

  Alice’s eyes grew large. “You were the lightning bugs!” She chuckled, feeling stupid that she hadn’t put that together immediately. Lightning bugs couldn’t heal feet. Then again, it wasn’t everyday she discovered fairies really existed.

  Danika bristled. “Lightning bug, indeed!” Her full face flushed a rosy red as she inhaled long and slow several times through her nose. “I am a fairy.”

  Alice grinned. “Of course you are.” And suddenly she wasn’t mad, just tired. She wanted to go home, pretend none of this had happened. Pretend she hadn’t met the man of her dreams, the man she’d obsessed about as a child only to discover he wasn’t at all what she’d thought he’d be. “Why don’t we just cut the three days down to one? Chalk it up to a failed experiment and move on?” She laughed, a short, humorless sound.

  Very small hands gripped the sides of Alice’s nose, forcing her to look back at worried blue eyes. “This is no joke. You must know he needs you.”

  “Stop it.” Alice swatted the fairy off her.

  Undeterred, Danika grabbed Alice’s cheek. Her fingers were cold, and it was ridiculous how Alice suddenly felt like she was ten again when her mother caught her reading instead of doing chores.

  “Send me home. Now.”

  “I cannot. You rubbed the card. You agreed…”

  Alice crossed her arms. “I didn’t agree to a damn thing. I rubbed the card, yes…” She frowned—man, she’d been stupid to do it—trying to remember if there’d been any fine print. But the card had only showed a bunny with rub me on it. “I didn’t,” she asserted again.

  Danika huffed. “Humans and your nonsense of science and disbelief…,” she grumbled. “This is a world of magic and mayhem, and rules do not apply here. You cannot control this chaos, my dear—you must let it be. You agreed by rubbing. Period. You must accept it for what it is.”

  Alice jerked out of Danika’s hold. “And just what is that?”

  “Truth.”

  Truth? The fairy spoke of truth, and Alice wanted to hit something. She’d spoken truth once before—and that truth had nearly ruined her life.

  Alice had seen Hatter when she was thirteen. She’d known the encounter had been real, and she’d told anyone who would listen.

  Her parents had taken her to psychologists; her friends had given up on her, called her crazy, psycho, a nut job. Eventually her mother had threatened to commit her if she didn’t quit talking like that.

  So she’d stopped talking. She’d stopped telling others about it, and as the years wore on, she’d come to the realization it was easier to say they were right. It hadn’t been real. She’d never seen him. It’d been a dream, a result of a disease-ravaged mind. Nothing more, nothing less.

  Her parents slept easier, she’d made new friends who knew nothing about her temporary “episode,” and the love that’d burned brighter than the hottest flame had cooled to an ember. She’d moved on. She’d still loved the Hatter and all his maddening ways, but as a favorite story. Nothing more, nothing less.

  “He doesn’t want me.” The words spilled from Alice’s lips before she could censor her thoughts.

  Danika bit her lip. “And that is partly my doing, love.” She looked suddenly anxious, flitting around Alice’s head in a dizzying circle.

  “I wish you’d be still,” Alice grumped. “You’re making my eyes cross. What exactly did you do?”

  The crazy fairy toyed with her fingernail. “You are not his first Alice. In fact, you’re not even his tenth.”

  The words brought Alice up short. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve tried for decades, maybe centuries now”—Danika pinched her nose, exhaustion heavily lacing her words—“to find his perfect match. The Alice to offset the madness leaking into him.” She threw her hands wide. “With no success. Some feared him, others tolerated him, and still others coveted the power of the land itself. But none ever loved him.”

  Alice heard Danika like a buzz of white noise in the background. Other Alices? She wasn’t his first.

  “Did he sleep with them?” she snapped and then clamped her mouth shut, wishing she hadn’t blurted that out, but desperate to know. Who was Hatter? Did he have a sick, kinky fetish to get it on with as many Alices as he could? Well, he was SOL. Alice wouldn’t be another notch in his belt. Hot or not.

  Danika’s jaw dropped as if shocked. “No!” Her voice rose in pitch like a howl. “Dear me.” She grabbed her chest. “The man is not a pervert, dear.”

  The furious pounding in Alice’s chest eased somewhat. “Then why bring so many Alices?”

  “Because that’s the way of it here. Hatter and Alice, Big Bad Wolf and Red… The stories are written with a grain of truth to them. It must be an Alice.” She shrugged, and Alice licked her canine, refusing to analyze why she suddenly felt like a huge burden had lifted.

  She didn’t want to share Hatter with anybody else.

  Shaking her head, Danika said, “But that is not all.”

  Alice narrowed her eyes, wishing the fairy would stop dragging this out. “Yes?”

  Danika blew out a breath. “You see, I may have dipped into a certain bloodline. Brought back a ghost, if you will.”

  “What?” Alice was totally confused.

  Danika sighed and dropped her hands to her sides. “Many years ago, I brought an Alice to the Hatter. She was a lovely thing. Doe-eyed and of gentle disposition.” She snorted. “At first anyway. I think he fell for her beauty more than anything.” She shook her head. “She was an awful woman. Wanted the power she could glean from the land. She did not want him at all.”

  “I don’t understand what that has to do with me?”
/>   Danika’s tiny hand traced Alice’s jaw, giving her goose bumps. “You two could be twins. He sees her when he looks at you.”

  Alice sucked in a breath, finally understanding the bloodline reference and the cruelty of the woman. “My great-grandmother,” she whispered.

  Danika nodded gravely.

  And though she had no right to jealousy, a flinty spark of passionate hatred flared to life in Alice’s heart. No wonder Hatter hated her. Alice loved her great-grandmother now… because she was blood and it was the honorable thing to do.

  But loving her didn’t mean Alice could forget being locked out of the house during the heat of the day because her comings and goings let in too many flies. Or being told not to eat the second piece of birthday cake because she’d get fat and ugly and no one would want her then.

  The bitterness her grandmother had always thrown at her great-grandfather, calling him stupid and a hairy Okinawan who was no good for her and she’d almost had better. Should have had better…

  In hindsight, the crazy mutterings made more sense. But anger solved nothing. Jealousy was useless. Obviously it hadn’t worked out between her and the Hatter, but that past was coming back to bite Alice in the ass now because she wasn’t her great-grandmother. She was nothing like the old shrew, and yet Hatter judged her based off that.

  She looked at the little fairy. “My mother always told me it was uncanny. I’ve seen the pictures. We look exactly the same.” Deflated, she leaned her head against the wall. No wonder Hatter had been so cruel. She understood it. Didn’t mean she forgave him, but she understood it now. “Why in the hell would you bring me here? He’ll never be able to look beyond…” Alice traced a hand down her body.

  Danika grabbed Alice’s numb fingers and gave them a gentle rub. “You must make him see you, Alice. You.” She shook her finger for emphasis. “The moment I saw your great-grandmother, my body shot with sparks of right. But I know now it wasn’t for her—it was the bloodline, the eventuality of you. He’s never responded to any of the Alices the way he did her. But how he responded to her is but a drop in the bucket to the way he feels for you. I know my Hatter, and I know you’ve completely disrupted his narrow worldview. I believe the only reason why he got swept up in that Alice was because he sensed as I did the tremblings of your coming.”