The Mad King (The Dark Kings #1)(80)
She wrinkled her nose at the thought, took her clothes off, and was pulling the sleeves on when she grumbled, “Give anything for a toothbrush and shower right about now.”
No sooner had the words left her mouth than her tongue tingled with the sharp nip of mint. Her body shone with a wet sheen, and the scent of flowers filled the room.
She hadn’t bathed, and yet she was clean. Man, if she could patent this back home, she’d make a killing.
The dress was a perfect fit. But she didn’t question it—it was Wonderland, and nothing seemed to follow any conventional rules of reason. Most especially when it came to the Hatter.
The dress fell to midthigh. Thankfully, she had great legs. Her stomach fluttered, and she wished she had a mirror.
A displaced shiver of air brushed against her back.
She turned and there was a mirror. Suddenly she wondered, was Wonderland responding? Was the wind right now humming and the land rolling? She strained to listen, but there was nothing but empty silence.
Her heart sank, and she shook her head. Silly Alice... hoping for what couldn’t be. Of all the Alices in the world, there was no way she’d be his perfect match. The odds were more astronomical then winning the lottery ten times straight. In all of history, she was his Alice. The thought gave her a pang, and she had to take several deep breaths before she could shrug it off.
Alice studied her reflection. The dress was tight but comfortable, though she didn’t like the sleeves. Instantly they vanished, exposing the long, lean muscle of her bare arms.
“It would look a lot better with a choker collar.” The fabric moved, sliding up her neck until it resembled the choker she’d requested.
She pointed her toes. He’d put her in heels last night. “Thigh-high boots.” The softest black suede she’d ever felt in her life suddenly hugged her legs. A stupid, wide grin covered her face from ear to ear.
This was crazy. She was crazy. Paris Hilton, eat your heart out. Free clothes—it was enough to make her head spin with dizzy possibilities.
Alice had gone through a Goth phase in a high school, much to her mother’s everlasting shame. She’d even managed to sneak an Alice-dress replica to prom. She’d poofed her black hair and touched up her face with a light tint of lip gloss and a few strokes of mascara. A large black-and-white-striped bow was the only accessory she’d worn. Rather than make her look like a Lolita, the effect had been stunning.
That’d been the night boys had finally started noticing her. Overnight, she’d turned from the nerd carrying around the worn Alice in Wonderland book to the hot nerd carrying around a worn copy of Wonderland. It’d also been the night of her first real kiss.
Clinton Issac. Tall soccer player. Gorgeous, and with the cutest dimple in his right cheek. She’d closed her eyes, puckered her lips, and the rest was a gross blur of slobber and sweaty hands trying to unclasp her bra.
Gross kiss notwithstanding, she wondered if lightning would strike twice. She bit the corner of her lip and wished.
A large, stylish bow materialized in the palm of her hand, a small blood ruby winking from its center. She slipped it on, her stomach a nervous mass of butterflies. What would the Hatter think of her now?
Two days left.
Feeling like she might puke, she walked out, not knowing what she’d see today. Now that she was here, she was ready and willing to embrace the impossible.
The hallway was just a regular hallway. She frowned, disappointed for a quick second that it all seemed so mundane. There were no empty frames on the wall, no vines appearing like slow-moving snakes. Instead, the walls were painted with fresco designs, a carnival at night, its neon lights aglow.
She narrowed her eyes and walked to the wall. It all looked so real, and when she closed her eyes, she couldn’t help imagining the happy roar of a crowd. The sway of rides. For a moment, she could almost smell the greasy whiff of corn dogs and funnel cake. Her stomach rumbled, snapping her instantly back to reality.
Food. Time for food. Lots of it. With a little sigh, she turned on her heel—and smacked head-on into an unmovable wall.
“Oww.” She rubbed her forehead.
Hatter chuckled, and the vibrations that laugh sent through her body weakened her knees. His hands slid down her arms, and his touch was like fire. Her skin prickled as every cell became hyperaware of his proximity.
“You look...”
Her stomach flopped. Did he like it? She held her breath.
Then the heat in his glance died, leaving his eyes cold and distant. “Hungry.”
The switch was almost too abrupt to follow. Hungry? She screwed her face up. “What?” After all the time she’d taken with her appearance—that was all he had to say to her? What about that initial heat, the look that said he wanted to turn out all the lights and do naughty things to her? She stifled a sigh of frustration. She wanted that heat back.
“I’ve not fed you well.” His deep voice rumbled.
She should be more than annoyed. She’d dressed up for him, tried her best to turn his head, and all he could talk about was food. In high school, that sort of passive-aggressive rejection would have sent her scurrying back to her Wonderland book, too embarrassed to try again.
She pressed her lips together. That was the old Alice. The Alice who had been convinced by friends and family that her dreams were all just that—dreams. This Alice knew better. She knew her dream was real—he was standing right in front of her. And she wasn’t giving up without a fight.