Page 11 of Escaping Wonderland

“You aremyplaything,” he roared as he pulled her deeper into the parlor. “You leave only if I say you may leave. Perhaps if you’d been punctual, you might have had time to be schooled in basic etiquette before our playtime.”

Tears blurred Alice’s vision. “Please, just let me go. I don’t belong here. This…this isn’t real. None of this is real.”

“That you’ve been a bad dolly isquitereal, and you must be punished.” The Hatter dragged her through the debris scattered on the floor—crushed pastries, shattered porcelain, and unidentifiable liquids that reeked of alcohol. “If you refuse to be compliant, compliance will be forced. You will learn your place, dolly. Best to learn it from me. I’mfarmore likeable thanhim.”

They entered another dark room, this one with plush purple carpeting. Before she could get a look at her new surroundings, before she could even consider seeking another path of escape, the Hatter lifted Alice and threw her atop a large four-poster bed. She landed on violet satin sheets and a mountain of pillows.Without wasting a moment, Alice turned to roll off the bed. The Hatter caught her ankle and yanked her back toward him.

Alice screamed and kicked wildly. One of her heels caught him in the knee, and the other in his chest, but it wasn’t enough to deter him. He snarled and threw himself upon her, settling between her legs. A brief metallic glint was her only warning before the cold blade of his knife was pressed to her throat. Chest heaving, Alice ceased her struggles and turned her wide, frightened eyes toward his.

“You have such lovely skin,” the Hatter rasped. “So smooth, so pale, so perfect. Don’t make me cut it to ribbons.” He leaned his head down and extended his tongue, trailing it along her cheek.

She cringed and turned her face slightly away, terrified of moving too much and provoking the bite of his blade. “Please, don’t.”

“Dollies are meant to be played with. Some a little rougher than others.” With his free hand, he grasped one of Alice’s arms and forced it up toward the headboard. A moment later, something solid closed around her wrist with a pronounced click.

Alice’s breath hitched as realization struck her. She wiggled beneath him, pulling on her arm, but it was caught fast by the manacle; its cold metal dug into her skin. “No. No, don’t do this.”

“Don’t talk, don’t move. Agooddolly is seen and not heard.” The Hatter grasped her other wrist and moved it up. When she resisted, he increased the pressure of the knife on her throat.

The prick of pain on Alice’s neck forced her to still again. She stared up at the Hatter, trembling, as tears streamed from the corners of her eyes.

This is a vivid dream, nothing more. It’s not real. It’s not real. It’snot real.

“You want to be good, don’t you?” the Hatter asked, brushing his lips over her cheek and up to her temple, where he licked the trail of her tears. His breath was warm against her skin as he spoke. “You want to make me happy. Because if you can’t make me happy, you won’t makehimhappy…and he’ll add your heart to his collection over and over and over again.”

Alice released a shuddering breath and turned her gaze toward the dark ceiling. The Hatter’s body was heavy atop hers, and she could feel his erection through his trousers, pressed against the bare juncture of her thighs. Horror and shame filled her as her nipples hardened and her body heated, tensing with need.

It’s that drink. The drink is doing this to me. I don’t want this.

“Good little dolly.” He eased the knife away and fastened the manacle around her other wrist. Lifting his torso, he brought the knife to his mouth and licked a few drops of crimson—her blood—from its blade. “Mmm. I wish you had been nicer. I could’ve forgiven your tardiness and treated you so, so well. You’re going to make it up to me though, aren’t you?”

Blood?

This isn’t real!

Alice pressed her lips together to keep them from quivering. She felt vulnerable, exposed, and weak. She’d never been placed in such a position, had never felt such terror. Alice looked past the Hatter, back toward the parlor, and saw something in the shadows—a flicker of movement, a flash of teal, there and gone in an instant.

The Hatter’s lips spasmed as though he were uncertain of whether he wanted to smile or frown. He clamped his fingers on her jaw and forced her chin up, baring her neck to him, and lightly trailed the tip of his blade along her throat. Electric jolts arced across her too-sensitive skin.

“Ruining my special day,” he muttered. “That calls for a special lesson. For special pain.” He slipped the oversized knife into the sheath on his belt and reached up over his head, closing his fingers on empty air. The look of surprise that rounded his eyes and slackened his jaw might’ve been comical on any other face in any other situation.

The Hatter swept his hand through the air over his hair and then leveled a finger at her. “I’ll be right back, dolly. Don’t go anywhere.” He chuckled, a deep, maniacal sound that bubbled from the depths of his gut. “Don’t go anywhere,” he repeated softly as he pushed away from her and climbed off the bed.

He walked to the doorway, where he touched a control beside the door. The bedroom lights dimmed drastically, lowering to a flickering orange glow that emanated from somewhere high on the headboard above her.

“Stay put, little dolly. Playtime starts soon.” He slipped into the parlor, closing the door behind him.

Once she was alone, Alice released the gut-wrenching sob she’d been holding in, her body trembling as she let her tears flow unrestrained.

“This isn’t real. Thiscan’tbe real,” she whispered.

CHAPTER 4

Shadow lifted one leg, settling his ankle over his opposite knee, and grasped his lower shin. His tail, which was draped over one of the arms of the chair, flicked slowly back and forth as his eyes roved around the Hatter’s sitting room. Though he appreciated the Hatter’s affinity for darkness—an affinity which Shadow shared—he was not a fan of his host’s choice in décor. The best thing about this room currently was the overturned table; the mess gave the chamber exactly what it had been missing.

A touch of chaos.

Outwardly, the Hatter’s Tea Party was glorious—it was all clashing angles, inconsistent colors, and floors and windows that never quite matched or lined up with one another. But inside,especiallyin this room, the place was a testament to what the Hatter craved above all else—control.

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