Oh.
Twelve girls in total, and...I'll be honest. At first, I totally mistook them for Hugh Hefner's Playboy Bunnies with their fluffy bunny ears, skimpy costumes, and cute pom-pom-like tails. It's only when one of them laughs, and I see their incisors flash, that I realize who I'm collectively looking at.
Wunderland Hares.
I'm still trying to wrap my head around this new twist when I hear the door swing open once more, and the girls start cooing and wagging their (real?) tails. The excitement is palpable and decidedly sexual, and when I finally see who's come striding in to join us—-
I get it.
He's tall, maybe an inch or two over six feet, and sinfully gorgeous, with long, straight golden hair tied up in a man bun and eyes a metallic shade of gold. He has a five o'clock shadow that adds a sinisterly masculine edge to his looks, and with his black V-neck shirt and faded denims, it's almost easy to mistake him as a modern-day James Dean. There's absolutely nothing crazy fancy about him, but even so.
I'm a hundred percent certain it's him.
The Mad Hatter.
And supposedly...another man who's fated for me.
All the hares are watching him with adoring eyes. I wish I can say I'm different, but I can't take my gaze off him either. Even if I didn't know he's a were-lion, I'd know now, with his every movement an exercise of leonine grace.
He takes a seat at the head of the table, and the other girls quickly do the same...save for one. A busty redhead, moving with such sensuality it's almost as if she's gliding than walking. My gaze narrows as she nods at my direction, and I can't help bristling as I watch her bend down to whisper something into the Hatter's ear.
What the—-
I wish I can convince myself I'm imagining things, but the way her lips curve as her gaze seeks mine tells me that was no horrible illusion I saw.
She's run her tongue over the edge of the Hatter's ear, and when the were-lion glances at her sharply, I hear the other woman huskily deliver a teasing apology, saying she was unable to resist the temptation.
Bloody, bloody...flirt!
I don't care who she is. I just know I hate her on sight, and I hate her even more when she takes her seat next to the Hatter like she's his lady. And maybe she is his floozy on the side, but who cares about that when I'm his—-
Whoa, Addie!
I'm torn between self-disgust and disgruntlement at the way I've let myself become affected. Didn't I decide earlier that getting involved with the Mad Hatter is just asking for trouble? So why the heck should I care if Redhead Hare seems so used to whispering sweet nothings into his ear? They're lovers, obviously, and that's fine. I'm just going to mind my own beeswax like I always do.
Got that, Addie?
Mind. Your. Own. Beeswax.
But when I notice the Mad Hatter's golden eyes settling on me from the opposite end of the table, I just can't help it. I give him the evil eye...which turns out to be a huge mistake.
Shit.
The were-lion moves in a blur of speed, and I can only gasp against my gag at suddenly finding him right next to me...with his long, strong fingers wrapped around my throat.
"Make the mistake of disrespecting me in such a manner one more time," the Mad Hatter warns in a rough, harsh growl, "and be prepared to pay the consequence."
At the sound of his voice, the other hares, whose whispers are already hush-hush, fall absolutely silent, their gazes turning fearful and nervous. Redhead Hare, however, is different. Her beautiful face is impassive, but the look in her mud-brown eyes is maliciously triumphant. She's clearly enjoying this, bloody, hateful—-
The fingers around my throat tighten, and my gaze darts backs to the Mad Hatter.
"Do we have an understanding, trespasser?"
I force myself to swallow my resentment and nod reluctantly at his question. The Hatter clearly doesn't know I'm the Alice in Nostradamus' prophecy, and I don't know whether to feel relieved...or hurt and pissed.
Rayé was the same, I remind myself. The were-tiger had no idea who I was at the start either, but...
My teeth start gnashing behind the gag as I watch the Redhead Hare make her way to the were-lion. When Rayé and I first met, he had no other floozies around him, while the Hatter...
"There's no need to waste your time with her." Redhead Hare places her hand on his arm as she speaks...and he lets her.
"You have better things to do—-"
She's now running her nails over the were-lion's arm like his skin is her personal playground, and I start to see red.
"I can handle her for you, find out what you'd like to know..."
She goes on and on, but I barely hear anything she says. I'm still unable to get over the fact that the Mad Hatter's letting another woman touch him...when he's supposed to be mine!