"Who are the others?"
"A Rabbit." I avoid saying Chassie's name, not wanting to risk accidentally getting her in trouble. "And also..." I swallow hard. "The Cheshire Cat—-"
Golden eyes narrow at me. "Rayé knows you?"
I nod again.
"And he believes it, too?"
"I t-think so."
"Did he tell you why he's sure it's you?"
I shake my head. "He didn't say anything specifically, but when he realized I ended up in the wrong entryway—-"
"That's not possible," the were-lion says sharply.
"I know it's not supposed to be," I allow, "but that's exactly what happened."
"And is that his proof then?" he asks with a frown.
"I really don't know—-"
He abruptly cuts me off, asking, "Has he tasted you at least?"
My mouth opens and closes.
"Answer me," the were-lion growls impatiently.
"I'm not sure—-"
"Has he fucked you?"
"No!"
"So he's not touched you?" the Mad Hatter asks in disbelief. "At all?"
I'm tempted to lie. Really, really tempted. But with the were-lion's warning still echoing in my head, I eventually hear myself say, "He...did."
Silence.
Just so much silence, and it's making me feel like I'm standing on the very edge of the cliff.
Why is he so bloody silent?
Is it because he thinks I'm lying?
Or is he thinking—-
Shit!
Glass plates and goblets crash against the floor with a shrill, ear-shattering sound as the were-lion sweeps the table clear. I'm confused and terrified, wondering if he's having a mental breakdown, but then he suddenly turns to me—-
Oh...dear.
In a blink of an eye, I find myself scooped off the chair and perched on the edge of the glass table, and a horrible-slash-ridiculous sense of déjà vu washes over me.
This again, really? What is it with tables with these guys?
The Mad Hatter cups my chin, and a jolt of electricity zaps through my body at the first feel of his touch. He tips my chin up, and the look in his eyes steals my breath. A heat that's raw and feral. A heat that's all for me if...
"I want to know what you think." His voice is still soft and rough, but it's no longer terrifying. Instead, the sound is treacherously seductive, the heat in his gaze infusing his words in a way that make my toes curl hard.
His fingers release my chin, but only so he can run his knuckles down my cheek. The touch is fleeting but all too sensual, so quickly gone I'm left shaken and aching. When our gazes meet once more, I feel terribly exposed, and it's as if the were-lion knows this. Senses this. And that's why he chooses this moment to ask, "Do you believe it, too? Do you believe you're the Alice promised to us?"
The question catches me unawares, and I'm reduced to pussyfooting rather desperately around the truth. "It's not...it's n-not just about what Rayé or I believe, isn't it?" I know I'm being an emotional coward about this, but I don't care. "And if you don't believe it," I say in a rush, "it's totally understandable. Let's just forget—-"
"Did I say anything about not believing it?" the were-lion challenges.
Shit.
"I've never belonged to any woman," he murmurs, "but if it were you..."
The way he's looking at me suddenly changes, his gaze burning hotter—-
"I think I'd like it."
Oh dear.
I kinda had a feeling he'd say something completely disarming, and I've done my best to prepare myself for the worst.
But it's no use.
The words are still too much, and it leaves my feelings in turmoil, and I can only sputter and fumble for something to say. "Why...I...you...you hardly know me!"
"You hardly know me either," he points out gruffly, "but whose name did you think of calling when you were in danger?"
"I..." Shit. He totally has me there, but... "I had no choice," I say defensively. "I'd do anything to survive—-"
"And that's all?"
I automatically start to lie, but then I remember his warning...
The Hatter seems to notice my hesitation, and his lips curve ever so slightly. "Forget everything I said earlier," he murmurs. "You can always say whatever you want, with no need to fear any repercussions."
His words are too beguiling, and desire threatens to consume me. Don't get involved, I remind myself fiercely, and though it takes a while, I'm gradually able to steel myself against the were-lion's chiseled good looks.
"It's just too bad," I tell him stiffly, "that I don't believe you at all. You probably say that to all your women—-"
His gaze glitters with a rare gleam of humor. "You're jealous."
My face flames. "Excuse me?"
"Seething with it even," he observes.
"Think whatever you want to think," I snarl. "I don't care—-"
"If it's the hares that concern you—-"
Of course it's the bloody hares, I think angrily.
"They mean nothing to me."
I glower at him. "HA!"
"It's just you from now on," he says simply.
"Ha!"
"And no one else."
"Ha." But this time, my voice is weak, and I can't even make myself frown. He's got me, dammit. Somehow, despite my best efforts to resist him, the Mad Hatter's gotten under my skin...