Sick Fux - Page 34

“Tea?” I asked as Rabbit placed the silver tray, which held a teapot, a jug of milk and a bowl of sugar, on the table. I walked closer and closed my eyes as I inhaled deeply. “Earl Grey,” I whispered, smelling my absolute favorite tea in the entire world.

“Only ever Earl Grey for my little Dolly,” Rabbit confirmed and pulled out a chair for me. I sat down, and Rabbit tucked me in. He took the seat a few places down and gestured to the food. “Help yourself. After all, this tea party is in your honor.”

A giddy laugh escaped my throat as I reached forward and carefully selected a variety of cakes and sandwiches. When I had filled my plate, I took the teapot and poured myself a cup. Rabbit watched me with a peculiar look on his face. His lip was hooked at the corner, and his eyes were . . . soft. His eyes were never soft, always hard and focused, but as he looked at me now, they were almost gentle.

I swallowed, unsure what this strange feeling in my stomach was. I pressed my free hand to my stomach as a comfort against the strange tingling sensations inside. “Tea?” I offered, my voice barely above a whisper.

Rabbit nodded; not a word escaped his mouth. His gaze became more intense as I moved beside him and poured the steaming liquid into his cup. As my arm neared him, I felt him stiffen in his seat. Only a sliver of air prevented our limbs touching. His breathing grew labored as he watched me pour.

But we didn’t touch.

Clearing my throat, I placed the teapot back on the tray and moved to take my seat once again. Just as I took a step, an image floated into my head. Of me and Rabbit. Lips touching. My entire body tensed.

I heard Rabbit’s ragged breathing behind me. Goosebumps broke out along my body, chasing one another up my arms and up to the back of my neck. Shaking my head clear of the image, I sat back down.

I raised my eyes and found Rabbit watching me intensely. I lifted my teacup toward my lips. Rabbit did the same, but just as the lip of the teacup almost reached his mouth, I shouted, “Rabbit!” He froze. “Your little finger!” I scolded. I lowered my cup and shook my head. “You cannot drink tea without raising your little finger, silly!”

Rabbit exhaled, then bowed his head. “You’re right, darlin’. How could I forget?”

His little finger lifted and, never taking his eyes from mine, he took a sip of his tea. He raised his eyebrow as he placed his cup back on the saucer. I couldn’t help it. I laughed. I laughed some more, then took a sip of my own.

“Mmm.” I placed my tea back on my saucer. I ate a strawberry tart, and then said, “My first tea party in Wonderland, Rabbit. I have waited my whole life for this very moment!”

“I know, darlin’.”

I ran my eyes along the spare chairs. “Will anyone else be joining us? The Mad Hatter? The Dormouse? Maybe even the March Hare?”

Rabbit sat back on his chair, gripping the cane that rested near his side. A curl of black hair fell lazily across his left eye, leaving only the inked spade visible. He made no effort to move it. “Wonderland ain’t all it seems, darlin’.”

I frowned. “It’s not?”

He shook his head. “Not everyone is . . . good.”

“I don’t understand.” I took another sip of my tea.

Rabbit leaned forward and looked me straight in the eye. He went to say something, but then he turned away. His pressed his lips together and turned back to me. “There was a reason I was sent for you.” Rabbit reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of playing cards. My eyes widened. He spun the pack in his hands. “Dolly darlin’,” he said. He placed the pack on the tabletop. My eyes snapped to his. Rabbit’s nostrils flared. “I . . .” His lips pursed, tongue running over his teeth. “I was sent for you because Wonderland is in trouble.”

My breath hitched. “It is?” I whispered, dread filling my heart.

He nodded slowly and leaned further forward. He paused, and I wondered why. Rabbit’s cheek twitched, and then he said, “Your friend . . . Ellis . . .” He stopped speaking. My heart stopped beating. The jam sandwich I was holding slipped from my hand, falling messily to my plate. He watched me closely. I said nothing. “She’s . . . lost,” he said, his voice hoarse. “She’s . . . in trouble . . . here in Wonderland.”

I looked down at my hand. It was shaking. My eyes closed, and a slice of pain dashed through my chest. Blackness engulfed me, blotting out the bright room, and I found myself back in the room of doors. I crouched in the corner, eyes shut, curled against the wall. Then I heard the soft voice from behind the bad door, the one I never wanted to open. “Help . . . me . . . Heathan . . . Help me . . .”

Tags: Tillie Cole Erotic
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