Chapter 66
Chapter Sixty-Six
ALICE
A part of me keeps searching for the Bandersnatch as we make our way back to the path, leading to the gates. My eyes sweep the shadows, my ears strain for the low growl, the telltale shift of smoke curling through the trees. Nothing.
And even though I saw Hook run it through, I still don’t trust the silence. Not here. Not in this place where normal rules don’t apply. Just because I watched that thing vanish doesn’t mean it’s gone.
But as we walk, another part of me—one I really don’t have the time or patience for—keeps glancing at him.
Keeps remembering.
The way his mouth crushed against mine. The heat of it, the way he took—like he had every right to. Like he knew I’d let him. Like he knew I’d kiss him back.
And I had.
God, I had.
My stomach knots because the memory of that kiss isn’t soft or sweet. It’s raw. Bruising. Fingers tangled in my hair, his grip possessive. The scrape of his stubble against my skin, the way my breath caught in my throat like I was drowning. The way I wanted it.
And now—now that moment lingers under my skin, curling hot and slow like embers refusing to burn out.
And what does that say about me?
I bite my bottom lip and force myself to breathe, to push the thought away, bury it somewhere it can’t touch me.
Now is not the time.
Now is never the time.
The sword at my hip shifts awkwardly as I walk, knocking against my thigh with every step. If I were home—back in my world—something this irritating would’ve been tossed aside by now. But I don’t take it off.
I could hand it to Hook, and for a second, I almost do.
But he’s injured and... I don’t know.
Some part of me—despite never wielding a sword in my life—wants to keep it. It feels right, having it. A strange sense of belonging I don’t want to examine too closely.
It’s this place. It’s changing me.
Still, I don’t give it back.
Hook used it like it was part of him. Like it belonged in his hand. No hesitation, no second-guessing. Just instinct. The perfect image of a pirate.
Not that my knowledge of pirates extends beyond Pirates of the Caribbean reruns, and let’s be honest—watching Johnny Depp swagger around in eyeliner probably doesn’t count as a solid education on piracy.
Hook walks beside me, his limp barely noticeable, but I see the way his jaw tightens every time he puts weight on his leg. Stubborn bastard. He’ll pretend it doesn’t hurt, pretend he’s fine.
I start to slow, glancing up at the jagged red rocks ahead. "Did we really run this far?"
From this angle, the cliffs rise like a sheer mountain face, stretching impossibly high.
The glittering building on the other side—the one we saw before—is hidden.
If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I’d swear there was nothing on the other side at all.
Just endless rock and whatever twisted logic Wonderland decides to throw at us.
"No, we didn’t," Hook says, slowing too. Not because of his leg this time, but because he’s looking.
The sharp red stones jut out at odd angles, almost like jagged claws reaching for something unseen. Back home, people would probably try to climb this—adrenaline junkies with too much time on their hands. But here?
I don’t see how or why anyone would.
The shards are sharp. Deadly. One wrong move—one slip—and you’d be impaled before you even had time to scream. It’s like the earth spewed shards of rock and glass and froze them mid-explosion.
"I think the entrance has moved," Hook says.
I blink at him. "Moved? How can the entrance just move? You can’t just—"
Hook gives me a flat look. "You’re in Wonderland, love. And that’s the bit you’re questioning?"
I open my mouth to argue, but the words die before they leave my lips.
Because he’s right.
None of this makes sense. And that’s the point.
I keep staring up at the rocks, staring at them like I could force them to make sense. Because something is pulling at me—sharp, unexpected. A strange ache curling deep, twisting in my chest like something inside me is shifting.
For a moment, I can’t breathe.
I’ve felt this before.
Not long ago, when Hook’s hands were in my hair, when his mouth was on mine, when my heart pounded against my ribs and my body betrayed me.
It’s the same sensation—like something tugging at me, pulling me toward something dangerous. Something I should run from.
But I don’t.
I can’t.
And I don’t know if it’s Wonderland pulling me in, or him.
My mind is a monster. One that twists things. Overthinks them. Turns them into something they’re not.
"I can’t decide if you’re glaring at me or if you’ve got indigestion," Hook says.
I scowl at him, pressing my lips together because I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.
"You kissed me," is what comes out.
"I did." That’s all he says.
I stare at him, waiting for more. For something. But he just watches me with that infuriating, unreadable expression, while I’m sure I’m broadcasting every thought across my face.
Then—finally—he exhales, like he’s bored with the entire conversation. "I thought we were both going to die. Seemed like as good a time as any."
My mouth falls open. "That’s your explanation?"
He steps in, closing the distance, and goddamn my body if it doesn’t react.
I’m like a bloody schoolgirl whose crush just looked at her.
"If you want," he murmurs, low and rough, "we can do it again."
I set a hand to his chest, fingers pressing into muscle, using every ounce of self-control not to give in to that idea. "What if I don’t want to?"
A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes—those damnable, knowing eyes—hold something sharper. "Then you’re lying."
He moves in closer, just enough to feel him, his breath warm against my skin.
"My magic might be as pathetic as your excuses," he says, "but I still have it. I still feel."
He tilts his head, his lips almost grazing my ear. "And I feel the way your heart stutters every time I’m close. And it’s…adorable.*"
I grit my teeth, refusing to let my pulse betray me. "Maybe it’s disgust."
"Maybe…"