10 comments/ 16875 views/ 15 favorites Wonderland Ch. 02 By: LillithArchivist Authors Note: Sorry about the gender confusion during the first chapter. I think this story was the reason why I stopped writing in first person POV, lol. Hopefully this chapter can redeem the downfalls of the first. Remember, this story is copyrighted, and if you steal my work, I'll send the Four Horsemen to your doorstep in retaliation. That is all. =) ~+~ It's going to eat me. That was my only thought as I reached the stairwell, sprinting down them with surprising agility. When I landed at the foot of the stairs, I took off towards the castle doors where my crushed bike was still wedged between them. The ground trembled beneath my feet and I tripped up on the cracked stone, skidding to a halt just in front of the doors. I looked over my shoulder and stared in shock as the monster rose to full height, its black eyes expressionless as it stared down at me. I scrambled to my feet and tried to pry the bike from the doors, but it wouldn't budge. Without hesitation, I threw myself into the wood, knocking my shoulder into the frame hard enough to leave bruises. On the third shove, the doors parted with an audible groan and I collapsed onto the concrete. The monster wheeled back from the light with a soft roar, covering its eyes. I readied myself for a leap into the murky depths of Lake Wonder, but realized that if this monster escaped, Pandora and her box of troubles would have nothing on me. Like I needed another reason to be picked on at school. I turned and started to slam the doors home, but by then the monster had recovered, its black eyes widening with something akin to horror as it realized I was trapping it inside. With a roar, the monster charged with its thick arms extended and shoved me back, gripping us together as we fell. I gasped in pain and surprise at the weight of the monster, unable to believe that I was still conscious after that tackle. How do football players do it?! Its body curled up to pull its tail through the doors, giving out a sigh of relief. The castle disappeared soon after, taking my bike along with it. I started to curse at my luck, but right now I had bigger problems than a missing bike. I swallowed hard as the monster AKA "The Bigger Problem" turned its head towards me. Oh fudge. The creature had a gender. And it was an unbelievably pissed off male. He reached down and brought a long, sharp dagger to my throat, the blade barely scraping against the skin. For a moment, he said or did nothing, just stared down at me with dark eyes narrowed with distrust. I didn't quite blame him for the hateful look, I mean I had just tried to shut him inside the castle against his will. His lips parted and I felt my heart squeeze painfully tight in my chest out of panic. He had fangs! Now he's going to eat me, I thought. In that moment a husky murmur began to escape from his lips, making his chest vibrate with the sound. When he finished, his wings flapped a little and his tail arched above him, like it was ready to strike. I met his eyes and then blinked in realization. Had he been talking to me? When I stared up at him in confusion, he put away the dagger (to my relief) and helped me stand. I came face-to-face with the area just an inch above his belly button and I had to curl my neck as far back as I could to see up into his irritated face. On the long way up, I managed to get a closer look at the monster who held me in his grasp. His entire light grayish-blue body was hairless, his skin made up of fine scales that were almost too tiny to see distinctively. In the setting sun, his waist-length black hair shimmered like an oily water puddle you find in road potholes after a rain shower, the stray strands of his braids lighting up in a strange combination of violets and emerald green. His long, claw tipped wings were charcoal in color and folded back behind neatly his body. He wore nothing apart from a tattered animal-skin loincloth and a thick metal belt around his tapered waist, his dagger hilt knotted at his side. It was the only weapon he carried, surprisingly. The monster was built like a warrior but yet he seemed to be missing most of his armor. Finished with my look over, I turned on the small bit of concrete, my stomach plummeting as I realized I was standing on the only remaining portion of the Wonderland boardwalk. The monster realized our predicament as well. I watched his clawed toes dip into the mucky lake water and flick off the residue in surprise, a human gesture that I hadn't been expecting. I looked up at him timidly and found that his charcoal colored eyes were looking over the boggy shore of the lake, confusion briefly furrowing his human-like face. Without taking his eyes off the shore, he reached down and scooped me up in his grip, his large wings unfurling. "Oh crap," I muttered as his feet kicked off the concrete, my head snapping back with the force. A few seconds later, the monster grunted in surprise, his fingers gesturing for me to look. I followed his fingers west, flinching at the sight of Wonderland against the setting sun. I met the male's eyes, about to start playing Charades to help him understand the meaning of "city", but once I stared into those cold black irises, I instinctively went still and silent. One clawed hand reached up and cupped the back of my head, the tips of his talons scraping my scalp as he buried his fingers into my ponytail. He tugged back my head hard, but I still made no noise, though I did close my eyes so I didn't have to see what came next. The thick arm at my back pressed me tighter into his frame, so tight that I could feel his steady drumming heartbeat against my chest, a counter rhythm to my discordant, racing timpani. Now completely immobile, I had no other choice but to wait. He murmured something against my ear, the contact of his mouth against my earlobe sending strangely hot shivers down my spine. Before I could even contemplate what in the hell that meant, I felt that same mouth against my neck. At this point, I should've gone Laura Croft Tomb Raider mode, I realize that. I should scream, kick, and fight with all my short-in-supply might. But as his lips made a soft trail along my throat, his teeth nipping a pathway on my flesh from one ear to the other, I couldn't help but feel like I was being...seduced. He continued his assault, punctuating each brush of his lips with soft growls. Despite the warning bells that were going off in my head, I relaxed in his arms and allotted him complete control. Until he bit me. Nothing shatters a blissful high like being munched on, and the monster was definitely munching. In that moment, I stopped playing swooning damsel and wriggled like the pissed off worm I was, desperate to get rid of his teeth. "S-Stop!" I finally managed to squeak. "I-It hurts!" The hand in my hair tugged me back again, and I felt his teeth sink further into my skin. White spots exploded in front of my eyes and then a second later – there was nothing but wonderfully aching...need? My breath left my lungs in a giant whoosh as the feeling blossomed like a budding rose spreading its petals. It started at his bite and worked its way down my torso before concentrating in one area that had only tingled before. It didn't take but seconds for the feeling to build up to out-of-control proportions. And when I was just about to reach the edge of whatever this was, the monster pulled his teeth and mouth away from my neck, his tongue licking over his bite. The groan escaped my mouth, sounding torn between loss and pain. I flushed at the sound, turning my head away when he reached for me. With a growl, he pulled down my head by my chin, tutting at me when I began to squirm in his arms again. "Be still, Tempest. The loss of blood will make you sick and I'd rather you didn't throw up on me. And besides, you're five hundred feet in the air. That's one dangerous fall." At the sound of his deep voice, I stopped struggling. I looked up into the monster's eyes and swallowed hard, my lack of courage warring with my anger. Anger won out. "How do you know my name?" I demanded hotly. His eyes (I noted his irises were now a soft downy grey) narrowed a little. "It is in your memories." When I only stared at him in confusion, he gently ran the back of a single talon over the sore part of my neck where he had bitten me. Instantly, my eyes fluttered closed at the touch, his chuckle filling my ears. "One tick – I suppose that's what you call it – of my kind is that blood tells us everything. Your blood has told me much, name included." I opened my eyes and swallowed down the question of bite side effects out of embarrassment, hesitantly meeting his eyes once I was fully in control of myself again. "Everything?" I asked, trying not to cringe. He smirked. "Everything," he confirmed. For a few seconds I allowed myself to drown in panic. The Exlax incident, he now knew. The fact that I was a high school geek was out on the table as well, obviously. He probably knew my favorite color and that I still jammed out to the Spice Girls when I was in a mood, and how I hated tomatoes but loved ketchup. Then I realized that none of that really mattered, not compared to the bigger problem that was literally staring me right in the face. "Okay," I told him, licking my dry lips to wet them. "So you know about me. But what are you?" I pressed. "Who are you? How did you get to be in the middle of a lake? In a castle, besides?" He put a hand over my mouth to hush me, his head turning back in the direction of the city. "Perhaps we should discuss this in a different location," he told me quietly, his wings changing tempo and direction despite the fact I hadn't said anything yet. With little effort the monster flew us across the forest and away from the lake, dipping down into the trees so he could not be seen. Soon we were flying around a section of woods I knew well, but before I could get a word out, the monster lowered his feet and we landed with a soft thump in my backyard. I stared up at the blackened windows of my father's esteemed monument to his ego, the mansion resembling the brainchild of Tim Burton overhauling the Disney World castle. Since neither of my parents was home and I was an only child, I knew I could breathe easier since I wouldn't be caught. In fact, I was breathing easier, which wasn't right, considering I had a man-eating monster at my back. I turned to the monster and took a step back, swallowing etiquette as I faced off with him. "You need to start talking," I said as firmly as I could. "Because if I get my hands on a phone, you'll be answering questions to some pretty powerful people," I vowed. "Don't you think I could subdue you long before you reached a phone?" he asked with a smirk. "You are, after all, only human." I crossed my arms and glared. "And what are you?" I asked, taking a different tactic. His eyes flickered black for a moment. "I am a Gargoyle." I eyed the setting sun before looking back at him, recalling how I had found him as a stone statue. "How is it that you can still walk around? It's daylight out." This made him laugh. "The legends that you know so well are just that – legends. My kind lives for the sun. I'm sure the misconceptions began once our numbers dwindled." At that, his expression turned somber and his eyes left mine to survey the backyard and the distant houses down the lane. "And when our numbers dwindled, yours soared," he muttered to himself as he began to walk along the boundary fence that reined in our yard. With his back to me, I began to look around for a weapon. My eyes strayed to the patio furniture but I knew better than to lift the heavy iron frames. I would injure myself first before I injured him. "Don't think about it," he called over his shoulder. I froze at the edge of the pool, grumbling under my breath. The leaf skimmer I used to clean the pool with was just a few feet from me, and while I knew it couldn't do permanent damage – and for some reason I didn't really want to hurt the Gargoyle – it had been a decent weapon of choice. I turned to face the Gargoyle, my eyebrows going up when I caught him sniffing some yellow trumpet-shaped flowers my mom had ordered the gardener to plant. "While your memories have explained much of my current situation to me, I still have some questions," he told me as he turned at the corner of the yard to face me. He did not have to lift his voice despite our distance. It felt as though every word he spoke was punctuated in my thoughts, as though I knew what he would say before he said it. Like we were connected, somehow. "What do you want to know?" I asked haltingly, disturbed by the strange feelings in my stomach and chest that stirred up as he approached, unable to stop myself from looking over the Gargoyle once again. He was the perfect mesh of something human and something not. An attractive mesh, actually, which only disturbed me further. "Why aren't you running?" he asked once he stood in front of me, his voice deceptively soft. "You do not smell of fear, at least, not as much as you should." To emphasize his point, he leaned down and sniffed at my hair. "You smell of things I cannot place," he continued in a huskier tone. "The scents are...appetizing." I swallowed hard and he chuckled. "Now you smell of fear." He straightened up, admiring his work no doubt, and I let out a shaky breath. When he put distance between us, I was finally able to think. "You need me," was the first thing out of my mouth. "You need a place to hide," I continued when he said nothing. "And you need to know the rules of my world, which you can't learn if you kill me, so...so I'm not afraid of you. You need me," I reiterated. The Gargoyle hesitated, running those thoughts through his head. "What you say is true," he said finally. "But how can I trust that you won't turn me over to your kind? I am familiar with betrayal and humans do not strike me as a trustworthy species." My mouth flopped open in astonishment. "What makes you say that?" I asked, more out of hurt than logic. He had a million reasons to not trust me, but I took his statement as a personal blow nonetheless. "Human history is full of deceit," he reminded me, arching bluish-gray eyebrows that I had not noticed before. "And you have made it very clear that you wish to maim me with pool cleaning tools." I flushed in response, dropping his gaze. He smirked down at me, satisfied that I was contrite. "I have little reason to trust you, Tempest, but considering the simple fact that you are the only human I know, I have no other choice. And since you are the one who helped me escape my prison, you will have to accept that you are solely responsible for my safety and wellbeing. We're in this together, for better or for worse." The Gargoyle was right, and he knew that he had me trapped. With a cynical smile down at me he brushed by and walked to the rock ledge of the pool. Clearly, he was waiting for me to cave in first and that didn't help my already foul mood. "You can stay in the pool house," I finally told him, the words escaping through gritted teeth. "No one goes in the bedroom there anyway, so as long as you confine yourself you should be fine." "Like a pent up animal," he said suddenly, turning to look over his shoulder at me. "That's what you expect me to be." I felt my hands bunch into fists. "You saw my memories," I told him firmly. "You know what humans would do to you if you were exposed. Being the last of your kind, they'll keep you under microscope until they have you broken down into a Wikipedia entry." The Gargoyle turned on me, gathering me up in his grip. Fury flashed across his face and a low growl escaped his throat. "I do not know if I am the last of my kind," he grumbled at me. "You are one human and your logic is limited to the number of years you have graced the planet with your bumbling presence. Do not presume to know everything, for you are not all-knowing." The words were like a physical blow. His hurt and fury became my hurt and fury. Hot pricks in my eyes told me I was seconds away from leaking like a faucet and I turned my head into my shoulder so he couldn't see me cry. "Tempest..." he began, realizing his mistake. "Put me down." The Gargoyle did as I said and I promptly turned on my heel, walking towards the pool house. I didn't look at him when he caught my elbow in his rough palm, trying to reclaim my attention. "Tempest, I didn't mean to upset you." I pushed open the pool house door and flipped on the light switch, jerking my arm from his grasp. "This is where you can stay," I said flatly, ignoring his apology. "At night, try to stay in the bedroom area and shut the door. If my parents see lights on, they'll come back here to investigate." I continued to walk through the small pool house, gesturing to the rooms as I walked past them. When we reached the kitchen, I paused. "I eat from the forest," he supplied, finally giving up on apologizing, which was a good idea since he sucked at it. "I'll make sure to keep my meals there." I turned to him and watched his shame briefly mar his unique features, feeling the emotion as well. "I'll go hunt now, but when I return, I want to speak with you. There are many things that we need to understand about one another, the sooner the better." Grudgingly I agreed, nodding at him. Relief made his shoulders slouch and his tail slid around my ankle. The touch sent white hot shivers up my spine and the Gargoyle's black pupils dilated as he felt the effects through me. For a moment, the both of us were too frozen to move. When that strange need began to fill me up again, we jumped apart with sheepish expressions. "I'm hungrier than I thought," he chuckled wryly, turning his back on me. Too stunned to reply I followed him, watching as his wings unfurled and beat currents that fluttered the grass at our feet. The Gargoyle looked over his shoulder at me, his grey eyes darkening to black. "If your parents return before I do, meet me here. If not, I'll find you." Before I could ask how that was possible, the Gargoyle flicked his wings downwards and soared off into the twilight, his frame instantly swallowed up by the dark forest. The connection between us, the one I'm almost positive he initiated, thinned to almost uncomfortable weakness, like a rubber band stretched far too tight. As I prepared the pool house for its new guest, the connection began to take over as a physical ache that left me too winded to continue preparing. I had just given up on preparations when a sudden surge of hunger had me checking the fridge for food. Coming up empty, I called in for pizza and paced the confines of the house, trying to figure out what in the hell was wrong with me. The delivery man arrived ten minutes on the dot and I couldn't pay him fast enough. After devouring the entire box, I collapsed onto the couch, turning on the TV. Then, I waited. ~+~ I was watching the late-night talk shows when the Gargoyle finally showed up. I checked the time on the bedside clock – 11.52 – and shook my head as I cut off the TV. The Gargoyle walked into the bedroom slowly, his eyes glowing silver in the dim light of the table lamp. "I didn't think you'd come," he murmured, stopping at the edge of the bed. Shouldn't that be my line? I shrugged as nonchalantly as I could, not willing to read into the relief in his tone. "You wanted to talk?" I asked him, getting down to business. The Gargoyle nodded and walked around the bed, facing me as he sat down slowly on a small chaise lounge. Wonderland Ch. 02 "I don't really know where to begin," he said quietly. "You know almost nothing." "Start with your name," I suggested. He smirked slightly. "In your language – English – the name would translate as 'claw', but in your thoughts you mentioned 'talon'. I think I prefer that name." I eyed the sharp black nails at the tips of his toes and fingers, curious to know why that was his name, but unsure of how to pose the question or how he would react to it. "Alright," I said finally. "I'll call you Talon." Talon nodded, his look distant for a brief moment. "I guess I could start with my history. Gargoyles walked this earth long before the humans. I remember when we discovered your tribes...it was shocking for all of us at the time. We taught what I supposed were your ancestors how to survive and in exchange they didn't kill us for meals. After my first few winters I never saw them again until this afternoon, with you. Your kind was much fewer in number then." Talon's brow furrowed slightly. "In my time, there were only four species: the Gargoyles, the Lunar, the Druls, and the Raspans. There were animals of course, but they were much larger than the ones I hunt in your forests now." "The Gargoyles kept peace with the Lunar and the Druls, since we are all of the earth." He held up his hand to pause my questioning. "Let me continue with my explanation," he said gently. "What I have to say might answer your questions." I nodded and relented. "Go on." "The Druls are able to pull the energy from the earth and harness it, but to keep balance, they must give part of themselves in exchange. Once there is nothing left in them to give, they return to the earth. As a result, Druls are often unstable and our interaction with them was rare. The Lunar, in this same manner, have the earth engrained within their spirits, carrying the energy with them until their deaths, where the energy is returned bodily." At my confusion, Talon smiled. "I believe humans would consider my definition of energy as 'magic.'" Oh. I nodded to let him know I understood now (sort of). Talon continued. "My kind can also carry magic, though it isn't obtained through the earth, but rather through blood. My father's clan had very strong bloodlines, which makes our magic stronger. Before I was imprisoned, my clan was the ruler of the others for this very reason." For a moment Talon trailed off, briefly lost in his memories. "You said there were four tribes," I said after a while, interrupting his reverie. "What are the Raspans?" That drew Talon out of his thoughts. Instantly his eyes went cold and his full lips pulled into a grim smile. "They are dirty offspring, mistakes of our Creator. They're foul creatures that thrive on the death and decay of the earth for survival. They live in the soil and come out only at night to scavenge, but I now regret that I was fooled by their simplicity. They were the reason why I was imprisoned." Talon took a moment to collect himself, his jaw ticking with the effort. "The Raspans used to eat on the carcasses of our dead. Like your vultures. After they ate the flesh of a living Gargoyle, they became addicted to our taste. Soon they were invading our rookeries and nests for eggs of our unborn. They burrowed into Lunar dens and attacked nursing mothers. We had no choice but to band together and destroy them to ensure our survival, and for a while I was sure that we would win the battle." "But?" I asked quietly. Talon looked at me. "But we were betrayed. By who and why I do not know. My father had realized this sometime during the war and asked me to leave for my safety, to keep those of our kind alive. But in my escape I saw none of my brethren. I was trapped in that castle by some magic, and why I do not know." Talon shook his head, his anger palpable. "If you are right in that I am the only Gargoyle left, I am sure I will never know the answers to those questions." Talon leaned forward then, his eyes darkening to ash grey. "You must understand the situation in which I find myself in, Tempest. I cannot roam the world to find those of my kind, or even those of the other species. You have made it clear in your words and thoughts that by being found I will only become a series of tests, locked up forever in a cage to be studied by your kind endlessly. But yet, to sit here and remain stagnant, never obtaining any of my answers, I will slowly go mad." I sat back on the bed, trying to not let my pity show. I had felt trapped by Talon's presence earlier, but I had no thought to how he must feel about all this. Leaving the pool house for him meant possible death. But staying here, never knowing for sure if he was really all alone like I said he was, had to be hard pill to swallow. I met Talon's eyes and watched his eyes narrow in curiosity. "But I can't help but wonder as to why now, of all the years I have been trapped in that forsaken castle, why now did I finally wake up? Why was it by your hand that I escaped?" Talon stood suddenly and I did with him, out of fear and something else I could not name, my heart beginning to quicken in pace as he approached. "And if the Gods can answer those questions, then surely they can help me find the others. And maybe they can explain to me my feel-" The sound of a car pulling up into the drive froze us both. Talon's hand dropped from its reach towards me and he stepped back. "It is your mother," he said quietly, smiling at my astounded expression. "She has a spirit similar to yours," he clarified. "And further explanation can wait. She's looking for you as we speak." I started to walk away but stopped, looking over my shoulder at him. "Are you staying here or...?" Talon smiled and dropped onto the bed, bouncing a little. "I think we have spoken enough tonight. We'll continue talking tomorrow, once you are back from school. And Tempest?" I stopped walking again. "Yes?" Talon was sitting in the center of the bed, clutching one of the large body pillows to his chest. The timid look in his eyes was almost laughable considering his previous behavior, but I managed to keep a straight face as I waited for him to speak. "You humans tell each other 'sweet dreams' before you rest. It is not common in my kind to bid one another such things, but...sweet dreams, Tempest." I allowed myself a smile. "Sweet dreams, Talon." I tried not to snicker as I left, turning down the lights as I made my way through the pool house, but it escaped anyway. And if I wasn't mistaken, I heard Talon laugh before I shut the main door of the pool house shut. Mom was standing in the kitchen with her back to me, still in her full business attire, but minus her heels. She turned at the stove when I walked in and beamed a smile, the lines around her eyes and face deepening at the gesture. "How was school today?" she asked as she put on the kettle for tea. I froze from sitting on the bar stool at the kitchen island, my heart in my throat. Had it only been a few hours since the Exlax incident at school? It felt like a lifetime. Mom turned in concern at my silence and I beamed her a smile, feigning nonchalance. "It was great, considering I had two major exams and all." She wrinkled her nose in distaste, understanding my sarcasm. "How do you think you did?" she asked, knowing full well I had studied for weeks for those tests. "I think I did okay," I lied, shrugging my shoulders casually. "How was work?" I asked, wanting to get off the subject of school. "I had to talk over a manuscript with one of the authors...she bawled the entire time, poor thing, but her book has a long way to go before being publishable." Mom gave me a tired smile and kissed my forehead as she passed by. "I'm going to take a bath. Take the tea off will you?" I nodded, not surprised by her lack of conversation. Mom often had little energy these days, especially not after working nearly nonstop on editing novels-in-progress. Her job as an editor was nearly a twenty-four-seven kind of thing, especially since she worked between two to three novels at a time. When it was crunch time for a specific novel, she sometimes didn't even come home. Dad, however, was a different story. Sometimes he would be home for months and then he would be absent for just as long. He was a special kind of architect, one that could build skyscrapers and design arenas, but someone who secretly enjoyed restoring old homes and did so whenever he had the chance. There were at least ten properties in the area of Boston alone that dad had set aside for future renovations. That's where he was now, living on site in Boston as construction finished up on a hotel he had laid the plans for. The kettle whistled in that moment and I hopped off the stool to retrieve it, obeying mom's shouted order for chamomile. After making us both a cup, I ventured to the converted attic that was now by bedroom and nursed away my tea before showering and heading to bed. ~+~ He ventured out of the darkness the moment she turned out her light. He waited until her breathing evened out before approaching her, his silver eyes wandering lazily over her curvy frame hidden beneath the thin, pale green bed sheets. Little did Tempest know that his sleep – and hers – relied solely upon their proximity, it was the main reason as to why he was here. The other reason he was about to test out. Talon lowered himself into the contraption she called her "desk chair", wincing when it creaked under his weight. Being careful to not wake her, he rolled the chair across the carpet and out of the moonlight, keeping himself in the darkness in case she should awaken prematurely. As he watched her sleep, he contemplated the course he should take with Tempest. She had been the one to save him, and gave him a place to hide despite her doubts and better judgment. But what she did not know, since he had neglected to tell her earlier, was that her scent had been what woke him from his sleep. The moment Tempest had entered the castle he had known, but it wasn't until she had fully relaxed in his presence and felt completely safe that the spell over him had been broken. And when she ran from him... A soft growl escaped his throat, his eyes closing as he savored the memory. The noise stirred Tempest and he quickly knelt at her side, carefully stroking back the wavy tresses of her hair. The touch soothed her instantly and she nodded off, her breathing deepening within seconds. Talon smiled softly, knowing for certain what this meant. "You can run from me, Tempest," he whispered quietly in her ear. "But with me on the hunt, you will not go very far." He heard her pulse quicken as his words became her dreams, and a satisfied smile crossed his lips as she moaned out his name. "You are mine, Tempest Cohen," he murmured as he lowered himself onto the bed beside her, gathering up her slim frame into his arms. "For better or for worse." ~+~ Please remember to VOTE!!! Wonderland Ch. 03 Author's Note: I wanted to thank everyone for their comments. It really gives me the motivation to keep posting! Votes are awesome too. ;-) Just as a warning for you readers, there is m/m scene in this chapter, although it doesn't go into explicate detail. I will mark the scene with ## at the beginning and end, in case some of you wish to skip it. Another warning: this chapter is fairly long, as I'm introducing new characters and building up the plot. As always, this work is copyrighted and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Enjoy! +++ The sound of Stone Sour's latest single was what woke me. Grumbling, I turned over into my pillow, trying to tune out Corey Taylor and his lovesick lyrics...and failing. The song continued and after two minutes I decided enough was enough. I lifted up my arm in preparation for slamming the iHome off and felt my palm collide with something solid, warm...and vibrating? Opening one eye I found myself staring at a firm, blue chest that was beginning to shake even harder. An unmistakable chuckle, deep and low, began to reach my ears. "Tempest." The voice sounded amused. With both eyes wide open, I followed the muscled chest up to a lengthy blue neck, a defined jaw and chin to a wide smile flashing small fangs and pearly white teeth. I stared up into Talon's glittering silver eyes in surprise and removed my hand slowly from his chest, his arms taking me tighter into his grip in a move that sealed my arms at my sides. "You aren't my alarm clock," I told him in surprise as I began to wake up. His body and mine were wrapped around one another, and if I wasn't completely hallucinating – again – then that was his tail that bound my legs together, the tip making circles on the back of my right knee. Talon just smiled and shook his head, lifting up one hand and waving it briskly. My iHome cut off, silencing Corey Taylor for good. "Neat trick," I told him, still unable to move. Talon made a face at me and I responded in kind, laughing when he stuck out his tongue like a child. Realization struck me and I buried my face in his chest since I couldn't move my arms. "God my breath must stink!" I laughed, feeling mortified. Talon chuckled. "Your morning breath is the least of your worries, I think." I eyed him in confusion and suddenly his wings fanned out with a soft snick, his eyes growing black. I blinked at his formidable display, a nervous giggle caught in my throat. "I'm not afraid of you," I said quietly, slowly regaining my composure as his tail unwound itself from around my calves. Talon's eyes never left mine as he rolled me onto my back, following up after me. My breath caught as he rose above me, the morning light emphasizing his muscled frame, and making his hair shine like a dark rainbow. He looked like those ruggedly handsome types you see on the covers of romance novels, except, you know; he had wings, a tail, and was totally blue. "Why aren't you at the pool house?" I asked him quickly to break the silence, flushing at how that sounded. "I mean, I don't mind you here," I said hastily, "I just thought you would be more comfortable..." I trailed off at the indignant look on Talon's face. "I was bored sitting at the pool house," Talon told me as I felt his tail creep around my right ankle. "And I've been sleeping for the better part of the human existence. I think I've rested enough." We smiled at that and Talon began to rise up, a strand of his hair falling into his eyes as he moved. I tucked back the strand without thinking, my gaze catching the pointed tip of his left ear and the tribal-like sun tattooed on its shell. Realizing what I had done, I pulled my hand back and attempted normalcy. "Breakfast?" I asked him, meeting his eyes a little hesitantly. For a second, Talon and I just stared at one another in surprise for completely different reasons, and I could tell he was fighting some sort of internal battle. Either he was really, really hungry or I had said something to upset him. "Talon?" I asked timidly, gingerly resting my hand on his shoulder to draw him back to reality. "Everything okay in there?" I joked, tapping his temple with the same hand. Talon blinked and his eyes cleared, sort of. "I'm not sure," he said slowly. "My father did always say he dropped me when I was little. Perhaps now I'm having side effects?" I caught onto his joke and laughed. "Maybe so," I teased. "I guess old age is catching up with you too." Talon arched one silvery eyebrow, his mock frown telling me what he thought about the age quip. "Come, stinky breath. You have to be at school in an hour." I swatted at his torso as he helped me sit up, giving a gasp of indignation. "Like your breath really smells like roses!" I laughed. Talon suddenly leaned down, pinning me to my headboard with just his dark eyes, all playful pretense gone. "Tell me, Tempest," he murmured darkly, lowering himself farther down until we were chest-to-chest, "what do I smell like to you?" I watched as his lips pulled into a smile that looked almost predatory. Those same lips came perilously close to mine and I shot a glance up at him, wanting to know why he was toying with me like this, but unable to voice the words. In that moment, one of his hands lowered to cup the back of my neck, arching me back so my chin brushed his. Talon then held me to him just the way he had when we had been airborne, though this time I wasn't afraid of the hungry look in his eyes. I craved it. Talon lowered his dark lips to mine, catching my bottom lip in his. I felt the bottom row of his teeth gently scrape along my skin before he sucked the swell into his mouth, a grumble escaping his lips when I put my arms around his neck to bring him closer. I was lowered back down to the mattress again, suddenly no longer caring that my mother was sleeping a floor below us or that I had a seven-foot Gargoyle completely enveloping me in his arms. The touch of his skin against mine was extraordinary – I haven't ever been held like this, and after so many years of craving body heat I couldn't stop myself from giving up to Talon. I felt like I deserved it, and my body agreed with me. Talon felt the change in my body and abandoned nibbling on my bottom lip to take my mouth as his alone. My eyes fluttered closed as Talon gave me our first kiss that belied the possessive way he held me to him. He was gentle, but demanding, wanting me to return the touch. Before he could pull away from me, I was taking his full lips back, my nails catching a bit of his shoulder when Talon's claws poked a little roughly into my skin, snagging on my t-shirt. The grip only grew tighter when I opened my mouth to his, allowing his tongue to dip inside. Vaguely I wondered if his tongue was blue like the rest of him. Talon's tongue withdrew a few seconds later, giving me the chance to breathe. I gasped against his lips, my limbs shaking from clinging to Talon for so long. Muscles I wasn't used to keeping rigid screamed in protest and Talon smiled against my mouth when my arms flopped onto the bed. "You smell like sunshine," I told him, lazily meeting his eyes. The corner of Talon's mouth pulled up a bit. "Sunshine?" he repeated slowly, nodding a little as he thought that over. I nodded back. "Sunshine and the forest. It's...clean. But you taste like morning breath," I teased. Talon laughed and pressed a quick kiss to my forehead. "I have to get you out of this bed," he chuckled huskily. "Or I might continue making use of that pretty mouth of yours." He rubbed his thumb over my bottom lip, his talon very lightly scraping my top one. I flushed at that, understanding what he meant, and his responding wicked grin sent shivers of pleasure down my spine. While I was no stranger to pleasure – I mean, girls need release too – I wasn't used to having a guy elicit the shivers. It was even stranger because "the guy" was a seven foot Gargoyle. Talon seemed to know where my thoughts were headed and his wicked grin faded into a polite smile, his eyes guarded and now back to the usual dusky gray. "If my touch is unpleasant to you, I won't continue doing so," he offered solemnly, the edges of his eyes tightening. "I do not want you to feel like you must reciprocate in fear that I will hurt you if you refuse to respond." I shook my head quickly, trying to find the words to dispel his train of thought. "Talon, I like when you touch me," I said lamely, internally kicking myself at how unintelligent I sounded. I eyed the clock. "If I had more time, we could talk about this, but I need to get ready for school." I caught his hands when he went to pull away. "Just promise me you aren't doing this because you feel like you have to." At his confused look I continued on. "I don't want you to think that since you're hiding out at the pool house you are indebted in any way to me. I want to keep you safe, I don't expect you to give yourself in return." By the time I was finished, my cheeks were burning, and I couldn't help but think I had made this really nice wakeup call turn into an undeniably uncomfortable one. Talon, though, seemed to be deep in thought and took his sweet time responding. "I'm giving myself to you on my own free will. While I should point out I gave you little option on whether to hide me or not, I will have to say if I didn't want to stay here, I would've been gone long before you or your mother woke." Talon smiled and gently pinched my chin between two knuckles. "We will talk more when you return from school. Now, do you still eat Pop-Tarts?" +++ I joined Talon in the kitchen after racing through my morning routine, taking the Pop-Tart from him, mumbling thanks around a bite. Talon made me another after I finished off the first, pulling off an end to taste. Seconds later he gagged, flashing his fangs and a pink tongue. Well that answers that question. "That's inedible!" he coughed, beating at his chest to clear his throat. "How do you not become ill eating such trash?" he demanded once his throat was clear. I gave him a dirty look. "Well, it isn't a struggling young buck, but it'll do," I replied sourly as I tossed my backpack onto the kitchen counter, which was also void of mom's purse. Talon noticed where I was looking and gestured with a claw to the fridge where a yellow sticky note was in place. "She left an hour ago. Some sort of work emergency." I read the sticky note and crumpled it up, throwing it in the trash. Usually she got up right at this time and I have to admit her absence made it easier for me – I didn't exactly have a plausible explanation for the seven foot Gargoyle leaning against the kitchen counter. As I finished my breakfast, keeping an eye on the clock, I recalled yesterday's events with a slight shake of my head. When I finished off a glass of milk I eyed Talon, who had been silent the entire time I was eating. "So you're staying here?" I asked him. He answered with a slight nod. I bit my bottom lip in thought. "Well, you can go in my room, if you want. Maybe watching the news will help you learn a little more than what my blood gave you. It'll give you a better idea about the human world anyway." Talon nodded again. "That seems like a good idea. Your memories tell me that a red button turns on the TV via the remote?" I nodded with a smile, internally laughing at his hesitant phrasing. "Is that what your kind does when they meet strangers? Bite them for knowledge?" I teased. Talon chuckled and shook his head. "Normally a drop of blood will suffice, but it only allots a brief look and few details. I needed to know everything. You can't even possibly grasp how different your kind was when I was younger. This world has changed so much since I was imprisoned." His tone went a little bitter at the memory, but he cleared his head with a small shake. "Normally strangers would tell us whatever we wanted to know," Talon said with a smile. "Gargoyles can be very persuasive, as you'll soon learn." The bus made its appearance at that moment, thankfully, and I just smiled at Talon's warning as I slipped off the bar stool. "Be a good boy and don't get caught!" I teased over my shoulder as I jogged to the front door. Talon's disproving grumble could be heard even after I closed the door and I couldn't help but laugh. Since the Wonderland castle had stolen my bike, I had no other choice but to ride the bus. It's been years since I had to, but until I could afford a new bike, this was the only form of transportation I had – and walking was out of the question. With a sigh of relief I stepped into the bus and looked over available seats, eying the five year olds that gradually turned into pimpled fifteen year olds, each one bunkered down with their iPod earplugs shoved tightly into their ears. I found an open seat next to a pale male I didn't recognize and sat down at the edge of the bench seat when he gave me a dark glare. It wasn't long after when the bus pulled away from the curb and made a U-turn, heading towards town. I became aware of my bench mate staring straight-on at me as the bus stopped halfway down the road for stragglers and I glanced at him briefly, giving him a polite smile. "Are you new here?" I asked him, a little perturbed by the staring. His inky eyes blinked once, his equally dark eyebrows lifting up slightly. The gesture was almost Talon-like. "Just moved here," he confirmed in an accented voice I wasn't able to place. "Oh." I made a face. "I'm sorry." A smile played on his pale lips. "So I landed in Dullsville, huh?" he asked. I nodded. "Afraid so. May I ask where you moved from?" "Florida. I lived with a family outside of Tallahassee for awhile. I came here to live with my uncle." I was a little surprised by that. Judging his paleness alone, I would've thought he would be from the northwest. He held out a pale hand. "I'm Connor." I took his hand briefly in mine, surprised at how warm it was. "Tempest." We dropped hands and he gestured to the town we were passing by. "So have you been in Wonderland awhile?" "Forever," I sighed, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice and failing miserably. "It's a neat town," I said earnestly when he made a face of indignation, "but everyone who lives here is retired or going to be." "Great," he snorted, raking a hand through his collarbone-length dark wavy hair. "I apparently have so much to look forward to." When the bus pulled up to the school and opened its doors, Connor caught my elbow when I went to stand. "So my first class is Trig...any clue where that would be?" I smiled up at him, not surprised that he had to duck his head to avoid smashing into the bus roof. He had shifted uncomfortably the entire time during the bus ride, his long limbs probably aching from being so squished. If I was correct when I measured him up earlier, he had to be only a few inches shorter than Talon. "My first class is Trig, so I should be able to help," I assured him. Connor gave me a relieved closed smile and followed me off the bus. Talking to Connor was basically impossible. He towered a full head and shoulder above everyone else, including me, so asking him a question required him to squat down a little to hear. In the busy traffic of the high school hallways, the noise level overrode his calm, accented murmur anyway. After helping him find his locker we booked it to Trig, where Mr. Dean was already announcing the assignment for the day. Mr. Dean was one of those genius types and a definite over-achiever. He was in his mid-thirties, blonde, in shape, single, and had eyebrows that were too perfect to not be the cosmetic result of tweezers or waxes. I was totally convinced he was gay, but that didn't stop the entire female student body from worshipping his every word, even if roughly 75% of it went over their heads. When Connor and I walked in together, Dean stopped talking and heads turned. Those infamous blonde eyebrows curved up high on his smooth golden forehead as I took my regular seat in the back and Connor walked to the front to hand him an office slip. "Class this is Connor Sullivan," Dean said in his usual Bostonian twang that distorted 'Connor' to 'Cawh-naw'. "Connor, grab a book from that stack over there and take a seat. We're on page three-sixty-one." Giving me one last surprised glance, Dean turned back to the class and continued his lecture. Class faded into the usual monotony, the arrival of the new student falling second to the review of the laws of sines and cosines. But unlike the rest of the class who were well rehearsed on grabbing onto the Casanova of the mathematicians every word, I was focused on something that could live and breathe, and was sitting right next to me. Connor had reverted back to his staring habit like he had on the bus, his dark eyes always in my peripheral vision, his body angled in his desk so his unnerving habit would come easier to him. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, starting to regret that I ever spoken to him. Halfway through class, I finally had enough. I turned to him and shot him an expectant look, nonverbally demanding to know what the fudge his problem was. Connor granted me a smirk and with the tip of his pen he tapped his shoulder blade. Confused, I shook my head and he did the gesture again, though this time he pointed the pen at me afterwards. There was something on my shoulder? Looking down at my shirt, I tugged at the fabric to see if there was anything on my collar, like breakfast or something. I started to shake my head again when I saw it. Talon's bite. The shirt I had thrown on this morning left half of the bruised skin exposed, the puncture wounds where his sharp fangs had slid into my flesh marking the skin a deep purplish-violet and black. It almost looked infected. Quickly I pulled my hair out of its ponytail and readjusted my hairstyle so half of it was up and the other half was down, laying the long strands in front of my collarbone so the bite was concealed. I refused to look at Connor after that, praying that when the bell rang, I could get lost in the sea of bodies in the hallway and avoid him for the rest of the day. When the bell rang I was halfway out of my chair when Connor reached out and caught my elbow again. "Tempest." I flinched and met Connor's eyes hesitantly, my heart pounding in my throat as I lifted my gaze to his. "Oh my God," I muttered in shock. Connor flashed his fangs at me, his pale skin marked with the tiniest of scales. He tucked back a curtain of his wavy hair with claw-tipped fingers to reveal a tribal sun tattoo on the shell of his ear, though his version was significantly fancier than Talon's. "I'll keep your secret if you keep mine," he said quietly, reverting back to his human form. I nodded shakily, swallowing dry spit as he put my spiral into my backpack and held out his elbow for me to take. "Can I trust you?" I whispered quietly, remembering what Talon had said about being betrayed. He hadn't implicated his fellow Gargoyle brethren in the betrayal, but that didn't mean it wasn't possible. And despite the fact that Talon could scare the feces right out of me, I wanted to protect him in any way I could. If it meant being overly cautious, well, consider me paranoid. Connor looked surprised at that but nodded, unable to say more as the next class began to funnel into the room. "Chivalry isn't dead," he quipped as he wiggled his elbow out at me for me to take. With a deep breath I took his elbow and walked out into the hallway with him, a small headache beginning to form at the back of my head. In two days, I've met two Gargoyles. So tomorrow I should expect – what? One of the librarians to turn into a unicorn? My gym teacher to actually be a leprechaun? Wonderland Ch. 03 Pinching the bridge of my nose briefly, I let out a tiny sigh and tried to think past the growing headache. I know that when I got back home I would have to tell Talon about Connor, but I was worried about what he would do. He would want to track Connor down, I'm sure, and that meant going out into the human world. He could get caught, or worse, caged for experimentation. What if Connor was an enemy clan? Or worse, what if he was part of the clan responsible for the Gargoyles downfall? I was torn between wanting to keep Connor a secret for a bit longer and wanting to rush home right now and spout the good news. Like Talon, I had been worried that he really was the last one of his kind. I couldn't imagine how lonely and alienated that title could be, and I hated the thought of him penned up at the pool house. Deepening my resolve, I kicked my more sensitive side in the butt and promised myself I would tell Talon about Connor as soon as I saw him. I had no right to keep him from his people, and if Connor could lead Talon to those like him, I wasn't going to prevent that reunion. "My next class is A&P," Connor told me when we stopped at my locker, interrupting my thoughts. "What direction is that?" I pointed down the hall to my right. "Room 122. His name is Mr. Archer and he's a total asshole. Pay attention in class or else you'll end up with an extra assignment worth 25% of your grade." "Duly noted. So, when's lunch?" he asked, rubbing his stomach. The gesture reminded me of Talon and for a split second I felt a pang of loneliness. Shaking off the abnormality of that, I checked my internal clock. "At noon. You still have three classes to go, bud," I told him as I retrieved my British Literature book from the back of my cluttered locker. Connor muttered a swear word under his breath and hitched his bag higher up on his shoulder. The first bell rang and I gave him a pat on his elbow, the most comfortable distance I could reach. "Good luck, Sullivan." "Thanks," he snorted. "If I don't see you next period, I'll sit with you at lunch." Oh hell. LUNCH. I cringed and nodded, making a quick escape before he could press conversation further. My stomach gurgled at the reminder of the Exlax incident, but I firmly pushed it out of my mind the best I could. When I finally made it to British Literature, I felt like I was on the verge of an absolute breakdown. Nerves clammed up my throat and slicked my palms with sweat. Thankful for the absence of my usual horror of a teacher, I pretended to do the assigned work on the board while silently fretting over lunch. I kept up the internal badgering throughout my free period as well, unable to focus on anything other than making sure I didn't go IBS in my pants. When the bell tolled for lunch, I felt like I was walking to my own doom. Connor was already seated by the time I got there, and his eyes locked onto me as soon as I stepped out of line. The assholes who had dumped Exlax into my food yesterday were watching me too, snickering to one another as I passed their table. I sat down across from Connor, my back ramrod straight as I unloaded my tray. I clenched my jaw tightly when one of the assholes asked how my stomach was feeling. "Want to tell me what that's all about?" Connor asked quietly as he slowly peeled off the plastic wrapper around his chicken salad sandwich, obvious distaste in his eyes. My guess about Gargoyles in general was that they hated dairy, and I don't mean the cows. Because as he went through his meal, I noticed most of it was meat and his drink of choice was basic bottled water. He set aside the sandwich and I traded him my meaty meal for his, which he took gratefully. "No," I answered finally when he gave me a prolonged stare. "They don't like you." "Not many do." He frowned around the chicken piece he was eating. "Why?" I shrugged one shoulder as I stirred the applesauce in front of me, one of Connor's other cast-offs. Apparently squished apple was also another taboo point in a Gargoyle's diet. "I never really bothered to ask." "I would." He put down the chicken bone, having inhaled it within the three seconds I had broken eye contact with him. "Especially if they're making my life miserable." "The thing is Connor; they weren't making my life miserable until yesterday." Whoops. "And what happened yesterday?" I felt my face grow hot. "Nothing," I mumbled. Connor reached out and rested his large, warm palm over my hand. "Tempest." I met his dark eyes and saw the question there. "They just played a nasty prank, that's all. It was childish and slightly cruel, but I'm over it," I lied. "Did they hurt you?" he asked, his voice a low tumble now. I flinched at how deep within his chest it had come from. That must mean the Gargoyle was angry. "Not the way you're thinking," I responded, moving my hand out from under his so I could eat. "I have a physical education period at the end of the day," Connor said suddenly as he steadily demolished his entire meal. I watched in slight amusement as he finished off a packed lunch he must've brought in from home. Even I could recognize a well-made meatloaf, and that this was made especially for him – not a single slice was missing. "Yea, so do I," I told him as he offered me a bite. I shook it off, trying not to smile. "I overheard the coaches mentioning they want me to play football, even though I have not a clue how to play the game." He shook his wavy hair out of his eyes and sent me the first real smile I had seen from him all day. "If those dicks are on the field, I could flatten them for you. It won't really be you getting justice, but I'd be happy to maul..." He tried again. "Maim..." He chuckled darkly and tucked back his hair when it got in his eyes again. "I'll make them wish they hadn't played a prank. We Gargoyles protect our own." I blinked in surprise. "But you don't even know me," I said quietly as a group of Goth girls passed our table, eying Connor with obvious like. "For all you know I could be keeping him in a cage and poking him with cow prods." Connor chuckled at the rather gory imagery I painted. "I doubt it. You have a good spirit. And I can trust you." "How do you know?" Connor leaned forward, his dark eyes probing. "Because you're protecting him, whoever he is, from me. That takes bravery and a certain recklessness that even I can admire. You put yourself in between me and him, even though you know I could probably break your neck with two fingers. That takes balls that not even a lot of Gargoyles can dangle." I snorted at his crude humor and rolled my eyes. "Point taken." "Good," he told me, straightening up to look at his now empty tray. I chuckled when his stomach grumbled audibly and he sighed before pushing the plastic away. "Now, please tell me your next three classes involve reading, computers or a foreign language. If I don't have someone to talk to then I have to listen to children discussing how tall I am." "I have French," I offered, chuckling as I turned back to my meal. "French?" he demanded, crinkling his nose. "Well what do you have?" I demanded back, tossing my balled up napkin at him. "Spanish," he replied matter-of-factly. "A language you actually need in this country." I pointed a warning finger at him and he rolled his eyes. "My boyfriend is the only one who can get away with the finger, Tempest, and that's because he lets me fuck him on an occasional basis. Put it away, it will do you no good." I couldn't help it; I laughed. I laughed until tears ran down my cheeks and I nearly fell over onto the bench seat because I couldn't hold myself up. After I was done, I wiped away the wetness and chuckled, meeting his confused expression. "I'm sorry, but imagining a big macho guy like you being brought down by the 'finger' is just too much," I giggled, trying to control myself. Connor shot me a sly grin just as the bell for next period sounded. "Playtime over," he sighed, giving me a soft squeeze around the shoulders as we went to dump our trash. "Do you ride the bus home?" he asked me as we walked out into the hall. I nodded. "Good. Save me a seat," he told me as he took a left, towards the stairs to the second floor. I nodded again and waved at him with a smile, unable to believe the turn of events in my life in just twenty-four hours. The rest of the afternoon went by quickly, and when I left with the rest of the girls last period for P.E., I couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of Connor towering over the rest of the guys in the huddle on the football field. None of the football gear quite fit him, so his pads were a little small and his uniform and leggings were short, all of it looking ridiculous on his broad frame. Like Talon, he was toned and built like a warrior. Being well over six feet also didn't help address the size issue, as his height just wasn't common. Finally, P.E. finished, and I abandoned those girls who did sports for sake of a brief shower and the ride home. Connor was almost late getting to the bus, weariness evident on his face. He dropped into the seat beside me and mimicked snoring on top of my shoulder. I laughed and brushed him off as the bus pulled from the curb. "Long day?" I joked. "Exhausting," he chuckled, running his fingers through his hair. "I don't see how you can do this every day," he said softly, so not to be overheard. "You don't normally go to school?" I asked quietly, a little shocked. He shook his head. "That's not my job." I balked at that. "What is your job?" I asked haltingly, watching him warily. "To find the others," he replied gently, not surprised at my unease. "I'm sure your friend knows something about that?" I nodded slowly, agreeing to that. Talon was entirely focused on that goal alone. "What do you do to the ones you find?" I asked, feeling like I had a right to know something like that. Connor looked a little appalled. "What are you suggesting?" he grumbled, his eyes flickering angrily. "That I eat them?" I shrugged. "I don't know." Connor let out a huff of air, shaking his head. "We bring them into the fold," he said after a while as the bus bounced its way up towards Bella Lane and the other upper class homes. "We get their background, if they know it, and place them with those of their kind of...lifestyle." I caught onto what he meant and nodded to let him know I understood. "It's to keep them safe and out of the Elders hair," he said quietly in my ear. "Let your friend know that the Elders want to see him," Connor continued as the bus pulled to my stop. "He'll smell me on you and he'll ask questions. Tell him you met me and that I want to meet him – me and the Elders want to. Got that?" I nodded and took my bag from his hands, walking down the bus aisle at a faster pace than normal. Something in Connor's voice had tipped me off, and as I approached the house, I couldn't help but feel all the pent up worry from today finally seep through. Would Talon still be there? Would he be okay? How will he react when I tell him about Connor? And why was I so anxious to see him...just merely to see him? Lengthening my strides, I hurried down the drive, hearing the bus pull away from the curb. When I opened the front door of the house, I was surprised to see the shades drawn and the lights out, leaving the rooms in almost complete darkness. "T-Talon?" I called out, unease creeping through my voice as I shut the door and entered the kitchen, where I had left him last. There was a soft chuckle to my left and the bag on my shoulder was set on the kitchen counter. A callused hand tugged me around and I was pulled into a strong grey-blue body I knew well. Holding on to Talon tightly around his middle, I buried my face into his stomach and shivered in slight fear as I forced the words out of my throat. "Talon, there's something you need to know..." +++ Connor watched Tempest as she trotted quickly down the lane to her gargantuan home that reeked of the same cloying smell that had clung to her clothes. With his senses, he could pick up movement from deep within the house, the object in question coming to the darkened windows to watch the human female as she approached. Connor could not make out the other Gargoyle's features, but he had all he needed to present to the Elders. This Gargoyle was an Ancient, hopefully old enough to remember the Great Battle. The Elders would be pleased with this discovery, and like him, curious to know how an Ancient ended up in the presence of a female, human nonetheless. Gargoyles were known for their need to roost with their own kind, and whilst the female did not smell like she had been mated, the faint aroma of the Ancient Gargoyle's seed on her clothes told Connor that the male had certainly considered it. The school bus pulled away from the mansions on Bella Lane, cutting off his view of Tempest as she rushed through the front doors. His senses strained to hear her voice over the rumbling engine, smiling a bit as she called out to the other Gargoyle like she had missed the Ancient somehow, like they were dear friends. Or lovers. That thought sent the smile sliding from Connor's face. He quickly turned to look through the back window of the bus, hoping he could catch a glimpse of the Gargoyle. Connor found the Ancient in the kitchen window, and all coherent thoughts escaped his brain as he watched the oldest of the Gargoyle bloodlines cling to the human girl in an embrace that suggested what his logical mind could not accept. Lovers. Life-mates. The bus turned down the hill, taking the lovers out of his sight. He turned back into his seat, a tight feeling in his chest loosening slightly. While he did not agree to the union, he could not see how anyone, even the Elders, could deny an Ancient his complete soul. But...why did his spiritual other lie in the delicate, pale body of a weak-blooded human? An Ancient Gargoyle, one of the strongest of their kind, mating with an eighteen-year-old human girl? As the human saying goes, it was like comparing apples to oranges. Much later, Connor exited the bus at the last stop of the ride, his long legs taking him down the street that on one side bordered the city park and on the other the rougher neighborhood of Wonderland, confined to a few city blocks. He waited until the bus rumbled past before he darted into the park, breaking through the shrubbery and crossing abandoned trails to the small gypsy-like camp his troupe had set up deep within the forest. He could smell bacon long before he reached the camp and the smell just urged him faster. When he arrived, five heads bobbed up to look at the intruder, relaxing when they saw it was him. They were gathered around a small fire where a wild boar was currently roasting on a homemade pit. "I found one," he said without preamble, dropping his pack beside his tent. He approached the boar and turned the meat, his stomach grumbling with anticipation of his meal. What he had eaten at lunch had been nothing compared to his normal appetite. Connor had even grown faint during his afternoon classes with his lack of meal. "Found one what?" asked the next eldest in the group, the one who called himself Damien. The youngest, Elijah, truly the child amongst them, was the one to speak up. "You found a Gargoyle?" he asked pensively, his blue eyes wide in his small chubby face. Connor turned to them, a smile stretching his lips despite his attempts to squash it. "An Ancient," he murmured, trying to contain his excitement. "If I'm not mistaken, he is of the clan Tze'hoc." Elijah's eyes grew wider and in his surprise, he lost his human form. Damien, the only Drul in their small pack, rolled his eyes in amusement. "And you let him go?" Damien snorted, turning his earthy eyes to Connor, a stark contrast to the black clothes and pale skin and hair. Even though the Drul had the ability to change his appearance at will, he had chosen to keep his unnatural eyes that reflected his connection to the earth. This ability was the only reason why the Drul had not been killed upon his discovery: he was capable of enchanting others with the same gift, giving Connor and the group the ability to blend in as humans so they could search without being caught. Reclined back against a tree stump in all black, the Drul looked a bit worse for wear. They all were, for it had been days since they'd benefitted from human comforts, willingly undergoing excursions for the Elders in search of the olden kind. Unless Connor could draw the Ancient in soon, they would once more have to return to the Elders empty handed. "Yes, for I did not see him directly until now," Connor retorted, his voice taking on the edge that had made him leader of their small team in the first place. It was the voice that the Drul adored the most, and his hazel eyes gleamed amber with inner magic as Connor sat down on the ground beside him. "He is under the protection of a human," he told the astonished group. They leaned forward then, desperate for news. "Her name is Tempest Cohen. She lives in the white house at the top of those hills," here he pointed eastward, "and I believe she wishes to protect him from us." "How would you know that?" Seth asked carefully, his fiery red hair nearly blending in with the flames in front of him. "She was wary of me when I told her what I was." "She would only be wary if she cared for him," said Quincy, her natural pale blue hair tumbling forward into her equally blue eyes. She shifted her heavy jacket over her shoulders, moving closer to the fire for warmth. "Perhaps they are mated?" she asked him. Connor shook his head. "She is still untouched. But she does have appeal to him...his scent lingers on her, almost blood-deep." Ursula, the mute Gargoyle, sat up then, her soft brown eyes inquiring as she tugged on the end of her braid nervously. Her waist-length silver hair was a product of one of Quincy's bloodline, an Aar'an, and a now extinguished Quan tribe. She was a foul blood, and had been beaten severely upon her discovery by her captor, who had also been Quan. Quan's were notorious for their status amongst the Gargoyles as prostitutes. Any offspring they begat were either sold as slaves, or became prostitutes under the houses they were born. The Elders had stumbled upon Ursula after she had single-handedly wiped out the house she had been forced to serve. As a result, she had been brought into their kinder servitude and soon discovered she had long ago stopped speaking. Now, she spoke only through hand signals and projected thoughts. "If he is in her blood, that must mean he bit her. The Ancients did not adapt as we do by changing forms and mingling with the human race. They took the blood of their captors or asked for it willingly. She must've not been willing." The group chuckled at that. Connor was not sure how much to impart upon the group, but at Ursula's pleading gaze, he gave in. "I believe he has intentions with mating her," he said haltingly. "When I caught a glimpse of him this afternoon, he was embracing her...like a loved one." His eyes went to Damien and the Drul flushed, his head bending forward so his pale hair could cover the pooling of blood beneath his white skin. Connor turned his eyes away from the male, shifting uncomfortably at the evidence of his want that was growing swiftly in his jeans. Elijah, the only true virgin among them, tilted his head with a queer look on his face. "Embraced?" he repeated slowly, trying to feel out the word in this context. "He was hugging her?" he asked, confused beyond his wits at what Connor was implying. The group nodded in unison. Elijah made a face. "I don't see what's wrong with that. Maybe he was sad." Wonderland Ch. 03 Damien sniggered and earned a soft punch in the shoulder from Connor. "Perhaps," Quincy told the boy, patting his knee motherly. She gave a knowing look to Connor and he dropped the subject of mating, knowing that everyone understood the implications anyhow. "So what do we do know?" Seth asked the group. "Do we wait or do we confront him?" "If we surprise him, he might attack us, especially if he thinks we're going to endanger the girl," Damien said quietly. "Unless we approach him peacefully, I don't see any other way to do it." Connor stood up and turned the boar over on the spit, smiling a little as his plan formulated. "Or we can make him come to us," he told them, turning the meat carefully. "He'll be hunting soon, and he will smell this boar." "Do we stay in these human forms or in our natural shapes when he comes?" Ursula asked him, her voice echoing in all their heads. "When he arrives we will return to our usual forms," Connor said quietly, turning his back to the meat to address them again face to face. "But for now, we stay human." The others nodded in agreement before turning back to their usual afternoon pastimes. Ursula and Quincy went walking towards the abandoned lake, gossiping already about the human girl Tempest. Elijah and Seth went to the hiking trails, probably to play tricks on the humans as they passed by. Connor watched the Drul crawl into his tent, the sounds of him readying his bed for a nap greeting his sensitive ears. With a smile he changed out of his human clothes and into his Gargoyle form. He lowered his body to his knees and slid on his belly into the small opening of Damien's tent, rendering the Drul speechless. ## "C-Connor," he stammered as the Gargoyle rose above him on silvery-white muscled arms that rippled with strength. His black hair tumbled forward into the planes of his face and Damien fought against tucking the strands back. "The others will be back within an hour," Damien sighed, his spine arching as Connor cupped the Drul's erection through his jeans. "Then let's use our time wisely," he grumbled lowly into Damien's ear, pushing away the flaxen strands from his lover's face with his knuckles. "Don't argue with me, Day. I'm not in the mood." Damien laughed breathlessly as he ran his hands up Connor's muscled frame. "Seeing the Ancient and his human girl get you all fired up?" he teased. Connor responded with an impatient rumble and Damien undid the bindings of his jeans, refusing to lose another pair to Connor's talons. "I want you in your natural form," Connor grumbled into the Drul's ear, smiling down at the astonished expression Damien gave him. "I'm comfortable enough to make love to you in mine," he countered. Damien released the heavy magic with a sigh, relief rippling through him as his adopted human male persona converted into that of his natural form. His pale skin became the color of the forest floor in autumn, mottled in appearance and as soft as spun silk. He smelled of the deep earth, heady and organic, like fallen leaves and the wild, the very scent that had drawn Connor to him in the first place. When his eyes opened, they were deep amber, like the setting sun. The earth beneath the two shifted at the presence of Damien's earth magic, his excitement and arousal springing up small shoots of grass and sending the birds in the forests on a tweeting frenzy. "Chill," Connor chuckled as he lowered his dark head to claim Damien in a kiss. "Or you'll have the humans rutting in time with us at this rate," he murmured when he broke it. Damien smiled impishly up at him, his softer nude form pressing against Connor's unyielding one. "Maybe our Ancient will have a better chance getting some?" he teased. Connor smirked wryly, rolling his eyes. "Less talking. More mating." Damien inhaled sharply at the term, turning his head when Connor moved to kiss him again. "What did you say?" he breathed in shock, his amber eyes widening as Connor's magic began to weave with his own. "Haven't you figured it out, you silly leaf-blower? You're all mine," Connor murmured. "You were mine the moment I saw you." Damien shuddered under Connor's kiss, his magic soaring as it sought to entwine with the Gargoyle's, to have a bond so deep it required blood. He could ignore the jab at his earth magic, it was superfluous compared to what Connor was mentioning. Mates. Partners. His. "What's taken you so long?" Damien protested with a whine once he was free of Connor's demanding mouth. Connor smiled tenderly, the hungry look in his eyes abating slightly. "I thought I was protecting you," he whispered. "But it was just making me miserable. I hurt you because I refused to take you as mine. I want to redeem that fuck up. Right now." Damien giggled. "You have such a way with words, Connor," he joked, his laugh turning into a gasp when Connor palmed his steel. "But you always were a man of action!" he groaned, wiggling impatiently beneath the Gargoyle and lifting up his chin for another kiss. "Tell me you love me," Damien murmured when they broke their heated kiss to breathe. Connor's dark eyes lit up with fire that sent heat shimmering all the way down Damien's spine. "I love you, Damien. My mate." Damien released the last reluctant holds of his magic and was almost instantly bound to Connor. Connor grumbled with the acceptance of his mate and sought to claim what was rightfully his, despite the unnaturalness of it, despite what the Elders would say. He would not be denied his Drul any longer. He hadn't the patience for it. When Damien and Connor climaxed in unison, the magic that exploded through the air set off car alarms, sprinkler systems, and had dogs across the city howling to the sky. Miles away, in the kitchen of Tempest's home and within the arms of his uninformed life-mate, the magic flowing through Talon's veins returned the call. ## I have a word pronunciation key for some of the words throughout the story: Tze'hoc = zee-hawk Aar'an = air-en As always, comments/votes/and feedback are appreciated! Wonderland Ch. 04 Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, guys, but my college finals are coming up so I've been writing in between studying. (I know, shame on me, but I positively revel in procrastination...) Chapter Five will be delayed a bit to accommodate this future three week Hell I will be living through, so check my Twitter updates to see when I'll get around to posting again. I appreciate all the votes, but guys, c'mon, I don't bite. You can leave me comments too. Even if it's something silly and completely irrelevant to the story i.e. like how your Grandmother passed gas during Easter service or whatnot, I'd like to read it. Anyway, like always, this chapter is a work of fiction and the events, incidents, and characters are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. +++ "Talon, there's something you need to know..." His rumbling chuckle shook the both of us by its strength, but the action still somehow soothed me. I reminded myself of what had to be done; I had promised that I wouldn't wimp out. I pulled away and leaned back my head, ignoring the uncomfortable twinge at the base of my skull as I did so. Talon put a claw over my lips. "We'll speak in the kitchen. Are you hungry?" Not waiting for my response, Talon led me into the kitchen and picked me up by the waist to set me onto a bar stool at the kitchen island before turning his back to me to scrounge for food in the fridge. The last time anyone had picked me up I had been four feet tall, ten years younger, and sixty pounds lighter. I was reminded in that moment that if this conversation went badly, I could seriously get hurt. Shaking those thoughts from my head, I steeled myself. "Fruit?" Talon interrupted me, his back and wings still to me as he held up a bowl of covered fruit for me to look at. "Sure, Talon." I then hesitated, a chuckle beginning to build up in my chest. Talon turned to me, prepared to ask another question, but stopped when he saw my expression. A smile played on his lips. "What?" he asked. Unable to keep it in any longer, I giggled. "You're turning domestic," I chuckled, clamping my hands over my mouth to stop the giggles. I pulled away only when I felt like I could talk to him without laughing. No dice. "I should get you a 'Kiss the cook' apron to wear when I get back from—WHOA!" I found myself staring up at the ceiling of the kitchen, my laughter replaced by wheezing thanks to Talon's tackle. Talon lifted up his head from my neck, his dusky grey eyes now charcoal and glinting mischievously. "A Gargoyle female is docile...domestic. Not the male." I wriggled under his grip, not surprised when he tightened his hold on my wrists or when his tail snapped my ankles together. "Look," I began in my best lecturing voice, "since you've been sleeping, women have gained a bit more respect -- domesticity isn't just for those of us who have uteruses," I told his chest as I flailed beneath him with all my might. Soon I broke out into a sweat and collapsed onto the floor with a huff, meeting his triumphant smile with a scowl. "You're an ass," I snorted. Talon lowered his head and pressed his nose to my throat. "Occasionally," he murmured, the smile evident in his voice. I sighed. "Talon, you're being distracting. I'm trying to tell you something." "What could be worse than telling a warrior he's suited for nothing more than housework?" I opened my mouth to respond when I felt every muscle in Talon's body tense, and the bond between us blossomed with rage and disbelief. "What is this smell?" he grumbled, the anger swelling up so quickly from the bond that it took my breath away. "You have another male's scent on you, Tempest," he said, not waiting for my answer. I swallowed at the dark tone in his voice, breaking out into a sweat again when Talon took an eerily similar stance like when he first tackled me: his wings arched, his tail rose as to strike, and his grip grew so tight that I knew I would have bruises. At least he didn't bring out the dagger... "That's what I wanted to talk to you about," I said slowly, hearing my voice tremble. "I met another Gargoyle today." Talon lifted his head just enough so his black eyes could look into mine. "And?" he growled. "He wants to meet you," I answered, my heart fluttering in my chest as his features darkened into pure rage. "He mentioned the Elders did too. His name is Connor...that's all I know." "How do you know he is a Gargoyle?" Talon demanded, pulling both of us up suddenly, my shoulders still in his grip. "He s-showed me," I stammered, twisting uncomfortably under his gaze. His black eyes were judging my every movement, as though if I spoke one fib, that'd be the end of me. Talon suddenly relaxed, letting out a breath. "Tempest, breathe," he murmured, relaxing his hold on me some. I closed my eyes and let out a shaky breath, willing my heart to stop beating so fast. Talon drew me up off the floor and set me on the stool again, though he didn't move away. "Show me," he said quietly. I opened my eyes and stared up at him in confusion. "Huh?" I asked intelligently. Talon gently ran a claw down the center of my throat. "Think about the moment he revealed himself to you." He leaned forward, pulling apart his lips to expose the sharp points of his fangs. "Talon!" I squeaked, pressing my hands against his chest to stop him. "I-I don't think..." "Trust me, Tempest," he said gently, stroking the back of my head. The rage between our bond had definitely quieted now, but I could still feel the undercurrent of the dark emotions as Talon stroked my head, waiting patiently for me to relax. Inhaling deeply, I nodded, closing my eyes and tilting back my head for him. Talon chuckled and muttered something that sounded a lot like "Docile" under his breath. My breath caught in my throat when Talon tugged aside my shirt, his claws gently scraping my skin with the gesture. I bit down on my bottom lip in concentration, forcing myself to focus on Connor's face during Mr. Dean's class and not Talon's teasing nibbles he placed along my neck as he waited for me to fully submit. "Trust me," Talon repeated in a soft whisper against my skin before slowly his fangs pricked my neck and with the softest tug, pierced the flesh. The sting at first had me gritting my teeth, but as the Gargoyle sifted through my blood for memories, the sting was soon forgotten. My head swam as Talon drank from me, and soon it was only by his arms that I remained upright. The unfamiliar tensing in my lower body grew the longer he embraced me, until finally, I was so deep in the tide I couldn't escape. With a sharp cry, everything went out of focus, including the day's events, and Talon's fangs released me with a deep rumble that had the windows shaking. Clasping Talon around the neck tightly, another wave rolled through me and the world around me exploded in white light and I passed out. "Tempest?" A soft brush over my cheek sent a pleasant shiver down my spine, my toes curling at the touch. Lazily I opened my eyes, stretching out my stiff limbs before settling back against— I blinked in surprise and looked up over my shoulder. "Talon?" I demanded. Talon nodded, a small smile crossing his lips. "Do you feel alright?" Hell, I felt great! I wish I could wake up every day like this. I told him that much and he chuckled before stroking my face with the backs of his fingers. I smiled at how comforting that was and closed my eyes as for once I felt safe, cherished, and-- That's when it hit me like a battering ram. I felt it. Him--Talon. Under my skin, his presence stirred and played tag with my own. My eyes flew open with a gasp of horror, and I turned to him slowly. His smile grew as my eyes widened. "What the hell-?!" "We probably need to have a talk," he said slowly, looking sheepish. That was a first for him. "Talon." I said in the calmest voice I could muster, "What-" But before I could get out the question, something else broke through my sleep-addled brain. Glancing down, I started, ripping the bedcovers from underneath me and pulling them over my bare-as-the-day-I-was-born body. "TALON!" I screeched. Talon gave me a wry smile. "You can speak first, I don't mind." The rant I had been summoning fell short as I did a double take of Talon without meaning to. Talon's braids were undone, the long black strands shimmering with those dark rainbow colors that defied logic. In the shaded light of my bedroom, Talon looked like a reclining Vishnu, his dark wings and tail only adding to his... To his what? that small devious voice in the back of my head wanted to know. His attractiveness. As realization grew, so did the telltale blush that spread from my face to my toes. Talon had to know what I felt, if his part of the bond felt anything like mine did. He had to know that right now, he looked...beautiful. Talon stirred on the sheets, giving rise, quite literally, to a new detail. "Talon...why are we naked?" I asked the wall above his head, trying to stage that question as politely as I could and failing miserably. "You smelled like the other male and I didn't like it." I looked down at him and blinked. "Your clothes reeked and I undressed you from them," he clarified slowly. "Does that offend you?" I twitched in response, refusing to rise to the bait, which only served to make him smirk. "How long was I...out?" I asked instead. "Thirty minutes." "Talon..." "If it makes you feel any better, I only just joined you," Talon offered, knowing damn well that it didn't make any bit of difference. "Talon," I started slowly, "you're nearly naked all the time," I reasoned. "I'm not. Couldn't you have just thrown a bucket of cold water on me or something?" Talon pretended to think about it. "No," he said matter-of-factly. "It would be counterproductive." I arched my eyebrow at him and he smirked, a single fang flashing. "Tempest, you are untouched, but not a fool. Don't you realize what that bond means, for the both of us?" He patted the space beside him and I shook my head. "We can talk like this," I replied, hoping it was just my overactive imagination that my voice sounded shaky. Talon flashed his fangs and in a heartbeat I was rolled beneath him on the bed, only the flimsy bed sheet in between his warm body and mine. I swallowed hard. "When I bit you the first time, it was just so I could understand how much the world had changed. But after that first taste of you, when you started to crave me and the bite...that changed everything, Tempest. You gave me a part of yourself that day. Willingly." Talon's eyes lowered to my neck, where the backs of his fingers gently rubbed over my still-tender bite. "Downstairs I decided to return that." He lifted his eyes to meet mine. "So, if I wasn't really yours earlier, then why did you get upset that Connor hugged me?" I asked, unable to keep my mouth shut. Talon lifted his hand and gently ran his fingers through my curls. "You don't understand...you were mine, the moment you ran from me in the castle. That mark is known by our kind to keep others away." I blinked. "So...you gave me a Gargoyle's version of a hickey, and expected an eighteen-year-old male to back off?" Talon chuckled and rested his forehead against mine. "He knew better," he said quietly, his voice taking on a slight edge. "He just chose to ignore the warning." I tilted my head a little, thinking over that. "He must be desperate to get under your skin. Maybe he thought it would anger you enough to want to find him?" Talon rose up on his arms, showing off his muscled chest and torso and— "Whoa," I muttered. Talon began to laugh above me, the noise filling up the room. "You're distracting me," Talon chuckled. He glanced down at the large throbbing tool in between his thighs before meeting my gaze again, his irises now a liquid silver. "It'll fit, don't worry." "Talon!" I exclaimed, swatting his arm as embarrassment flooded my face. Talon lowered his body again, not leaving a single inch of my skin uncovered. The look in his eyes was far from gentle as he looked over my face. "Tempest, you're my mate," he grumbled. I blinked and turned away from the large hand that went to run through my hair. "Wait. Is that the real reason why I'm naked?" Talon paused, but the heat in his eyes did not dissipate. Oh my God. "Talon...is 'mate' a euphemism for 'sex'?" I demanded. That cooled the heated gaze he gave me almost instantly. "It's more than that, Tempest," he said wearily, sounding tired. "Is it?" I demanded, sounding borderline hysterical. "Well that's good to know because for a second there, I thought you just wanted to rut because you're—" "Tempest, shut up," Talon interrupted with a sharp growl, his irises darkening to black. A soft sting in my chest that came from his side of the bond calmed my hysterics almost instantly. I was being stupid, and I was hurting his feelings, as well as my own. Closing my eyes, I took a breath. "Talon, I'm sorry." He chuckled, his lips brushing over my ear. "You're worried," he guessed. "Tempest, being my mate is so much more than just sex, it's..." He laughed quietly. "It's everything," he whispered. I opened my eyes and looked up into his face to see his eyes were distant, lost in thought. "You're all I have," he said quietly. "Having a mate means I'm not alone." I shook my head slowly as I processed that. "Talon," I sighed in resignation. "What if Connor takes you to a whole pack or flock or whatever of Gargoyles?" He looked at me in confusion. "If you take me as your mate, you'd be selling yourself short," I explained, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice. I knew I was right. Even though I'd never laid eyes on a female Gargoyle, I knew that anything they could offer had to be twice more than what I could. Talon frowned a little. "Tempest, I don't think you understand. I didn't choose you to be my mate because of lack of options, which is what you're implying. I chose you because you chose me." He smiled at my confusion now. "I've been with others," he said hesitantly. I rolled my eyes but said nothing. "But what we have is different from that. Everything is different with you, mostly because you gave your spirit to me." Talon shook his head slowly. "That alone changes everything." I bit down on my bottom lip a little. "Maybe it does change things," I admitted. "But it doesn't change the fact that you want to be with me because you're alone. If mating is as important to you as it sounds, shouldn't you want to be with me because...you love me?" I gently rested my hand on Talon's face and watched as he turned his head into the caress. "You amaze me, little one," he chuckled, shaking his head slowly as his eyes wandered over my face. I snorted. "I think I'm the most non-amazing human you'll ever meet." Talon grinned and gently kissed my forehead before pulling back. "You do realize that becoming my mate is forever." I nodded. It sounded like marriage, and marriage to me was forever. "Forever with a Gargoyle," he reminded me. I sighed in mock-exasperation. "Talon, we've been over this. You're a Gargoyle, yes. And blue. You have wings, a tail, and wicked sharp claws. I have eyes, you know, and I can see these things for myself." I went on, ignoring the warning look he was giving me. "You also have instrumental features that define you as a man." I gave a pointed look south and watched as he fought a smile. "I know you. In here," I poked his chest. "And here," I poked his forehead. "You're thoughts aren't any different than anyone else's. Sorry, but that makes you normal, Talon, and besides." I trailed my fingertip down from his forehead to his lips, watching them part under my touch. "You know how I feel about your wings and your tail," I finished as I traced over the swells. "You aren't looking at either one of those things," Talon teased in a husky murmur. I met his eyes and gave him a small smile. "No, I'm not." "So our mating doesn't bother you?" Talon clarified as he slowly lowered himself back down again. "It'll only bother me if it's not what you want and you do it anyway," I said honestly. "Or you do it for the wrong reasons." Talon eyed me seriously. "I expect the same of you, Tempest. Don't agree to this unless you want to be with me." I moved my hand from his lips to the back of his neck, drawing him down. "Do I look like I want to be with anyone else?" I asked coyly. Talon smiled broadly, his grey eyes twinkling. "I knew you weren't a fool." "Just untouched," I joked as I thread my fingers through his hair. Talon smirked and slanted his lips over mine, the kiss telling me what he did not. Not for long. Talon lifted his head to confirm Tempest was sleeping before he slowly slipped from her embrace and stood. Dressing quickly, he moved to one of her windows that overlooked the forest and cracked open the frame, breathing in fresh air that allowed him to think. The room slowly began to fill with the smell of pine and wet leaves, taking the musky scents of their combined out into the open air. The cool breeze cleared Talon's thoughts and cooled down the ever-present hunger for Tempest that circulated within him. Just as he went to shut the windows, a tempting smell of frying meat greeted him, coming from the direction of the forest. He eyed Tempest's sleeping form before turning his eyes to the forest again. It was dark now, he would be safe. He could get back before Tempest awoke, he was sure. Gently he eased himself out of the small space, thanking the Gods that his mate's father had not placed a screen over the window. With one final tug, Talon was free. He shut the windows quietly and after double-checking his route, he escaped towards the forest. After a few minutes of circling above the forest he lazily landed a good mile from the location of the frying boar, sniffing the air to gauge intruders or unwanted humans. The scents that reached his nose were not pleasant, but he could sense they were Gargoyle. Years of training as a warrior came back to him, and Talon was on alert and his senses reacted at an all-time high. Taking his time, he approached the camp, ears pricked for sounds above his head and below the soles of his feet. After five minutes of walking, he saw fire flickering through the trees and heard the sound of human conversation. Warily he unfurled his wings and took flight, using the tree canopy as a cover. Talon landed silently a handful of yards from the fire, surprise filtering through him. There were six of them, four males and two females. One male was a Drul, Talon was certain, and the other five were Gargoyles, the smell of their polluted blood almost nauseating. None of them were of his bloodline, but he hadn't expected there to be. Deciding to make his presence known, Talon dropped from the trees and approached, not surprised when only after he cleared his throat that they heard him. One side effect of poor breeding was the dulling of the natural senses. Judging by the sincere fright on the six faces, they hadn't been aware of him even though he had sat just thirty feet above their heads. Now that Talon was closer, he could get a better look at his brethren. The two females were of a mixed line, one much less polluted than the other: the blue-haired girl was definitely an Aar'an. The silver-haired girl was part Aar'an and part Quan, an interesting combination. The three males varied in their pure blood as well, but to as what clan they called their own, he had no clue. "Which one of you is named Connor?" Talon asked quietly, meeting each pair of eyes without fear, not like had any reason to be frightened of the Gargoyles gathered around the fire. Wonderland Ch. 04 The male Gargoyle standing next to the Drul shifted in response, his body angling in front of the creature. Talon took note of this, surprised by the protectiveness and possession the angle obviously displayed. "That would be me," the pale-skinned Gargoyle spoke up, sounding young and despite his bravado, frightened. Talon studied the male, not surprised when he could not place the Gargoyle with a clan. "My mate said you wished to speak with me." Talon caught the wide-eyed stare and gasp of the youngest fledgling, his human form giving way to his Gargoyle one when their eyes met. "So here I am." Connor nodded and gestured for him to sit. "Yes, we would like that. Take a seat. Have you eaten?" Talon fought a smile as he lowered himself onto an overturned tree, his eyes looking over the makeshift camp. From the sight of things, they had been here in the forest for a while. Maybe they were partly responsible for his return yesterday? Maybe Tempest hadn't been the only factor in his return, as he had thought. On second thought, though, he doubted it. "No, I have not," Talon answered quietly, noticing the females were sitting huddled together, the silver-hair especially frightened. It wasn't possible for him to look less frightening -- he was what he was -- but he did not like the look to her personally. She appeared wild and cornered like an abused animal. It set both his beast and his human tendencies on edge, furthering the impossibility for him to settle. Connor approached with the leg of a boar, handing it to Talon before sitting a few feet from him. Talon had surmised earlier that this impure blood was the leader, especially since he had the gall to approach Tempest in such a manner, so Talon wasn't surprised at the way the others deferred to the strangely pale Gargoyle, their eyes going back and forth between the two. "Join me," Talon told the others, gesturing for them to eat as well. They were silent as they each stood and cut their own slices, following human habits instead of Gargoyle ones. Talon ate only after they did, unable to not notice at how the meat was cooked and the skin seasoned. It was not his usual way, but evidently theirs. Talon felt his heart sink as he studied his brethren, surmising easily that the situation he found himself in was much direr than he had previously believed. Due to their pollution and their way of life among the humans, their instincts and temperaments reflected their upbringing. Would he have to assimilate the same way? Would Tempest expect him to remain hidden forever? It was not the Gargoyle way to be hidden. "Tempest mentioned that you work for the Elders," Talon said quietly, breaking the silence. The group stopped chewing and looked to Connor, who seemed prepared for the talk. Connor nodded in agreement. "We go out and find other Gargoyles or any species we can, actually," he replied. "We bring them back to the Elders who then put them with their appropriate clan or with someone who could take them in." Talon waited patiently, his heart and stomach sinking further in unison as he read Connor's expression. "You're the first Ancient we've found. That anyone has found, actually." Talon dropped their gaze, refusing to show how badly the other Gargoyle's admission had wounded him. I am the last one now, Talon thought. Father's last request had been for...nothing. "What of the Elders?" Talon asked once he found control over his emotions. "Are they not Ancient?" "They're pretty old," Connor admitted. "But none of them are Ancient." "Or pure, I'd imagine," Talon said bitterly, releasing a heavy sigh. He put aside his boar, no longer hungry. "After the Great Battle, there were few of us left." Talon glanced around the fire and locked eyes with the brown-eyed enigma, watching as she pulled nervously at the end of her silver braid. "The eldest of those who remained decreed that for survival, mates must be taken. Bloodlines and purity were the least of their worries." "Ursula was born of an Aar'an and a Quan," said the blue-haired female in a voice void of emotion. "I was born three-quarters Aar'an and a quarter G'woc. All of us are mixed blood. None of the pure bloodlines survived the Great Battle, at least, we didn't think anyone did." The six of them turned to Talon, all expecting answers to questions that Talon was sure he didn't have. "Did no one see who broke the line at the end?" Talon asked hoarsely, his emotions getting the best of him. "Does no one know who betrayed us?" "Some say it was the Druls," said the Drul male, his throaty voice tickling Talon's senses. "Some say it was the Lunar clan of Riordan. Some say the Gargoyle clans in the mountains broke and let the Raspans pass." His amber eyes lifted up and speared Talon, reminding him that he was not the only one who lost loved ones. In that moment, the Drul didn't appear as young as the human form he had taken. "My many times great-grandfather was in the Great Battle," the Drul continued. "I grew up with stories of how he bravely fell, of how he used his magic for good and peace." Amber eyes turned inward with the memory. "It was said he fought alongside the Ancients of all our races. There are songs in his name amongst my people." His eyes cleared and he gave Talon a small smile. "But none of the songs or stories mentions the end of the Battle. We just know it ended and that ever since, we have done what we can to survive." Talon turned his eyes to the fire, worry and anger plaguing him. No one knew the answers to his questions. Not even the Elders, since they were not close to his age. Gargoyles live long lengths of time, but they are not immortal. Surely those who decreed rules after the war were not still alive today. "What of the Raspans?" Talon asked quietly. "What has become of them?" "They live," said the flame-haired Gargoyle. "In mountains, in the deserts deep under the sand...they still outnumber by the thousands." "And the Lunar? The Druls?" "They are even fewer in number than Gargoyles," the Drul responded. "After the war, many of the Lunar went into the mountains and never came back. So much death...their race could never live with such unbalance. If they are alive, they must live in the wilderness where no one can find them." Talon did not mention that even if the Gargoyles and Druls of this age went looking for them, their lackluster senses wouldn't be able to trace them anyhow. It seemed a moot point to mention after all this. "Why do the Elders send children out to do their work?" Talon asked the fire, speaking to everyone. "I ask this, because it is so unlike the Elders of my age. Normally we were not so withdrawn from our own people. Normally, we were not so frightened." The group tensed and shifted uncomfortably at the accusation, unsure of how to respond. Even Connor and his Drul seemed hesitant to give an answer. "They say it is our job to find those who are lost and it is the Elders job to protect the flock," piped up the youngest Gargoyle. "It is a great honor to find Raspan dens or Gargoyle covens, which we do. Seth is the best tracker there is, that's how we got here." Talon eyed the redhead, Seth, unable to stop a smile from crossing his face. "The Ca'an were always the best trackers. I would often go with them on hunts simply to watch them perform their craft. What drew you here?" Seth flushed as red as his hair. "I always follow threads of magic. It depends on how strong the pull of the magic is if I decide to follow it. The thread here was the strongest I'd ever picked up." He shrugged. "And I'm only half Ca'an. Full-bloods can track their prey endlessly. I have to rest after a couple of days." "What about you?" the Drul asked Talon, leaning his elbows on his knees. "What clan are you from?" Talon's wings ruffled, the only tick that showed his astonishment. In his youth, no one had asked his clan. His bloodline had been revered; never questioned about their loyalties or the history of their blood. It was known. "I am of the clan Tze'hoc. I am called Tze'sic," Talon responded stiffly, turning his eyes to look at the flames. The group blinked in surprise at one another, trying to place his clan name. That wounded his pride immensely. His very honor was attached to his name and clan, and apparently a clan that they didn't even know. The dilution of the blood had rendered his origins almost a myth. Talon couldn't help but feel relieved that he had not bore witness to the atrocities committed after the Great Battle. If he had seen his brethren's fall with his very own eyes...he couldn't even finish the thought. "What is your Human name?" Connor asked quietly, breaking through Talon's internal anguish. "Talon," he responded after a while. "Will you go with us to meet the Elders?" the youngest Gargoyle asked. Talon lifted his eyes to the boy and watched as the blue-haired girl shushed him and the boy, chastised, fell silent. "What is your name?" Talon asked him. "Elijah," the boy chirped immediately, his blue eyes brightening. "My parents were from Tayo'c. That means you're my family," Elijah said matter-of-factly, his wide blue eyes challenging Talon to say otherwise. "Well, Elijah, I have never said no to family," he chuckled, laughing as the young one raced around the fire and tackled him, his tiny arms clinging to Talon's neck. "But I cannot leave my mate behind," he told the others, gently ruffling the fledgling's hair, much to Elijah's irritation. "Take her with!" Elijah pouted as he patted down his hair. "We have to go back, and if I have to share a tent with her, I will." Talon smiled at the young Gargoyle's enthusiasm, but told him it wasn't that simple. "Tempest is not Gargoyle," he said gently. "She goes to school and she has a family here. I do not even know where I would be taking her." "To Queensland," the Drul interjected. "It's in the mountains." Queensland. Talon sifted through the memories he inherited from Tempest and found what he was looking for: images of vast discordant rings of towering snow-tipped peaks that yielded a never-ending series of small valleys in between stamped themselves on the backs of his eyelids. The images continued further revealing thick forest, abundant wildlife, and numerous major and minor rivers that funneled melted snow downstream into a large lake. The mountains were garnered impassable in the winter, and much of the area surrounding the mountains was considered a national preserve. The Elders had chosen their spot well. "That is not too far of a flight from here," Talon eyed the others, his heart sinking as he looked at their Gargoyle forms. "Or is that not how you pass through to the mountains?" he asked tentatively. The Drul gave Connor a sympathetic smile before turning to Talon. "None of us here have the ability," he said, confirming Talon's observation in an apologetic tone. "Not many Gargoyles are born with wings nowadays." Further impurity and dissolution, Talon thought to himself. He just merely nodded, his expression blank. "So you walk?" The group nodded sheepishly. Talon sighed. "I will have to discuss this with my mate." He stood up stiffly, not used to such primeval comforts of the camp, not since before he was frozen. "I will speak with you tomorrow." "Would you like for me to help you blend in with Tempest?" called the Drul. Talon turned away from the forest quickly, his dark eyes flashing with warning at the Drul's blatant disregard of title to his mate. "What do you mean?" he asked quietly, watching the Drul closely and with a bit of wariness. His father had taught him to never trust a Drul, and he would not start doing so now. "Connor is able to go to school because I bewitched him with a human form. It's a pretty easy spell...if you want I can do the same for you," the Drul offered, lowering his eyes submissively. Unlike the others in the camp, he was well-versed on how to address a Gargoyle. Talon kept note of that. Walking back to the group, Talon's curiosity got the best of him. "Let me see your human form," he told Connor, wanting to confirm the image he had seen in Tempest's memories. Connor flushed at that, unused to being commanded, but stood up anyway and almost instantly his body trembling and cracking beneath the magic. Soon a nude human male stood in front of him. Talon nodded slowly. "That is a neat trick. But I refuse to accept your magic." "What do you mean?" the Drul exclaimed in shock. "You can't protect Tempest during the day! Not looking like you do!" Talon growled in further warning, his fierce expression causing the group to take a step back. "I am a Gargoyle," he grumbled. "I will not use parlor tricks and hide shamefully beneath a skin that is not my own. I will protect my mate with the body I was given. I will not change who I am." "You're being stubborn," Connor called to him. Talon grunted in response, pushing through the undergrowth, tears clouding his vision. Anger, dismay, disgust, betrayal...a million emotions warred within him as he hastily tore at the forest as he hiked back to Tempest, his rage growing within him the more he thought. They were weak. They were decadent. They were hiding; morphing into the enemy. It was...unheard of. It was...unthinkable. Talon emerged from the forest an hour later, his skin scratched raw from the brambles, his wings sore from hitting low-lying branches. One of his big toe claws was worn down to a nub from tripping over a thick, water-logged root. But he was finally at his sanctuary, his mate within distance. Talon did not bother to shy away from the lights of the back porch. He didn't even think to strip from his loin cloth as he sunk into the pool for a brief dip, hissing at the chemicals that stung his cuts. He emerged some time later, dropping his cloth into the hamper with the rest of Tempest's clothes before sensing out his mate. She was waiting upstairs, he could smell her, and the low, slow thud of her heartbeat told Talon she was still asleep. All the better. Talon walked into her bedroom and shut the door behind him softly, not wanting to disturb her. She was curled up in a ball with a pillow pressed to her chest, her long curls splayed out behind her. She was snoring softly and didn't awake as Talon approached her. Talon smiled despite the bitter ache in his chest and gently pried the pillow from her grip, crawling up beside her on the bed. Tempest turned into his body without hesitation, his name escaping her lips in a soft murmur. With a sigh he turned out her lamp light and tucked his wing over her, his tail winding around her left ankle. Despite his weariness, his rest was slow in coming, and his dreams were plagued with images of new world order run entirely by Raspans in human form. The Greyhound bus rolled to a stop at the Wonderland Metro Station around one that Wednesday morning, emitting its single passenger onto the platform. After a few seconds of indecision, the passenger tilted his head and exposed his face to the starless sky, sniffing the air once -- twice -- and a third time for good measure, ignoring the indignant looks of the gathered metro bus drivers and the ladies working the ticket booth. With a smile he hitched his pack further up on his shoulder and walked away from the brightly lit station, aware of the stares that bore holes through his leather jacket as he retreated. He didn't stop walking until he was at the corner of two streets marked by rows of industrial buildings. Now that he was away from the smells of gasoline, sour trash, and stale remnants of tobacco, the scent he had been searching for was clearer to follow. Changing his direction again, he followed the thread towards the city park. Anticipation rose within him as he picked up his pace, licking his dry thin lips excitedly as his mouth watered in response. His orders had been simple: follow the pack's trail and watch them until they revealed something useful, report back on the findings. Oh, and don't get caught. Easy enough. He was drawn deep into the forest, no longer using the scents he discovered but the palpitations of the pack's heartbeats as his guide. After discovering the flickers of fire between the trees, he adjusted his satchel and relaxed the hold of the Drul spell over him, allowing his fingers to morph into claws. He kicked off the ground noiselessly and jumped high into the air, digging his claws and fingers into the rough bark of the pine tree. Within seconds he was overlooking the pack's campsite, reclined comfortably on a canopy of branches high above their heads. He smiled to himself as the pack turned to bed for the night, his ink black eyes roaming over the campsite and his sensitive ears pricked for movement. But all was silent. The Raspan chuckled softly before helping himself to his pack of jerky as he waited. Thanks to his last assignment he now had an abundant supply of fine, unseasoned strips of pure Aar'an Gargoyle and according to reports an Aar'an female traveled with this pack. He checked his jerky stash and smiled. He didn't really need to replenish, but he was not one to miss out on opportunities such as this. He chuckled again as he settled in for the night as well. His job, despite its simplicity, had the best perks. +++ Remember to vote, comment, and/or send feedback. I love hearing from you guys! ;) Wonderland Ch. 05 Author's Note: I'd like to thank my editor, Mikothebaby, for editing this chapter for me and for being a great fan! ;-) Also, I want to thank all of you guys for continuing to read and vote and comment. That really means a lot to me. As usual, this story is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever. All rights reserved. +++ The next morning I woke up without Talon. After shutting off my alarm and groggily getting dressed for school, I headed downstairs and discovered the reason why the large Gargoyle was missing; my mother. She was whistling very off-key to the Annie tune "Tomorrow" while bouncing around in front of the stove as she cooked breakfast. She was wearing her usual morning outfit; a hot pink fuzzy bathrobe and her Godzilla feet slippers, the robe fluttering around her as she did a pirouette while flipping over the bacon. Mom then stopped whistling and turned before breaking out into a large smile. Her black Trinity Blood tee was smeared with flour from her jilted dance moves. She had even managed to smear flour across her face from her chin to her right cheek before it appeared in white splotches in her braided hair. Her smile faltered. "What? Do I have egg on me?" she asked, plucking at her shirt. "Flour," I offered, fighting a smile as she huffed and brushed at her shirt, effectively smearing the flour from her hands over the main anime character, Abel. "No work today?" I asked as I sat on at the kitchen island, bringing up my backpack to rest on the stool beside me. "Oh yes. Always. But I don't go in until noon." I eyed the clock. "And you're still up early?" I asked in disbelief. "Habits die hard," she sighed, waving the spatula – and flinging egg into her hair. After telling her that much she swore and handed the spatula off to me. "I owe you dinner," she bargained, leaving the kitchen before I could say yes or no. With a sigh, I saved the eggs and burning bacon before setting out our plates. I poured myself a coffee while I waited for the toast to brown. Breakfast went by quickly, and without mom, as she got a call while removing raw egg from her hair, making the day start out so much differently than yesterday. I didn't think it would be smart to bypass to the pool house before I left, so I forced down the urge to see Talon, hoping he was alright. I didn't want mom to get suspicious by peeking around the windows as I walked towards the bus stop, but I couldn't help myself from looking anyway. And let's face it; I was afraid if mom discovered my secret, she would force Talon to go into hiding somewhere else – or worse. I got onto the school bus just a minute before it pulled away from the curb and swallowed my dismay at not seeing Connor saving me a seat. I managed to squeeze into one of the short seats at the very back, grumbling with every bounce and jerk as the bus rumbled its way back to the high school. The morning went by slowly, with no sign of Connor in classes or walking a full head and shoulders above everyone else in the hallway. I sighed as I put away my book for Trig and headed to my free period, wondering idly to myself how I had managed to get this friendless. I had just reached the bottom of the stairwell to the second floor when I heard a loud thud followed by a whimper and echoing male sniggers. Instantly warning bells went off in my head and I hesitated with my foot over the step. I was no stranger to bullies, I mean, hello I got doused with Exlax for crying out loud, so when instinct told me to enact Operation Forrest Gump and kick it in the opposite direction where the other stairs to the second floor were, I started to do just that. I began to turn when an eruption of dull thuds, oofs! and retching noises filled the emptying hallway around me. Someone was being kicked down, just twelve steps above my head. I hesitated for only a second before rushing up the stairs, my eyes widening as I saw a wall of blue and gold – the Jocks. Fudge. Every school had cliques – and my high school definitely wasn't any different. The Jocks and Cheerleaders were ever-so-popular, the Goths and Emos warred over who was more desolate in their despair, the stoners and artists mingled in hippie vans and discussed the suppression of free speech and good books, the Lil Wayne and Eminem wannabes rapped and beat boxed in the hallways accepting funds to "make it tha next level"...we had it all. And with any clique, you always had the leaders...and unfortunately for me, I was staring at the backs of their letter jackets, listening to their mimicry of the poor kid they'd chosen to victimize today. While my instincts were telling me I still had time to Run, Forrest, Run; my conscious was telling me I could so channel Lara Croft and do what was necessary to stop this. So without thinking, I pushed through the wall of muscle and found a boy dressed completely in black curled up on the floor, his body jerking with each kick that the junior year punter for the football team, Brendan Young, delivered. I lashed out quickly, pushing Brendan hard in the side and watched as he teetered off balance briefly before crashing back into the bodies of the jocks behind him. All eyes turned to me then, each face contorted with surprise. I can't say I didn't feel the same myself. "I think you've made your point, Young," I shot at him. "He's not fighting you anymore." "Oooh, nerd has an attitude," Damian Weiss, the running back of the football team, sneered down at me. He then narrowed his eyes and peered down into my face, recognition lighting up his steel blue eyes. "Oh. Cohen. How were your potatoes? We added a bit of...uh...seasoning to them, you know, to give them a bit of a kick. Did you like it?" All the color drained from my face as the group bust out into fits of guffaws, and I found myself mentally reciting repetitiously the one commandment that forbade me from wishing – in any form – the possible gruesome end of the idiots standing in front of me. Twisted, I know. "I think you've made your point," I told Weiss, not blinking an eyelash as I stared up into his chiseled, and ironically angelic, face. The stare down lasted only seconds before he snorted and shook his blonde hair out of his eyes, smirking at the guys around him and gesturing to me like "What a stupid bitch, right?" "Got your ass saved, puto," spat the small Hispanic Jose Aleman, giving the kid one last nudge with his Nikes before swaggering off with the others. If I remember correctly, Aleman had lost his position as safety on the football team due to his inability to pass the pee test but still obviously kept his jersey and letterman. There's "fair and just" school policy for ya... I turned back to the kid and found him sitting up on one elbow, gingerly touching his nose with one hand while pressing the fingertips of the other to his rib cage. I kneeled down beside him, taking off my backpack and waited silently for him to make a move. The guy lifted his head and met my eyes warily, his jaw muscles tightening and ticking slightly. He had to be at least my age and from the looks of things he could jump cliques from either the stoners or the Goths, depending on how deep his depression lay. He had black eyes that were a little too large for his face and a longer nose that instantly struck me as Adrien Brody-esque. In fact, if his eyes weren't so dark, he could easily make a living as Adrien Brody's doppelganger. "Do you think it's broken?" I asked him, gesturing to his bleeding nose. He shook his head, his big eyes never leaving mine. "Do you want me to take you to the nurse?" I pressed, a little thrown off by his staring. Wait. That sounded familiar... He nodded and I reached into my bag for my packet of tissues, pulling out a few for him. "I can help you stand..." he waved me off and scooped up his bag decorated with the Slipknot band logo from the floor, stumbling a little as he stood upright. The guy was a couple inches taller than me and definitely broad, but even I could see that he was nothing but skin and bones, making it obvious as to why the jocks picked him as their next victim. He was a little stooped, but that was probably because his ribs had just taken a beating from one of the best punters in the state. "It's this way," I told him, putting my bag over my own shoulder. I led him back down to the first floor, watching as he leaned heavily against the railing as he went down. Clearly his stomach hadn't been their only target. "I'd stick close to your friends," I told him as we walked, feeling his stare on me as we made our way through the labyrinth of hallways to the nurse's station. "Safety in numbers and all that." He tilted his head before dabbing at his nose. "I don't have any friends," he said quietly, his tone smooth and without any accent at all. "Oh." Me either. We succumbed into an awkward silence then, and I was too much at a loss to press him for conversation. "Here we are," I told him a few minutes later, brandishing my arm unnecessarily at the nurse's door. The door was childishly marked with chalkboard toppers of cartoon pictures of nurses with needles and stethoscopes, checking temps and shoving wooden whatchamacallits down kids' throats. Definitely high school. As the Goth passed through the open door, he flicked one of the cartoon nurses, shaking his head. Clearly he found it as hypocritical as I did. Nurse Patty, the head nurse for the school, wasn't what you would call a typical nurse. The toppers around the door? Definitely not her idea. She was the victim of thirty years of smoking, bad acne, and lax knowledge of cosmetics and social skills. She barked at the Goth kid to sit down on a cot, which he did tenderly, and shot a dirty look at me that meant either I stay and tell her what happened or go and get back to class. I hesitated, looking over at the Goth. "The jocks got to him," I said slowly, turning back to Nurse Patty. Instantly her ruddy face clouded and she gave me a brief look over. "Same punks who messed with you?" she asked in that husky grumble of hers. I nodded, lowering my gaze to my feet. "Alright, so what's the damage, kid?" Nurse Patty asked, checking his nose. "They just broke the skin, that's all," he replied after a while, flinching when she applied pressure to his nose. "They were kicking him," I told her, ignoring his dirty look. "He was walking funny on the way over here." "Thanks for walking me," he hissed when Nurse Patty pressed against his narrow chest with one large, ruddy hand. His black eyes shot to mine. "Unless you wanted to stay and hold my hand?" he asked bitterly, cringing at whatever Nurse Patty was doing. I blinked at his dismissal and shrugged my backpack higher up on my shoulder. "Whatever. Bye, Mrs. P." "Hurry to class," she called after me. I made it to class just as the tardy bell rang, only to find that there wasn't a teacher and no one was taking roll. Collapsing down in my usual spot, I rested my head on the desk and sighed. This day was really going to the dogs. +++ I missed the freaking bus. Since none of the kids riding the same route liked me, they just watched my futile attempts to catch the driver's attention and waved as the bus grinded its gears down its usual afternoon route, taking the yellow box well out of my reach. With a groan I shouldered my bag and began the long trek home, swearing under my breath at my sweaty state, the afternoon chill, and my crappy luck. Unfortunately part of my route took me past the district of Wonderland that offered affordable housing, and just like in every city, the area was crime-ridden and over-populated. It was situated right across from the smaller – and newer – city park that offered a children's playground and a dog park. Let's not discuss the sanitation issues with that one. As I rounded the corner at the southeast edge of the playground, I found the entire sidewalk blocked by a group of guys that varied in height, baldness, skin color, and hygiene. The air reeked of booze and cannabis. Instantly I knew my day was going from bad to worse. I crossed the street quickly when the flashing lights said to walk, hoping that moving across the street to the safety of the empty sidewalk would be sufficient. It wasn't. The group followed me, strangely quiet, and as the sidewalk began to run out, I contemplated my options. If I went right, I'd hit the projects and instead of four guys following after me, I could have a whole gang and get undeniably lost. If I went straight, I could lose them in the large Wonderland Park which I knew like the back of my hand. Either direction had its disadvantages, I merely just needed to figure out which one I had the greater vantage point of getting away safely. I mean, come on, these guys weren't following me with Bibles or offering pearls of wisdom. I don't know what is going on in their heads, I could only guess, and my Law and Order: SVU addled brain was telling me I had better not stick around and find out what that might be. Crossing another intersection, I quickly stalked under the wrought iron park entrance and into the main lawn of the park, choosing Lady Bird Trail to follow since it was windy, long, and ended up near my house. I highly doubt these guys would want to pursue me for six miles, so I booked it, plunging into the darkening forest with only one thing on my mind; escape. Except these guys were a lot smarter than I gave them credit for. At least four trails intersect with Lady Bird at one point, two of the four being shorter and cutting straight through. In my rash decision-making, I hadn't thought of that and found myself walking towards the four men barring the intersection from me five minutes later, my plan ultimately backfiring. Double fudge. "Hey, hey, hey, where's the rush, baby girl?" asked the shortest guy, the four of them moving in unison to keep me within their ever-widening horseshoe shaped ring. The guy speaking had the biggest belly out of the group and the least amount of hair on his head and his face reminded me of a Pekingese dog. All in all, he looked ridiculous. "Just to get home," I responded honestly, taking in my opponents. None of them really appeared threatening, but looks obviously meant little. They wanted something and had acted as a pack to get it. None of them had weapons, and despite the smell of weed, they didn't look high, but instead like they were just coming down off the ledge. "Why don't you stay and talk with us for awhile? No need to rush off," the fat guy cajoled. I eyed the dark woods around me and the crappy weather that was building up over our heads. "You want to talk here?" I quipped dryly, shifting my weight from one foot to the next, betting my chances on outrunning them. Fatty shrugged. "Why not? The boys and me don't meet a lot of pretty young things like you very often." Um, obviously. "No thanks," I snorted, beginning to walk again. "Don't run off, we just wanted to talk," Fatty tried again. "Well, I'm not much for conversation," I snapped, making a wide berth of the Hispanic and black guy that were closing in. "So back off!" I dodged Fatty's reach and collided straight into a pillar of stone. Gasping at the impact, I stepped back and looked up and into the face of the Adrien Brody's doppelganger. "You okay?" he asked quietly, his hands tightening their hold on my back when I went to take another step back. I shrugged, not really sure how to answer that question, and looked over my shoulder to find that five other people had emerged from the forest, all of them wearing the same all-black attire that Adrien Brody's twin did. They faced off with the four aging men, herding them back like they had herded me. "Let's go," he murmured, gently tugging me along. "And leave them here?" I asked, gesturing to his friends. His black eyes went above my head. "They'll be fine. Did they hurt you?" he asked gently, putting one hand in the middle of my back to press me forward and used the other to take my bag from me. I was faintly aware of the men yelling, but the guy was herding me quickly out of the clearing and deep into the forest trail again. He gently nudged me and I realized he wanted me to answer, but I was kind of in shock. He was a complete three-sixty from the way he had treated me earlier, and I could barely keep from gaping at him as we walked down the trail. "No, they didn't," I answered slowly. "Though, I'm kind of convinced if you hadn't showed up when you did, I would be singing a different tune right now." His brows furrowed slightly and he tilted his head at me. "So why take the path through the woods, little Red?" I gave him a dirty look. "Is that a dig on my hair color?" I asked dryly. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, but he said nothing. "And I took this way because I thought I could lose them in the woods." "So they were following you." I nodded. For a brief moment, his expression darkened and the hand on my back tensed. "Are you heading home?" he asked, shifting my bag's weight on his shoulder. I nodded again. "I'll walk you." I gave him a look. "It's a long way," I told him. "And we don't exactly know each other either," I said in epiphany, realizing just in that moment that I was being led through an abandoned stretch of woods with someone I didn't even know. Adrien Number Two smirked and held out his hand. "I'm Thatcher." That wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but...what the hell. "Tempest," I replied, shaking his hand briefly. "Your nose looks better." He cringed, the action wrinkling his nose slightly and I watched as he gently touched the tape Nurse Patty had put over the bridge. Despite the sign of bruising around his eyes and the tape, he looked better. I noticed then that he wasn't even stooping anymore, and our height difference grew another two inches, putting him around six feet. "Like I said, they just broke the skin. No big deal." "If you say so," I told him, eying the darkening sky above warily. If I didn't hurry, I would have more than just middle-aged thugs to worry about. I started to open my mouth to tell Thatcher that much when we rounded a bend and I almost face-planted when I ran gut-first into a Lego-like monstrosity on wheels. "There's a bike there," Thatcher deadpanned. "So I've noticed," I shot back, clutching my stomach as I straightened up. "What's it doing way out here?" Thatcher pulled out a ring of keys from his jacket pocket, plucking one out of the myriad to show me. "It's mine," he said with a smirk, putting in the key and starting it. I fingered one of the key chains – a Gothic Hello Kitty cell phone charm – and gave him a look. He shrugged a shoulder. "I like cats. Even the cartoon ones." "I'm not gonna lie, that's pretty sad," I admitted dryly as he swung a long leg over the bike and scooted up, leaving room for me at the back. "Hop on," he told me. "I don't ride bikes without a helmet. Mother's orders," I said lamely, taking a step back from him as my heart began to beat faster in fear. He wants me to get on that?! Thatcher pulled out from his Slipknot satchel a small black helmet without a visor, holding it out to me. "I'm comfortable enough to ride without one," he told me as I eyed it warily. "And besides, if we argue any longer, we'll get caught in the rain. Just take it." I sighed and plucked the helmet from his pale hand, hurriedly putting it on and tightening the buckle before I could lose my nerve. Only after he was satisfied the helmet was snug, did he let me get on the bike. For some reason, though, that just irritated me. "The only people who don't use helmets are the ones who haven't fallen off a bike before," I told his back as I adjusted my bag. Wonderland Ch. 05 Down the hole like Rabbits It had been at least a half hour and Steve decided it was time. "So what's the story with Uncle Bob and how did you meet Dad?" asked Steve. He was trapped in the back seat of his parents' car as the traveled to his grandparents' house. He had been a voyeur and watched his parents have sex for several months. While his father was away on a business trip he had fucked his mother and found that they both like it. When his father got home instead of the fucking stopping his father and mother had invited him to join them in a threesome that had ended with Steve's hard teenage cock up his mother's ass while his father fucked her. Steve also learned that his mother had lost her cherry to her dad and had fucked her brother as well. She had just told the story about how she lost her cherry to Grandpa Dan which included her having lesbian sex with Grandma Clare. After that she had been so aroused she had fucked Steve so hard it was almost brutal. Steve's mom then licked his big prick clean, and then sucked off Steve's dad while he was driving. She had said she need a rest after all that before answering the rest of Steve's questions. Steve's mom said, "I didn't know when Dad popped my cherry at the age of eighteen and a half that that my brother Bob had been fucking my mom for about a year. He didn't go to college and after graduation had become an apprentice electrician. He been working at getting his master electrician's license for three years by then." Steve's Uncle Bob ran the largest electrical subcontractor business in the area with three locations and a bunch of people working for him. Steve always thought it was his wealth that had attracted Aunt Ashley who was a sophisticated busty redhead. Now he was having second thoughts. "Since he didn't have much money he lived at home. While I was away at camp that summer Dad had to go to pick up some livestock he had bought at auction. His truck transmission blew and stranded him a county away for a week. Mom was getting randy, remember nymphomania is a family trait." Steve thought to himself, "If that's true why doesn't my sister Suzanne seem to be a nympho? And what about my cousin Shari that is obviously a dyke?" His mother continued, "Bob came home from work one night that week tired and horny. He had done a tough job right next door to a busty redhead in a string bikini that had teased him like crazy. She was in Bob's words a rich bitch." "Busty redhead?" thought Steve, "Is she talking about Aunt Ashley?" "Bob collapsed in the family room drinking a beer and watching TV. He saw one of those beer commercials with the chicks in bikinis and had started to think about the redhead. He thought he was alone since mom wasn't supposed to get home from work for an hour or so. So Bob pulled off his pants and shorts and started to masturbate right there in the family room. He had closed his eyes and was dreaming of the redhead. Suddenly he realized there was someone there. He opened his eyes to find my mom watching him intently. Bob tried to grab his clothes and cover himself but they were too far away." "I know what you need!" said Clare. "She sunk to her knees in front of him and started to suck him off. She carefully and lovingly licked the full length of Bob's nine inch prick. Then she took it into her mouth and started sucking in earnest. Bob loved the sight of his own busty mom sucking his big tool so much he just sat back and let her suck until he blew a load right into her mouth. Clare swallowed the whole thing like a cat lapping up milk. He was so horny that even after shooting his wad like that Bob's big cock was still hard. Clare got off her knees and pulled her sun dress off over her head. Mom has a bad habit of not wearing any underwear in the summer so she was now naked in front of Bob. Her large proud tits capped with large brown aureole and big nipples, slim waist, and curvy hips all capped her blonde furred cunt. Before he could say or do anything She straddled him, took his full cock all the way into her cunt, and fucked him by pounding up and down hard and fast. Bob nicknamed that kind of fuck the fast and furious." "Just like the kind I just got from you here in the backseat?" said Steve. "Just like that!" said Steve's mother, "So that's when Bob and Mom started fucking each other like rabbits. They did it every day that week as soon as the two of them got home from work. Their hot fuck sessions would last for hours and Mom even taught Bob a thing or two like how to fuck a woman up the ass. Then Dad got home. Instead of being crazy about it Bob and Dad shared Mom. They would fuck her anytime they wanted and sometimes together." "Wow!" said Steve, "Its pretty much just like you, Dad and I. History repeats itself!" "That's right!" said Steve's mother, "But Bob and I were different. Dad had popped my cherry and I would fuck Mom or him whenever I started to get horny which is to say quite often. One day Dad was in my room and had just started giving it to me when Bob walked by and saw us. Because he and Dad had been sharing Mom he figured this was the same. He came into the room and undressed. Dad was fucking me doggie so I was on all fours on the bed facing away from the door. Then next thing either of us knew there was Bob in front of me, naked, with a huge boner waving in front of my face." "I have what you need!" said Bob. "Bob then pushed his throbbing prick in contact with my lips. I just opened up and before I knew it his cock was in my mouth. I was being fucked at both ends!" "She can deep throat anyone." Dad told Bob. "So Bob moved closer and shoved his entire prick down my throat. I was really in heaven! Bob reached forward and grabbed the nipples on my tits pulling them in a way that hurt and excited the hell out of me at the same time. The two beautiful cocks plunged in and out of my body until I came, shaking and shuddering like mad. All of this movement pulled on my nipples still held firmly in Bob's grasp and made me cum even harder. Both Dad and my brother Bob shot huge loads into me." "Have you ass fucked her yet?" Bob asked my father. "Sure have!" said Dad, "She's got a great tight ass!" "Then want to do her back to front?" said Bob, "I'd like to try her cunt!" "I wasn't totally sure what I was in for but I trusted Dad. Bob pulled over a chair I had there in my room and sat on it his big prick sticking up still hard." "Go on over and sit on it!" said Dad. "I went over and holding onto my brother's shoulders I lowered my wet pussy down onto his cock taking it all inside of me. I started to slid up and down enjoying the feel of Bob's fucker in my cunt. Suddenly Dad pushed down on my shoulders stopping my riding motion. I felt his hands pull my ass cheeks apart. I had had Dad's prick in my ass before by then but not with another rod up my twat. Dad was slow and gentle and before I knew I had two huge cocks filling me up." "Its your show!" said Dad. "I quickly found that I could slid up and down on both big fuckers at the same time. I was in heaven again. Bob grabbed my nipples again and the motion of my riding up and down pulled on those sensitive nubs like crazy. I rode them both like stallions until they flooded both my holes with sweet cum. It was so intense I thought I would lose my mind. And so I started fucking Bob too. Sometimes all four of us would spend the weekend naked and just fucking whenever, wherever and whomever in various positions and combinations. That's when we set the rules." "Rules, what rules?" questioned Steve. "Oh you will learn the rules soon enough." said Steve's mother. Steve said, "How did Dad get involved with all this?" "Well Steve this part I know." said Steve's father. While Steve's father started to talk, his mother climbed over the seat again. She unsnapped his Levis again and started to gently and lovingly lick and suck his cock. "Don't mind if I have a snack while your Dad tells this part?" said Steve's mom. "Remember rule number one!" said Steve who was quite happy to have his cock sucked by his wanton minx of a mother. "It was my second year in college and your mom's first" said Steve's dad, "I was walking from my late chem lab one night and I saw two guys attacking your mom. One of them held her arms behind her back and the other was tearing off her shirt. The two morons were yelling "Show us those tits!" while your mom was screaming "No No No, let go of me!" at the top of her lungs. I shouted, "Stop right there!". The one guy came at me and luckily he wasn't much of a fighter and a little drunk. I was able to knock him out cold. The other guy released your mother and came at me too. He was a little tougher but I ended up knocking him out too. I went to your mom who was sobbing and put my coat around her to cover her up. She was hysterical and saying "Take me home!" I took her to my car and she was able to sob out her home address which was a forty minute drive from campus. It was a silent drive punctuated occasionally by your mom's soft sobs. I took her home and walked her up the steps to the door where Dan and Clare met us. They invited me in. Your mother started to take off my coat and asked if I wanted a feel as a reward. Your mother didn't know but in my senior year of high school I had been pranked by a busty cheerleader and hated big tit women believing them to be stupid and scheming. I screamed at her that I hadn't helped her just to be able to cop a cheap feel of some airhead's udders. I went right out the door slamming it behind me." "You called mom an airhead?" said Steve, "And called those great titties udders?" "I was really mad and my prior experience had convinced me that the stereotype of big boobed women being stupid was correct." said Steve's dad. "Lucky for me it was a good coat and the tailor had sewn a tag into the lining with my name. Your mother used that to find me on campus. She told me the incident had convinced her to move back home and commute to college. She also asked me out on a date to apologize for her unthinking comments. She explained she had been really upset and was pretty convinced that I had only helped to get a chance to help myself. She said that kind of stuff happened to her a lot." "Un huh" hummed Steve's mom around Steve's cock which was down her throat right then. "So I went out with her to give her a chance to show me she wasn't an air headed, arrogant, pair of big tits. I quickly found out that your mom is a smart, loving woman. We dated for only a month but it was after only the fourth date we first fucked. Lovemaking with your mom is fabulous as you well know but our orgasms were legendary. We did everything two people could do in that one month. In the orchard on the hill behind your grandparents' house while the cherry blossoms fell I got down on one knee with a ring in my hand and asked your mom to marry me." "Yes" said Steve partially because he liked the story and partially because he was shooting a load of cum down his mother's throat right then. "But your mother said no! She ran from me right back to your grandparents' house like the devil himself was chasing her. I ran back too and found her laying across her bed crying like mad. She managed to sob out that we could never marry that I would never understand. I was really confused and tried to talk to her but got nowhere. Clare came in right then and told me that I should go to my room. A little while later she came in and said that everything would be explained in just a little while. First I should undress and put on the robe she was handing me, a blue silk robe. She said she would be back in a few minutes. I was surprised when Clare came back in wearing nothing but a lavender silk robe herself. She lead me downstairs to the family room. As we entered the doorway a tremendous sight met my eyes." At this point Steve's mother had released his still hard prick and got on all fours on the backseat. Her dress was pulled up to her waist revealing her shapely ass and her cunt which was already starting to drip juice. Steve didn't even speak he just positioned himself behind her and shoved his fuck rod up her hot waiting quim. The two lovers started a slow loving fuck while Steve's dad continued the story. "There was your mother naked on the floor on all fours over Dan's body. Crouching behind her was Bob. Dan was obviously fucking his daughter's juicy cunt and Bob was up his sister's ripe ass. Ashley sat on the leather couch dressed in black silk robe watching and fingering her coppery cunt." "Well" said Clare, "What do you think?" "As I watched your mom being double fucked by her father and brother her body jumping and twisting with passion I came to two conclusions. First that your mom was a tremendous nympho that couldn't get enough as long as the man treated her with love and respect and secondly that I wanted to be one of those men for the rest of my life! "I think she has another hole" I told Clare, "that needs to be filled with a hard cock!" Clare sighed a sigh of relief and reached forward pulling on the knot in the belt holding my robe together. My robe came open and I quickly shed it. I straddled Dan's prone body and placed my cock-head at your mother's lips. "I have what you need!" I said. She opened her mouth and fixed me with a stare of pure lust. I drove my prick all the way down her talented throat. Dan, Bob, and I plunged into her until we all creamed in her hot holes, all three of them!" The car suddenly decelerated causing Steve's big pecker to push into his mom up to the hilt. Steve's mother moaned with pleasure at the sudden deep intrusion into her hot twat. He and his mom swayed as the car made the turn into his grandparents' driveway. "We're here!" said his father, "I will let them know while you two finish up. Come on in when you're ready." Steve's father slipped the car into park and exited the driver's door closing it behind him. Steve wondered what was waiting for them inside and how Aunt Ashley ended up going from a cock-teasing rich bitch to a willing orgy participant. And where did his sister and cousin fit into all this? His mother pushed back against him trying to force more of his hard fuck rod up her hot pussy. "Oh don't tease me." she moaned, "Give me what I need!" "Wow! You really can't get enough!" thought Steve to himself. Steve decided to follow his mom's urging and fuck her good before going into his grandparents' house to find the answers to these many new mysteries. He started to pound his hard cock into his mom's body harder and faster. "Oh Stevie!" his mom squealed with delight, "You know what I need!" Wonderland Ch. 05 Thatcher looked over his shoulder at me, lifting up one eyebrow in response. For a second, he looked like he was going to retort with something smartass like usual, but instead he let out a heavy sigh. "Put your arms around me. I don't want you to fall off and God forbid go unconscious." I did as I was told, the close proximity giving me a whiff of leather and male musk. Clearly Thatcher did not believe in wearing Axe – a first for a guy in high school. "Is that your way of politely insinuating you want me to be quiet?" I asked his shoulder blades. Thatcher revved the motor once before looking over his shoulder at me again, though this time a small grin lit up his face. "Hang on," he chuckled, intentionally avoiding the question. I buried my face in Thatcher's back, fighting a squeal as the bike roared beneath me and zoomed off down the path. Over the sound of the bike engine and shifting gears I could hear the rumbling thunder, but I was too chicken to look around, afraid that I would puke if I snuck a peek. I didn't like motorcycles. They made me feel unprotected and exposed to everything, bad drivers and the elements included. But as Thatcher neatly zipped through the forest, warning me in advance of curves or of low-lying branches, my fear began to – slowly – slip away. When I felt the bike bounce onto smooth asphalt I lifted my head, squealing when I got a raindrop right in my eye. "Which way?" Thatcher called as he pulled up to a stop sign. I peeked around again before choking out, "Left. To Bella Lane. Big white house. Can't miss it," before burying my face in his back again, ignoring his laugh as he pulled away from the sign. Thatcher shifted gears again, moving it into high gear as we wound through the hills. When we reached my house, he pulled up into the drive and parked, gently prying my fingers from their place deep in his chest and helped me off the bike. He took one look at my face and busted out laughing, clutching his ribs softly, and his laughter careened off a couple minutes later. I stared at him unblinkingly and he shook his head, taking off the helmet for me. "Never again," I breathed, shaking my head slowly. "I boycott anything with an engine and two wheels from this day forward." Thatcher rolled his dark eyes as he put the helmet over his head. "It's not for everyone," he joked. "Try to not miss the bus next time, Kitten." I lifted my eyebrow. "Kitten?" I repeated dryly. Thatcher chuckled and gestured to his chest. "You nearly clawed me to ribbons. Trim those things every once in a while," he joked, winking at me. I caught his wrist when he went to reverse, finally managing to get past my shock. "What kind of person parks their bike in the middle of a hiking trail deep in the woods? What were you doing in there anyway, Thatch?" Thatcher's smile faded slightly and I didn't miss the cloudy expression that darkened his eyes. "Now Kitten, I can't give away all my secrets on the first date," he joked, the humor in his tone definitely strained. He released the clutch to pry my fingers from his wrist, giving them a soft squeeze before he let go. "Get inside before it rains." I caught his jacket sleeve and the warning in his eyes. "T-Thanks, Thatcher. For the ride and...and for saving me back there in the woods," I said quickly, stumbling a little over my words. I released his jacket and stepped back, adjusting my bag on my shoulder. Thatcher watched me for a moment before he winked, a small smile pulling up the corners of his lips. "Sure thing, Kitten." He backed out of the drive and turned, zooming back down in the hill, the sound of him shifting gears reaching my ears long after he was out of sight. "Well that was weird," I told myself out loud, turning to walk back into the house. "Mom?" I called out as I dropped my bag on the kitchen counter. "Anyone?" The house echoed silence and after a quick look around, I found no one was home and mom hadn't left a note or message on the answering machine. Suddenly a spike of fear went down my spine and I raced out of the house and through the backyard, pushing open the door of the pool house. It was cold and dark, and the place smelt like chlorine and must. There was no sign of Talon. Wiping my clammy palms on my jeans, I did one last walk around before sitting on the edge of the bed Talon had used the first night he was here, which felt like a lifetime ago. So much had happened in such a short span of time: Talon's arrival, our bonding, Connor's arrival... The incident at Lake Wonder seemed like forever ago. I picked up the pillow that still held the indentation of his large head and pressed it to my face. The smell that filled my lungs was so entirely Talon that tears pricked white-hot at the backs of my eyes and my arms tightened on the pillow as I buried my face into its plush. I stayed in that position until my body ached, then I curled up in a ball at the end of the bed until the afternoon light began to dim. With a sigh I looked around the darkening pool house and confirmed once again to myself that Talon had left here a long time ago, perhaps even last night. I walked back to the house and settled down with a Lean Cuisine, rubbing my chest just below my left collarbone where a dull ache was beginning to form as I flipped through the TV channels. Despite one of my favorite shows being on tonight, I couldn't pay attention to the snarky and slightly pathetic doctor that touted arbitrary diagnoses at everyone while he limped around popping happy pills. I was too busy thinking of a tall, blue, winged male and wondering why in the hell he wasn't here with me, and whether or not he was in trouble. I sighed and sank further down into the couch, letting the crippled genius work out how to cure the male porn star, all the while completely oblivious to the storm that was raging around me, in more ways than one. +++ Thatcher had barely rolled his "borrowed" motorcycle beneath a blue tarp strung up through the pine trees when the rain started coming down hard. While the forest canopy overhead did much to block out the rain, it wasn't enough, and the accumulating fog caused from the cool air meeting the heated earth didn't help matters any either. He cut the ignition and took off the helmet, his eyes straying to the hastily prepared camp where his firewood was beginning to get damp. After pulling a blanket over the Kawasaki, he finished prepping camp, his spine tingling with awareness when he realized he wasn't alone. "The girl is safe, Táxim-se?" asked a woman's voice void of emotion. Thatcher grunted in response as he pulled off his leather jacket and replaced it with a hooded sweater and slick rain coat, pulling both sets of hoods over his head to block out the moisture. "Kitini found the location of the tracker's camp, Táxim-se," the girl continued, her monotonic and halting way of speech too familiar to him now to grate on his nerves. Thatcher eyed his small advisor in surprise. Bayothet tilted her head then, her large mismatched brown and blue eyes reading him carefully. "Continue, Bayothet," Thatcher said quietly, turning his eyes towards his soggy firewood to defend himself from analytical gaze. She did after a moment, watching as he knelt and began to build up a fire. "The tracker was following another camp. Their trail leads towards Queensland. A new set of tracks appeared halfway to the town of Desmond, meeting up with the main camp. After that the tracker's trail goes cold." Thatcher paused from shoving kindling into the small firewood tepee he had made and looked up at Bayothet. "Goes cold?" he repeated slowly. Bayothet smiled chillingly down at him, which was her normal smile. "Kitini believes the tracker either made himself known or was discovered accidentally and taken with those in the other camp. His trail went cold—" "Because he's being carried, meaning he's unconscious," Thatcher finished quietly, rocking back onto his heels once he had the fire going. Kitini was one of his best trackers, a descendant of one of the tracking bloodlines that had been crucial to operations during the Great Battle. Tracking her quarry required registering thermal energy and scent, among other things. When Kitini lost a trail that meant the quarry had been cloaked or knocked out. In this case, it had been both. Apparently, this group did not want anyone to find them. "Whatever his intentions were following the campers, he's stuck with them," Thatcher said after a while, turning his attention back to the conversation. "I can't imagine why they would want to keep him," he tagged on in afterthought. "To retrieve information," Bayothet said matter-of-factly. "That would be the tracker's only worth to them." Thatcher nodded slightly, drifting off again. "I wonder who the other set of tracks belong to." "Josef retraced the path, but it was too erratic." "Erratic how?" Thatcher asked curiously, his brow furrowing. "The scent is potent, Táxim-se. Joset traced it to many parts of these woods and to some areas of the city." Thatcher understood immediately. "The one responsible for the scent lives nearby – and uses the forest to hunt," he murmured slowly, his black eyes wandering over the foggy forest bottom around them. "Did Joset manage to find a starting point?" "Yes. At your human's house." Thatcher felt every muscle in his body tense, but to his credit he did not get flustered by Bayothet's accusation or the information she had just imparted. "Is the scent...one of our own?" For once, Bayothet smiled warmly. "No, Táxim-se, it is a Gargoyle's. An Ancient Gargoyle's." Thatcher could not help but stare up at her in surprise. An Ancient Gargoyle consorting with a human? It was unheard of! Thatcher's inner eye went back to the small, pale girl with hair the color of fine red wine who had sassed him, defended him, and ultimately went pale-faced on the back of a motorcycle. How could such an innocent harbor such an enormous secret? How hadn't she been killed upon discovering the old soul? Why had she even agreed to keep the Gargoyle safe? Thatcher fell into silence, amassed by questions that did not have answers, entirely unaware of Bayothet's growing impatience or of the slowly escalating tempo of storm that surrounded them. Tempest was definitely someone to watch, Thatcher thought to himself. She knew things, had answers to riddles that he desperately needed. She was guarding a valuable key to ending the perpetual war that had killed far too many. But how could he get closer to her? How could he win her trust? His eyes strayed to the ratty quilted blanket that covered his bike, a smile coming to his face. "Táxim-se?" Bayothet asked as quietly as she could. He met her mismatched eyes and nodded as he confirmed his next course of action was a good one. "Go with Kitini. Take the others. I will stay here and learn what I can from Tempest." When she opened her mouth to propose a smarter plan undoubtedly, Thatcher arched an eyebrow. "That is an order, Bayothet." She shut her mouth with an audible clack. Bayothet blinked and bowed low before moving out from beneath the tarp and into the fog surrounding them. "Bayothet." She turned on her heel, standing at attention. "Just follow them," Thatcher said carefully. "Do not make your presence known. Interfere only if absolutely necessary. If the camp arrives at the Queensland Mountains, do not go any further." He turned back to the fire. "I cannot afford to lose anymore of my people to the Elders." "What of those in the camp? Should they not be warned?" "Only those who obey and believe in the blasphemy of the Elders know their way into the stronghold. Little use in warning them, I think." Bayothet made a noise torn between disgust and disproval. Thatcher knew it was directed at the Elders and the mindless obedience of those who carried out their orders, but he could not turn up his nose entirely at the situation. There had been a time when he too had followed all commands, even the ghastly ones, without batting an eye. He was still paying his penance for those misdeeds. "What of the Ancient?" Bayothet tried again. "This Gargoyle cannot be allowed into the mountains. You know better than I do what the Elders will do to him." Thatcher dropped his chin slightly, pressing his fingertips gently to the tape on the bridge of his generous nose as a small headache began to set in, ghosts of his past flickering in his mind's eye as he thought over her words. The Ancient threw off everything. If the Gargoyle had just stayed put, everything would have turned out so much simpler. No need to track, no need to split up his group, no need to worry of being caught... Thatcher lifted up his head and fed the small fire more kindling. "Use your judgment, Bayothet. I trust that you'll make the wise decision when the time calls for it." Bayothet bowed again, silently thanking the soft spoken leader for giving her the chance to prove her worth to him, and to her ability to contribute to the pack as a whole. It was all she had ever asked for, which wasn't much. Now that he was giving in, and so readily, she knew that he was worried. She vowed to not disappoint him. "I will report back when we have found something," she promised. He nodded absently and Bayothet took her leave, eagerly lengthening her strides as she sprinted towards the mountain stronghold where the others were waiting for her. Thatcher pulled out food from his satchel, his stomach grumbling at the sight of his chopped beef sandwich. After the ridiculous beating he had taken at the hands of the jocks, he had been too sore and pissed to eat lunch. Now, he planned to remedy that. After setting up his sandwich, he tugged out the largest bag of potato chips the school cafeteria had to offer, and his favorite fizzy drink, Dr. Pepper. Thatcher ate his meal in silence, and not for the first time, alone; his thoughts wandering, despite his best efforts, to the pale girl with hair the color of crushed cherries and eyes of a soft emerald green. Tempest... She was waiting for him in his bedchambers, a fact that ignited his male pride more than he could ever say. Her creamy pale skin was a stark contrast to the dark sheets she laid upon, her hair a stain of flowing red wine against the pillows. Her eyes were dark and heavy with passion, a welcoming but nervous smile played on her full pink lips. He took a step forward, drawn to her like a sailor to a siren, watching as her body opened up like the most delicate of flowers to reveal herself to him. He stood there at the edge of the bed for long minutes, simply taking in her beauty. Her body was curved but firm, a plentiful banquet of things he ached to touch. His dark eyes wandered over her full breasts, his hands tingling with the ghost of his prior conquests, remembering the warm and abundant handfuls that he could spend hours worshiping. Her mounds were tipped with budded coral pink nipples, begging for his touch. But he couldn't stop drinking her in, he couldn't get enough. "Spread your legs," he whispered hoarsely, not missing the flush that colored her face and neck at the command. She did so slowly, and he hungrily took the complete image of her in. Her calves tightened as he knelt before her and drug his fingertips up from her ankles to her kneecaps, his eyes never leaving her center. Her crimson-colored curls were neatly trimmed, exposing sweet pink folds and swollen outer lips, revealing how much she wanted this – him. He smiled at her sharp intake of breath when his hands gently trailed down from her knees to her inner thighs, and he chuckled when she squirmed beneath him, aching for him to touch her like she wanted. While using his thumbs to massage the crease of her thighs, he gently shifted her weight so she was more exposed, pushing her legs back and up. She moaned when his thumbs pulled apart her outer lips, exposing the slick wet center that oozed small drops of liquid. He rotated his thumbs in tight, gentle circles, watching as the liquid trickled slowly from her tiny hole down to the equally pink star beneath. Sucking in a deep breath he calmed himself, ignoring the almost painful protest his cock made. He dropped her legs slowly to the mattress but kept them spread, rising above her to give the rest of her body the attention she so desperately needed. Without preamble he licked and slurped her right nipple into his mouth, grumbling in pleasure when she gave a sharp cry. Starting from her hips he caressed her sides with his palms all the way up to her breasts, fondling them slowly as he made love to one breast, then the other, taking his sweet time. He drank in every cry, every moan, every sharp gasp of pleasure; the noises only adding to his own hunger and need. Finally, he had enough. He licked a pathway up to her neck, gently nibbling on her chin before sweeping his tongue over the seam of her lips, demanding she open up to him. When she did, he plunged into her, conquering her soft swells and warm cavern with a relentless hunger. He broke the kiss to nibble on her plush mouth, pulling away to admire the raw look to them when he was finished. That was when she touched him. Her warm palms pressed to his chest, mapping the planes and cuts of his torso, her nails gently scraping over the curve of his hips and ass before returning back to his shoulders. She winked and pulled him down to her again, initiating the kiss with a passion that matched his own. When they parted again, she let out a shaky breath and looked deep into his eyes. "I need you," she murmured breathlessly, a single hand quickly moving down his firm body to the steel bar that throbbed with every heartbeat. Her dark green eyes dropped down then as her hands began to measure up his length, feeling his girth carefully. He studied her expression as she explored, unable to keep his hips from moving forward with her ministrations, his nostrils flaring with every tight breath. "I-I've never done this before," she whispered quietly, not meeting his gaze as a deep pink blush colored her high cheekbones. "Does that bother you?" Taking her hands in his to stop the torture, he brought her gaze back to his. "Of course not. I'll take care of you, I promise." She nodded her acquiescence and he fought against growling in triumph, instead kissing her softly and used one hand to check her wetness for him. She was soaked. He gently slid a finger inside her, watching her face as he flexed the digit. In response her legs widened and she jerked her hips up, unaware that she was silently begging for him with that movement. He added another finger and began to twist and pump slowly, smiling down at her as her hips rocked up to meet him. Once he had three digits sliding neatly in and out of her sheath, he knew she was ready. He used her arousal to slicken his member, hissing slightly when her hot center impatiently bumped his aching tip. "Patience, Kitten," he murmured as gently as he could. She shook her head and repeated the action, squealing when he clamped his hands around her thighs to hold her still. "Patience," he repeated firmly. She went still with a nod, trembling slightly as he reached in between them and began to push forward, greeting her slick, velvety soft muscles before retreating again, gathering dew as he repeated the actions over and over again until she broke down and begged. Gritting his teeth, he tasted salt from his sweat and the sweet cherry flavor of her lips, and unable to hold off any longer, he pushed into her virgin tunnel all the way to his hilt. The scream that left her lungs was torn between pain and relief, her muscles clamping down on him so tightly his back arched at the sensation. It took every ounce of his resilience to not cum then and there, almost like how it used to be when he was so many years younger and so untried. Wonderland Ch. 05 He waited as much as he could before he retreated slowly, pulling back through the torn veil before plunging in again. He leaned down and kissed away her tears, not pulling away when she wrapped her arms around his neck and tentatively turned up her hips to greet his assault. He took her slowly at first, whispering softly into her ear, well aware that the words probably weren't coherent, his hands running over her body to soothe her as he thrust into a beautiful rhythm that she slowly began to return. Eventually her lock down on his neck loosened and he cried out when her nails sunk into the flesh of his back. Instantly the mood changed from gentle to impatient and needy, the passion rolling off of them both as they sought to claim and possess every inch of the other's skin. Their thrusts grew shallower and erratic, a rushed beating that was almost brutal as their thighs slapped together. It wasn't long after when he knew he couldn't hold on for much longer. In an act of desperation, he gripped her by the backs of her knees and lifted up, pushing into her with a fury that had beads of sweat flinging from his skin. Within seconds, a low moan escaped her throat and he watched as she trembled and jerked beneath him, accepting his maddening thrusts until finally – she exploded. The scream rang in his ears long after, the skin at his thighs stinging as his sweat mingled with the cuts her nails given him. "Good girl, Kitten," he chuckled breathlessly as her muscles jumped and twitched around his cock. "So beautiful." Her eyes were so black that he could only barely see the small rings of green around the expanded pupils, and he chuckled when they blackened completely as his large swollen tip brushed against the spongy flesh deep within her. He repeated the angled thrust once, twice, and watched her shatter again on the third with a smile. Locking her ankles behind his back, he rode through her orgasm, biting at her neck and lips as the heat began to build up within his heavy balls. His eyes rolled back when she gave her inner muscles a tightening squeeze, and knew he was lost. With a growl that reminded him of a wild animal, he came inside her, jerking against her hips as his seed spilled into that empty womb and claimed her as no one else had before. His body shook with the strength of his release and he shakily lowered himself down to his elbows, resting his forehead on her shoulder. Her palms gently soothed over the scratches on his back, her lips pressing softly against the side of his neck as she came down from her high. He buried his spent cock deeper into their mess inside of her, holding her body tightly to him as they struggled to catch their breath. Sometime later, Thatcher turned her head towards his with shaky fingers and claimed her mouth, fighting a smile as a whimper escaped. She dug her fingers deep into his damp hair, keeping his lips to hers as their tongues met and dueled. Slowly they began to rock together, not needing to say a word. When she finally broke the kiss, Thatcher met Tempest's emerald green eyes and smiled softly down into her glowing, upturned face. Thatcher sat up swiftly, gasping hard for air. His senses returned slowly, his eyes darting around the forest as he realized it had all been a dream. With a heavy sigh, he prodded the dying fire to reignite the embers as he wiped the sweat from his face and neck, ungluing his hair from his skin. After the fire had built back up he leaned back against the tree, closing his eyes in thought. Thatcher licked his lips experimentally and wasn't surprised when he tasted only salt from his potato chips, not cherries. Seconds later he whipped them open again when he realized that the warm wet heat that bathed his upper thighs and torso wasn't caused by the fire. Swearing loud enough to make his voice echo, he stood and undressed, tossing his soiled pants and boxers before walking half-naked towards the mountain stream not but a couple paces from his camp, knowing the ice cold water would be a welcomed reprieve. Five miles away, Tempest Cohen stared wide-eyed at the white tiled wall of her shower, washing away her sweat, tears, and humiliation in water as cold as she could stand, plagued with images of an act that had seemed entirely too real to be just a dream. +++ Wonderland Ch. 06 Author's Note: Wow. Chapter Five got seriously antagonized, especially with the arrival of Thatcher. While I won't go into detail about some of the comments that really just *irked* me, I will say this: Everything I write in these chapters *is relevant*. See that? RELEVANT. So, the dream, Thatcher's arrival and Talon's subsequent M.I.A., Tempest's confusion, so on and so forth, are all part of the "grand scheme of things." So spare me the nonsense about rewrites and all that. My story is going to play out the way *I* want it. Okay, I'm stepping down from my soapbox. As usual, this work is copyrighted and any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. Enjoy the mayhem everybody! -LilyArc ++++ I dumped my British Lit book into my locker and briefly rested my skull against the doorframe, moving only when I felt someone brush against my shoulder. I opened my eyes wearily and pulled out the chunky A&P brick before shutting my locker door. A soft chuckle brought my attention to the person leaning against the locker to my left. Thatcher adjusted his jacket before smirking over at me. "You look like hell," he noted. I set my jaw and put the book in front of my chest, crossing my arms over myself. "I had a bad night, okay?" I retorted bitterly, warily taking a step back from him at the reminder. "I don't need you to get on my case about it." Thatcher held up his pale hands in surrender. "Something happen?" he asked, watching as I shifted my weight so the crowd would stop bumping into me as they passed by. I shook my head curtly in reply and gestured to the crowd. "I have to get to class. Walk me?" I took off before he could reply and only got a couple feet before his fingers caught my elbow. "Slow down, Tempest," he muttered into my ear before putting his arm around my shoulders. I stared up at him in surprise and noted his nose tape was gone, and so was much of the bruising. Wow, he must be one of those fast healers or something. "So where should I be walking you to?" Thatcher asked, his expression tightening when I stiffened under his arm. Heat rushed to my face as I recalled last night's vivid dream, which was partly responsible for why I was in a mood today. Jerkily I pulled away from his grip and crossed the busy hall to Coach Hernandez's room, trying to push those thoughts out of my head as the real reason for my pissy routine nagged at me. Talon still wasn't back. I know I had been the one to promise an easy relationship. I had told him that he could stay for as long as he needed and leave when he found some place better. It was never a permanent fix. But why had he talked about the bonding and the mating just to get up and leave the very next day? Why had he made his stay sound so long-lasting, if it wasn't really that? Had Talon just been playing mind games with me? And if he had wanted to leave so badly, why didn't he just tell me that in the first place? I wouldn't have been offended then. But now, after all that "bonding" mayhem, I felt like I had just been kicked in the face and left to deal. I sat in my seat in the back left corner of the class, my gloominess deepening when Thatcher sat in the desk in front of me and turned so he was sitting sideways in the seat. "Kitten, what's wrong?" he asked quietly, his black eyes sweeping over my face. "You look sad." I stared up at Thatcher blankly. I was pulled by so many conflicting emotions, that I wasn't sure how I wanted to react to his question. Cry? Laugh? Blush? Scream? Punch him in the nose? How could I answer him even? I licked my lips to wet them and swallowed hard. "My...my friend just left without saying anything," I said slowly, my jaw tightening as I fought tears not for the first time this morning. Thatcher, to his credit, didn't press for details or ask questions. Instead he turned in his seat further and took my right wrist in his hand, squeezing gently. "Well, now you have me," he said quietly, ignoring the bell when it rang or Coach Hernandez shutting the door behind him as he trooped in to class late as usual. I swallowed hard and smiled timidly back. "Thanks, Thatch," I said quietly, noticing how concerned he looked. Desperate to lighten the mood, I said the first thing that popped into my head. "I guess you'll do," I teased. Thatcher smiled broadly, the laugh lines around his mouth deepening, and his dark eyes went from solemn to twinkling in a heartbeat. "I'm glad you think so, Kitten," he chuckled, his laugh deepening when I made a face at the nickname and mimicked him. "Cohen? Mind telling us what's so funny?" Coach Hernandez barked out. My face turned red when I looked around to see the entire class was staring at us. I sank further into my chair as Thatcher turned to the front. "It's nothing, sir. We didn't mean to disrupt class," he replied smoothly, his neutral tone making his apology believable. Coach Hernandez blinked but nodded, gesturing to the teacher version of the A&P book that was open in front of him. "Glad to hear it. We're on page 372. Get there." Thatcher looked over his shoulder at me and I had to fight a laugh. A couple minutes into Hernandez's lecture, Thatcher excused himself, but only after I promised to sit with him at lunch. I watched as he left to go to his real third period, whatever that might be before turning back to Hernandez with a sigh. +++++ The small Tayo'c Gargoyle, Elijah, had been talking nonstop since the moment Talon had arrived at the camp earlier that morning. His excitement at first had given Talon pause, for he had never seen a child so hyper before. Then, gradually, his surprise drifted to accepting the inevitable. This child was not going to shut up. In Talon's youth, he had never been like the other children in the clan. As the successor of his father and future clan leader, his duties had been directed at making him the best possible leader, even at an early age. He had not grown up playing games, unless they were designed to teach him about war strategy or aid him in his decision-making. He had not grown up running around with the other young boys -- he had attended every council meeting his father had been a part of, no matter how miniscule or important they were. Some adult of rank was constantly teaching him policy or correcting his fighting techniques. It was all he knew. So to hear this young Gargoyle chat on and on about these plastic toys that changed from cars to robots -- called "Transformers" -- Talon could not help but note the differences in this youth and his childhood. "Elijah," Connor interrupted when the small boy had taken a breath. "Ursula and Quincy are going to scout. Would you go with them?" This was exactly the diversion Talon needed. Elijah released his hand with a pout but nodded and smiled up at Talon. "You aren't going to fly ahead, are you?" he asked, his big blue eyes wide and pleading. Talon ruffled his hair and laughed as the boy punched his thigh in recant, smoothing his hair as he backed away. "I'll be here, with the others," Talon vowed, watching Elijah's face light up. "Good! I'll be back!" he called over his shoulder as he followed the two females through the forest undergrowth, his chatter picking up again when he caught up with them. Connor turned to Talon, his clawed fingertips clicking together thoughtfully. "You aren't much of a kid person, are you?" he asked after a while, his dark eyes twinkling with unreleased laughter. Talon shrugged his shoulders and looked around the forest. "I have little experience with them. It was never part of my training." The Drul, Damien, let out a snort of disbelief. "How Spartan." Talon's brow furrowed but he did not ask the obvious, instead turning his attention to the still unconscious frame of the Raspan tracker. He took a step forward and looked down at the body, his eyes trailing to the bloody crescent across the left-side of the Raspan's forehead, where Talon's left wing forearm had struck. The Raspan had gone down almost instantly after his attack, much to Talon's surprise. The Raspan's, in their natural form, were usually difficult to defeat. But like his Gargoyle brethren, they too had been diminished in stature. That could be the only reason as to why he was so easy to take down. "He isn't trained for combat," the Drul said suddenly, as though he knew where Talon's thoughts had gone. "Trackers are slimy little shits...they are known to take cheap shots whenever possible -- which is exactly what he did." Talon mentally recanted his earlier thought and eyed the Drul. "Have you seen the warriors?" he asked curiously. Damien's eyes dropped to the Raspan, but not before Talon saw the fear in those amber irises. Damien, undoubtedly, had encountered Raspans before. "Yes," the Drul whispered, taking a step towards the Raspan. "It was a long time ago, but...I will never forget what I saw." Damien swallowed hard as he squatted down beside the Raspan, his amber eyes raking over the scrawny male's face. "They were part of the Raspan elite. They were 'training' in an old warehouse on the Jersey side of the Bay. I had followed them there under orders to obtain one of my own who they had kidnapped earlier that week. When I got inside...they were torturing her for her magic." Damien's eyes flashed as he looked up at Talon. "The Drul's are the only ones capable of the magic that can transfigure one form to another. The Raspan elite were the first to obtain human bodies. It became a meaning of survival for the Gargoyles and the Lunar to do the same." He looked back at the Raspan, who seemed to be stirring. "These elitists were not of very high rank, but they wanted human forms too. After she gave them what they wanted...they cut her into pieces to prevent her magic from returning to the earth, each one taking a piece of her with them once they parted." "What did you do?" Talon asked quietly, watching as the Drul's expression became smooth. Cruel amber eyes met curious grey. "I used a spell to freeze them in place and then another to burn them alive," he answered quietly, his amber eyes returning to the wide-awake Raspan. "And I would do it again in a heartbeat," he vowed to the tracker. Talon fought a smile as he looked at the tracker as well. This Drul, Damien, was full of surprises. The Raspan checked his bound wrists and ankles, wincing as the earth magic in the bonds began to take effect as to prevent the Raspan's transformation and therefore his escape. He hissed loudly and arched his spine as he fought the magic, collapsing back onto the ground, his chest heaving when he realized his struggle was pointless. Talon smiled when their eyes met and the Raspan tracker shivered, cowering away. "We are going to ask you a few questions," Connor began, breaking the tense silence between them. "The Drul will know if you are lying, so I suggest you try to be as sincere in your answers as you possibly can. If not, I am positive that you will die." The Raspan chuckled and shook his head. "You think I fear death?" he whispered, the thin, slick tone sending shivers of disgust through Talon. Clearly evolution had not bred out the characteristic smoothness of the Raspan kind. Talon leaned forward and the Raspan's face shot to his. Despite the brave words, Talon could see the fear in his eyes. He smiled again. "You fear me, Raspan. Worry about what I will do." The Raspan's right eye twitched and he jerkily turned his face away, his black eyes looking down at the bindings of his ankles. "What do you want to know?" he asked in a small voice, his thin lips trembling as he spoke. "Why were you following us?" Connor asked, watching Talon warily as the Gargoyle stroked the dagger at his waist, threatening the Raspan without words to answer -- and quickly. "Those were my orders," the Raspan scoffed, as though it was obvious. And it was. "Sent by whom?" Damien inquired. The Raspan lifted up his chin, a shaky smile crossing his narrow face. "I don't know," he taunted. "They come to me by mail." A split second later, Talon watched as the Raspan grew stiff and bone white, his black eyes widening before suddenly he began to tremble all over. His mouth flopped open in a silent scream as he body began to spasm violently against the hard ground, his eyes rolling back in his head. Talon looked over at the Drul and saw the male's amber eyes had turned the color of blood, his eyes wide as he stared at the Raspan unblinkingly. The Raspan's spasms began to grow in violence, and with each passing second Talon noted the ground around the Drul was turning black. "Damien," Connor murmured. The Drul blinked and released the spell on the tracker, who in turn gasped and moaned incoherently as he shivered at their feet. "Who gives you your orders?" Connor tried again once the Raspan stopped gasping for air. Talon admired the fear and hatred within the Raspan's black eyes, especially when they rested upon the Drul. "I work for whoever hires my services," the Raspan shuddered, his head twitching slightly. Talon noted how he was working the binds on his ankles and wrists and with a sigh he pulled out his dagger and showed it to the Raspan. "Keep still, or you'll experience firsthand what it is like to have your innards carved out of your body," Talon said quietly as he deftly sliced open the Raspan's thin cotton shirt, exposing the scarred and pale torso. Just to rattle the tracker's cage a little, he let the tip of the blade trace down the Raspan's stomach, the male drawing his belly in away from the touch. "Keep still," Talon reiterated, punctuating his words with his own magic. The Raspan shuddered and the smell of feces reached Talon's nose. Pulling away his blade, he met the Drul's eyes purposefully. In his youth, magic had not been used for means of torture. They would be no better than the enemy if they resorted to such methods. Damien recanted after a second of inner fury, his golden amber eyes dropping to the ground in shame. "Who hired you for this job?" Talon asked patiently as he proceeded to sharpen his blade. "Commander Saun," the Raspan admitted in a hiss. Talon eyed the other two but Connor merely shrugged. "There are so many of them, I am not surprised if I don't recognize any of their names anymore," Connor explained, crossing his arms as he stared down at the Raspan. "Or he could just be pulling a name out of his ass." The Raspan hissed and received a blow to the face from the Drul for his efforts. "Why does Commander Saun want you to follow this camp?" Talon asked as he watched the Raspan straighten up. "They know the way to the Elders," the Raspan murmured, spitting out blood onto the ground beside Damien's feet. The Drul raised his hand threateningly and the tracker cowered, glaring with muted rage all the while. Talon sighed. This was getting them nowhere. "I'm growing impatient, tracker," Talon hissed, smoothly slicing across the Raspan's belly. It was a shallow cut, but the blood that dotted and formed a line had the Raspan stuttering quickly. "I'll t-tell you, j-just keep t-that thing aw-way from me!" Talon tried not to gag as the smell of the Raspan's blood reached his nostrils, but he did cringe and turn his head away to inhale the breeze that swept over them from the south. When he managed to gain control again, he turned back to the tracker. "Tell me everything," he growled his voice husky with irritation and disgust. And the Raspan tracker proceeded to do just that. "Commander Saun sent me a letter a few weeks ago, after an attack on a small Raspan family was made in Florida. This group," he gestured to Damien and Connor, "were in the general area, as well as many others. Trackers were sent out to follow each hunting party. I've been following then ever since." He eyed the group of them. "Can I have some water? All this confessing makes me thirsty." "No," the three males snorted. The Raspan sighed and continued. "You idiots were talking about the Elders -- thanks to little Elijah, I have more information to send back to Saun, including the Elders location; Queensland Mountains." He grinned crookedly, revealing a mess of sharp teeth that made Talon tongue over his experimentally. Surely his didn't look like that? "Is that it?" Talon grunted after a mental shake of his head, standing up when the tracker nodded. He turned to the Drul and watched a triumphant look filter through his reddening eyes. "Kill him. Be quick about it." Talon turned his back on the trio and headed in the direction the girls and Elijah had gone; the Raspan's cries of mercy like sweet music to his ears. +++++ Thatcher shifted in his seat on the bike when the final bell rang for the day. After only a few moments, the school lawn was a hive of activity and the parking lot became the Indy 500. He chuckled when a late model Jaguar rolled up the curb and a kid wearing a sweater vest and blue pressed shirt complained about the other kids seeing him being picked up. He raked his dark eyes over the gathered masses and found who he was looking for practically sprinting towards the buses. Her hair was damp from a shower and she was wearing clothes he knew couldn't be on par with the dress code. For a moment he was content to study her tanned skin against the white tank and short pink shorts she wore, the fabric showcasing her curves. With a shake of his head, he reminded himself of why he was really here, and it had nothing to do with Tempest Cohen. Thatcher revved his bike once and watched her jump in mid-sprint, her eyes darting over to him in shock. Smiling crookedly, he patted the seat and watched as her face went from flushed pink to delicate rose. Shyly she ducked her head to avoid the glances of everyone who was staring -- like who gave a flying fuck, really -- and quickly walked over to him. "Yes?" she asked, a little out of breath, her eyes looking everywhere but at him. For a moment, Thatcher contemplated asking her what the problem was. She had been having trouble meeting his eyes all day. At lunch she went as far as to answer in monosyllables until he gave up having conversation completely. It was almost like she was embarrassed or something. As though Thatcher made her nervous. Instantly, images of last night popped into his head and Thatcher stiffened. Surely, his dream had been private, a one-man show? Thatcher held out the motorcycle helmet, and shook off the scary thought, fighting a smile as Tempest glared at the offering. "I was going to grab some pizza. I thought you might be interested." In that moment the wind blew from the south, sending her scent over him like a tsunami. His first general reaction was to groan, but he managed to subdue it; though the second action -- his pants tightening considerably -- couldn't be overcome as easily. To cover up the obvious, Thatcher swung his leg over the seat and started the ignition. When he realized she still hadn't moved, he gave her a look. "Pizza sounds better than a stinky long bus ride. Your choice, Kitten." Tempest's eyes met his and she snorted sarcastically as she took the helmet. "I don't see much of a choice here," she joked. "You could still leave and catch the bus," he pointed out, his chest tightening at the clean flowery scent that washed over him. Not the place for those thoughts. Never know who might be listening in... "No thanks," she told him as she swung up behind him and adjusted her bag before putting her arms around his waist. Thatcher wasn't unaware of her hesitation, but could do nothing about it. What happened last night well...it happened. Donning a pair of sunglasses, Thatcher put the bike into gear and darted between two minivans, laughing at Tempest's squeal as they sped out of the school parking lot. On cue, her nails sunk into the flesh of his stomach and he swore in that moment to supervise her future nail trimmings. Wonderland Ch. 06 Stevie Meets the Red Queen "Unhuh," moaned Steve, "Your cunt feels teriffic mom!" Steve was plowing his mother's field right here in the backseat of his parent's car in the driveway of his grandparents' house. He was doing her doggie after the two of them geting so hot they practically glowed. They had been listening to the story of how his mother started fucking her brother Bob. And then they heard the story of how Steve's father got involved with his mother and her obviously constantly horny family. All of this stimulation was too much for the pair and they had started to fuck like famished sailors. Luckily there were no houses anywhere close to this place so they didn't have to worry about anyone else watching. Steve knew his mother was totally naked under the light sun dress so as he quickened his thrusting into her hot hungry twat he reached forward and started to unbutton the front of her dress. After Steve had undone four buttons her large bouncy tits dropped out of the top of the dress right into his waiting hands. He started to massage the doughy mounds and the large hard nipples that topped them. Steve was thrilled by the sensations no matter how many times he squeezed his mom's big boobs or fucked her hot pussy. "Oh Stevie" keened his mother, "I'm coming!" His mother's pussy grabbed and massaged Steve's cock as she came causing Steve to shoot his load into her wet cunt. The two lovers stayed holding each other coming slowly down from their orgasmic peak. Suddenly his mother disentangled herself, opened the car door, jumped out, and started to run up the walkway to the house. "See you inside Stevie!" she called waving as she disappeared in the front door which his father had already entered a while ago while the two were finishing their fucking. "Wow people go and come here so fast." said Steve laughing at his own joke. Steve walked up the walkway and knocked on the front door. The door swung open and Steve was greeted by the sight of his Grandma Clare wearing nothing but a short lavendar silk robe. She was only in her fifties and both time and genetics had been kind to her. She still had the figure of the girl that had won several beauty contests when she was younger, her face was still smooth with only a few small lines to betray her age, and her large breasts were just starting to yield to the constant pull of gravity. "No need to knock Steve!" said his Grandma, "We've all been waiting for you and Helen to get done fucking in the driveway. It was quite a show!" Steve turned red to hear his Grandmother talk about his screwing his mother almost like she was discussing the weather. "What do I do now Grandma?" asked Steve. His Grandma looked at him with an icy stare for a few seconds and then eased back to a friendly genial demeanor. "Up the stairs to your usual room Steve. Someone will come up and explain things to you." said his Grandmother closing the front door as he entered the foyer of the house. Steve walked up the wooden stairs to the landing at the top. The room he usually stayed in was on the right at the head of the stairs. He opened the door and walked into the room which was familiar and suddenly totally unfamiliar. On the bed was a light blue men's silk robe. Suddenly the door slammed open and his uncle Bob strode into the room. "Well better get naked and put on your robe." said Steve's uncle, "I am here to tell you the rules. The first rule is that the robe colors are significant." Steve had started to undress and found that he was suddenly not bothered by getting naked in front of his own uncle. "Blue is for guys who only like girls." continued Uncle Bob, "Pink is for girls who only like guys. Yellow is girls that only like girls, green is for guys who only like guys, altough we have never used green yet. Finally purple is for those who swing both ways. The colors represent your main interests so Helen wears pink altough she will have a session with one of the other women sometimes. We guessed at blue for you, is that ok?" "Un sure." said Steve, "I've never done anything with another guy and I don't think I want to Uncle Bob." "Great. That is rule number two. We don't use any titles here only first names. So your mom is Helen, I'm Bob, etc. get it?" "Un sure." said Steve realizing why his Grandmother had that flash of anger at the door. "Next is how you get laid, the important rule. If you want to have sex with some one you stand in front of them, pull your sash knot, and open your robe. If they want to have sex with you they will pull their knot and open their robe too. Don't be put off if they don't, this is not dating and they aren't rejecting you. They probably are tired from another session or two and need some rest. Believe me even you will find there are times you don't want to open your robe in spite of all with the gorgeous and talented women around here. The last rule is that if you start to have a session with someone anyone else can join in. We aren't exclusive around here and we don't allow anyone to be possesive!" "Wait!" said Steve, "When you did the colors you didn't mention black. Isn't A...a...Ashley's robe black?" Steve had to work to not put the aunt in front of her name. "You'll get used to the name thing." said Bob, "We had to come up with another color for Ashley because she is really different." "What makes her different?" asked Steve. "Well Steve the plain fact is that Ashley likes men that are firm with her. You don't ask Ashley for sex you kind of tell her she's going to fuck you. Sometimes it takes persuasion." "What do you mean persuasion?" asked Steve. "Well Ashley likes men who take charge. The first time we met I was doing a wiring job at the house next to her parent's place. She kept teasing me by laying out in her backyard in a string bikini and rubbing her fine body all over with suntan lotion and ice cubes. She really put on a show! The last day I was there she masterbated herself while looking right at me. I had enough. I charged across the lawn and grabbed her. She said, "You can't please me." I was livid. I tore her bikini right off that fine body of hers and threw her onto the lawn. As I was taking off my clothes she got up to run. I did a leg sweep and took her feet right out from under her. She fell to the ground hard enough that even those nice juggs couldn't keep her from getting the wind knocked out of her. I was naked now my cock hard for this teasing bitch! I turned her over onto her back while holding her arms behind her with one hand. She saw my big dick and said, "Oh god!" I pushed her legs apart capturing her ankles in my armpits. I pushed forward slowly so she had plenty of time to see my big fucker push up to the outer lips of that coppery cunt. I pushed forward and to both of our's surprise it slipped easily into her now very wet twat. I continued to enter her pussy slowly until she was totally impaled on my cock, her body bent in two so our faces were only inches apart. I stared into those piercing green eyes as I started to fuck that incredible cunt. At first she just stared right back and then as the heat in our groins started to spread into both our bodies she started to twist and moan. I realized it was with pleasure so I continues to thrust into her faster and faster as we both stared right into each other's eyes. We screwed for a long time until we both started to cum. As the orgasm started to wrench her body out of her concious control I bent forward even more putting her ankles next to her ears and I kissed her. I pushed my tongue into her mouth and frenched her as we both jerked and twisted in our climax. After we both stopped coming I released her. She wrapped her arms around me and kissed my like no one had kissed me before or since! She told me most men were scared either of her beauty or of her weathly powerful father. As a result most men begged her for sex. She had been waiting for a man who wasn't afraid of taking it from her. We got married only two months later, she was preggers with Shari four months later, and have been happy ever since. Her father didn't want Daddy's little girl to live below her station so he helped me start my contracting business. I surprised him with how smart I am and how well I have grown the business. He even respects me now." "Wow Steve," said Bob, "it looks like you liked that story!" Steve looked down and realized that his big cock was fully hard and sticking out of the front of the short silk robe. "You need to get laid quick!" said Bob. "Where's Ashley?" asked Steve. "I thought that story would convience you to start with Ashley. She's down in the laundry room. You know where that is. Why don't you go down and say Hi." Steve crept down the creaky wooden stairs at first until he realized he didn't need to sneak around. His boner stuck out of the front of the short blue robe and was so hard it barely even bobbed up and down when he walked. At the bottom of the stairs he realized he had a choice. If he turned left he would go down the short hallway to the family room where he could probably find, and fuck, his mom and grandma. If he turned right he would go around to another staircase that led down into the basement where the laundry room was located. The mere thought of the laundry room and his kinky Aunt Ashley made his pecker jump up and down of its own accord. "Allright right it is!" thought Steve to himself. He went down the stairs and at the bottom was the door to the laundry room which was shut. He grabbed the knob and pushed the door open. There on the other side of the room leaning over the washer was his Aunt Ashley completely naked! He could see her tight athletic ass and just the hint of a red furred cunt. Her skin was almost unnaturally white which contrasted with the deep red hair, so deep red it was almost maroon, that cascaded down her back in waves. Just a slight curve of her boobs was visible peaking around the sides of her body. Steve entered the room and closed the door. He pulled his knot and dropped his robe to the floor quickly. Steve's big dick stuck out from his crotch pointing at his aunt the way a compass needle points toward north. Just then his aunt turned around. Steve froze in place like a deer caught in headlights. His aunt was breathtakingly beautiful! Her figure was an hourglass like the other women in the house but slimmer, like a gymnast with boobs. And what a rack she had. Full C cups that were high on her chest and so firm they seemed to defy gravity. The firm mounds were topped by quarter sized pink aerole with small delicate pink nubs of nipples. Her deep red hair on her head was echoed in the deep red fur on her cunt. She obviously trimmed her fur as it was not bushy but just enough to frame her pussy in a most tantalizing way. Her whole body was so tone and firm that you could see the rippling muscles and tight abs lurking below her alabaster skin. Even though nude the tall woman, she was 5' 11', stood there looking as regal as a queen. "Well just an onlooker, huh?" said Steve's aunt. She started to walk across the room as though to leave. Steve suddenly woke from his daze and said, "No! I am here to fuck your fine ass!" "Well you need guts for that!" said his aunt obviously taunting the teenager. Her tone awakened some feeling inside of Steve. A white hot fury threatened to consume Steve's body. Her hard athletic body and firm tits were now pressed up against his. His aunt acted like she was trying to push him out of the way. Steve grabber both her arms and pushed her back away from him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the old home gym machine that lay abandoned on the side of the room. He pushed his now struggling aunt towards it. His muscled body moved the woman's body like a child playing with a rag doll. "Now you will be royally fucked!" shouted Steve. Once at the machine Steve shoved his Aunt Ashley's body down on the main bench. He pulled her arms around the bars at either side of the bench meant to hold weights. Steve pulled Ashley's wrists together on the underside of the bench and wrapped around them a leather cuff meant to hook to the machine's cables. He then attached this cuff to the cable that ran the length of the bench. He unhooked the top end meant to attach to the weight stack and ran it down the underside of the bench hooking to the other side of the cuff. Ashley was now bound to the bench but this did not keep her from twisting and trying to kick Steve with her long lean muscled legs. Steve laughed at the woman's attempts and simply sidestepped the kicks grabbing her right leg in both hands. He bent the leg back and placed another leather cuff on her ankle. He then disconnected another of the machine's cables hooking it to the cuff. He ran the cable around the back of the weight stack. It was then simple for him to grab Ashley's left leg and attach another cuff. Steve attached the cable from her right leg to the cuff on her left leg and Ashley was now immobile except for her head and her very fine ass. "Now I'm going to fuck the shit out of you!" spat Steve at the bound woman. "Go ahead!" taunted Ashley. Steve's cock was begging for release. He reached forward and grabbed his aunt's hips pulling them down on the bench. "Watch this!" hissed Steve. Steve placed his big cock-head at the entrance to his aunt's pussy. He started to push forward and was surprised to find his aunt's cunt to be wet and hot all ready for his big fucker. He slammed forward quickly burying his whole shaft in her wet slot in one stroke causing Ashley to arch her back and moan from the sudden intrusion. Steve started to pump his aunt's cunt. Just then he saw his uncle on the left side of the bench taking off his blue robe. "Everybody shares." thought Steve. The now naked Bob sqatted next to his wife's head. "You really like the exercise machine. Don't you like Steve's big cock?" "Oh Bob it's so big!" moaned Ashley. "Tell him you like it. Tell him what you want!" said Bob into his wife's ear. "I love your big cock Steve. Fuck me with it. Fuck me hard!" said Ashley now so aroused she was almost shouting. Steve was so turned on by her pleas that he really started to pound her pussy hard and fast. Bob stood up by his wife's head his boner sticking out over her face. Ashley leaned her head back and opened her mouth. Bob bent over and placed the very tip close to her lips. "Beg me baby, beg me!" said Bob. "Oh please shove your cock in my mouth. Oh please, please!" said Ashley. Bob responded by shoving his cock into his wife's mouth and starting to fuck her face. Ashley now lay skewered between the two big cocks that fucked her from both ends as she lay bound to the bench. Her mouth full she now hummed and groaned as she was pleasured by the two mighter members. Just then Steve saw his grandma in her lavendar robe appear at the side of the bench watching as though calmly watching a soap opera. "Is that all you are going to do?" she asked. Steve was struck by a sudden desire. He pulled his cock from his aunt pussy in one stroke causing her to wince from the sudden emptiness in her cunt. Her ass beat up and down on the bench pleaded for more of the huge prick. "I'm going to fuck her up the ass!" said Steve, "Pull your cock out of her Bob! I want her to see this!" Bob responded by pulling his cock from his wife's mouth. She could now tilt her head to look up and see what was about to happen. Steve rubbed his prick with lube from a container conveinently sitting on the shelf there in the laundry room. Steve teased the trussed woman by taking his time prepping his big fucker for her tight ass. Steve grabbed the bound woman's hips and positioned the head of his big prick up against his aunt's puckered anus. "Beg me!" Steve said now totally into this scene. "Oh please!" begged Ashley, "please shove that huge prick up my tight ass! I need to be ass fucked so bad!" Steve was so into the whole scene that he started to push his big fuck rod into his aunt's ass. He moved slowly teasing the woman with the amount of time it took to shove his cock into her welcoming ass. "Oh please!" shouted Ashley, "please faster, harder! I need you now!" Steve actually slowed down in response to the woman's pleas causing everybody in the room to groan with anticipation. Finally after taking what seemed to the assembled group to be forever, Steve's hips came in contact with his aunt's fine ass. Steve started to pump her ass now slowly at first and then starting to speed up. Bob straddled the bench and his wife's bound body. He placed his cock her pussy and with a few pumps slid his prick into her cunt. Then Steve saw his Grandma drop her robe and stand at the head of the bench where Ashley lay whipping her head from side to side and groaning with the power of the now double fucking. "Beg me!" Clare said the bound redhead. "Oh please let me lick your pussy!" Ashley squealed. Clare placed her legs on either side of the bound woman's head and lowered her blond furred pussy to Ashley's mouth which immediately started to suck and lick the offered twat. Clare leaned forward grabbing the sides of the bench and lowered her mouth to Ashley's red haired cunt. She started licking and sucking on the tender tissues of her daughter's pussy. The four of them continued work as the two men fucked Ashley's cunt and ass and the two women pleasured each others pussies. Suddenly Bob went, "Ah, oh!" and came in his wife's hot cunt. Steve was also close and started to make noises too. Clare raised up from Ashley's twisting body and kneeled next to her head which leaned up to see Steve. "Come on our faces Steve!" said Clare. Steve felt the cum boiling up in his balls. He pulled the massive cock from his aunt's ass and started to shoot. The first blast of spunk splashed onto his aunt's face. The next on his Grandma's face. Then on Ashley's tits. Over and over again Steve shot cum all over the two women. When he finally stopped Clare reached up and smeared the man juice all over her and Ashley's faces as though it was a great honor to be covered in Steve's spunk. Steve turned around to see his uncle now with his robe back on starting out the door. "He who starts cleans up!" said Bob, "I guess I forgot to tell you that rule." Steve turned around to face the machine to see his grandma finishing wiping her face with a hand towel. She slipped her robe and and also stared out the door. "I'm going to see what's up upstairs." she said, "When I left Helen was on all fours fucking Dan and Don." Steve was left with his aunt bound to the exercise machine. He slowly unhooked her ankles and helped her lower her legs to the floor. Then he unhooked the cuff keeping her bound to the bench. Steve helped his aunt stand up and handed her a towel to wipe off her face. Steve thought his aunt must hate him for his brutal treatment of her in the bisexual gang bang that just occured. Ashley finished wiping off her face and then wrapped her arms around Steve's neck. Her magnificant body was now pressed against his and he could feel the firm tits and taut muscles. She stared into his eyes with those green eyes of her's that suddenly felt like laser beams cutting into his very soul. "That was great Steve!" she said, "We've used the exercise machine a lot but you were very creative." "That explains the container of lube on the laundry room shelf!" said Steve. "I also liked the slow ass fucking. The anticipation was just delicious. This was your first time with me so I need to tell you to not feel ashamed. You notice I didn't ever say no during the whole session. In fact, I was nude because I was waiting for you. I told Bob to tell about how we first met so you would understand but also so you would be real hot and ready when you found me. I would have been in a terrible way if you hadn't made the decision to come to the laundry room." Wonderland Ch. 06 Ashley kissed him deeply and lovingly. Then she frenched him pushing her tongue so far into his mouth he thought it would slid down his throat. She unwrapped her arms from his neck and reached down to grasp Steve's cock with both hands. She stoked it gently like she was petting a favorite puppy. "I hope to get a lot more of this!" she said. Ashley winked playfully at Steve, crossed the room and pulled on her black robe. Suddenly she was the regal queen again. She turned and then strode out of the room moving like a jungle cat on the prowel for prey. "Shit!" said Steve to no one in particular as he slid on his blue robe, "This is going to be great!" Steve left the laundry room and climbed the stairs thinking about who he might get involved with next. Clare? He hadn't really fucked her yet. He reached the top of the stairs and went down the short hallway into the family room. Bob, Clare, and Ashley sat on the leather couch chatting. Steve's father and grandfather were on the other side of the room pulling on their blue robes. Next to them was his mother Helen wiping cum off her inner thighs her pink robe at her feet. Steve had obviously just missed the end of the father/daughter/husband double fuck. Just then a bolt of electricity surged through Steve's body as he heard a husky but lilting voice say, "About time you joined the party Stevie!" Steve turned and there in the doorway were two figures. The first was a 5' 5" blonde and looked like a young version of Clare. His cousin Shari wore the yellow robe signifing that she only liked girls. A dyke just as Steve had always thought. Next to the blonde was a stunning petite brunette, only 5' 2" high. She had high firm tits similiar to Ashley's but her's were a full D cup and not only seemed to define gravity but all the laws of physics to boot. She had the voluptuous figure of Helen but an ass that was both rounded and tight at the same time. He olive skin was in contrast to the lavendar robe she now wore. She was the only other person to call him by his nickname Stevie. "Suzanne!" said Steve. Wonderland Ch. 06 The ride to the pizza parlor off in Wonderland's historical district took only a couple minutes, the time made longer by her teasing smell and sharp nails, as well as her legs pressed hard and firm against his. By the time he parked the bike, he was positive that unless he cooled down, there would be no walking anywhere for the next couple minutes. "Kitten," he muttered, gently caressing the fingers still clenching his shirt within their grasp, wincing when they dug in deeper. "Kitten, we're here." Tempest slowly released his shirt and he rubbed the spots where her nails had got him before looking over his shoulder at her. She handed back the helmet and straightened her hair, swallowing hard. "Why can't you have a car like a normal person?!" she demanded, her voice going from calm to pissed in an instant. She swung off and faced him with her hands planted on her curvy hips, jutting them to the side. That was not helping his erection by any means. Thatcher stood, watching her face flush when he reached full height. "I have a car," he admitted as he tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear. Her flush deepened and she scowled when he smiled knowingly down at her. "I just like my crotch rocket more," he tagged on. Tempest gave an unladylike snort and rolled her eyes. "Well, itt looks like a bunch of Lego's glued together," she scoffed, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. Thatcher flicked the tip of her nose gently, laughing when she gasped in mock-indignation. Turning towards the parlor, he heard her grumble under her breath before she arrived at his side. Inside the pizza parlor it was cool and dark, faintly reminiscent of a bar. The hostess showed them to a booth where they dumped their bags before heading to the buffet. Thatcher watched as Tempest piled on the pizza, surprise filtering through him as he realized that another girl would've freaked out over her wet hair and makeup-less face. But Tempest hadn't even brought it up. They walked back to the booth and ate in comfortable silence. In the ten minutes Tempest had devoured her first plate, he had been working up the nerve to ask her to hang out with him. It wasn't that he was afraid she'd say no -- he was after all her ride -- but he was more afraid of what being alone with her would do to him. Thatcher was quickly starting to regret his decision to send his small team ahead without him, especially Bayothet. Her metallic tone and humorless manner would've been the perfect remedy for the one part of him that had a hard time playing dead. Just as he opened his mouth to pose the question, Tempest leaned back and belched. Thatcher blinked in surprise. "I give that a seven out of ten." Tempest, who had turned scarlet the second she realized what happened, now shot him a dry look, her green eyes sparkling with both embarrassment and squelched laughter. "It's the soda," she admonished, pushing the offending empty cup away from her. "Uh huh," Thatcher chuckled, reaching for his full glass. Realization dawned on her face and she rapidly shook her head. "Please tell me we're not succumbing to a burp war in the middle of a restaurant," she said quickly, her eyes wide as she watched him chug down the glass with a slightly perturbed look on his face. Thatcher didn't stop drinking his Dr. P until there was none left. He set down the glass and leaned back, waiting patiently. "Oh -- here one comes," he warned her a few seconds later, winking as her face resumed its scarlet shade once again. Soon, the rapid uncomfortable feeling in his belly rapidly bubbled up from his esophagus and he...hiccupped? Tempest snorted and cracked up laughing, smacking her hand softly on the table. "All that buildup and no delivery?" she cackled, clutching her belly. "I give that a negative four." Thatcher grumbled, rubbing his stomach. "I feel gross," he muttered, the feeling of being too full grabbing hold of him. Tempest chuckled and picked up her plate. "You don't mind if I keep eating do you?" she asked, already scooting out of the booth. "Where in the hell do you put all of that?" he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it. His face turned as pink as hers, a fact that had them both chuckling in self-deprecation. "What goes in..." Tempest began. He waved her on, shaking his head. "I get it, Exlax, thanks for the reminder." Vaguely, he was aware of a stifled gasp, but when he looked up at Tempest again she was already heading towards the buffet. Shaking his head and writing it off as nothing more than a Tempest-ism, he pulled out his cheap disposable phone and pressed the end key until the plastic lit up. All he had missed was a single text message from Bayothet. TRACKER DESTROYED. ANCIENT = TZE'SIC. STILL IN ROUTE FOR Q.M. ORDERS? Thatcher felt his throat seize up, his intake of air coming out strangled. The dead Raspan didn't surprise him. The tracker had run out of his usefulness the moment he had been caught. But the Gargoyle...could he really be...? Thatcher quickly composed a new message, reading it over a few times to make sure it made cohesive sense. Snapping the phone closed and shoving it back into his coat pocket, he let his eyes wander to Tempest. "My...my friend just left without saying anything..." No Gargoyle would consider anything weaker as "friends." Unlike other species, Gargoyles believed they were the elite. With whole-hearted enthusiasm, they believed it. In their minds they were meant to lead those who could not lead themselves, and that composed of anyone who could not defeat them in a challenge. As a warring, dominating people, no one honestly could. While Thatcher could not say the Gargoyles hadn't been a great asset with their technology and politics, he also could not say that the Gargoyles hadn't been a menace. The Great Battle had been the result of centuries of growing aggression and after one shove too many, well...the tension proved greater than peace. Tempest had not been a friend that goes without saying. That simply just wasn't part of the Gargoyle belief system. Thatcher shook his head slightly to himself as he stood up to get more Dr. Pepper, his eyes catching Tempest's as he walked. He gave her a crooked smile and watched as more slowly than usual she smiled back. Thatcher shoved his cup under the ice machine, his mind whirring. Perhaps he was looking at this wrong? What if Tempest was, as she was inferring, a real friend of the Gargoyle? Tze'sic had been notorious in his youth for playing dalliances, but none of the rumored affairs had been much more than that, rumors. Some of them had also been politically motivated. Like the human Queen Elizabeth the First, he had never tied himself to another entity, refusing to hand over power once his role as a clan leader had broadened. His reported romances had been to tie clans or make deals. No children or happy mates had come of anything Tze'sic had done. Thatcher watched Tempest make her way back to the booth, his eyes falling to the strange contusions on her skin where her long neck met her shoulder. Contusions he had apparently missed yesterday. An icy hand gripped his chest as realization hit him like a freight train. To say he had been looking at the situation wrong was a definite fucking understatement. Those lesions, those cuts, were fang marks. That scent he had smelled outside her house, the powerful magic that had led both his trackers here to this city, all connected in that gut-wrenching moment. Tempest was not a friend of Tze'sic. She was his mate. +++++ When Thatcher sat back down at the booth, I felt like I had been sucker punched in the stomach. The angry and accusing look on his face was yet another extreme of his personality that was beginning to give me whiplash. Thatcher was quite literally as volatile as Talon. That thought sent me sucking in my breath tightly and I lowered my eyes from Thatcher's so he wouldn't see the pain. I know it was stupid. Talon had left, without warning, and had made up a bunch of lies during his stay. Why, I had no clue. I was happy when he hadn't decided to kill me that day at the lake, being his mate had just seemed so... I smothered a sigh and picked up a slice of pizza, faintly aware of that tiny voice in the back of my head that was saying I was eating my feelings. After swallowing a bite, I worked up the courage to ask Thatcher what was wrong, though I didn't meet his eyes as I did so. Surprisingly, he chuckled. Meeting his eyes, I saw that while the anger was still there, it was being rapidly replaced with concern. It was almost like Thatcher knew exactly what I was thinking. "Would you like to go see a movie after this?" he asked, leaning forward so his elbows were on the table. "I'll pay for the tickets if you buy the popcorn." I eyed my plate warily at the sound of more food. "After this you'll probably have to roll me into the theater," I admitted, smiling when he broke out into soft laughter. The anger in his face was almost completely gone now. "I'll manage," he promised. "What about the new movie with Sean Bean?" I blinked. "The historical horror movie? About the plague?" He nodded. I smirked. That sounded like the type of movie he would be into. Realizing what my smile implicated, Thatcher bit his bottom lip, recanting. "Or there is the pirate movie..." he offered with a telltale cringe, sounding less than interested. I rolled my eyes. "My mom dragged me to the midnight showing the night it released. I'll spare you the gory details, but I'd rather watch Europeans being savaged by a disease than go through that experience again." Thatcher blinked. "You are one bloodthirsty woman, Tempest Cohen." "You should see me when I'm angry," I warned, rolling my eyes in mockery of myself as I dug into my bag for my wallet. Thatcher gently tugged on my ponytail as he passed by me, having moved out of his seat the moment he realized what I was searching for. "I'm paying, Kitten," he teased, his voice just a touch huskier than it had been three seconds ago. He winked and kept walking to the counter, his shoulders blocking the tiny black girl working the register completely from view as he pulled out his own wallet from his back pocket. Once Thatcher had paid, I left a small tip before we grabbed our gear and left. Since the movie theater was just around the corner, the drive didn't take long. The line wasn't bad either, considering it was a weekday. But when we got into the concession line, it was like a switch had been thrown somewhere and everyone began to flood into the place. Preteens galore filled the space and I had to fight from rolling my eyes. "Is another vampire movie out or something?" I asked Thatcher as we walked towards our screen located at the far end of the theater. Thatcher shrugged with a snort. "You know, I don't really understand the fascination everyone has with them. They aren't even real." I shrugged as he used his shoulder to push open the theater door for me and walked through into the cool darkness. "I do," I admitted, following after him. "It's because they aren't real that I feel there lays the fascination. Humans always want what they can't have, even if science explains they couldn't possibly exist." "Even if they're sparkly undead things?" Thatcher deadpanned. I eyed him over my shoulder with a smile. "Especially if they're sparkly undead things." Thatcher rolled his eyes. "Figures," he muttered as he took a seat beside me. As we settled in for the wait, Thatcher suddenly looked around as though guilty and pulled a suspicious white packet from his inner pocket before tearing the top off with his teeth. "What are you doing?" I whispered. With dramatic gusto he began to shake the packet over the popcorn, and I watched as an orange powder began to liberally cover the buttery golden kernels. I eyed Thatcher and snorted. The orange powder was cheese. "You carry around cheese packets on a regular basis, huh?" I asked him as he used our straws to stir the cheese and kernels around in the large plastic bucket. "Uh huh." "You are one weird dude, Thatcher," I muttered, watching him as he stirred. A minute later, Thatcher returned my cheesy straw back to me with a wink. "I should be pissed," I told him as I cleaned it off with a napkin. "Uh huh. So, question." He cleaned off his straw with his tongue, his large black eyes watching the previews as they began to play. "So you understand the fascination with sparkly undead bloodsuckers. But what about the other monsters? What do you think about them?" I eyed him questionably. "Are we having a philosophical debate on things that aren't real?" "Uh huh," he said with a nod, looking over at me before stabbing his straw through his drink lid. I huffed and looked back at the screen. "Well..." I began, trailing off as I didn't know how to begin. "What do you mean?" I asked, looking back over at him. "For instance," he began to clarify, "the halfers. You know, half human and half whatever else. The ones who can't turn into beautiful, well-paid actors." Half human, half something else? An image of Talon popped up in my head with his hair out of its braid and his hands resting on my bare hips as he pushed the covers down my legs. I could almost feel his warm body pressed hard against mine as we kissed. A ghost of his voice whispered his pledge of love of a forever kind deeply against the shell of my ear, drowning out all else. "Uh, Tempest?" Blinking back the memory, I avoided Thatcher's gaze and shook my head. "You have a vendetta against Edward Cullen," I teased, watching out of the corner of my eye as Thatcher scrunched up his nose slightly. "I do not!" he admonished, flicking my nose gently, laughing when I flicked his forehead back. His bruising and nose tape may be gone, but I wasn't going to chance it. "Answer my question, Kitten," he chuckled, swatting my hand when I reached for the popcorn. I sighed and gave Thatcher a brooding look. "There aren't a lot of movies about halfers," I noted. "I mean, honestly, I wasn't attracted to the centaurs in those Narnia movies. Or Hellboy, for that matter." "Ron Perlman is one ugly son of a bitch," Thatcher snorted as the lights dimmed and the commercials began to roll. "So you get no fault for that." I tried to fight a smile as I said, "I always had a thing for Voldemort, though. Who knew slit noses could be such a turn-on?" The noise of absolute disgust that filled the movie theater caused more than one head to turn and had me almost dying with laughter. Thatcher swatted me, though I noticed he was trying hard not to laugh too. "You have a screw loose," he hissed at me, tossing a kernel at my head before turning back to the movie, chuckling every once in a while. With a smile I settled back into the comfy theater seat, watching as Europe became scourged by the disease of the rats and a God-fearing knight came to sheriff a lone village hidden from it all. The movie wasn't long, and we ended up getting out of the theater just before sundown. Already the breeze was cool and I shivered in my thin tank and exercise shorts, embarrassed all over again at how I was dressed. Thatcher put his jacket around me, rolling his eyes when I touched the leather in mock-awe. "I can be a gentleman," he told me firmly as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "You thirsty or anything?" he asked as to further prove his point when we began to walk through the parking lot together. Teeth chattering I shook my head and internally groaned as we got to the bike, knowing that I would have to live through high-speed winds on the way back to my house. After going through the usual ritual, I found myself being escorted at a leisurely pace through Wonderland. Either I was getting used to the bike, or I was really that tired. The entire way I had my cheek against his back and more than once he had released a bike handle to gently squeeze my wrists that were at his waist before returning back to the bars. Each time he did so; a pleasurable tingle would shoot up from my toes through my spine and back down again, the action confusing me in how I responded. After a while I sat up a bit and held his hips to get a little space. Not too long after, Thatcher was cutting the engine in my driveway and kicked down the stand to rest the bike. I got off and returned his jacket and helmet, watching him put them on like he was reclaiming his second skin. Thatcher took off his shades and eyed me, a smile coming to his face. "Thanks for the pizza and movie," I said earnestly. "I would've been so bored here by myself," I said, gesturing to the darkened house as explanation. Then I realized what I just implicated and bit back a groan before hanging my head. "That's not what I meant..." I mumbled, irritated by Thatcher's laughter. "I'm your boredom buffer," he teased, taking my gentle punch in the shoulder with a smile. "It's cool. I'll take it, Miss Slit-Noses-Are-Sexy." "God! I was just kidding!" I exclaimed, laughing when he flattened his generous nose with his forefinger, imitating a British accent spoken in a hiss. "Haaaarry..." "Goodnight," I told him firmly, shaking my head with a laugh as I began to walk towards the house. "Wait, Kitten!" he laughed, scrambling off the bike to catch up with me. I turned when he caught my elbow and watched him tenderly massage his nose. "It's still sore," he pouted before shaking his head like to clear his thoughts. "Tomorrow's Friday," he sighed. "And if you still need a boredom buffer, I'd be glad to help out." I felt my eyes grow big, my heartbeat careening out of control as I realized what he was implicating. He asking me out?! Sensing my distress, Thatcher gave me a gentle smile and his eyes softened. "You can pick where we go. We don't have to call it a date," he fished. I dropped his gaze, probably confirming whatever suspicion he had that I probably hadn't done many of these before, and bit my lip in thought. I didn't want to be rude and blow him off, especially since he had helped me out both at the park. It was obvious he was just trying to be nice, and the dream from last night... I shivered a little and smoothed back the hair from my face. He didn't know about the dream, and while it was unexpected, it wasn't like he caused it. If Talon had on the other hand... Realizing that I was taking forever to respond, I cleared my throat and spat out the first thing that popped in my head. "What about the arcade?" I asked him, meeting his gaze hesitantly. "It's...it has a little bit of everything. It's cheap. They also have the best cheese fries in town." "You had me at 'cheap'," he joked, catching my hand before I could do any sort of "damage". His thumb gently stroked over my palm, feeling the soft inside, as though he was checking my pulse. "If I pick you up at five for our date-that-isn't, will that be okay?" Thatcher asked, his voice doing that strange smooth but deep tone that had my toes curling inside my sneakers. I nodded with a lump in my throat as he took a step closer, his fingers curling around my hand. With a soft squeeze and a smile that contradicted the smoky heat in his eyes, Thatcher murmured, "I'll see you tomorrow, Kitten." He dropped my hand and walked away, his bike roaring to life and with a small wave; he was gone, leaving the sound of his "crotch rocket" in his wake. My hand pulsed were his thumb had traced circles and the breath I had been holding came out shaky and ragged. The aching in my chest began to radiate with new energy for the first time since lunch, though this time, I wasn't quite sure who I was aching for. Wonderland Ch. 06 +++++ Thatcher felt like an idiot. He had the information he needed; he knew who the Gargoyle was, he knew what role Tempest had played, he knew what the tracking party was up to, and he had his lead. Instead of cutting his losses quick, he had just made another reason to stay. WHY?! Revving the clutch, he tore down the winding hill road into Wonderland, his Kawasaki hugging the curves. A flash of thighs clad in tiny baby pink exercise shorts flickered through his mind and Thatcher swore, swerving hard on the road until his bike skid to a stop. Taking off his helmet he left his motor running, his breathing ragged as he half-walked, half-jogged towards the forest and away from the road, trying to clear his head. This wasn't what he needed. Not now, not when he was so fucking close. A distraction wasn't going to serve him well and he had his experience with humans. It hadn't ended up well, to say the least. Tempest was in truth, a secondhand deal. She had been used for food and protection and then tossed. She ached from an incomplete bond with a Gargoyle who Thatcher couldn't make any accurate assumptions about, not anymore. Tze'sic had been legendary for his heroics and his political maneuvers, but Casanova he was not. His interest in Tempest surprised the hell out of Thatcher, but everything about this entire situation did. He should drive back to his camp, pack up, and head towards Queensland to meet up with the others. If he got there in time, he could stop this bloody war. What he knew could change...everything. Thatcher came to a small clearing and closed his eyes, planting his feet firmly. Taking a deep breath, he could smell...Tempest. Thatcher couldn't help it. He laughed. He laughed long and hard until he fell to his knees and tears streamed down his face. He laughed until he couldn't breathe. Opening his eyes now, he clutched at the fallen leaves and grass, digging his fingers into the soft dirt, trying to regain a bit of control. When he could stand again, the decision was made. There was no turning back after this. He would finish what he started, what he had spent a lifetime planning. No more distractions, no more interruptions. The human world would not be safe for much longer, the Raspan King would see to that. And in turn, Thatcher would have to see to human's safety. It was his duty. Thatcher turned back to the road, his faith renewed and his purpose redefined. He lifted the collar of his jacket to his nose, a clean, flowery scent filling up his lungs as he breathed in. A smile crossed his lips as he left the forest and fixated his dark eyes on the lone white house perched on top of its hill, a single window lit up at the very top of the house. Well, Thatcher thought to himself as he swung his leg over his bike and kicked up the stand, not all distractions were unwelcome. At least, not where Tempest was concerned. Thatcher revved his bike to life, overpowering the soft growls from the forest. He took off towards the city park, too distracted by his change of plans to notice the hulking black forms that followed him, their black pelts glistening like oil under the pale moon as they streaked through the trees. Black eyes glowed red when Thatcher turned into the forest, leading them far away from the city. As though synchronized, the Raspan's dove into the earth, their slick fur easing the way through crumbled rock, tree roots, and compacted earth; tunneling deeper and deeper until a maze of tunnels began to form. The pack spread out, spanning their new kingdom far beneath the rumbling cacophony of the city above them, each Raspan claiming a section of tunnels for their own. Later, when their work was done, the feast would begin. +++++ I'd like to thank my editor, mikothebaby, for going over the chapter for me. I made a few changes before the initial submission, so any faults you see are more than likely my own. And like I said earlier, in this story, everything is related. Don't forget that. As always, feedback, comments, and votes are appreciated. Wonderland Ch. 07 Author's Note: I want to thank everyone for their encouragement and feedback. I know this story isn't the norm for the Nonhuman posts on this site, and I appreciate all of you sticking around to get a better idea of Wonderland and the characters in the story. So as fair warning: no sex yet. This chapter is devoted entirely to the back story. It goes into detail about the beginning of the four species, why the Great Battle begins, and my ever-elusive answer to "Where's Talon?" BTW, to those who asked the question why Talon never told Tempest where he was going and why he has not yet made an effort to: Talon's on a mission, plain and simple. Also, he's not used to having to explain to others about his absence or his whereabouts. Relationships for Talon, as you discovered, don't usually get that far. His bond to Tempest is something entirely different. Anyway, enough rambling. As promised, I posted Chapter Seven early (I'm leaving for Austin to visit the folks and to indulge in my craving for Torchy's Tacos) and to those curious about the next submission of The Coffee Shop, it will be posted within the next week. This is a bit of a long one guys, and kinda full of info. Hope y'all enjoy it! xo-LilyArc. +++++ "This is it?" Talon asked, his grey eyes wandering over the jagged rock before slowly tracing up the mountain face to the towering snow-capped peak above. The forest around them was absolutely silent and still, save for the tiniest breeze that ruffled the flyaway strands of Talon's braid. "It is," Damien answered in a tone just as hushed as Talon's. Something about this place required such solemnity...and it made Talon's teeth ache. Ruffling his wings slightly to dispel the growing uncertainty in his heart, Talon walked forward and through the yawning open cavern carved into the mountainside. With his back turned, he had missed the exchange of astonished looks between the six young trackers behind him. Unknowingly, he had breached a powerful protection spell, cast by the Ancients themselves in the aftermath of the Great Battle. Without the permission of the Elders, walking into the entrance of the Final Eden should've killed him, but yet, he was still standing. "Are you coming?" Talon asked the group, his low voice managing to echo. When none of them said a word, he looked over his shoulder to see six stricken faces staring back at him. In that moment, a cloying smell of rotten fruit greeted his nostrils, the air thickening with the scent and coating his lungs as Talon took a deep breath. The stricken looks on the tracker's faces slipped into ones of horror as the source of the rotten stench stepped out of the darkness of the cavern. Talon faced forward again and stared into the cold black eyes of the Raspan King, the gargantuan male's thin lips pulled back to reveal a razor-sharp smile. Two scouts flanked the king in their natural Raspan forms, flashing yellowing teeth at the group at Talon's back. The smell of fresh blood began to overpower that of the rot and Talon felt his heart clench with agony, though his expressionless face revealed nothing of the torment within. The Final Eden, the Queensland hideout, the Elder's sanctuary...it was gone. The overpowering wave of death and blood radiating from the tunnel at the Raspan King's back foretold of what would be gathered inside. Not for the first time since Talon's awakening, he was reminded of the grim reality that faced him. He was the last of the Ancients. He was the last of the Tze'hoc Clan. And all he had at his disposal to face the rapidly breeding menace that was his enemy were six weak-blooded Gargoyles and a snarky Drul. The Raspan King, Fuyher-se, chuckled low in his massive throat before straightening up to his full height. "Tze'sic. We meet again," the Raspan King rumbled from low in his broad, muscled chest, amusement twisting the features of his face until they were far more grotesque than normal. Talon smiled coldly. "That we have," he answered quietly, his silver eyes glowing in the darkness of the cave, his magic coursing strong through his veins. He would not die in this cave, not when he still had his mate to go to, brood to raise, and a mass of people who he needed to protect. He would fight, albeit alone or with an army at his side. Fuyher-se would not leave this cave unharmed. Talon would make sure of that. The king, well aware of the Gargoyle's intentions, chuckled. But he was no fool. A thousand years of rest and of unreleased magic made the slimmer male Gargoyle in front of him a dangerous enemy. But he would leave this cave alive. His scouts would make sure of that. Fuyher-se smiled, his eyes turning a deep glowing crimson. "KILL THEM!" he commanded, his roar ringing in Talon's ears. The cavern became a battlefield within seconds. Talon did not hesitate -- dodging Fuyher's downward swipe with one beefy paw he kicked up off the rocky cavern floor and dug the claws of his feet into the Raspan's thighs, gripping pure meaty muscle. Once he had a good grip he buried the claws of his hands into the Raspan's forearms. Fuyher roared in agony as Talon dislodged muscle from bone, the sound of ripping flesh and their growls a background adding to the soundtrack of the fight raging around them. Moving fast, Talon jerked the lower half of his body to throw the Raspan off-balance, the tipped claws of his wings' forearms sinking into the king's ankles to weaken his stance further. Fuyher grimaced and surged his arms forward, pushing against Talon's strength, his fingers outstretched, hungering for the place where Talon's wings met with his back. Cutting his losses, Talon removed his toenails from the beast and kicked up his legs to shred his chest instead, curling up his body and launching off before Fuyher could grab hold. The Raspan King touched the clawed flesh of his exposed chest in awe, watching as small chunks of black fur and muscle fell softly to the floor, his black blood flowing freely. Talon was breathing hard already, internally swearing at his prolonged inactivity. Ripping through Fuhyer had felt as though he had been attempting to claw through this mountain. His fingers and ankles radiated pain that spoke wonders of his remissive training. Suddenly, the king let out a roar that had Talon wincing in agony at its strength. The Raspan threw himself at Talon, both bodies falling hard to the dirt. Not making the mistake of bringing up his wings, Talon used his tail to grip the Raspan's throat then— Wait. His throat! Talon let out a yell torn between relief and a battle cry as he maneuvered the large, fumbling Raspan King into an awkward angle on his side and sunk his teeth, fangs and all, into Fuyher's flesh. Unlike the bites he shared with Tempest, this blood-taking was meant to inflict pain. Judging by the massive yelps and roars that escaped Fuyher's throat, Talon's venom and fangs were doing just that. Talon closed his eyes briefly as the king's magic and power flooded into his own being, the animalistic rage of the Raspan fueling his own strength and hunger. Talon chuckled at the whimper the king released seconds later when Talon's free hand sunk into the flesh of Fuyher's back, digging through muscle, arteries, and other tissue to grab a hold of the king's spine. Talon... The soft female whisper was his undoing. Talon's eyes whipped open, revealing the blood red of his irises. His eyes were unseeing of the remaining Raspan scout that came to aid his fallen leader. His eyes did not see the small team of Raspan's that emerged from the forest and began to give aid to Quincy, who had been torn in half, or the female Raspan that was chasing after the scout coming towards him now. Talon's eyes were locked on the ghostly image of the woman he had left behind, of the mate he had yet to claim as his own. "Tempest..." he breathed, his mouth sliding from the king's neck. He came to his senses much too late. With a raspy roar, Fuyher whirled on Talon and gripped the Gargoyle by his neck before tossing him like a dart into the cavern wall. Talon watched in muted horror as the jagged rock drew closer and closer to his face, his wings snapping at the air to back him away from the wall...much too late. Talon felt the impact for only a second, the crunching of his bones and muscle colliding into the rock the last thing he heard before the world went black. A hundred miles away, Tempest Cohen shot up straight in bed, clutching her temples in agony. Her shrill scream echoed throughout the empty house and awoke the three hundred Raspan bodies beneath the Wonderland soil, plus one. The buzz of a Kawasaki motorcycle penetrated the sound barrier soon after, the rider frantically racing through the trees towards the lone house on Bella Lane, thinking only of protecting, what he felt, was now rightfully his. +++++ I felt like someone had just face-palmed me with a sledgehammer. Every muscle radiated in pain from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet. My spine creaked and popped with every small movement, and each intake of breath was like trying to catch air as someone pierced my lungs with daggers...all at the same time. Even my eyelashes hurt. So as I lay in bed, drowning in my own pain, in too much agony to even yell for mom, I cried. That just made things worse. The sharp inhalations were ripping me from the inside out, my face muscles aching to stay still despite my frowning and muffled yelping. Hot salty tears streamed out of my eyes and made paths by my ears, soaking the sheets below me. I don't know for how long I lay there, minutes or hours, but through my foggy pain-induced stupor, I heard the soft click as something struck one of my bedroom windows. Cracking open one tear-crusted eye, I waited. Click! "Tempest!" a husky male voice hissed. Shakily I rubbed both of my eyes to rid them of gunk, flinching as skin met skin, my muscles protesting to each movement. Surely, that wasn't Thatcher? Click! Click! CLANK! "Shit. Kitten, wake up!" I managed to grimace my way into a smile as I reached for my phone, grunting in pain as I stretched and pressed my fingers across the screen to open the app I wanted. Summoning up all my strength, I rolled off the bed and to the window, pressing the phone screen flat against the window pane. Gasping against the white hot bursts of pain that radiated throughout my entire body, I waited. My blood pounded so hard in my ears that I didn't hear him at first, and it wasn't until a narrow, but firm, arm gently cradled my back that I realized I wasn't alone. "Tempest, you look like shit," Thatcher murmured softly, his voice right by my ear. His fingers gently wove around my wrist and lowered my phone-waving hand into my lap before cutting the S.O.S. signal off. "Didn't your mom ever tell you to stay out of the liquor cabinet?" I shook my head stiffly in response, groaning when his fingers brushed over the back of my neck. "Thatch..." I breathed hoarsely, letting out a heavy sigh against his chest. "You remember me saying that my friend left?" Thatcher tightened his hold on me slightly, the firm press of his chest against mine sending off muted warning bells in my head. "Yea, I remember," he replied, his voice like grinding gravel. "I think...he's in trouble." I dazedly looked up at him, surprised to see how close together we were. I blinked away tears of physical pain, taking in his face. I chuckled then, surprising both Thatch and myself. Thatcher gently cradled me, his touch extremely careful, though by the time I was nestled in his lap and snug against his chest, I didn't really feel...anything. "What are you laughing at?" he murmured, his voice still hoarse. I weakly smiled, my fingers shakily tucking back his hair, revealing a small pierced ear. "I feel like a slice of butter melting on top of a big-ol' pile of flapjacks." Giggling now, and feeling as though I could float through the ceiling, I snuggled against Thatcher's warm body, smelling leather, pine, and male musk. "You have cute ears," I sighed, falling into blackness. Thatcher stared down at the unconscious mass of female in his arms, trying to figure out what in the hell was going on. First her friend was in trouble, next she's talking about flapjacks... Thatcher reached up and cupped his left ear tentatively. He had cute ears? Rolling his eyes, he dropped his hand back down and cradled her, watching her face for any sign of pain. But she slept soundly, her eyes not even fluttering when he lowered her back onto her bed and covered her back up. With a mew, Tempest's fingers latched onto his shirt, tugging weakly at the collar. "S-Stay..." she shuddered, her eyes opening to slits. So much for sleeping soundly... Thatcher swallowed hard, his unadulterated dreams spewing to the forefront. Shaking his head to clear it he sighed and kicked off his boots before lowering himself onto the bed next to her, his breath catching as she burrowed herself into him. She doesn't know what she's doing, he reminded himself. She's in pain. With a sigh he put his arms around her and tentatively held her close, making sure his hips were a definite distance between hers. To take his mind off the girl in his arms, he tried to concentrate on what she had said. Her "friend" was in trouble. Taking the knowledge he knew now, her "friend" was Tze'sic. Tze'sic had met with a group of trackers under the influence of the Elders and agreed to go with them to Queensland Mountains, the hideout, ironically, of both the Raspans and the Elders. Bayothet had yet to contact him to let him know if something was amiss, but... Thatcher looked down at Tempest again, his chest tightening when she let out the softest whimper of pain. If Tempest felt this way that meant the mating bond was strong between her and Tze'sic. The Gargoyle had taken so much of her life essence into his own self that if he experienced anything so would she. If he had been attacked, or worse, Tempest would be able to feel the resonating impact as well. After a few moments to clear his head, Thatcher closed his eyes and concentrated on a wordless spell, his mind going through Tempest's body to locate the source of the pain -- which was staggering in its intensity -- and healed what he could. Finally, only when he was too weak to heal her any further, Thatcher released the spell and watched as she drifted off into an easy sleep. Thatcher then pulled out the cheap disposable phone from his pocket and put it alongside his leg, turning the screen into his jeans so the light wouldn't wake her as he flipped the screen up. No missed calls, no voicemails, no to-be-read text messages. Nothing. Smothering a sigh, he pocketed the phone again, his mind whirring. So much hell was happening, in such a short span of time. All of it drew back to Tze'sic, ultimately. Well, Tze'sic and Thatcher's own father. Thatcher closed his eyes, blocking out the burst of anger that erupted within him each and every time his origins were hashed up. His father was nothing but a sperm donor, a raging monster that should not have been brought into existence. The beast had been created by the breeding of an ancient humanoid of infeasible size and the wild Raspans of the First Age, at a time when the first of the major clans of Gargoyles, Druls, Lunar and Raspans had been formed. Like his father before him, he created a monopoly of monstrosities, including Thatcher. But unlike the dozen half-brothers and sisters Thatcher was related to, he wasn't controllable. He wasn't a big, hulking mass of Raspan, too mindless and loyal to the monster that had raped them into existence. His DNA had created him as one half Raspan, one fourth Drul, and one fourth Gargoyle. He was the only one of his kind. His father, Fuyher-se, the Ancient Raspan King, did not know Thatcher even existed. "Better that way," he murmured to himself, releasing a pent-up sigh of frustration as he gave in to the thoughts of the past, his eyes drifting closed as memories long buried began to play. +++++ "Kitten, wake up," he whispered, low and soft against the shell of my ear. "It's nearly four in the afternoon." Groaning my rebuttal, I pulled my covers high over my head. Thatcher sighed. "You need to talk to me about last night. You didn't look so hot, Kitten." Last night? Opening one eye, I slowly peeled a corner of the covers back and found Thatcher staring down at me with a concerned look on his face. I opened the other eye and blinked. "Why are you in my room?" I asked softly, swallowing morning breath. Thatcher hesitated before lowering himself down on the bed next to me, his big black eyes pleading for me to understand. But understand what? "You're my boredom buffer," he retorted simply, shrugging for emphasis. "Anyway, I threw about a million rocks at your window before your phone started flashing at me. The front door was unlocked, so I came up here and found you sprawled under the window, moaning. You looked drunk." I snorted and rolled my eyes. "I wasn't drunk, I was..." I blinked, stopping short. What had happened to me last night? All I could remember was... "Talon," I breathed, my chest squeezing tight as the empty ache came back. "Your friend?" Thatcher asked gently. "You mentioned him last night, something about him being in trouble?" I nodded earnestly. "That's right, I just...I just don't know why I feel that way." Thatcher's eyes hardened for a second, but after a blink the look vanished. "You care about him a lot, huh?" he asked hesitantly. I felt the hands under my pillow tighten a little and that confused me, as did his question. What was Talon to me? He had taken my blood and apparently some of my soul...without permission. He had almost attacked me, got angry when I had another guy's smell on me, and had the most volatile personality of anyone I know. He was dominating, slightly cold, and breathtakingly beautiful -- in the anamorphic sense at least. Talon was...complicated. Well that certainly doesn't clear up anything... "I don't know," I answered finally, looking over Thatcher's face. He dropped my gaze instantly and the hands beneath my pillow where he had rest them undoubtedly turned into fists. That was interesting. Digging under the pillow, I pried out his hands and took them in my own, squeezing gently. "You know, you kind of remind me of him," I said quietly. Something flickered across his face then, amusement, maybe? "But you're a little nicer," I admitted, chuckling a little at the thought. Thatcher didn't seem the overbearing caveman type, but he certainly wasn't uncomfortable in his own skin either. Both men were surrounded by their own secrets. I'm sure, though, that Thatcher's secrets weren't due to his nonhuman state of being, like Talon's were. Slowly I massaged circles in the soft pad of his palm, a little surprised at how smooth his skin felt. It was baby soft, even. I looked over at Thatcher, expecting to see a sardonic look on his face followed by an equally dry retort. But instead he was smiling softly, his eyes on our hands. His prominent Adam's apple bobbed slightly and I smirked when he rubbed his cheek against the pillow before chuckling. "That feels really good," he admitted sheepishly, his cheekbones flushing pink soon after. "Where did you learn this?" "My mom. I get stress headaches a lot and she taught me when I was little about pressure points and how to use them." Thatcher chuckled slightly before his laughter grew. I gave him a look and he rolled his eyes. "It was something you said last night. I think it's from a movie...it was something about how you felt like melting butter over flapjacks..." Wonderland Ch. 07 Beware the Frumious Bandersnatch Steve looked at his beautiful brunette sister Suzanne standing in the doorway to his grandparent's family room in her short lavender robe. The petite 5' 2" woman had high firm D cup tits that defied the laws of physics. The robe followed the curve of her round but tight ass cheeks betraying her voluptuous figure beneath. Steve's thought went quickly over the recent chain of events that brought him to this spot. He had spied on his mom and dad fucking making him dream of sex with his mom. Then while his father had been held over on a business trip Steve had fucked his mom starting a powerful sexual relationship between the two. Steve had thought it would end when his father came home but his parents asked him to join them in a threesome! Then they had brought him here to his grandparents' house telling him stories on the way about how everyone on his mom's side of the family had ended up fucking everyone else in the family. He had started this "naked weekend" as they called it by tying up and screwing the hell out of his aunt Ashley in the basement laundry room. Now here he was facing the women he had dreamed about for years, his older sister Suzanne. Steve's sister crossed the room and stood in front of him. She pulled the knot on her robe and without waiting pushed it off her shoulders to the floor. Steve was trembling with need so bad he fumbled with his knot before finally untying his robe and dropping it unceremoniously to the floor as well. Suzanne's hazelnut eyes stared into Steve's. She moved forward and wrapped her arms around his neck pulling herself close to him. Steve felt her firm tits pressed against his chest and responded by wrapping his arms around Suzanne. Steve squeezed his sister in a sensual bear hug. The two siblings kissed, gently their lips bearly touching. Their kisses became more urgent and forceful. Steve forced his tongue into Suzanne's mouth and enjoyed it's sweet warmth. As his tongue retreated Suzanne's pushed forward. She flicked the inside of Steve's mouth with quick butterfly touches. Suzanne withdrew her tongue but kept flicking it down his neck and onto his broad chest still using the quick light touches. She continued down his chest and torso until she was kneeling at his feet, her mouth level with his cock. He grasped the base of his prick with one hand pulling it out from his body. She started to pepper the head of his mighty pecker with the same quick butterfly flicks of her tongue. This started driving Steve mad and made his cock engorge with blood, quickly swelling to hardness. Suzanne then opened her full lips and sucked the head of Steve's prick into her mouth. She continued to flick at the head with her tongue while his member was in her mouth. Suzanne pulled her mouth off the bulbous head and started to lick the underside of Steve's pecker with long full strokes up and down the full length of the now fully hard tool. She would lick up and down for six or seven stroke and then suck on the head of his cock for a few seconds and then start the cycle again. Without any more than his cock-head entering his sister's sweet mouth he was starting to climax. Suzanne felt the jumping starting in his stomach muscles and covered his purple knob with her mouth. Steve started to shoot cum into his sister's mouth and she swallowed it as fast as he could empty his balls. After Steve quit blowing his wad Suzanne stood up and once more stared into his eyes. Steve wrapped his arms around her magnificent body again giving her another erotic bear hug. Then he started down her neck with soft sucking kisses. Down her torso he moved very slowly kissing and gently sucking his sister's delicious smooth skin into his mouth. Steve reached her great tits and he expected Suzanne to have the same sensitive nipples as all the women in the family. So he spent time licking and sucking the large nubs in the center of her saucer sized pink areole. As he was sucking on Suzanne's left nipple she started to softly moan with delight. Steve moved to the right nipple spending time to ensure both his sister's nipples were hard and stimulated. Steve continued to work down Suzanne's trim abdomen finally reaching her crotch. To Steve's surprise his sister's cunt was shaved totally bald! He started to lick her inner thighs making her urge him to do more. "Oh please Stevie!" Suzanne breathed in husky voice, "Please lick me now!" Having learned from this morning's session Steve did not rush to his sister's twat but rather spent more time licking, kissing, and gently sucking on her inner thighs fanning the flames of Suzanne's desire. Steve finally started to lick the smooth outer lips of her vagina. His tongue slipped just inside the outer lips of Suzanne's twat licking up and down the hot slit. Then Steve concentrated on her hard clit peppering it with quick butterfly touches just as Suzanne had used on his cock. Steve reached around her body with his right hand and slid two fingers into her very wet snatch. He began a rhythmic pumping motion in and out of her pussy with his fingers while his tongue flicked the head of her clit in time with this stimulation. Suzanne groaned and twisted her body driven by the feelings of delight that shot from her pleasured pussy up her spine like lightning bolts. Suzanne grabbed her brother's head forcing her cunt into his mouth. "Suck my cunt Stevie!" shouted Suzanne while she ground her hot box on his face. Steve knew that he needed to prolong the passion Suzanne was feeling as long as possible but at the same time he was so aroused himself that he needed to bring her to a climax. Steve quickened the pace of his licking and thrusting with his fingers drawing groans of pleasure from his sister as she twisted her hot cunt on his fingers trying to achieve the release she badly needed. Faster and faster Steve's manipulations of his sister's body increased until Suzanne was almost hopping up and down on his probing fingers. Steve knew it was time and pulled his two fingers out of her hot box. "Oh Stevie," Suzanne cried, "I need my cunt to be filled NOW!" Steve cupped his other hand and pushed it into his sister's raging hot twat continuing to push until his whole fist was inside Suzanne. His sister started to climax but Steve had another surprise and pushed the two fingers wet with her cunt juice up her tight asshole. This dual stimulation was the last straw for Suzanne and she bucked up and down on his fist embedded in her pussy as her climax wracked her body with waves of pleasure. Suzanne slowly stopped shuddering with her climax and Steve pulled his hands out of her hot body. "Oh Steve I feel so empty." said Suzanne. "I have something to fill you up." said Steve while stroking his cock that once again had a raging hard boner. Suzanne slid to the floor onto her back and spread her beautiful legs giving Steve easy access to her shaved pussy. Steve moved forward towards his sister placing the head of his massive dick at the wet entrance to her cunt. He pushed forward embedding the huge organ completely in his sister's body in one swift stroke. Suzanne groaned with the sudden entrance but Steve heard that groan echoed around him. A quick look over his sister's shoulder revealed the other women in the room all squatting on their spouse's cocks in a reverse cowgirl position so everyone could watch the fucking between the two siblings. Steve didn't have much time to wonder what had happened to Shari as Suzanne wrapped her legs around his back and locked her ankles together thereby capturing Steve in a carnal embrace. "Fuck me Stevie." cried Suzanne, "Fuck me hard!" Steve said nothing and didn't bother to start slowly. Instead he started to pound his large cock in and out of his sister's nubile body at a furious pace causing the pleasured women to scream with delight. Steve bent down and sucked her right nipple into his mouth sucking on it mightily. At the same time he pulled and twisted Suzanne's left nipple with his left hand. "God it's as good as I knew it would be!" moaned Suzanne as she humped her hips up to meet every downward stroke of Steve's big prick. Steve's orgasm started to ripple through his body. In response he let go of Suzanne's nipple and instead locked her mouth in deep French kiss, his tongue trying to force itself down her throat. At the same time he shoved two fingers up her tight ass. The two siblings seemed to be fused into one body that rippled up and down with waves of orgasmic joy that seemed to last for hours. When the tsunami of their orgasm had finished washing over them Steve stopped kissing Suzanne and gazed deeply into her hazel eyes. "Ok buddy boy, roll her over!" came a familiar voice from behind them. Steve rolled onto his back, his sister now straddling his body with his big cock still in her pussy. Over her shoulder Steve could see Shari standing there wearing a large strap-on dildo that was obviously slick with lube. Shari knelt down behind Suzanne and started to insert the huge dildo into her ass. The kinkiness of situation caused Steve's pecker to get hard right inside his sister's welcoming twat. "Oh yes, fill me up!" said Suzanne obviously pleased with the new intrusion. Shari grabbed Suzanne's hips and started to thrust the dildo into her ass while crying, "Take it bitch. Take it all!" Suzanne's only response was to groan with pleasure and to start thrusting back to meet the thrusting strap-on. This motion caused her to drag her hot velvety pussy up and down on Steve's cock. Just as Steve was getting used to the feel of his dick sliding in and out of his sister's pussy while she was thrusting her ass on the dildo a shadow fell on Steve's face. He looked up to see his father standing just in front of the thrusting threesome with a big boner of his own. Don moved forward and bent slightly at the knees bringing the head of his prick in contact with Suzanne's lips. "Yes Dad shove your cock down my throat! Fill me with cock!" said Suzanne. Don didn't hesitate but shoved his big prick between his daughter's lips pushing forward until it was embedded in her face. Now as Suzanne moved forward her father's cock slide completely down her throat. As she slid backwards Steve's big cock was shoved completely up her twat while Shari's big strap-on was shoved totally up her ass. Steve marveled at how his sister continued to thrust faster and faster with obvious pleasure completely filled with cocks in every hole. "Ah, shit!" said Don cumming in his daughter's mouth. Steve found himself overwhelmed as well and coming in Suzanne's hot tight cunt. As Don withdrew his cock from Suzanne's mouth Steve found his now deflating cock slipping out of Suzanne's cunt as well. He pulled himself out from under his sister but Shari remained with her dildo up his sister's ass. Shari grabbed Suzanne's waist and rolled over on her back the dildo still embedded in Suzanne's ass. "Anybody going to help me finish?" said Shari. "Sure!" said Dan now sporting a hard-on of his own. Dan kneeled in front of his granddaughter and slipped his prick up her very wet pussy. He and Shari now started to once again fuck Suzanne front and back. Without a word Clare crossed the room to the tangled bodies and knelt placing her pussy right over Shari's face that started immediately to lick and suck her grandmother's pussy. At the same time Clare bent forward slightly and grabbed Suzanne's nipples. The mound of bodies moved and thrust with everyone pleasuring everyone else. A final collective moan indicated the final climax of the group on the floor. "Well, who's up for dinner?" said Helen. Wonderland Ch. 07 I froze from massaging his palm and cringed. "I said that?" I asked in horror, my face heating up with embarrassment as Thatcher nodded and laughed even harder. "I just felt like right now that sounded aptly appropriate," he chuckled. "I feel like I could sleep until four in the afternoon," he tagged on, giving me a pointed look. I flushed again and rolled my eyes. "I wasn't drunk!" I enunciated, his snort telling me he didn't believe it for a second. "I just...I just got a bug or something," I lied. Quickly trying to change the subject, I turned the conversation back to him. "Thatcher, what else did I say to you when I was drunk-but-not-drunk?" Thatcher blinked. "Nothing. You passed out after the flapjacks bit." I tilted my head. "When was that?" "When was what?" "Well, when did you come over here?" "Early morning-ish." He smirked. "Admittedly, I didn't look at the clock until your mom-" His eyes widened and he cut off. I gripped his hands in mine when he tried to pull away. "What does my mom have to do with anything?" I asked slowly, narrowing my eyes as he squirmed a little. "She came in to check on you this morning before she left for work," Thatcher said slowly, his eyes watching my face carefully. "I didn't mean to fall asleep, but I did and well..." He crinkled his nose a little. "She thinks we're..." He lifted our hands and made quotations. "Together," he finished. The air flew out of my lungs and Thatcher made a face. "You have one serious case of morning breath," he noted dryly. At my glare, he swallowed. "Are you going to hit me?" he asked a bit warily. I tackled him instead. The two of us fell off my bed and landed with a loud thump on my bedroom floor. "I can't believe you!" I yelled, plucking a pillow from my bed and knocking him on top of the head. "FIRST you sneak in! THEN you fall asleep IN MY BED and now..." I paused from hitting him again and he peeked through his arms warily. "And now what?" he asked hesitantly, looking a lot like he was trying not to laugh. "She's going to tell my dad," I breathed in horror. Thatcher snatched away the pillow and gave me a dirty look. "I'm sorry I inconvenienced you, Tempest, but what else could I say? She caught us-" He cut off again with a huff and ran his long fingers through his hair to smooth out the wild strands, not looking at me. "She caught us...what?" I asked timidly, suddenly aware that I was straddling his waist and one of his hands was resting low on my thigh, his warmth radiating through my sweatpants. Thatcher met my eyes, his expression smooth. "She caught us sleeping together," he said quietly. "It wasn't just me doing all the snuggling. You were holding onto me too." Once again, my inability to get my words out just screwed me. I caught Thatcher from getting up and sighed. "I'm not mad at what you said, not...really. I mean, I know you don't mean it, you were just saving your ass, which is fine," I told him, holding my hand up through his protest. "But you didn't 'inconvenience' me. I'm not ashamed of being your girlfriend -- not like we're together or anything -- but I'm not..." I threw up my hands, giving up. "I can't get this to come out right." Thatcher let out a sigh and turned back to me, placing both hands on my waist. With a soft push, he lifted me up and onto the bed before standing up himself and sitting beside me. I watched as he fell back onto the bed and closed his eyes with another heavy exhale. "I like you, Kitten," he said after a minute or so of silence, opening his eyes to look at me. "But you can tell your parents whatever you like. I won't make you play pretend." He looked up at the ceiling and swallowed hard enough that I could hear him. "I know I'm not your type...I don't exactly leave fang marks." I froze instantly and fought against grabbing my neck. The bites were still visible? Fudge. Thatcher knew what they were. He couldn't be pulling that out of his ass, any other person would've said bruises or hickeys or love bites. He said fang marks. Warily I looked over Thatcher's surprisingly relaxed lithe frame, trying to figure out what in the hell I should say next. Our eyes met and I swallowed hard now, knowing I should say something at least. The ball was in my court. Unfortunately for me, I always sucked at tennis and even more so at mind games. "I know the difference," he said quietly, sitting up now. His dark eyes went to my neck. "Hickeys don't have puncture wounds, Kitten," Thatcher murmured, his eyes slowly meeting mine. The look in them was daring, as though he wanted me to challenge him and deny his claims. I should. But he knew! "Do you know?" I whispered, watching his face warily. "That your friend isn't human?" he asked quietly. I said nothing, just waited, not wanting to give away anymore than I already had. The tension was so thick between the two of us that I felt like the air had grown heavier. I barely took a breath, afraid that I would do so too quickly and he would know that I had so much more to say. "I will tell you what I know," Thatcher continued, "but not here." His eyes drifted to the outdoors and his brow furrowed. I followed his gaze and gasped. "It's snowing?" I breathed. Thatcher swore and shot up off the bed, his hands clasping the ledge as he looked out the window. "This isn't good," he gritted out. "How is snow bad?" I asked him, coming to stand beside him. It was pretty early for snow, I had to admit, but it was bad? I eyed him then, trying to read his expression. Just like Talon, though, I couldn't read a frickin' thing. In that moment, I sorely wished that Talon had told me more about the four other species. If I knew what to look for, if I knew why they hated each other, why they decided to begin a war, hell, if I knew anything this conversation with Thatcher would've played out differently. If Talon hadn't left me, so many things would've happened differently. "It's only June," Thatcher said quietly. "It shouldn't be snowing yet." I stood a bit closer beside him and looked over his face critically. "Are you saying this snow is unnatural?" I asked slowly. "Like something unnatural caused it to happen?" Thatcher swallowed hard, his grip on the window sill tightening. The wood gave in to his fingertips, splintering it beneath his strength. The skin of his fingers slowly turned black as his fingertips narrowed into points. The air began to smell of forest leaves and musk...with a hint of strawberries, all radiating from Thatcher. Ice trickled down my spine and I took one large step back from Thatcher, realizing instantly what he wasn't saying. "You're not human, are you Thatcher?" I whispered, swallowing hard. Thatcher dropped his head, his shoulders rising and falling as he released a slow sigh. "No," he said quietly, his voice hollow. I took another step backward, feeling my hands shake as I reached back to find the bed, ready to place as much distance between the two of us as I could. "Remember when I asked you about the halfers?" Thatcher asked in the same hollow tone. I eyed the room quickly for a weapon, for anything to defend myself, but all my heavy objects were on Thatcher's side of the room. "Yea, I remember," I answered, my voice quivering despite my attempt to sound nonchalant. I bumped into the bed and swiftly went around it, my eyes never leaving Thatcher's hunched form. Thatcher hesitated, his head tipping slightly to the side. I knew then that he was aware I had moved, but my stumbling wasn't exactly incognito. I sounded like a rhinoceros bumbling around my room. "I'm sort of like that," he said quietly. "My origins are a bit...complex." I shook my head slowly, trying to sort this out through my own panic. "So what are you, Thatcher?" I asked, trying to not sound abrupt. "You're not human, you're sort of a halfer...what does that make you?" Thatcher took off his jacket and turned to me as he folded it. With his eyes downcast, he set the jacket down on my bed and reached down to his t-shirt hem and took that off as well. My breath caught in my throat at the series of scars across his chest and stomach, his arms marked up as well. Removing my hand from my mouth, I looked at his face to find he was still not looking at me. "Thatcher...what happened to you?" I whispered in horror. Thatcher swallowed. "If I show you what I am," he began slowly, "if I tell you what I know, you have to promise me something." I licked my dry lips and felt my palms grow slick with sweat again. "O-Okay," I stammered. "What is it?" Thatcher lifted his eyes to mine, the irises glowing red. "Promise not to scream," he told me in a metallic voice. So I did what any girl would do. I opened my mouth and belted the air out of my lungs in a high soprano. A split second later, Thatcher became a blur and appeared before me, his hands cupping my face and his mouth clamping over mine, sealing the scream inside my throat. With eyes wide open I stared at Thatcher's new face, not even aware that the kiss had broke or that I had stopped screaming. Thatcher stared down at me with warm brown eyes, the color flaring and shifting under his heavy black eyelashes. His skin was still the same pale shade, but unlike his human form, it glowed like luminescent bulbs had been planted under his skin. His lips parted to reveal fangs, like that of a Gargoyle, which led me to his pointed ears. The piercings in them fit perfectly. With a closer look, I noticed each band was marked by a symbol or letter that resembled the squiggles and circles that I had found in the books at the castle library where Talon had been imprisoned. Making note to ask Thatcher what they meant, I turned my attention to his torso, which like the rest of him, was covered by a soft layer of black fur formed into a V that faded off just below his knees. At his elbows were two silky black tufts of hair, like a lion would have. His fingers and toes, unlike Talon, were tipped with elongated black claws that reminded me distinctly of a rat. Suddenly, a soft pink rat's tail curled around my ankle and Thatcher murmured in that same metallic tone, "I am half Raspan, one quarter Drul, and one quarter Gargoyle. My father is Fuyher-se, Raspan King, and the reason why your precious friend Talon, or Tze'sic as he is known in my world, went into hiding over two thousand years ago. I am Fuyher's bastard son, Táxim-se, born to him by a half-Drul, half-Gargoyle woman who died giving birth to me. I am the only one of my kind." He swallowed hard. "Tze'sic did not tell you much, did he?" he asked quietly as he looked over my face, his tone not condescending, but he definitely sounded disappointed. I swallowed my surprise and choked out, "Nothing." The tail at my ankle gave me a reassuring squeeze which was reflected in Thatcher - Táxim-se's -- smile. I wasn't very reassured. It must've shown on my face, because then Thatcher vowed in a tone reserved for a calming a frightened child, "I would never harm you, Tempest. Not intentionally." He took a step back and sat on the bed, patting the mattress beside him. "If you want to ask me questions, I won't mind." When I didn't move, Thatcher's calm broke and he put his face in his hands. "I knew I shouldn't have shown you," he hissed. "This was a mistake. I shouldn't have even tried to talk to you." Realizing then that if I let Thatcher leave, despite my willingness to let him do just that, I would never get the answers or information I needed. Quickly, I caught his wrists in my hands, admiring for a brief second at how his change had given him definite body muscle. Shaking that thought aside I looked up into his face and swallowed. "I was in shock, okay?" I sighed, sitting beside him now. "I froze up when Talon turned from stone to living breathing Gargoyle before running in the opposite direction as fast as I could, so don't feel bad. This whole nonhuman thing is really a great way to fry someone's nerves." I laughed nervously and released his wrists. "Reading about nonhumans is way different than them appearing in the flesh." I eyed his tail and shook my head in slight wonder. "How...how did the clans even come about? I mean...you look so human, but then you aren't." I eyed him and watched as the honey gold look to his eyes faded; turning them back to the soft brown they were before. He quickly looked away from me and coughed nervously. "Kitten, I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, but...I'm currently in the nude. The fur covers everything, but I'd really rather talk to you with my clothes on." Heat rushed to my face and I shot up off the mattress like I had been burned. "Sorry!" I exclaimed. "I'll be in the kitchen," I blurted, rushing out of the room before he could say another word. Ten minutes later, I heard Thatcher's footsteps on the kitchen tile and I turned at the stove to see him dressed in yesterday's clothes with one of my over-sized college sweaters over his t-shirt. He plucked at the hem and raised his eyebrows questionably. "It's fine. It's more comfortable than your leather jacket." I turned back to the stove and bit on my bottom lip in thought. "What do you want for dinner?" "Whatever you're having is fine, thank you," Thatcher responded quietly. I pulled out the items for chicken and rice, greasing a large Pyrex pan and went through the ministrations, unable to restart the conversation Thatcher had begun upstairs. I had just pulled the defrosted chicken from the microwave when Thatcher came up beside me at the oven and caught my right wrist in his human hand. I closed my eyes and stopped fumbling around the kitchen senselessly. I had been putting off the talk and he knew it. I opened my eyes once I was in control again and looked up at him apologetically. "I'm sorry, Thatcher. It's not anything that you did...it's me. I thought you were human and now...now that's all changed too. I mean, even Connor showed me he was not human once he saw the fang marks, but you didn't. You lied to me." I shook my head and set down the knife I was using before turning to him. "Why would you lie to me, especially if you knew all along that I knew Talon? What do you have to hide?" Thatcher's brow furrowed slightly as he sought to explain. "Because I exist, I am the enemy of the Gargoyles. Being what I am and who created me...I am feared, hated, and repulsed. I lied to you because I hoped you would tell me how you found the Gargoyle, who I know now is Talon, and why you took him in. It's not like you invited your best friend to a sleepover. You brought an Ancient warrior into your home. Things like that don't happen everyday." I frowned. "I don't follow." Thatcher gestured to the food and I slowly started to make dinner again, watching as he got the pan for frying the chicken out. "I'll start from the beginning. Our beginnings are unknown. We are as uncertain as how we got to this world as you humans are. As usual, at the start of it all, we were peaceful. We adapted to changing climates and so on. Eventually, humans began to populate the earth. While their numbers grew, ours diminished. It was our ancestors who for whatever reason, got in their heads that mating with humans would keep our kinds alive. It worked." After the oil had heated, I rolled the chicken into the flour and egg mixture and dropped it into the pan, waiting for him to continue. "The first generation, or the First Age as they are known in our history, was powerful, deadly, and uncontrollable. My father is the only half-human, half-Raspan in existence and is part of the First Age. His brothers and sisters were pure Raspan with few human qualities. Nonetheless, they were docile and my father was able to control them. The same goes for the Gargoyles, the Lunar, and the Druls. Pure beasts mated with humans, and thus our species were born." Thatcher watched as I flipped over the chicken and leaned his back against the cabinet and crossed his arms, his lips pursed in thought. "Despite humans being not even remotely advanced as you are today, the four species evolved into powerful thinkers and innovators. We lived in small tribes, we had hierarchies in place, we each followed our own beliefs and customs. We stayed close to the humans, but only as a breeding source. When human and species matings first began, there wasn't a concept of 'mates' or companions. Just more bodies to help hunt and protect." He eyed me apologetically but I shrugged. I hadn't been alive two thousand years ago, so I didn't really find that bothersome. "As our tribes grew bigger, we began to fight, as humans and beasts are wont to do. We scrabbled over everything and eventually...it grew ugly. The descendants of my father's brothers and sisters up until this point had been easily controllable. During one argument, a Raspan male lashed out at the offending Gargoyle and tasted its flesh." Thatcher shifted uncomfortably and gestured to the stove. "Chicken's burning," he told me. Quickly I flipped over the chicken, making sure it wasn't burnt through (it wasn't) before gesturing wordlessly for him to continue with my spatula. "Raspan's are, undoubtedly, the most foul of the creatures created," Thatcher sighed. "They are the vultures of the four species. They bury themselves in the earth and feast off the rotten corpses of the dead and certain vegetation. The only human-like qualities Raspan's possess are the abilities to plot, strategize, and execute. We're mindless war machines, and when focused on a single goal, we can be deadly. So imagine what happens when the Raspan explains how exquisite the flesh of a Gargoyle is to his pack." I froze at the stove, eying the chicken that was currently sizzling, and my stomach flopped. "Everyone wants a taste," I whispered. "Exactly," Thatcher said bitterly. "The Great Battle began because one Raspan fed off something alive, with its own dark magic, and became something that should've never been created. Raspans, for the first time since their creation, evolved. They became more human, they were smarter, they were...disgustingly perfect. Ugly as shit, of course, but perfect for means of war. My father recognized this, and being a half-insane beast with the intelligence and sway over the children of these evolved species, he manipulated them. He started the Battle and desecrated every species apart from his own, hunting them to the point of extinction." I removed the chicken from pan and placed the strips among the bed of rice before popping it into the oven. After setting the timer, I gestured to the kitchen island where Thatcher sat and continued his story. "Tze'sic -- Talon -- has a very important role in all of this," Thatcher said firmly. "His father, Tze'hoc, was the founder of the Tze'hoc bloodline. He was the last of the First Age Gargoyles until the Great Battle, and Tze'sic is his only son. That naturally makes him the equivalent of a king to the Gargoyles." Thatcher leaned forward, his eyes flashing as he continued his tale. "My father and Tze'hoc were born at the same time. They knew each other, respected one another, and equally hated each other with a rivalry that I never understood when I was younger, at least not until someone pointed out my origins. Tze'hoc took a Gargoyle as his mate and she bore Talon -- Tze'sic -- though in secret, as the rumors play out, he took another as his wife. She was a freak show of bloodlines, part Gargoyle and part Drul, though on the surface she appeared full Gargoyle." Thatcher hesitated then, his eyes darkening as he looked over my face. "She was also Fuyher's mate. Fuyher discovered Tze'hoc with her and a year later, I was born. The Great Battle erupted not long after." I gasped and put my hands over my mouth, unable to believe it. Wonderland Ch. 07 Thatcher rolled his eyes. "I know; the drama and intrigue right?" he snorted, shaking his head. "My father is definitely Fuyher. Fuyher tossed my mother out of the pack after publicly humiliating her for her actions. He doesn't know I exist, and I grew up very far away from him. But I always grew up knowing I was his bastard son, the pack that took me in would not let me forget my origins." Thatcher sighed and rubbed his face, and I took the moment to get us two cups of tea, knowing it would help keep the story flowing. "Thatcher," I began as I cut two slices of lemon for the tea, "how do you know for certain you are Fuyher's son? I mean..." I turned to face him and saw an unreadable expression on his face. "You...how do I say this..." I walked to him and gently lay my hand on his arm before looking closer at him. "You and Talon have similar features," I murmured softly. Thatcher narrowed his eyes. "What features?" he asked hesitantly. I gently drew the V of his widow's peak with my pointer finger and tapped the faint crease in the center of his chin. "He has a soft widow's peak and a dimpled chin," I told him, watching emotions flicker across his face that I couldn't read. Thatcher shook his head quickly and took the cup of tea I offered. "I turn into a Raspan, Tempest," he snorted. "It's not possible. I mean, I couldn't have Tze'hoc genes unless..." I eyed him closely and watched as something dawned on his face. "Unless I had a twin," he breathed. He looked at me, his eyes widening. "Gargoyles cannot have more than one child at a time, but a Raspan can have a whole litter. It's why we breed so quickly. My mother was predominantly Gargoyle, so if I had, hypothetically, two fathers, that means I would have had a brother in the womb. By default, however, a Gargoyle can only have one child and so I would have taken my brother's genes at a cellular level and ingested them as my own." He then waved that idea off. "But that's a load of crap. No Gargoyle and Raspan has ever produced a child." Despite his argument, however, he did not sounding convinced. I bit on my bottom lip as I sat across from him. "You said a First Age Gargoyle has a very strong bloodline. Talon may have mentioned to me he has powerful magic because of this." I took a sip of my tea. "Maybe it's not as far-fetched as you think it is. Maybe certain conditions had to be in place." Thatcher snorted to let me know what he thought of my hypothesis, although I didn't blame him. I wasn't deeply into science and had no idea what machinations went into cellular biology, but I did have a belief in magic and coincidence. I eyed his dark hair and got an idea. "Thatcher, can you control what part of you changes?" Thatcher nodded, a dark eyebrow lifting up slightly. "Can you change from the waist-up for me? I just want to see something." Thatcher set his cup down and did as I asked. I watched as the fur, nails, pointed ears, fangs, and warm brown eyes appeared before looking up at his hair. It was the color of an oily puddle rainbow, just like Talon's hair. "Why are you smiling?" Thatcher asked quietly. "You have Talon's hair," I said into my cup. Thatcher blinked and the change was gone as quickly as it had appeared. His black eyes watched me closely, never leaving my face. After a long while he lowered his eyes and dropped his head a little, silence reigning in the kitchen. I waited for a little longer before speaking again. "So what happened to Tze'hoc and the Great Battle? Even Talon isn't sure what took place." Thatcher swallowed his tea and shook his head. "The line was broken and the Raspan's surged through. Tze'hoc was killed by my father, most likely retribution for his lost mate and to claim the world at the time as his. After Tze'hoc fell, the army that had followed him disbanded. Mayhem ensued, clans went into hiding, and ever since we live in fear of what Fuyher is planning." He gestured to the snow outside. "When the Gargoyles, Lunar, and Drul's congregate, the seasons change to spring and summer. When the Raspan's congregate; especially the ones who have descended from those who ate the flesh of the Gargoyles, the season changes to winter. It's fitting because winter signifies death and hibernation. Two of the things that Raspan's seem to enjoy the most." Thatcher and I were silent then, both lost in our own thoughts. I got up to make more tea and checked the chicken in the oven, though I knew it wasn't done. I turned back to Thatcher and saw that he was massaging his temples, his eyes squeezed shut. I walked to him and took one of his hands in my own, massaging the soft pad of his palm like I had earlier. "I have one final question," I told him. Thatcher hummed in acknowledgement. "How do you and Talon fit into all of this?" Thatcher sighed softly. "Tze'sic disappeared during battle. It became part of history that he was either eaten by the Raspan's or my father tortured him to death. Either way, he ended up dead." Thatcher smirked a little, his eyes distant as he became lost in a memory. "He's legendary, truly. One of the greatest warriors there ever was, one of the best strategists my father ever faced. It was because of him that the species survived as long through the Great Battle as they did." I massaged the rest of Thatcher's hand now and felt the tension leave his body slowly as I continued to make small circles into his palm. Even I felt relaxed by the touch. "He's the only one left of the Ancients. He's the only one strong enough to defeat Fuyher in combat. He is a natural leader that can get anyone to fight under him if he finds the forces he needs." I lifted my eyes up from Thatcher's hand. "What about you?" Thatcher chuckled humorlessly. "My story and upbringing is not nearly as exciting. I grew up in British Columbia before it was even named that. I lived with a small pack of Lunar and Drul's that called themselves 'the Resistance'. They 'resisted' the Gargoyle's tyranny, they 'resisted' the Raspan's invasion...they 'resisted' common sense." He shook his head slightly. "I was raised to hone my magic and control my temper, which I inherited from Fuyher, possibly. I spent the war protecting my pack from the Raspan's and did so until the day they captured me. I was enlisted in their army and from there I built my own resistance of sorts." He smiled a little. "They 'New Resistance' is following Tze'sic now, to make sure the Elders don't cause him trouble. Although, given your episode last night, I hope that everything is alright." Thatcher's smile faded as his eyes drifted to my neck, to the fang marks. "He did not finish the bond with you, but it is very strong. If he was hurt, you would definitely know." Thatcher cupped both of my hands in his, squeezing gently. "He should not have tied you to him like this," he whispered gently, pulling me a bit closer. "Understand something, Tempest, these bonds aren't made lightly. You will feel his pain, his emotions, his hunger even. In turn, he should feel yours. Given the depth of the bond that I see within you...he took more than he gave." He allowed that to sink in before he continued. "As a human, protecting yourself from Talon will be almost as important as protecting yourself from any other harm. I can help you learn to block the emotions and limit the side effects of the bond. It's not much, but enough to keep you sane, which will be an added benefit in the upcoming months in case this world goes to the rats." I frowned at that. "Thatcher, not to sound rude or anything, but how do I know I can trust you? How do I know you aren't spying on Talon in order to kill him? How do I know you aren't going to kill me?" Thatcher had been expecting those questions though and he released my hands to fiddle with one of the earrings in his left ear. He pulled out the hoop and showed it to me. "Do you recognize that symbol?" I studied the tiny circular object engraved within the metal for a few moments before I could place where I had seen it last. "That's Talon's sunburst tattoo! The one on his ear!" Thatcher nodded and replaced the ring in his ear. "Talon and I were friends as children," he said quietly, smiling a little. "I saved him from being a Raspan's lunch and he helped me hunt for food for my pack and brought clothes for the little ones during winter. If not for him, I wouldn't have survived to celebrate my twelfth birthday and the pack would've long died out. His father's clan had settled near where the 'Resistance' had hidden and we were friends for those two years that they had stayed. When he left, he gave me this ring, having made it himself. I gave him my dagger." He chuckled at my expression. "I guess you're familiar with it?" "He held it to my throat the first time we met," I admitted, my memory playing back the moment he had pinned me down on the Wonderland boardwalk. "I have to admit, your present is worth more than an earring." Thatcher shook his head slowly, his eyes going soft. "Giving me a ring denoting his clan is the highest form of payment there is. He made me his brother that day. I fell under the protection of his clan the moment I put the ring in my ear." He swallowed hard then, his jaw muscles bunching. "Ironically, we might actually be brothers," he whispered. The heady smell of chicken brought me out of my own thoughts and I rushed to pull out the chicken and rice, having saved it in just the nick of time. Thatcher set out the plates and we immediately dove in, not speaking as we took at least two servings each. I had definitely outdone myself, despite the distraction Thatcher had been while making the meal. Afterwards, we cleaned up and sat on the couch in the living room, each occupying our own end. "What happens now?" I asked Thatcher during a commercial break. "We wait," he said quietly. I looked over at him and found that he was returning the stare. "What do you think your father will do next?" Thatcher inhaled deeply and released the air in the same slow manner. "He will target his next threat. The humans." I swallowed hard and dropped his intense gaze. I had guessed that much. I also knew that's where Talon had to be now, if anything Thatcher said was true. He was out searching for allies. He was trying to keep people safe, as he felt it was his duty. Finding other Gargoyles had to be his top priority. "Is there no place safe?" I asked Thatcher, my voice catching a little at the sobering thought. Thatcher slowly moved across the couch to me and put an arm around my shoulders. "For now, you are safe," he murmured, his voice tight with suppressed emotion. "Fuyher may strike tomorrow...he may strike in a hundred years. For now, we plan and strategize. Hopefully Tze'sic will have some good news." "And if he doesn't?" I whispered, tears spilling over my cheeks. Thatcher tsked and put both arms around me, his sigh ruffling my hair. "While remaining realistic about the war is important, getting caught up on such hang-ups can also drive a person crazy." Pulling back, he smoothed back my hair and smiled down at me. "There is always an option. If Tze'sic doesn't have good news, we simply have to find some." "That doesn't sound simple," I muttered, sniffing a little. Thatcher laughed and wiped the tears from my cheeks with the sleeve of my sweater. "It isn't." I gently flicked his nose in recant before breaking out into a large yawn that caught me out of the blue, as did the growing sleepiness that filtered through my bones. "Sleepy much?" Thatcher joked, slowly putting his arms around me and pulling me tentatively closer, as though he was ready for me to push him away. When I didn't, he gently rested his cheek on top of my head, sighing a little. "The talk wore me out. Brain overload," I joked. Truthfully, I couldn't keep my eyes open for a second longer. Enveloped in Thatcher's arms, I felt safe. Hearing his heartbeat thumping slow and steady against my ear was more comforting than I could acknowledge at the moment, and when he covered the two of us up with a couch throw, I could almost pretend that the dark foreboding feeling in my chest was my imagination at work. Wrapped up in a cocoon of my own lies and Thatcher's half-attempted comforts, I fell into a dreamless sleep, certain that I was safe from the new monsters that roamed my world. How I wish now that I had known better. +++++ I'd like to thank my editor, mikothebaby, for looking over the past few chapters for me. I tinkered with the story a little before posting, so if you see any errors they're undoubtedly mine. As always, feedback and comments are welcome! I also enjoy the votes, ;) Wonderland Ch. 08 Use Your Vorpal Blade Steve was finishing dinner at his grandparents' house. But it wasn't just any dinner and it wasn't just any visit to his grandparents' place. Steve had just finished a family orgy with all the adults in his family, including his hot older sister and dyke cousin. Then he had sat down to eat with his whole family all dressed in only short silk robes. Since he was now old enough and already fucking with his parents the other members of Steve's family were introducing him to their "naked weekend". "Ready for some final exercise before bed?" said Steve's grandfather. Everyone at the table mumbled their assent to Dan's question. Then the entire family stood up almost as one and started back to the family room. Once they were there everyone sat down on the couches and chairs that lined the walls. Suddenly Steve's father Don stood up and went to the center of the room. Steve's father turned to face the family members still sitting. "Since it is Steve's first time I think a real welcome is in order." said Don. He gestured for Steve to join him at the center of the room. Not knowing what to expect Steve stood up and took off his robe before crossing the floor to meet his father in the center of the room. "I love you son." said Don surprising Steve by hugging him tightly and kissing him full on the lips like a lover as their naked bodies met. Don's tongue snaked its way inside Steve's mouth and all of this intimate contact aroused Steve making his cock twitch and jump. Don read Steve's reaction and realized he was enjoying this stimulation. Don pulled his tongue out of Steve's mouth and dropped to his knees. Don slide the head of Steve's cock into his mouth using his tongue to now lick over the sensitive knob in slow lazy circles. Above his Steve moaned in delight as his father's head started to bob as his sucked his son's cock into his mouth and then slid it out again licking the length of it with his tongue. Behind Steve his cousin Shari rose from the couch and dropped her robe. She fastened a leather belt around her shapely hips which had a large dildo on the front. Shari reached down on the table next to the couch and grabbed a handful of lubricating gel from one of the bowls of the stuff that seemed to be everywhere in Steve's grandparents' house. She rubbed the gel all over the realistic looking fake cock that included a bulbous head and veins. She then crossed to the center of the floor where Steve was busy enjoying the great sucking his father was doing on his now very hard cock. "Augh!" said Steve surprised to feel the wet cold knob of Shari's dildo slide between his ass cheeks. The phallus' knob pushed its' way into his anus spreading his sphincter. Shari's hands grabbed his hips as she continued to force the hard dildo into Steve's ass. Steve had never had anything in his ass before and found the sensation painful at first. As Shari stopped pushing into his ass and started sliding the cock in and out in a thrusting motion Steve became more accustomed to the intrusion. The pain faded and suddenly Steve found his hips forcing themselves back to meet Shari's quickening thrusts almost of their own volition. Suddenly Shari and Don started to drop to the floor taking Steve along with them. Steve now found himself kneeling on the floor with his father sucking his cock while his cousin fucked his ass with her dildo. Suddenly Shari reached down to the dildo and Steve felt the dildo start to vibrate in his ass. Steve was so engrossed in these new sensations that he did not notice the figure moving in front of him. As Steve looked up he saw his mother standing in front of him. Steve's father quit sucking his cock and moved out of the way. Helen sank to her knees while taking her son's big cock up her wet and willing cunt. Now Steve found himself with his mother pistoning her tight hot pussy up and down on his cock while Shari was thrusting her vibrating dildo in and out of his ass. Steve threw his head back and gave a might groan with the incredible pleasure filling his body. A spongy knob suddenly slid into his mouth and Steve found himself with his Grandpa's cock in his mouth. Dan grasped both sides of Steve's head with his hands and started to shove his hard cock in and out of Steve's mouth. Steve was so lost in the sensations that he instinctively started to suck his Grandpa's thrusting cock and lick the underside with his tongue. The four bodies continued their thrusting bobbing dance of passion in the center of the room. Helen suddenly tensed, moaned and shook as a wave of orgasmic pleasure swept over her. Behind him Shari also shook and groaned in her own waves of pleasure. His mother pulled off his cock and Shari pulled her dildo out of his ass although Steve's Grandpa continued thrusting his cock in Steve's mouth. Even with all the new senstations Steve found himself without an orgasam and a still hard cock. His cock felt cold and needy while his ass needed something to fill it again. In front of him a new body appeared that of his built sister Suzanne. She now slid her hot pussy down over Steve's hard cock and started a slow pistoning motion. Another lubbed knob pushed its' way between his ass cheeks. Manly hands grabbed his hips as a familar voice said, "Don't worry son." Steve now found himself with his cock being worshiped by his sister's silky cunt, and his ass filled with his father's cock, all while he sucked his Grandpa's big cock. Steve was now in heaven as the three motions were happening as totally different speeds. His sister's grasping pussy worked slowly but intensely. His father's cock thrust into his ass in a insistant constant motion. In front of him Steve's Grandpa's cock thrust quickly with ever increasing speed into his mouth. The four twisted, bobbed and thrust together in a sweaty mound of sexual pleasure. Suddenly Dan groaned and shoved his cock deep into Steve's mouth. Steve felt the hot sperm filling his mouth. Steve swallowed as much as he could but Dan's cum pushed past his lips and dribbled down his chin. Instinctively Steve grapsed Dan's balls in his right hand and gently squeezed them milking his Grandfather's cum into his own mouth as his Grandpa groaned and shook with orgasam. Behind him Steve's father suddenly shoved his cock deep and hard into his son's ass. He too shook and almost screamed with his powerful orgasm. Now it was only Steve and Suzanne. Suzanne pushed Steve to the floor onto his back. She slid her body down until Steve's whole cock was thrust inside her hot box. Suzanne spread her knees to either side of Steve's body forcing her muscle to clench and her already tight cunt to grasp Steve's cock even tighter like grabbing it in a hot wet silky vise. Now she started to piston her body up and down pulling Steve's cock now caught in her viselike pussy with her. Steve groaned with the massive pleasure his sexy sister was giving him. Suzanne suddenly started to pound her body up and then down into Steve's with ever increasing speed. Below her Steve gasped for air as he watched her D cup tits leap like twin wild mustangs on her chest while her body was fucking him like he had never experienced before. Steve reached around his sister's pounding body with his right hand aiming his fingers towards her ass. Steve found Suzanne's anus and managed to shove two fingers into her ass as it jumped up and down on his cock. Suzanne suddenly shoved her cunt down on the full length of Steve's cock which forced Steve's full hand up her ass. Suzanne's cunt squeezed Steve's cock and her ass squeezed his hand in spasmodic waves of pleasure. Both Steve and Suzanne were cumming so hard that they gasped for air instead of making any sounds at all. After a few lifetimes their mutual orgasam subsided to gently rolling waves of pleasure and Suzanne collaped down on top of Steve's chest. Her head lay on his shoulder as the two recovered and returned to reality. Steve kissed his sister long and sensually showing the love he felt for her. The two looked to their right towards the couches to see if the others noticed the furious fuck session and un-brotherly kiss Steve had just given his sister. They needn't have bothered. Clare lay on the floor on her back with Bob thrusting his cock into her hungry cunt. Clare's legs were wrapped around her son's back while the two slowly fucked together in rhythm and kissed in deep sensual kisses. Behind them Dan lay on his back as his daughter sat astride his big cock and slide up and down. Helen had leaned forward so Dan could suck on her big nipples as they lovingly fucked each other. Finally Ashley knelt on a small table with her daugher laying below her. Shari pistoned a strapon dildo in and out of her mother's red furred cunt as Don shoved his massive rod in and out of his sister's ass from behind. Shari and Ashley kissed each other their tongue intertwined and the threesome fucked away. There were a series of groans, moans, and exclaimations as the remaining family member enjoyed the pleasure of a good cum. Everyone in the family lay still basking in the glow of their pleasure until Dan spoke up and said, "Well time for bed." The whole family slowly got off the floor, put on their robes, and went upstairs. Steve slowly but happily traipsed upstairs to his bedroom. He entered the room and took off his robe. The room was warm and comfortable. Steve turned off the light and lay down on the comfy bed naked. He found he just couldn't get that last fuck with Suzanne out of his mind. He realized that what he had been feeling for a long while was true. Just then the door to his room opened and the naked figure of his sister appeared in the doorway. Suzanne entered and to Steve's surprise following right behind her was the naked figure of his mother. Helen closed the door and crossed to the dresser where she lit a small candle. The room was filled with a low gentle light. Suzanne and Helen went to the bed and lay on either side of Steve. "The rule is the women get to choose who they want to spend the night with." said Suzanne, "Each woman must choose one man to be with." "The idea is to keep anyone from hogging the women's attention." said Steven's mother, "But tonight Don said I could start with you if I returned and spent the rest of the night with him." "So for a little while, you will get attention from us both." said Suzanne lowering her head to his crotch. Helen joined her and the two women simultaneously placed their mouthes on either side of Steve's cock making it jump with anticipation. The two women slowly moved their mouths up the length of Steve's pulsing cock and then back down again. The entire time their tongues were licking the sides of his cock making it harden with arousal. When the reached the tip of his cock about the tenth time it had hardened to fully erect, the head of Steve's cock now a purple knob. First Suzanne and then Helen wrapper her lips around the head pulling the knob deep into her mouth while sucking gently. Steve lay back and watched in the flickering candle light as his sister and mother sensually sucked on his cock while humming with pleasure. The two women started to compete to see who could get more of Steve's massive member into their mouth. Each time they licked their way to the tip of his cock they would suck more and more of it into their hot mouths. The head was bumping into the back of both women's mouth cuttin off their air for a brief moment. The women had just reached the tip again when Suzanne swung her body so it was parellel with Steve's legs and slide his entire cock right down her throat. Helen watched in amazement as her daughter started to vigorously deep throat her son's huge throbing manhood. Suzanne's head bobbed up and down covering the length of Steve's big pecker with her spittle. Suzanne's head slide up and down faster and faster until she suddenly grasped his balls gently in one hand and shoved two fingers of the other hand up his ass. Steve groaned as his cock started to shoot thick ropes of cum. Suzanne responded by shoving her head down the full length of the spasming dick until her lips touch the base. She massaged gently his balls while rubbing his anus with her fingers while Steve continued to cum down her greedy sucking throat! Steve finally stopped shoot jism and Suzanne pulled herself off his huge cock needing the air. Steve saw the look of complete surprise on his mother's face from the incredible deep throating her daughter had just given her son. Even Suzanne looked a little dazed and shaken. But Steve's dick was as hard as ever. He slid off the bed and stood beside it his massive pole standing straight out from his crotch. Steve grabbed his mother's arms pulling her to her feet. He guided her over to the dresser which had a mirror on the top. He turned her to face the mirror and pushed her hands down to grab the edge of the top of the dresser causing her to bend at the waist almost forty five degrees. Steve pushed her feet apart about shoulder width and then grabbed his mothers curvy hips. Without ceremony he plunged his big cockmeat into her pussy up to the hilt brinnging a cry of surprise and joy from her lips. Steve could look over his mother's shoulder and like at home could see her swinning massive tits and hairy cunt with his cock sliding in and out of it. This sight overwhelmed Steve and suddenly he could control himself. He started to pound his massive cock in and out of his mother's pussy hard and fast. Helen too could see her breasts leaping off her chest and hear the slapping noise as her son bounced off her round ass. Both mother and son were transported to their own world as they watched themselves fuck furiously in the mirror ever faster and more passionate with each passing second. They found themselves tettering at the brink of a consuming orgasam but not able to make it there. Steve reached his hands around his mother's body and with one hand grasped the nub of her swolen clit between two fingers and with the other grabbed her right nipple between two fingers. Simultaneously he clapped down on the sensitive areas of his mother's body and pulled on them at the same time. Helen's body was instantly consumed with wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure that made her muscles tense and relax. His mother's orgasam set off Steve's own continous waves of pleasure. Mother and son stood locked together like a bitch dog and her sire as they jerked and shook in climax like someone being electrocuted. Sweat rolled off their bodies and moans of ectasy came from their lips. It seemed like hours before the pair stopped shaking. Steve stepped back slightly and his now soft cock slid out of his mother's pussy with a wet pop. It dangled between his legs wet with his own sperm and his mother's cunt juices. Helen continued to hold on to the dresser for support to keep from falling down and could see in the mirror as her son's jism dripped from between her twat's lips. Helen straightened up and turned around to face her son. She hugged him and the two kissed in a deep passionate lover's kiss. "Well I have to get back to your father." said Helen. She took one more glance at Steve and Suzanne as Steve once more lay down on the bed. She gave the pair a knowing look and left closing the door noiselessly behind her. "What was that look about?" said Suzanne to Steve. Steve wrapped his arms around his sisters smooth delicious curves, pulling her tight to him. "She knows what I know." said Steve. Steve looked deeply into Suzanne's hazel eyes and said, "I love you. We are soul mates. I want to have babies with you." "Steve, we can't" said Suzanne. "Its just not allowed anywhere." "There may be a way." said Steve. An ingenious idea had just come to him. But pressed against his sexy sister his cock was once again struggling to attention. It would need the sweet ministrations of his sister's wanton cunt. "Let's fuck some more and I'll explain" said Steve as he kissed his sister, his tongue probing her mouth. It was going to be one long night. Outside the door of Steve's room his mother straightened up from listening at the door. "It's as bad as I expected" thought Helen as she glided through the dark back to her husband's room and a night of sex herself. Wonderland Ch. 08A Author's Note: Y'all may have noticed it says "Chapter 8A" in the title. That's because this chapter was split into two sections. The second half of this chapter (8B) will show up a few days after this one. Please note that the story goes back and forth between time periods, starting at the skirmish between Fuyher and Talon from the last chapter. I marked the time changes within the story, so pay close attention to that so you don't get lost. I want to thank everyone for their comments and feedback, as you guys are the only reason why I keep posting! =) Lastly, I want to thank my editor, mikothebaby, for taking the time to tidy up my work. I made substantial changes after her editing, so any mistakes you see in the story are mine. Enjoy! + + + + + + Bayothet watched as the Raspan King speared the Ancient Gargoyle into the face of the mountain with the speed and strength that he was legendary for, but did not dwell on the sight for long. The mangy mutt that had drawn blood on her face was cackling at the sight of the fallen Gargoyle, his back to her. That would have to change. With the speed and silence she was known for, she dove between the Raspan's back legs, withdrawing the short sword from its bindings at her waist and angled it upwards into his belly, disemboweling him as she slid from one end of the beast to the other. When she emerged at his head, she decapitated him with a single swipe, his black blood coating her uniform from the neck down. Kicking the dead scout's head off her boots she turned to Fuyher and crouched low, sword arm extended to the side. Fuyher lashed out angrily the instant her feet were set, spitting venom at her. She dodged the projectile and jumped awkwardly to avoid his tail, but it was too late. Bayothet fell face-first to the cavern floor, her sword clattering as it flew out of her grip and skidded across the rock. She flung herself at it but Fuyher's tail batted it aside as easily as he had brought her down. Bayothet was not perturbed. Leaping to her feet, she drew out another blade and advanced. Fuyher snapped at her with a warning hiss and swatted off her crowning, the sword flying from her grip – yet again. Cursing herself for her clumsiness, she rounded him again, not allowing herself to drop his crimson gaze lest he believe she was aching for help – which she was. "It is futile, child," he growled at her, his voice thick within his throat. Bayothet ignored him and advanced yet again but this time, he struck back. With a low blow to her waist, he used one thick forearm to pin her by the throat to the cavern wall, just feet from where Tze'sic lay still. Her eyes drifted to him when the Gargoyle groaned, relief passing through her that the Ancient had not met his demise. Relief that Fuyher felt. "You fight for him?" Fuyher spat, digging her deeper into the wall. "He is our enemy," he hissed, eying her with scorn. "I fight for peace," Bayothet corrected, her tone clipped and strained by his crush on her windpipe. Fuyher grinned, flashing his sharp teeth, admiring her briefly. "Is he your master?" he asked her, changing tactics. "Are you his Pet?" he chuckled, examining the high collar of her soiled uniform before reaching up with his free hand and ripping the fabric. He chuckled again, his dark eyes meeting hers. "Concubine," he corrected as he ran a single sharp claw over the fading tattoo on the left side of her throat. It took every ounce of Bayothet's will to not squirm beneath his petting, her pulse racing as the rage began to make its way through her. "I have never met a concubine with swords before," Fuyher chuckled, dragging his eyes up to her. In a second, his boorish attempts at playing coy faded back into his usual cruelty. "I will not be killed by a whore," Fuyher murmured into her ear, his large body suddenly bearing down on her from his gargantuan height. "And I will not die today." Bayothet met his eyes and smirked. "But you will die soon," she vowed, lowering her eyes to the horrid gashes where Tze'sic had bitten him. "And your power is already weakening," she told him. Hastily flinging her arms down towards the ground, two swords at her wrists popped free of their bindings. With a battle cry, Bayothet thrust the swords hard into the King's torso, the impact taking her breath away. Fuyher roared in pain and immediately tore at her, digging his claws into any part of her flesh that he could reach, desperate to be released from the blades. Bayothet gritted her teeth and dug in further, thinking of the faces of her dead family, brutally murdered at the hands of the so-called "King" that stood before her. She thought only of the peace, of the comfort that the world she had been a part of so long would continue to exist. Then, like a whisper, his voice ran like a soft breeze of summer through her mind. "Let go, Bayothet. Let go." As her prince willed it, it was done. Dragging the swords out from the bloody torso of Fuyher's chest, she watched through someone else's eyes as she was tossed from Fuyher's side and to the floor, the great Raspan King fleeing the cavern leaving heavy splotches of black blood in his wake. Her vision grew black around the edges as she touched a stinging pain in her side, her fingertips coming back with blood. Rolling her head over on the uneven floor, she saw the Drul, Damien, rushing to her side, the young white male Gargoyle following close behind. As soon as the Drul fell to his knees beside her, she gripped his shirt and tugged him close. "Heal the others," she wheezed, unaware of the blood spraying from her lips and onto her shirt and the Drul she held captive. "Keep the Ancient safe. I will still be here when you're finished." The Drul and white Gargoyle exchanged glances but both nodded, swallowing hard in unison. Bayothet released the Drul and let her arm fall heavily to her side, her eyes closing. Soon she was far gone in her own hallucination of being beachside in the notorious Key West, Florida; her hands behind her head and a smile on her face as her waiter brought yet another margarita, her favorite human beverage. The man at her side leaned over her waist with a bottle of oil in his pale hands, his dark eyes laughing as he smiled down at her. "Táxim..." she breathed, reaching up to grasp her secret lover's hair, her fingers gripping air instead. Seconds later, she was gone in a sea of black comfort, her pain nothing but a distant memory. + + + + + + "Tempest." I opened my eyes slowly and peered at the large mug in Thatcher's hands labeled "THE WORLD'S GREATEST SECRETARY" before looking up at him. "Another one?" I groaned, reaching out from my cocoon of blankets to take the mug, appreciating the warm vapors that washed over my chilled face. "It's keeping you warm," he reminded me as he lowered his body onto the couch beside me, drawing up his own blankets. I rolled my eyes and said nothing, just took a sip, before staring down at the murky brew in surprise. "Did you add sweetener? Like...honey or something?" "Or something," Thatcher told me, his eyes not leaving the TV as he turned up the volume. I burrowed down further into the couch and followed his gaze, my heart leaping in my throat at the pictures flashing up on the screen. NASA images of the entire North American continent revealed that everywhere from the far reaches of Canada to the southern recesses of Mexico was covered in snow. I put down my mug before I dropped it and turned up the volume further, listening to the various weather reports particularly from the southern Mexico region on the border of Guatemala. There, in the high altitudes of the north and western areas of the country, snow and ice were falling. In the southwest, torrential downpours were flooding villages and valleys. "Are the Raspan's there?" I whispered, dragging my eyes from the sight of the flooded villages to Thatcher's face. Thatcher swallowed hard and nodded once. "They're everywhere, Tempest," he said quietly in a terse voice. "I highly doubt that there isn't a continent they haven't touched or an island they haven't laid claim to. It's just a matter of time before they wreak havoc." He eyed my still-full mug of tea. "Finish that," he told me, tightening his hold on his blankets. "It's helping that cold of yours." On cue I took a drink to appease him, watching the corners of his lips curve up slightly before the next slideshow of images on the TV took the humor from his face. This had been going on for almost a month now. Ever since our "talk", Thatcher and his dry sense of humor had all but vanished and had been replaced with this robot who never smiled and who rarely spoke. He had even stopped referring to me as "Kitten." I finished the mug of spiked tea and adjusted the pillows around me before lowering my head down on the couch arm. I watched him briefly before looking at the TV again. My eyes glazed over a few minutes later once the news went to a commercial break and as they have been for the past month; my thoughts went back to over three weeks ago when this wall between Thatcher and me began. +++ I rushed out of my mother's car and into the house, bypassing my dad who had just recently returned from work and the silent, still frame of Thatcher who didn't move an inch from his spot at the kitchen island. I raced up the stairs and into my bedroom, throwing my jacket and scarf on my bed before taking out the white prescription packet from the waistband of my jeans, where I had hidden it before leaving the car. I balked when I heard footsteps on the stairs and raced to my bathroom, shutting the door swiftly behind me. As I tore open the paper and plucked the folding packets of colored pills from inside, I felt heat rush to my face. My mom had decided for the first time in our mother-daughter relationship to embarrass me beyond the norm. We had the sex talk. Me, being blissfully unaware of why she was driving around in dangerous, icy conditions, had only thought to cling onto the edge of my seat as she navigated us through town, explaining to me that girls and boys at my age got "urges" and had "needs" they felt like they had to express. It wasn't until she asked what "base" I was on with Thatcher that I understood her implications. And by then, it was too late for me to throw a temper tantrum, as we were already in the hospital parking lot. Sighing heavily, I stuffed the prescription packet into the trash and opened one of my cabinets to stow away the pills, tossing them in quickly before something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. I opened the cabinet doors wider and felt my heart skip a beat as I tried to process what I saw. The moment it clicked, my mouth fell open in horror. I was staring face-to-box with a varied assortment of Trojan condoms, the colorful box hidden tactfully behind an unopened package of toilet paper rolls. Shutting the cabinet doors quickly, I swallowed hard and tried to ignore how mom's "sex talk" had been planned in advance. The idea of it made me sick. I exited the bathroom to find Thatcher sitting on the edge of my bed. Our eyes met and he quirked an eyebrow. I fidgeted slightly, instantly aware of why my mom had gone to such extremes. "Well, I'm going to check on lunch," I told him, desperate for an escape. "Your dad just spent the past hour talking about how special his little girl was and how lucky I am that you would give me a second glance," Thatcher said slowly, his tone a little bit awed. "If I hurt you..." Thatcher pantomimed snapping scissors, cringing afterwards. Whoa. I turned back fully to Thatcher and watched as his eyes went to the bathroom. "What did you hide?" he asked when his gaze turned back to me. "Nothing," I blurted quickly, twitching when he sat up a little. Like a blur, he was off the bed and we collided in the bathroom doorway before I had tangled him up enough to where he couldn't get through. I managed to shove him out and pull the bathroom door shut behind me, my hand keeping a hold on the doorknob. "It's nothing," I told him firmly, watching as his eyes flickered from black to gold before settling on a warm brown. He pushed away from the door and retreated a few steps, a strange look on his face. I started to ask him what was wrong, but when he raked long black claws through his hair instead of his human hands, I got my answer. "You okay?" I asked curiously, gesturing to his hands. "You've been doing that a lot lately." Just this morning at breakfast while we had been reading different pages of the Sunday Funnies together, Thatcher's tail had wrapped around my shin to tickle my ankle bone. After Thatcher and my dad had met each other for the first time over breakfast, dad had made a joke in his usual obnoxious manner about Thatcher's tinker toy car – and Thatcher's eyes had turned red in anger. It was almost like he couldn't control his transformation. Which was weird, because Thatcher was the epitome of control. I watched as Thatcher eyed his claws now, irritation crossing his features as they instantly returned back to the human digits. "I'm fine," Thatcher grunted, sitting down in my computer chair. "A lot on my mind." I leaned against the bathroom door, still not giving him a chance to use his speed again to find the pills – or the box of condoms. I swallowed hard when his brow quirked up at our prolonged silence and hastily thought of something else to say. "So my dad gave you the 'she's my little girl' speech, huh?" I asked, smiling a little. Thatcher snorted and nodded his head once, his eyes their usual black now. "I kept waiting for him to pull out a gun and polish the barrel before he started comparing his hormonal teenage years to mine," he joked dryly. "Instead he just made a veiled threat to my manhood. Your old man is to the point about a lot of things," Thatcher noted with a dry chuckle. I made a face and nodded. "He feels that because he's always away from home that when he returns from a job he needs to make up for the lost time. He still thinks I'm eight and need my scratches and bruises to be kissed so they feel better." Thatcher smirked, his eyes going distant for a second. "He just wants to protect you. That's what fathers do." His eyes cleared and he leaned his elbows on his knees, his eyes not leaving me. "You seem to have a lot of men willing to protect you," he teased. "According to you, you're the only one is protecting me," I returned with a snort, giving him a dirty look. "Apparently Talon had other ideas." Thatcher stood then, closing the distance between us with just three short strides. One hand leaned against the bathroom door, the other rested just above the flare of my hip. I blinked in surprise before looking up into his face. "Tze'sic is protecting you," he admitted slowly, as though the words pained him to say. "I just didn't want to give him that satisfaction." I watched his eyes light up brown as his head lowered closer to mine. I felt the hand on my waist slide slowly up, his fingers spreading a little as he did so. My breath caught as he passed up my ribs and stopped short of my elbow, his thumb close to beginnings of my bra. A smile flickered over his lips briefly when he felt my heart began to pick up its speed. "I'm...confused," I admitted slowly, swallowing dry spit. "Why didn't you want to?" Thatcher's hands moved again, both of them coming to rest on my wrists, the backs of his fingers brushing over my chest. I started to back away from the touch but he caught me and pulled me away from the door and closer to him. "Because then I would have to admit he was your mate. I am loathing admitting that even now." Instantly it hit me. I looked away from his chest and into his face, watching him as he watched me. Was Thatcher suggesting what I think he was? "As a mate, you'll be second-in-command," Thatcher murmured. "You will be in charge of the children and the women, of protecting the nests and gathering resources for your people to exist upon. During war those who aren't fighting will turn to you for direction." "Do you want to take my place instead?" I asked him, blushing when I realized what that question implicated. Thatcher laughed and shook his head as he cradled my hands in his. "As much as I respect Tze'sic, I do not want to be his mate," he chuckled before resting his forehead against mine. "My point is Tempest; in the future you'll be the mother of the clan...and the mother of his children. As a guy who likes you just as you are, it's a hard pill to swallow. I don't want to think about..." his eyes drifted down to my stomach, his jaw tightening. I swallowed bile and tried to pull away, but Thatcher held fast. "Well, if it's any consolation, Thatch, I don't want to think about it either," I admitted quickly. "I guess in the olden days there wasn't such thing as contraception, huh?" I joked half-heartedly. "No," Thatcher admitted, his eyes meeting mine. Then they widened and he looked over my head into the bathroom. "Is that what you're hiding?" he asked, his voice dropping the gloomy tone from earlier and replacing it with barely suppressed laughter. I felt my face turn red from my feet to the roots of my hair. I guess I had been naïve in thinking that Thatcher would never figure it out, but I had been hoping for a few hours to ease the sting of my humiliation. So much for hoping, huh? I dropped his gaze sheepishly. "Maybe," I mumbled. Thatcher used our hands to lift up my chin. I was surprised to see that he was cringing instead of laughing. "I guess maybe we should have the talk." I stared up at him in mortification. "Twice in one day?" I breathed in horror, shaking my head. "I don't know if I can take another series of euphemisms to explain 'that which comes naturally'." Thatcher sighed. "Don't worry. I never thought I'd have to educate anyone about this either." His eyes went over my head once more before he looked at me. "Simply put, there isn't such thing as contraception. Either you have a baby or you won't. Because you're mated, Tze'sic will never think twice about it. Part of being a mate is willingly bearing children." "This is the twenty-first century!" I exclaimed, my mortification quickly turning into simmering anger. "I will not-" "When the Raspans attack this city, do you honestly think your pregnancy will be the talk of the town?" Thatcher interrupted me dryly. I balked and shook my head, confused all over again. "But why-" "Human conceptions on childbirth and parenting are the complete opposites of ours, Tempest," Thatcher said, adopting a bit kinder tone. "Bearing children is an important honor, especially during war." I shook my head and dropped his gaze, my head beginning to hurt again. "That's not how I was raised," I said finally, glaring at his boots. "I will have kids when I'm ready, not because Talon said so." "So you will disappoint your mate then? You will jeopardize your place at Tze'sic's side because of your human hang-ups?" I met his gaze swiftly as something snapped within me. With a growl, I shoved him away hard, taking pleasure in watching him stumble away from me, barely catching his balance. He eyed me in surprise before straightening up. "I am human. I will not change who I am because a big overgrown lizard with wings expects me to! So get it through your thick skull that I will not do what everyone keeps telling me to! I'm sick of hearing that I'm Talon's mate! I'm sick of hearing you rag on and on about how I'm going to be an obedient little puppy doing whatever is commanded of me! I am going to do things my way, alright? I don't want to have a kid at eighteen and I'll be damned if I'll let my entire life be dictated by rules and society's expectations because that's just irritating!" I exclaimed. I took a deep breath to calm my breathing, my adrenaline beginning to wear off. Wonderland Ch. 08A Thatcher blinked before breaking out into a smirk. "Good." My anger fizzled slightly. "Good?" I repeated breathlessly. "I'm glad," Thatcher tagged on, uncrossing his arms. "Keep that line of thinking and you'll give Tze'sic quite a wakeup call." I watched his procession towards the bedroom door, completely flabbergasted. "Wait. You aren't going to tell me that submission is easier or I'm wasting my time?" I asked in surprise, following after him. Thatcher turned at the door, his smirk still in place. "You wouldn't be a mate worth having if you caved in to every request made of you." Thatcher gently reached out and pinched my chin, winking slightly. "Only the strongest survive. Only the most cunning can keep their claim to rule. Remember that, Kitten." In that moment, mom called up the stairs for lunch and Thatcher left the room without another word. I shook my head as I stared at his retreating back. What in the fudge had just happened? +++ I pulled myself back to the present, nearly a month in the future. I eyed Thatcher again and saw his eyes were closed. The TV was still on commercial break, the jingle for kitty litter filling up the echoes of the empty home. I bit my lip as I brought the blankets up higher so they could wrap around my face. Ever since that day, Thatcher had never stayed the night. I don't know where he goes or what he does once he leaves my house, but he always leaves right on the dot just as the sun sets. We don't ever escape to my room, but instead remain within the perimeters of my parents. Not once did he bring up Tze'sic or the war. Over time, he didn't bring up anything at all. My parents had noted our relationship was strained and mom blamed herself for part of it, which was stupid, because I knew it wasn't anything she had done. Something I had said must've gotten to him. Or maybe, like Thatcher had said, he just had a lot on his mind. Whatever the reason for our distance, I had come to realize that being on bad terms with Thatcher left me as lonely as ever. Going from having someone to talk to everyday, to someone who couldn't even look at me let alone speak to me was rough. In a moment of weakness, I had gone outside in the freezing weather still wet from the shower, knowing that I would become ill. As soon as Thatcher had discovered I was sick the next morning, he began talking to me again, and even though I felt like crap, I was happy to have some semblance of how things used to be. And that scared the hell out of me. Not for the first time in the past couple of weeks, I asked myself the same question that I never found an answer to; just what had I gotten myself into? "Hey." I looked over at Thatcher, surprised by the croak in his tone. Was he the one getting sick now? He swallowed and gestured with his chin at something over my head. "The snow stopped falling. Want to take a look around with me?" I eyed Thatcher carefully, unable to help but wonder if maybe he was trying to make up for his behavior. I followed his gaze and looked out the kitchen windows to find that he was right. As cold as it was outside, being cooped up in this house any longer was going to drive me insane. Maybe that's where his thoughts were headed too. "Let me get my coat," I told him, undoing the blankets from their python wrap around me and stumbled to the coat peg. I slipped on another sweater and my jacket, hurriedly tugging on my gloves and boots before I followed Thatcher outside. I smiled up at the iron grey sky as I walked out into my front yard, taking in the silent world around me. It was both unnerving and hauntingly beautiful, a definite contradiction I know. I watched as Thatcher brushed the snow off his car, revealing the thin layer of ice that covered the windshield. "Like I thought," he muttered, turning towards the forest and the hills behind my house now. "We'll have to be careful," he told me as he strode on long legs towards the forest. I chuckled as I followed him, knowing he was just as excited as me to get out of the house. I rushed to catch up with him, scooping up snow every once in awhile as we went. When we reached the edge of the forest, I decided now was as good time as any. "Thatcher!" I called out when he was a few feet ahead. He turned – and neatly dodged my snowball. Pulling his hands out of his coat pockets with a smile, he revealed two rounded handfuls of snow, a smile crossing his lips. "Oh fudge," I muttered as he took a step forward. "NO FAIR!" I yelled over my shoulder as I ran, darting through the trees. One snowball cuffed my shoulder, but the other smacked a tree just beside my head. I swore under my breath as I nearly tumbled trying to get a handful of snow, dropping most of it when another ball of snow hit me smack dab on the right thigh, Thatcher's laugh filling the air around me. I ducked around a tree and ripped the snow from the low-hanging branches before turning and tossing the load right into Thatcher's face. He gasped and turned away, leaving me an opening. I ran again, picking up more snow, my fingers frozen and stinging through my thick gloves, pulsing in painful stabs in time with my toes. "You'll pay for that!" Thatcher called out to me. "You have to catch me first!" I called back breathlessly, laughing when his scarf got tangled in a low-lying branch. My lungs begged for a break as I kept going north, the trees growing closer together and providing more cover – and snow – than ever. I looked over my shoulder and saw Thatcher's coat and scarf through the trees not too far behind. Cursing again, I faced the front and gasped as I jumped last-second over a fallen tree and landed hard on the snow...before the ground fell out from beneath me. A scream escaped my throat as I tumbled down into the darkness. I threw out my hands to grab something – anything – and had the wind knocked out of me as I landed on something soft and warm and kind of squishy, snow and ice falling around me as I slid off to the side and to the ground. Tossing my hair out of my face, I hesitantly looked around me, trying to fill up my lungs with the stale-smelling air as I grew accustomed to the darkness. Looking over my shoulder, another scream built up but I caught it just in time. I had fallen on the largest rat I had ever seen in my entire life. Somehow, despite my fall and the crashing snow, the thing stayed asleep. Its heavy snores echoed in the earthy confines of the small burrow, and despite its twitching tail and back feet, it didn't move. Slowly, I came to my feet, leaning back against the burrow walls as I did so. From this angle, I couldn't see beyond the rat's stomach and hindquarters, its body so large and out-of-place in the small burrow that it was almost comical. The rat snored again and twitched, though this time its tail thrashed so hard that it knocked into me with a resounding smack. I collided hard into the muddy wall before collapsing to the ground floor, wheezing for air. I closed my eyes briefly, blinking away white sparkles as I waited for the world around me to stop spinning. A few seconds later, the world righted itself and I slowly sat up...as did the rat. It slowly shifted its weight, as though injured, its heavy black body rising inch by inch to its full menacing height. I swallowed another scream at the mere size of the thing, unable to believe how a rat could get this huge. Slowly, the rat turned, and the air whooshed from my lungs for the third time in two minutes. Glowing red eyes, like those of Thatcher's, locked onto me. In that moment, I realized with astounding clarity that this wasn't an ordinary overgrown sewer rat that I was locking gazes with. It was a Raspan, evolved and under Fuyher's complete control. And hungry. + + + + + + Let me know what you guys think!! Wonderland Ch. 08B Author's Note: I want to thank my editor, Mikothebaby. You're a lifesaver, chica! I made changes to the chapter after her edits, so any mistakes you see are most likely mine. Enjoy everyone! + + + + + Thatcher heard her screams and felt his entire being turn as cold as the world around him. The armful of snow he had been packing away for their snowball fight fell to the ground as he processed the sound over in his mind. Tempest was well-known for her screaming laughter, but after all the weeks in close quarters with her, he now knew the difference. The resounding silence around him just confirmed his initial shock. Tempest was in trouble. Taking cues from the direction the scream had come from, Thatcher followed his internal compass, turning to his more animal nature to both distract him from his anxious human counterpart and to get a more accurate reading on her location. He had only gone ten yards when the smell of rotten fruit mingling with Tempest's natural perfume of sunflowers sent another burst of anxiety through Thatcher. Hurrying now, he held on to the scent like a bloodhound and jumped through the trees, his eyes restlessly searching over the monochromatic landscape. When Thatcher came to a fallen fir reeking with both scents, he peered over and felt his heart catch in his throat as he stared down into the hollow in the earth below him. A Raspan, hoarding its pile of yet-to-be eaten dead carcasses was fixated on its new prey – Tempest. Her face was pale against the blackened earth, her green eyes large in her face, her little chin trembling as she silently cried. Her eyes never left the Raspan as it swayed in front of her, testing her resilience. This Raspan obviously wanted to hear her screams. That couldn't happen. Thatcher's change was instant since the beast had been lurking so close to the surface for far too long. His spine arched and his fingers dug deep into the thick trunk of the fir as the transformation from human to mutant began. When he opened his eyes again, the world around him bombarded his delicate senses. He could feel the scours of Raspans' beneath his feet and palms, hibernating away until the freeze was complete. He could taste Tempest's fear and hear the excited heartbeat of the Raspan, the other male's thoughts in constant chaos as the Raspan tried to concoct the best scheme to kill the human girl in front of him. His eagerness for further evolution clouded his thoughts and senses until it was too late. Giving over fully to his animal, Thatcher watched his descent into the burrow as though seeing it through someone else. He saw his red eyes lock with the Raspan as he made a physical barrier between the beast and the innocent, barely hearing Tempest's gasp of surprise at his silent intrusion. The Raspan took in its new opponent seconds before Thatcher grabbed its large head by the fluted ears and jerking it up and to the left, the resounding snaps and crackles of the head disconnecting from the spine almost disturbingly loud in the surrounding quiet. The Raspan fell with a sigh to the ground, scattering the mangled skeletons of its previous prey across the earthen floor, the bones splintering under its weight. Only after Thatcher watched the crimson glow fade from the Raspan's eyes did his transformation begin to wane, the abrupt return to his usual form leaving him temporarily hollow and disjointed from reality. Shaking off the feeling, he turned to Tempest slowly. She stared up at him with glassy eyes, tears rolling silently down her face. The look speared Thatcher straight through his soul, bringing him back to his body completely with a resounding mental crash. He took her into his arms and drew her close to him, breathing in her natural scent in both relief and fear. "I had to kill him, Tempest," he murmured into her hair, his voice ragged with emotion. His fingers of his left hand dug deeper into the soft strands to hold her close. "If he had woken the others, this could have ended in a bloodbath." Tempest clung tighter to him, rubbing her tear-stained face into his jacket. "Take me home, Thatch," she shuddered, her fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket tightly. "Please," she begged. Thatcher obeyed without question. Scooping her up into his arms, he turned her head into his chest. "Keep your eyes closed," he told her. She nodded and put her arms around his neck before burying her face into the warm confines of his jacket, her wet eyes flushed against his collarbone. Thatcher kicked off the ground and used the walls to zig-zag up and out of the burrow. He walked a couple of feet away and set her against a large fir tree. "I need to cover this up, okay?" he said quietly, brushing the hair from her face. Tempest, with her eyes still squeezed tightly shut, nodded quickly. Unable to help himself, he brushed his lips over her forehead and tugged up her jacket hood before finishing the job at hand. Standing at the edge of the burrow, Thatcher looked over the oval-shaped confines to make sure no other victim was somewhere in its midst. Sensing nothing, he turned back to his work. Thatcher closed his eyes and tamped out his thoughts swiftly, allowing his magic to build up within him again. Focusing only on creating a permanent grave for the creature, snow and earth began to accumulate slowly around him before funneling itself into the oval-shaped hollow. Using a layer of earth, he created a barrier to keep the scent of the dead Raspan contained and hopefully to cover up the beast forever. When the task was done, Thatcher walked over the efforts of his magic to test its strength. It was as though the burrow – and the Raspan – had never existed. Satisfied, Thatcher turned back to Tempest, who was still huddled up beside the huge fir tree, and gently picked her up and cradled her in his arms. "You can open your eyes now," he murmured, smiling a little when she opened one eye first, like a child would, before blinking them both open. She eyed him and swallowed hard. "Thank you," she whispered softly, the green of her irises bright against the bloodshot whites of her eyes. Thatcher could only nod, his own emotions getting the best of him. As he walked the two of them back towards the house on Bella Lane, Thatcher was beginning to realize that wherever Tempest was concerned, he would be much too involved. His mind spun with the all the ways his attachment to her could go wrong, of what Tze'sic would do to him when the Ancient discovered that he wasn't alone in the mating race. Thatcher's chest tightened instantly. Mate? Where in the hell did that come from? He shook off his thoughts and adjusted Tempest's hold in his arms, angling her away from him slightly. Swiftly, he called up his beast as he had every day for the past month, feeding off the beast's lack of humanity to shield himself from the girl he was carrying. If Thatcher couldn't feel, he couldn't be tempted to care. If he didn't care, Tempest would be safe. Her safety was all that mattered anymore. He eyed Tempest when she began to shift uncomfortably in his arms. She had noticed the change, she always did. "Don't do that," Tempest whispered suddenly, her hands on his face. Thatcher was drawn back to her once more, his eyes unable to leave hers. "You're pushing me away again," she sighed when he said nothing, tears filling up her eyes. "You've done it for weeks now. And...and I don't like it. Not at all, Thatch." Thatcher stopped walking. Suddenly the overwhelming need to run swept over him, the urge to flee from this horrible feeling in his stomach making his breathing heavy and his knees like jelly. "Thatcher, what's been going on with you?" she asked, her gloved fingers catching his face so he couldn't look away. "You've...you've been quiet. You don't smile, you don't joke...you can barely even look at me. You don't even call me 'kitten' anymore," Tempest whispered. "You said you hated when I called you that," he said robotically, mentally kicking himself as the aching feeling in his stomach moving upwards and into his chest. Thatcher set her down on her feet quickly, ignoring the teasing scent of Tempest's skin and the tight grip on his windpipe. The feeling that everything was falling apart around him grew, and fast. "Oh Thatcher," she sighed, shaking her head sadly. "I didn't mean that." Thatcher took a step away from her when she took a step forward. "And if I hurt your feelings during our 'talk', I wasn't trying to. I just wanted to make a point, Thatch. I'm so scared that after all of this, I won't be me anymore." She eyed him curiously when he took another step back. "What are you doing?" "Keeping a distance," he answered throatily, meeting her eyes and instantly wishing he hadn't. "Why?" she asked, anger creeping into her voice, her green eyes flashing darkly. "What did I do to make you hate me so much that you can't even stand to be next to me?!" she demanded, her voice breaking at the end as tears began falling down her cheeks. "Am I no longer good enough to be your friend, Thatch? Is it because I'm human?" She hesitated, her breathing shaky. Suddenly, her eyes flashed, as though she had an epiphany. "Or is it because I belong to Talon?" she whispered, her eyes trailing over his face. In that moment, Thatcher's thin veil of control splintered. Like exploding glass, his thoughts, his emotions and his sanity shattered. Through a kaleidoscope of images, Thatcher lived through the next few minutes in bursts of cognizance, where his memories and long buried secrets took hold and spewed forth, connecting him to another energy. The only thing he could make sense of was his hold on Tempest, his anchor in the turbulent sea of his disjointed hysteria. When he came to, Tempest was crying in his arms, her grip around him strong and firm. Her bare fingers were stroking his hair gently, her hat and gloves missing. The two of them were knotted together under the canopy of a nearly bare fir, surrounded by branches that had been ripped from the tree. He blinked once to clear the fog from his mind and looked down at Tempest. She was all color and light, a vivid contrast to the dull grey world around him. Her hair was like rivulets of blood on the snow, and Thatcher watched as his pale fingers broke through the crimson puddle as he held her close, trying to connect the dots. He let out a shaky exhale as he realized what he had done. His already fractured mind had broken, completely. His magic had always managed to pull him through anything, but those four words "I belong to Talon" had been overkill. For far too long he had been cold, feeling nothing but the winter around him. Then Tempest literally crashed into his life, his being, and he didn't know how to deal. His magic and beast couldn't deal. But why? Why was Tempest so important? Why couldn't he just leave her as easily as Tze'sic had? The answer came to him swiftly, the blow to his psyche almost crippling. "I love you, Tempest," he whispered hoarsely into her hair, tasting the salt from their combined tears. Tempest shook fiercely beneath him, still lost in the throes of his magic, her fingers tightening their hold in his coat. Burying his face deeper into her hair, Thatcher breathed her in again. "Always," he sighed. To Thatcher, the confession was like a relief. The moment he had given in, his magic had calmed and his beast had faded into the recesses of his mind, anxious for rest. Smiling a little at that, he turned the two of them upright, not relinquishing his hold on her until her sobs had faded. He wasn't sure for how long they stayed in the snow like that, but when Tempest whispered she was cold, the sky had begun to darken into late afternoon and the world felt colder than it ever had before. Thatcher bundled them up again before carrying Tempest back to their home, both of them silent as they became lost in their thoughts. + + + + + + As Thatcher went to get a hot shower, I curled up under my bed covers, unable to get the events of this afternoon out of my head. When Thatcher had lost control – it had been terrifying. The power that exuded from him had smothered me completely, taking control of me as easily as a puppeteer could pull a wooden toy's strings. I had never felt anything like that before. I had never seen "magic" out of control. An image of Thatcher's glowing golden eyes as he stared down at me sent shivers down my spine. The memories and images that he had sent me in those minutes I had been held victim to his gaze had answered all the questions about Thatcher I had ever had. Most of his memories had been about a human girl, Emma Baker. She had been tall, blonde, and as "sweet as honey", according to his thoughts. Thatcher had never known someone that kind. With Emma he had had been so sure she loved him completely, so sure of them, that he gotten in his head to expose what he really was to her, believing entirely that she would accept him anyhow. And she had. They had married and did all the things normal human couples did, including starting a family. Six months into the pregnancy, Thatcher's son had decided he wanted out. After clawing his way through her uterus, he ate away the flesh of her stomach and passed out from exertion, which was how Thatcher had found the two of them when he came back from the grocery store. Thatcher had buried his wife in an unmarked grave outside of Omsk, the broken form of their son interred beside her. That same day, he left Russia and he had never spoken of his family to anyone. He had never felt the stirrings for a mate, too afraid of the consequences. Thatcher had allowed himself to grow cold to protect what sanity and humanity he had left. But it was the memories of his early past that had the most profound effect on me. The memories of his childhood in the Resistance camps had been cruel and harsh, a test of survival both mentally and physically. He had spent so much of his life alone, surrounded by those mostly afraid of him and his magic than anything else. When the war had broke out, the Resistance camps had been under direct attack. When they were discovered, Thatcher had been taken hostage by his own people, the Raspan's, and tortured for information. I quickly wiped the tears from my cheeks at the broken bits of his memory from that time, feeling the pain he had undergone just briefly, but that was enough. How he had survived, I don't know. Thatcher had been released nearly a year later in the dead of winter, forced to survive in an old bear cave and nurse himself back to health. He emerged the following spring and headed to the tribes of the humans, living among them, watching them grow and evolve into what we were today, still always alone. Emma had been able to heal most of these past wounds and cure him of his loneliness for a time, but not completely. Then he meets me on his personal mission to destroy his father's tyranny and apparently, I got under his skin. How a bumbling, shy girl like me could affect someone so deeply, I'm not sure. But for the first time in Thatcher's life, he feels human; normal. To know he can feel because of me is a frightening concept to digest. I've never put much thought into love before. I've never known the connection between two people that transcends all else and to be honest, there has always been a part of me that doubted I ever would. I mean, I grew up with parents who kept me informed about their lives through emails and over burnt dinner (unless I was cooking). I didn't have any friends because for some reason I was too weird, or too nerdy, or too not-like-everyone-else. My social skills are basically nondescript. When I was ten, I had already come to the conclusion that I would grow up as the "old cat lady." Then, a Gargoyle chases me out of a castle and binds me to him, making me actually worry about someone other than myself for the first time in my entire life. And then a hybrid curiosity in the form of a Gothed up biker falls into the mix and now...I don't know what to think anymore I put my head in my hands at the sound of Thatcher's shower ending, swallowing hard. Tears coated my palms and I quickly brushed them away, inhaling a ragged breath to calm down. Suddenly the mattress dipped in and soft hands pulled mine away from my face. "Tempest?" Thatch murmured with concern evident in his voice. "Why are you crying?" Christ, what a loaded question. "Because I'm afraid," I choked out, not lifting up my chin. "Because I'm confused and angry and jealous and hurt and..." I cut off, shaking my head. "I hate feeling like this. Like I have no control over anything." Thatcher chuckled and gently pulled me to him, his body warm from the shower. "Tempest," he sighed, "you can't control everything. It doesn't work that way." I nodded, swallowing hard as he cradled me to him. "I know," I whispered, too tired to argue his point. I dug my fingers into his t-shirt to keep him close, closing my eyes when Thatcher gave me a soft squeeze. "You will," he agreed quietly. A few minutes later, when my tears had stopped, I asked, "Are you going to stay the night?" Thatcher lifted up chin with his fingers, his eyes a warm brown and a soft smile on his face. "Do you want me to stay?" I nodded. Thatcher opened his mouth to speak, but a loud buzzing cut through what he had to say. Both of our eyes strayed to the cheap disposable phone on my bedside table. Thatcher jerked across the mattress and gripped the phone, his eyes wide in his face as he read the ID of the caller. Flipping it open, he pressed the plastic hard to his ear. "Bayothet?" he demanded. I watched as the brown in his eyes slowly darkened to black, the color draining from his face. My mouth went dry as Thatcher moved to the edge of the bed, his back to me, and every muscle in his body went stiff. Not once did the hum on the other end of the line let up. "Alright. I'll call you," Thatcher said finally, his voice cold and snappy. "Shit," he hissed, snapping the phone shut. He stood up swiftly and paced, his hands threaded tightly in the dark strands of his hair. I watched him for a few seconds before finally he faced me. "What happened?" I whispered. Thatcher swallowed hard. "The Final Eden, the last sanctuary for the victims of my father's tyranny, has been destroyed. Completely. My team arrived in time to see Fuyher leave the cavern. He left no survivors." My heart sank completely and my stomach caved in. "What about Talon?" I choked, holding the fabric of the bed tightly in my fingers. "Is he okay?" Thatcher kneeled down in front of me, his hands covering mine. "Talon and Fuyher fought – Fuyher got significant damage, but Talon was..." he hesitated, his eyes looking over my face. "He's in a coma, Tempest. He won't wake up." I felt like I had just been kicked in the stomach. The hollow, aching feel that Thatcher's words left behind took my breath away and I struggled to stay focused. "I don't understand," I bit out. "That pain you felt all those weeks ago...that had been from Talon fighting Fuyher. You felt the aftereffects through the bond. If it wasn't for my tea, you'd be in a coma just as he is." I jerked away from him then, narrowing my eyes as I looked at Thatcher. "If it wasn't for your tea?" I repeated slowly. Thatcher nodded, guilt flashing across his face. "Ancient blood is potent," he said carefully, cringing a little as he spoke. "And my blood specifically can heal. Tempest, when I saw you laying in a heap beside your bed that night...it scared the shit out of me. I just...I just wanted to help you." "And the tea?" I bit out, my hands clenching into fists. "I added my blood into the mixture," he explained slowly and gently, as though soothing a rabid dog. "At first you couldn't even drink it because of the taste, but now...now you're used to it." Wonderland Ch. 08B I closed my eyes, nausea sending my stomach into sickening spirals. "The honey," I breathed in realization, opening my eyes slowly. "I thought it was honey," I chuckled humorlessly. "Tempest, please." I met his eyes. "Please," he whispered earnestly. "I was so scared, I just wanted to help." Reading the look on his face, I knew he wasn't lying and after all we had been through, I knew it would be stupid to not trust him. Relaxing a little, I took one of his hands in mine. "That's all your blood does?" I asked questionably, wanting to confirm that at least. Thatcher let out a choked laugh of relief, nodding slightly. "It does many things, but in this case, yes. I just wanted to make you better again." I nodded slightly and dropped his gaze for a second. "So what are we going to do?" I asked him. "Do you have a plan?" I met Thatcher's gaze and saw he was nodding. "We need to go to Queensland Mountains," he said firmly. "I have a feeling that Fuyher will act soon and if the war is to begin, we need everyone to be ready." I gave him a look. "I thought there wasn't anyone left in the Eden?" Thatcher smiled sadly. "There isn't. We need all the help we can get and with Tze'sic down...I'm not sure how long we will last. He needs our help, I'm sure of it. And we need him." I nodded, waiting for that to sink in. "So when do we leave?" Thatcher held my gaze. "Tomorrow." I heard the sounds of the front door opening and closing swiftly, seconds before my parents called out my name and Thatcher's in unison. Thatcher went to the bedroom door and opened it wide before returning to me and sitting in my desk chair. I gave him a look. "Your father said I couldn't be in your room unless the door was open," he answered, winking after. Rolling my eyes, I slipped out from under my bed covers and walked towards the door. "Like I would be stupid enough to do anything like that in this house. It's got to be crawling with cameras." "Only in the den, facing the computer," Thatcher prompted. I eyed him over my shoulder and he shook his head. "You don't want to know how I found that out." I made a face as I walked down the stairs. No, I agreed to myself, I really didn't. + + + + + + The next morning, all the schools in the local area called for students to return to class for the first time in two weeks. For the second day in a row, Thatcher and I ate breakfast with my parents, an affair that bordered along awkward and bittersweet. It was hard to act normal around them – I wasn't sure when the next time I would see them would be. Last night Thatcher and I had talked until early in the morning, trying to figure out what was best to do. Leaving with Thatcher without warning would definitely qualify as abduction or running away and leaving a note behind to explain things was kind of out of the question. Who would believe the truth anyway? I had to leave my phone behind, although that didn't really bother me since I never got much use out of it anyway. Since I wasn't a fan of Wonderland High or basically anyone in it, I didn't care about leaving anyone there either, though my parents were a completely different story. So the plan all boiled down to this; we would go to school as usual, then at lunch, when things were chaotic and the teachers didn't have as sharp of eyes out, we would take Thatcher's car and drive towards Queensland. He would park along one of the trails in the national forest and we would hike from there to the mountains were Bayothet and the others were hiding. He had the Final Eden's coordinates inputted into his handheld GPS but with his own built in compass, we shouldn't have any trouble finding place. From there, we would – hopefully – have someone to find and make plans for the upcoming war. After saying goodbye to my parents, Thatcher and I loaded into his tinker toy car, silent the entire way to school. He parked his car in the student parking lot and cut the ignition before grabbing our school bags from the back. I eyed the heavy-duty packs stuffed full with our camping and hiking gear that Thatcher had hidden earlier this morning beneath the seats before our parents had gotten up for the day. Thatcher didn't want to risk coming back to the house in case my parents hadn't yet left. I cringed away from that thought, not wanting to dwell on the hardest decision I had ever made in my life. As I walked up the steps that led towards the school campus, I felt Thatcher's gloved hand take hold of mine. I bit down on my bottom lip when our fingers interlocked and tried to ignore the heat that flushed my face. This was something else we had talked about last night, something that was a bit of a tender topic to the both of us. Thatcher considered me nothing short of a mate, but because of Talon's bond to me, nothing could be done. While Thatcher was fairly adamant that Talon had accidentally created the mating bond to me, I wasn't so sure. Thatcher had not seen Talon when he had been angry over Connor's scent on me. He had not seen the looks Talon had given me when we had kissed or the tenderness in his eyes as he cradled me to sleep. If Talon had just been using me, he wouldn't have acted like that at all. But despite our inability to see eye-to-eye on Talon, we could both agree that we cared about one another – a lot. Thatcher was my best friend when he wasn't being a sarcastic butthead. And I couldn't say that I wasn't attracted to him, even if his nose was a little beaky for my tastes. But to consider him my mate? For life? That's where I balked. "Stop scowling," Thatcher murmured softly, interrupting my thoughts. "It gives you a unibrow." "Jerk," I hissed without venom, gently elbowing his ribs. To be honest, Thatcher could tease me all he wanted. In the weeks of his silence, I had somehow missed that. We filtered into the warm and crowded school hallway. Quickly I grabbed my books and let him walk me to class, flushing when he dropped me off at my desk and kissed my cheek in goodbye. It drew the attention of a few of the immature boys who made kissing noises and feigned two people making out by putting their arms around their bodies and moaning. It didn't let up until Mr. Dean came into the room and after getting our stack of class and homework assignments, no one was able to focus on much else. The rest of the morning was uneventful. Each class felt as though millenniums had passed and by the time the bell rang for lunch, I was at the end of my endurance. As I made my way down the hall towards where Thatcher had planned a "rendezvous", it was obvious that the weather had taken a turn for the worse yet again. Sleet made loud cracking noises as it hit the windows, the roof clicking and clacking under the ice so loud that it was almost impossible to hear the teachers lecture about not going outside. I met up with Thatcher in the music hall and stood beside him to survey the crappy weather outside. We had agreed to meet here because it was closest to the student parking lot and had a number of exits to choose from to escape. "What are we going to do?" I whispered. "The teachers are blocking the doors everywh-" In that moment, a loud wailing filled the air, the sirens cutting off conversation all across the school. I pressed my face to the fogged over glass, trying to see why the city sirens were going off, but found nothing, just a world of ice and snow. "What's going on?" I whispered aloud. That was when the glass began to vibrate. Thatcher quickly pulled me back from the windows and we watched the entire length of the pane shake and tremble, the rattling noise escalating steadily as to compete with the sirens wailing overhead. "T-Thatcher..." I gasped when the vibrations began to shake the entire building, the lockers and closed classroom doors beginning to wobble in their places. "LOOK OUT!" Thatcher called out in warning, pulling me back and covering me as the glass swiftly cracked from the bottom up. Screams from the other students filled the air as ice, snow, and glass shattered, shooting out in all directions. A bitter cold wind began to sweep through the hallway, kicking up papers and other trash. Within seconds, doors flew open, knocked free of their hinges, and the lockers began to fall, crushing students under their weight. "They're coming," Thatcher whispered into my ear. He pulled away slightly and cupped my face in his hands, checking me for injuries. "We need to get out of here." I eyed the chaos around me. Teachers were shouting at students to get to the gym, coaches were blowing their whistles and directing traffic. Students with glass in their faces and hands moaned pitifully as teacher aides and other students led them to the nurses' station. Those pinned beneath the lockers were screaming for help, their hands outstretched to those racing by to catch their attention. All the while, the city sirens wailed in a constant loop, overpowering everything. At least, until the world beyond the school exploded with noise. Police sirens, fire truck horns, car honking, shouts and barking dogs began to filter through the city sirens. I watched over Thatcher's shoulder as the black top of the road leading to the school began to ripple and cave, as though something was tunneling its way through the street. Realization hit me then. The Raspans were doing this. Fuyher had made the command and now they were following his orders. Suddenly, Thatcher's words made sense. I met his eyes and nodded shakily, allowing him to pull me down the halls before hurdling through what was once a window and into the school's back courtyard. The sirens were almost deafening but even through that I could hear the intelligible screams and shouts of people. I eyed Thatcher in horror and saw his face twist with both anger and pain. "We have to do something!" I called to him when we got to the car. "Thatch, we can't just leave everyone to their deaths!" Thatcher looked at me swiftly, breathing hard. "I have to keep you safe," he said firmly. "That's more important." "More important than that?" I demanded, pointing towards the city where now gunshots and the distinct sharp cries of Raspan's were resonating from. "Humans are dying! We have to-" Suddenly the ground was ripped out from beneath my feet as sharp claws dug into my calves and pulled me down. I screamed as the nails dug in further, and a furry face rimmed with dirt and broken bits of asphalt reached out to greet me, jaws opened wide to devour me whole with rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth. I stared into the blank red eyes of the Raspan, too shocked to scream. Almost as quickly as the Raspan had pulled me under, it stopped. I gasped for air and fought to stay still as well. Every time I moved, bits of my jeans would catch in the jaws of the beast and through the shreds of my clothes I could feel his large black tongue writhing, tasting my skin. I watched as the crimson pupils of his eyes briefly expanded and collapsed, before the Raspan's jaw trembled, as though it was fighting with itself to keep his mouth open. "Set her on the ground." The Raspan removed me from its throat and placed me beside Thatcher obediently. I stumbled slightly before looking up at Thatcher, wanting to know what in the fudge was going on. His eyes were red bled with gold, locked onto the Raspan unblinkingly. His magic made the air around us tense and crackle, the weight of it resting heavily on my chest and shoulders. "Rise and face your new master." The words in my head were English, but the sounds that came from Thatcher's throat were far from that. Clicks, gnarled consonants and hissing erupted from his mouth instead. It clicked with me then that Thatcher was speaking in the Raspan tongue and he was controlling the beast before him. The Raspan followed Thatcher's commands slowly and somewhat stiffly, as though it was still trying to fight Thatcher's control and test the vestiges of this new master's strength. I inhaled sharply when another head poked out from the large Raspan's tunnel before my eyes drifted across the courtyard where dozens of furry black heads were emerging from the ground. Soon, the entire courtyard became filled with Raspan's; each set of crimson eyes locked onto Thatcher, as though they were awaiting his next command. On cue, Thatcher turned to them, his arms slightly extended and his palms facing out as he released more of his magic. The gold in his eyes flared to life as he began to speak, his voice amplifying loud and heavy in my head. "I am Táxim, son of the Raspan King. As of now you are under my command and will obey me fully. My first orders as your new King is that any enemy of the Humans is now your enemy. You will fight against your brethren for the protection of those weaker than us. You will feast on the flesh of others no more. If you do not heed these commands, your life will be forfeit. If you feel that you can obey me, you shall be greatly rewarded. My father, Fuyher-se, asked you to kill. I ask you to protect. If you wish to join me and my army, all I ask is that you kneel to show your allegiance." In that moment, the magic was released. I looked at Thatcher in horror, realizing instantly that he had released the Raspan's from his control. His jaw tightened as he looked out over the courtyard, somehow managing to look fearsome and brave despite the fact that he now had three hundred Raspan's recently freed from Fuyher's control standing before him. I held my breath as the Raspan's swung their large heads back and forth, conversing in their native tongue. I then watched as one by one, the Raspan's changed to their human forms, the ground shaking as row by row fell to Thatcher's will on their own cognizance, a cacophony of voices exclaiming Táxim as their new leader and king. I released a slow exhale of relief before looking over at Thatcher. He lowered his hands and let out a shaky breath as well, the red and gold in his eyes darkening to brown as he looked over the three hundred Raspan's of his new army. Our eyes met and I gave him a slight smile, letting him know that I was proud of him. Thatcher's eyes flickered gold slightly, his lips parting as though he was about to speak again. "What of the girl?" Our connection was broken when the huge Raspan in front of me lowered his face so our eyes could connect. He had not changed into a human form, but he had kneeled. Now, towering over me with shining ruby eyes, I couldn't help but wonder if he had actually fallen under Thatcher's spell at all. "She is Annis, my consort. You will obey her if I fall." I started to look over at Thatcher to ask what in the hell he was thinking, but a small voice in my head told me not to look away, that this Raspan was testing me. I couldn't help but stare at the Raspan, perusing the enormous monster in front of me critically. This Raspan was different from the others, not just by his enormous size, but by the way he carried himself. He was bulky but somehow graceful, his strength evident in the muscles that bunched under his fur. He had to be a warrior of some sort. He had to have been important to Fuyher, the old Raspan King. "I would be honored, consort of my new King, if you would allow me to carry you to wherever Your King may lead us." "Our King," I corrected automatically, watching as the Raspan bowed his head further in agreement. "Of whom you will serve faithfully and fully, as he commands," I pressed, placing a hand on his head and between the ears. I watched as the Raspan cowed in a sign of humility, lowering himself down to the asphalt until his belly scraped over the handicap parking sign. I looked over at Thatcher, who gave me a nod and a smile, telling me I had done well, mimicking the act I had given him. Swallowing an urge to throw up, I rested a hand on the Raspan's beefy shoulder, hesitating slightly. I had only ridden show ponies in my life and this Raspan was definitely larger than they were. Even on his belly, the Raspan's shoulder blades were at least four inches above my head. I could reach, but I couldn't swing myself up. I swallowed hard when Thatcher came up behind me, his hands resting on my hips as he easily lifted me onto its back, following up soon after. "To the Queensland Mountains," Thatcher commanded. The Raspan's rose, including our mount, and I inhaled sharply, catching the Raspan's thick fur in my hands as the Raspan turned under Thatcher's mental command and led the charge away from the city and to the forest and rocky hills beyond them. + + + + + + Wonderland Ch. 09 Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, but I had to take some time to enjoy my summer. Hopefully y'all understand. ;) Also, I promise this is the last chapter without our good friend Talon. He and Tempest have some unfinished business and it'd be too cruel to leave the poor guy out of the ring any further. This chapter takes place right after the events of 8B, so make sure you've read up or you'll be lost. And like always, this story is copyrighted by LillithArchivist, and any resemblance to people or places is entirely coincidental. Enjoy! + + + + + + "Wait!" I yelled at Thatcher. I started to turn in my seat to look at him, but his arm came around my waist like an iron bar sealing me to him. "Move and you'll fall beneath his legs. Stay still and talk. I can hear you better than you think," Thatcher grumbled into my ear, his tinny voice alerting me that he was more Raspan than human at the moment. I nodded to let him know I understood but quickly pointed in the direction of my parents' house, all alone on the hill. "My parents!" I yelled, just as the sound of a roaring helicopter cut me out. Awe filled me as something out of a Hollywood action movie unfolded right above my head. Three helicopters and four small planes swung low above the pack, each machine marked by the City of Wonderland Police seal. My mouth flopped open as the helicopters banked sharply and angled themselves sideways. Men in heavily padded police uniforms carrying large guns hung out from the belly of the helicopters, their hands tightly gripping the barrels as they aimed them directly. At. Us. If I hadn't been thinking of how cool they all looked, I would've been more scared. Thatcher swore loudly and sent out a command in the Raspan tongue. I swung my head to the left and gasped at the sight of rows upon rows of sleek black furry bodies that dove into the earth as easily as a dolphin crested a wave. Not dolphins, I immediately recanted. Sharks. They dove into the earth as easily as a shark breached for a kill. I gave myself a mental shake at the same time that our Raspan mount jerked hard to the left, galloping up the hill towards Bella Lane. He dug in his back legs as he leapt over cars that had been abandoned along the road, using his bulk to push the larger trucks out of his way like a four-limbed bulldozer. The Raspan skidded to a halt in my house's front yard, digging up large skid marks in the dirt as he drug his bulk to a stop. Not that that mattered, since the house looked like it had just been visited by a crane operating a wrecking ball. The right half of the second story of the house was taken out completely, revealing the large guest bathroom and the teetering support of the outer walls. On second glance, I saw the tub and toilet were still intact. But my eyes focused instead on the large gouged out hole of where the front door used to be. Blood smeared across the scattered broken stone told me I would not like what was inside. Without waiting for the Raspan to kneel, I jumped off and fell clumsily to the side, my left knee protesting with a sharp sting. Scrambling up, I ran half-up, half-cowed over into the house, tripping over the plaster and remains of the front door. The entire foyer and entrance to the kitchen had been destroyed. The cabinets, tables, kitchen island, whatever we had used for decoration...all of it was a motley of mess under my boots. My eyes searched for more of the red, my ears tuned only to the sounds of my parents' voices. Thatcher was yelling at me to stay put, but I didn't listen. The house was still and silent; save for the wind blowing through the large gaping holes that riddled the walls and the sound of glass crunching beneath my shoes. Then, as I reached the living room, I found them. They must've been watching the news or a TV show of some sort, for they were angled awkwardly next to the overturned couch. The stuffing from the pillows was still falling through the air, the air conditioning swirling the soft puffs of fiber around until they fell in the large pools of blood that surrounded the mangled, shredded bodies of my parents. Frozen in place, my eyes took the images in. I couldn't stop committing the scene to memory, like the mental "stop recording" button was broken. Snapshots of gouged flesh and splinters of bone poking through the arms that had once held me as I cried or congratulated me when I came home with a straight-A report card filled my brain. Eyes that had once lit up in love or irritation were clouded over and dull. The smell of death and the coming snowfall permeated my senses. I couldn't look away from my parents. I couldn't move. I couldn't think. It was in those few minutes that something within me went still. My body seemed to absorb the chill in the air all the way down into my soul. When the smell of cloying fruit filled my nose, distracting me from the horror in front of me, the sounds of the outside world finally penetrated into the cold fog of my brain. The Raspan beast was behind me, the exhales of its putrid hot breath warming my back and neck. In that moment, my body and mind went on autopilot. When the beast emitted a low grumble from deep in its throat, I just...reacted. Ducking fast, I grabbed a large shard of glass from the shattered coffee table and held it firmly in my gloved hand. I turned quickly and made purchase with the Raspan's blank black left eye. Then I ran. Halfway down the corridor towards the stairs, I found another Raspan, halfway torn between human and beast. One eye was a large, bulbous black. The other was deep olive green, the color of my father's eyes. My eyes. The body didn't move as I sprinted past it, and it gave no sign of life as its companion smashed the frame beneath him in an attempt to catch me. Moving quickly now, I scaled the stairs three at a time, searching for something else -- anything else -- to attack the Raspan with. Racing to my parent's bedroom on the second floor, I skidded into the master bathroom and snatched my dad's hand-me-down wooden box of barber razors from its place in the cabinet above the sink. Pulling out two of the old school straight razors, I felt like Sweeney Todd when he discovered his "friends." Seconds later, teeth clamped around my shoulder and tugged, pulling me down hard to the floor with strength that took my breath away. Flipping open the razor, I looked up into the one remaining black eye of the Raspan and its gaping maw of rows upon rows of shark-like teeth. I had one shot -- and I took it. Shoving hard off my feet from the tiled floor, I angled the razor high and forced the point down through the Raspan's last eye. With the other, I plunged upward through the top jaw and into the skull. The Raspan realized in that moment the mistake of following me into the bathroom. Its large body wrestled with me and the blades, desperate to escape. When it realized it couldn't go out the same way it came, it lunged forward -- and dragged me along with it. After a powerful tackle into the bathroom wall that sent us flying out into open air, we plummeted to the ground more than twenty feet below where the back porch came to greet us. The Raspan fell first and emitted a large squeal seconds after we slammed into the wood planking. I fell awkwardly on top of him before stiffly sliding off, my limbs buzzing with adrenaline and pain from the impact. Once feeling in my arms and left leg returned, I shakily pulled myself out of the hole in the porch and stared in shock at the large sections of wood that had speared the Raspan through the belly. My dad's razors in the beast's gouged out eye and gaping jaw only mirrored the effect. I should be happy. The beasts that killed my parents were dead. But I could only feel numbness. Numbness, and the physical pain in my knee and wrists. Suddenly the smell of leather and male musk filled my nose; a sea of black covered the vision of the broken Raspan body in front of me. "There were two in the garage," Thatcher choked out, his breath hot against my hair. "You didn't make a noise! I had no idea that you were -- that they were..." He sighed and held me tightly in his grip. "Are you hurt anywhere?" he asked finally, his voice tight with reigned in emotion. I shook my head and moved away when he broke our hug. My eyes turned back to the Raspan body. I didn't even flinch when Thatcher held up a large jagged knife in front of my face for me to see. "Take his tail." I eyed him then. "Why?" I asked flatly, unable to summon the energy to sound curious. "It's what a warrior would do," Thatcher enunciated, his tone terse. "In war, it's common for the victor to take a war trophy. Druls take the Gargoyle ears marked by their clan tattoos. Gargoyles take Raspan tails." "And what do Raspans take?" I asked bitterly, taking the dagger from him before walking to the Raspan and stabbing the blade into the flesh. "A Gargoyle's blood," he replied as he watched me work. "Or their wings, if the Gargoyle does not have potent magic." "What about the Lunar?" I asked mechanically as I hacked at the back end of the Raspan with the hunting knife. The cut was by no means clean, and the tail smelled like ass. Thatcher took both from me when I had finished and gave the blunt end of the tail a cleaner cut. I only blinked when the dagger became wreathed in blue fire, unable to tear my eyes away from the blade as he cauterized the blunt end. "They take Drul fingers, mainly the three in the center," Thatcher answered. "Druls use their hands to manipulate their magic. If you take the hand, or the fingers, you take their magic. It's the perfect war trophy, in my opinion." When Thatcher was finished, he cleaned his blade and handed the tail to me. "I have a bag we can put it in. Usually you hang them from your belt, but..." he trailed off as he stated the obvious, his brown eyes narrowing a little when I finally looked into his face. "Your family is dead," he said quietly. My throat was too tight to speak, so I nodded. Thatcher nodded slightly, his eyes tightening before he glanced at the house. The regret was written on his face, but he knew better than to say anything or risk his words ringing hollow. "I guess burying them would be pointless," I said after a while, clearing my throat of emotion. "The rats would just eat them." Thatcher flinched at my wording but nodded. "I have a better idea," he murmured. We stood and gave the Raspan a last glance before Thatcher reached out a hand for mine. I took it wordlessly and followed him back to the house to await his next move. +++ We rode away from Bella Lane and into the forest where the rest of the Raspan's waited, the heat of the fire at our backs. I watched for as long as I could as the flames engulfed the only home I had ever known; taking the two people in this world that had loved me along with it. +++ "Where are the helicopters?" I asked Thatcher as soon as we hit the forest line, a fierce urgency sweeping through me. I had to take my mind off the flames, and inane conversation was the perfect distraction. "Or the planes?" I asked in afterthought. "I had the men take them down," he retorted as he led our mount uphill. "How are we going to get to Queensland without being found?" I asked quickly. Thatcher hesitated, though not out of lack of answer. He had caught on to my game. "My magic is strong enough to keep us hidden," Thatcher replied. "These hills will throw off sensors and if the Raspan's want to stay alive, they'll follow my orders." I wasn't quite sure it was that easy, but I didn't know what else I could do but believe him and hope for the best. I swallowed hard and hung on for dear life as our Raspan mount began to speed up as it darted through the ever-narrowing trees as the terrain changed from forest undergrowth to steepening craggy rock. "Hang on," Thatcher murmured as the Raspan leapt off the ground and grabbed onto the rocks, his powerful body tightening and testing itself as it began to bound across the stone. I gasped in surprise at how fast the Raspan sped across the tumultuous terrain. Our mount never slipped or wavered in his course over the rocks, making sure to never take us into open territory. I looked up to the sky, sighting the grey clouds between the trees and found my mind turning back to the images that had burned themselves on the backs of my eyelids. For the rest of the ride, I was still back at the house of Bella Lane, staring into the chewed off faces of my mother and father. Nothing, not even the bitter cold, could take my mind off of their lifeless stares. Thatcher pulled up the reins and helped me off the mount before placing me beside the large Raspan to hold onto as he organized camp. I closed my eyes to quell the rising panic within my chest as the massive furry bodies began to press in closer. A shrill ringing began in my ears, wavering off only when the Raspan's oppressive presence shifted away. "Eat, drink and rest," Thatcher was commanding when I finally zoned in, my eyes open now. The entire forest floor was filled with Raspans for as far as the eye could see. It looked like we hadn't lost a single Raspan in the flight from Wonderland. "Clean up after yourselves," he continued. "Do not eat more than your fill. We cannot leave much trace of our journey behind. If you have the strength, cloak your scent. Now, I need scouts..." Thatcher kept going, dictating rounds and duties to the pack like he had done so all his life. I couldn't help but smile a little as the Raspan's obeyed his commands in their human forms, eager to please their new king. When Thatcher was finished making orders, I could tell he was exhausted, but he didn't complain. Instead, he came close to me and gestured to his temple. I nodded and felt his presence push hard against mine. The feeling of almost uncomfortable tightness of Thatcher's mind melding with my own was nearly nauseating, but I managed to keep calm. "It is custom for consorts to dine and sleep together. If we're apart, they'll grow suspicious. It's the last thing we need right now." Thatcher's inner voice was both apologetic and weary, his discomfort just as obvious. I nodded and drew up my shoulders. I was a big girl. I could handle this. Never had Thatcher in all those weeks staying in close quarters with me had he ever taken advantage. I knew he wouldn't start now. "Where will we camp?" I asked him out loud, smothering a sigh of relief as he left my thoughts, the pressure relieving itself instantly. Thatcher looked at me for a long moment before responding. "There's an old bear den not too far from here," he pointed southeast. "Help me carry the packs and we can get going." Casting a glance at the Raspans around us, I nodded and followed suit. The cave wasn't big enough to fully stand up in and was only one oblong-shaped "room." A few rocks and limbs scattered the place, but other than that it was empty and clean. Thatcher and I deposited our packs in a rounded corner and silently gathered firewood. The smells of cooking venison wafted through the air from the camps outside and my stomach rolled. Closing my eyes, I braced myself against the wall of the cave, breathing in and out until the nausea subsided. I opened my eyes only when I felt like I could stand and the world around me stopped spinning. "Does it ever get easier?" I asked Thatcher hoarsely, looking over at him now. Thatcher paused from throwing kindling onto the fire, his eyes meeting mine. "Seeing death?" he clarified. I nodded. Thatcher threw in the kindling with a small shake of his head, his dark eyes dancing in the flames. "Never," he whispered. I looked out of the open cavern and across the small frozen pond just a few feet from us. The world was silent beyond this. Eerily silent. Thatcher had only allowed one fire to burn long enough for food to be made, and when the sound of the Raspan's conversation had dwindled, he left the cave to check on the fire. Meanwhile, I gathered up my blankets and kept watch, unwilling to blink or close my eyes. When Thatcher returned, I heard him rustling around. The sound of metal scraping metal drew me from the growing darkness. I looked over my shoulder to see him filling up a small pan perched on a roughly constructed platform with the water from his canteen. "What are you doing?" I asked quietly. "Making dinner," he responded. I watched him move around the fire and couldn't help but wonder where in the hell he had gotten the five large bass he was currently skinning. "I'm not hungry," I argued, pulling up my blankets and putting a section over my nose and mouth to block out the smell. "You will be," Thatcher vowed. Suddenly the need to keep my mind off of things seemed like a great idea. I turned away from the forest and faced Thatcher to watch him clean and gut with precision of someone who had done this far too many times before resorting to my original tactic of inane conversation. "Where did you get the fish?" I asked him. "From the Ancient, one of the Original Twelve. He's a qualified tracker and accomplished hunter. That's why my father liked him so much," Thatcher responded dryly, snorting after. I came to a wall with that one. "'One of the Original Twelve?' What does that mean?" "The Original Twelve are the only children my father has ever raped into being," Thatcher replied deprecatingly. "They are meant to resemble the twelve original children that all Raspans can trace their roots to. Fuyher meant to breed out his siblings, but ironically, his fruitfulness was rewarded with infertile sons." Thatcher cut the fish into chunks before tossing them into the boiling water. "This particular Raspan son is named Mannat. He's my older brother." Whoa. "How is it that the Original Twelve are Raspan, but you are not? Is it just because your mother was half-Drul and half-Gargoyle?" "Breeding has to do with everything," Thatcher answered simply. "The human gene skipped over the first generation and was bestowed, somewhat, in the second. Remember, my father is the only offspring of the first generation to naturally take human-ish form. He cannot morph into anything else." "What about the other offspring of the second generation?" "They are Raspan with human-like characteristics. They can converse in a language, they have a sense of right and wrong, they ask the big questions, things like that. Only the evolved Raspans of the second generation can take another form. They are fairly rare." I eyed him in surprise then. "But you have a whole army of them right out there," I told him, gesturing behind me. "Those are the majority of the evolved Raspans -- or the Elite. Fuyher must've thought he'd easily wipe out the threat in Wonderland and gather Intel if the operation wasn't filled with mindless rats creating mayhem. He needed some order and thinking going on, so he must've sent them in the common Raspans' stead. His act of war is our gain." My chest tightened at his words, but I knew he didn't see my parents' death as a gain. He was thinking like Táxim-se, not Thatcher. He saw his number of troops surge, and that mattered when he was trying to gather a mass for the coming war. "I've noticed something," I told him as he checked the fish. "Noticed what?" he asked as he turned the boiling meat over in the pan. "Their eyes -- the Elite Raspans, I mean -- they're brown." Thatcher eyed me in surprise, as though the observation was new to him. Maybe it was. "When I first met you, your eyes were as black as night," I continued, watching the light bulb go on in his head. "Do you think it's because you are more human than your father?" Thatcher nodded slowly, his brow furrowing slightly. "My father has human features, sort of, but inside he is not human. His strength lies within his beast and because he controls so many, he feeds off the connection of those around him. When so many beasts are connected to your own, they are part of you and you are part of them. If the control isn't handled properly, you will slowly go mad, as my father did." Wonderland Ch. 09 "What about you?" I asked him. "How are you so different?" He inclined his head to me. "Because I have something that Fuyher does not." I waited then, shaking my head slightly when he said nothing. "I have a soul," he said quietly and with a slight smile, the light in his eyes turning a light brownish gold color before turning back to a deep brown. "Ready to eat course one of our meager dinner?" he asked me after checking the meat again, his voice returning with its usual sarcastic bite. I gave in and nodded, accepting a plate and utensils. I didn't bother to ask how he had managed to pack this stuff, but I was glad he had. After dinner was eaten and put away, I returned to my post at the cave entrance, ignoring Thatcher's requests to sleep. There would be no sleeping for me on this night, or, if I was honest, for many nights after. Not if I could help it. +++ When camp broke the next morning, I was struggling to keep my eyes open. I had kept watch until dawn despite Thatcher's protests. Not too long after, Thatcher was already making arrangements for our trek to the mountains while eating on a breakfast of bagged cereal. From the sounds of things, the path was a bit dangerous, despite Thatcher taking us on a longer, safer route. "We can't afford to lose anyone," he had told me as we packed our bags. "We don't have a way to replace them." Bundled up in my black parka lined with fleece over two sweaters, a long-sleeve shirt, an undershirt, and my underclothes, I still felt the biting chill of the winter. Traveling with Raspan's who evoked the winter season was beginning to take a toll on my chill tolerance. I walked towards the large gathering of Raspan's when I was ready, approaching Thatcher and our mount, Mannat, after I finally found them through the sea of furry black bodies. Beside Mannat, a smaller and leaner Raspan waited. I blinked in surprise at how delicate the Raspan looked compared to the others. Maybe it was a runt? "Or a female." I gave Thatcher a dirty look at his intrusion into my thoughts, but he just smiled. The female Raspan approached me hesitantly and lowered herself onto her belly, her eyelids closing over her ruby red eyes. 'You're kicking me off my ride?' I asked in my thoughts. Thatcher swallowed hard and looked over my face quickly. "For your safety, yes." I gave him a look. 'My safety? What's wrong with me being up there with you?' Thatcher suddenly approached me and rested my hand on the female Raspan's head, his gloved one covering my own. This was as intimate as we had gotten since yesterday -- I winced at the reminder -- and his closeness took me by surprise. "We're going through Lunar grounds. They will come after me because I look Raspan. If I am hurt-" "Thatcher," I gasped aloud, panic gripping me at the thought of losing— No! Don't finish that thought, I scolded myself. "IF I AM HURT," Thatcher pressed on, his fingers squeezing mine tightly, "she will take you to safety. She has her orders, Tempest, and she will follow them if I command it." Thatcher reached up with his other hand to cup my cheek against his glove. "Hopefully it will not come to that." The urgency from his expression faded and I found myself staring up at Táxim-se, Prince of the Raspans. "You will be at my side, Annis-si. Always," he murmured aloud. "Now," his brown eyes gestured to the female before looking back at me. "Ride out with me?" I exhaled slowly and looked over at the Raspan, a little unsure. "Will you stop quoting movies?" I asked him finally, giving in. Thatcher grinned and took my hand in his, leading me to the Raspan's left side. Both of his hands came to waist as he briefly drew me into the warmth of his frame. I bit down on my bottom lip to fight the urge to push him away. "Never," he breathed in my ear before easily lifting me up onto the mount. I fidgeted away from his touch the moment I was astride. I turned the female Raspan away from Thatcher's perplexed face quickly, giving her -- and me -- a bit of room. The sound of thundering footfalls a few seconds later told me that Thatcher had the same idea. Thatcher caught up with me and threw a command at the female. She jerked to a halt and lowered her head deep into the snow as a sign of submission. I shot Thatcher a dirty look and called out the opposite command in English. She didn't move. "Remember what we talked about, men!" Thatcher called over his shoulders to the endless sea of Raspan's that began to gather up in straight, even lines behind us. "Stick together and keep your eyes open -- and don't forget to look up." After that, we were off. Immediately I became aware that while my mount was diligent to her duties to protect me, she wasn't completely docile. She would occasionally tease Mannat with small nudges of her tail and even once went as far to play tag -- which I wasn't eager about trying again. For a while my mount and I followed a pattern of ambling ahead to search and loot around before lingering for the others to catch up. Thatcher was adamant about keeping a fast-paced walk, especially since the weather was starting to turn bad again. The skies were darkening to a steel gray and I had become so accustomed to the chill that when the temperature dropped a few degrees, I thought nothing of it. I looked up at the sky when small snow flurries began to fall and asked the mount to halt. Thatcher and the others were still a ways back, but I could hear their procession and the occasional grunt as the Raspan's spoke to one another. I started to look over my shoulder when something gold flashed from the corner of my eye. Swiftly, I turned right, but everything around me was monochromatic, not a single color in sight. I made the mount circle in spot before shaking my head wryly. I was just seeing things. After all, I hadn't slept at all last night and I was a reported sleepyhead. I faced us front again at the same time that the female Raspan balked. She shoved off her front feet, rearing up with a high-pitched screech. Instantly the snowy forest floor around me erupted with cloaked bodies, each frame reaching up for the Raspan. I was ripped from my mount and tossed off to the side. When I pushed myself upright in the snow, I saw a human face flanked by fur and fox ears -- then a dozen more of them. Bodies were everywhere: in the trees, pouring out from the snowdrift, falling from the sky...it was an ambush of them. The female Raspan screamed again in pain, pulling me from my thoughts. I shakily got to my feet, wheezing for air and stared in horror as humans with golden eyes, reddish-brown fur, and fox ears and tails descended upon the Raspan, her black fur flying as they tried to pierce the flesh beneath with spears made of wood and stone. "No," I breathed, shaking my head as I realized what was happening. "NO! STOP!" I screamed, rushing at them. I pulled the nearest one off only to have him turn around and shove me hard enough that I fell, screaming at me in a language I didn't understand. I tried to get up but another male came and shoved me back into the snow, pointing a warning finger at me. I batted it aside and stood swiftly, anger getting the best of me. "STOP!" I yelled again, shoving him back as I raced around him and to the Raspan. Blood was beginning to darken the snow around her as they hit their target. Rage I had never felt before built up within me and within seconds, I had grabbed the nearest human-fox-thing and swung my fist hard into his face. With a sharp cry the thing fell back, clutching his nose. Blood rushed from between his furry fingers and I blinked in shock before grinning in satisfaction. Flexing my wrist and seeing red, I reached for another Fox Man and pushed him hard off the side of my mount. I used my bag and swung at the ankles of the men that were still trying to wrestle her down. One of the hybrids caught hold of one strap of my bag, growling at me as he tried to pry it from my grip. Abandoning my bag, I tackled one of the men trying to poke out my mount's eyes with a dagger, shoving him hard into the snow. "STOP-HURTING-HER!" I exclaimed, hitting his face with each stressed syllable. I started to push off of him when suddenly a strong hand grabbed me by the hair and ripped me off the male before shoving me face-first into the snow beside him. A heavy pressure on my back and legs that felt a lot like knees weighed me down. One hand gripped my wrists; the other jerked back my head by the hair, pulling my head out of the snow. I gasped for air and instantly flinched as something cool and sharp pressed against my throat. The world around us went still then. No movement was made apart from the slow steady crunch of footsteps, and I wasn't too far gone in rage to notice that my mount was dead. I stared through ice-coated lashes at Thatcher's boots when they appeared at the edge of my vision. I slowly looked up, straining against my bonds as I met Thatcher's emotionless face. Mannat stood behind him at the shoulder, his red eyes surveying the scene at my back. Already Thatcher had partially transformed, his missing gloves revealing black clawed hands. In between his thin, chapped lips, I could see his fangs, the sharp points glinting in the low light. His eyes were blood red and blank, taking in the stilled scene before him just like Mannat had. "Release the girl," he spoke in English, his voice partially male and partially inhuman. It was raspy and coarse, the tone almost breathless in its delivery. Clearly Thatcher was more beast than human. The fox-thing on my left dug the dagger deeper into my skin and the one to my right tightened his hold on my hair and wrists. "Not to you," the male on the left answered harshly, now speaking in English as well. The animosity in that tone couldn't be faked. "She belongs with this pack," Thatcher hissed, his tail sliding across the snow threateningly. "And since when did the Lunar threaten innocents?" The Luna male to my left snorted. "An innocent in a Raspan march? Unlikely." I gritted my teeth when my head was tilted awkwardly to the side before the knife blade flattened and began to rake slowly over my throat like a caress. "Unless you and your men have evolved your tastes of flesh," the male continued his voice darker. Thatcher's eyes darkened. "Is she a concubine?" the Luna male to my left growled, stilling his dagger as he waited for an answer. The air filled with the threatening growls of the Raspans. "She is my mate," Thatcher corrected in a voice as cold as the steel against my throat. "Release her." The Lunar at my side began to laugh. "That is a funny joke, Raspan, but I'm afraid she's a little out of your league," the Lunar male to my right responded with a chuckle. Both angry and mortified, I wriggled again. "It is as he says!" I bit out, glaring at the Luna male who turned my head to him. "I'm his mate." "Yet your scent suggests otherwise, little lady," the male responded, smiling to reveal a pair of fangs on both the top and bottom rows of his teeth, like a cat would have. "Listen, Raspan, we'll take care of the human girl. You go on your way." "That is not a deal I can agree to," Thatcher shot back. "You have my mate in your possession with steel to her throat. I will not leave until she is at my side." Suddenly I was jerked up to my feet and caught in one of the Lunar's grip, a steel band of an arm wrapped tightly around my throat. I gasped as suddenly my jacket was ripped open and the cool tip of the blade was pressed hard against the underside of my left breast. The Luna dug the blade in through the layers of my clothes until it threatened to pierce my skin. I cringed at the touch...and, yet, craved it. My eyes lifted to Thatcher's and I found that his eyes had reversed their color: his irises were as black as night, and emptier than I had ever seen them. His pupils were blood red. "If you draw first blood," an evolved Raspan hissed out, his glittering powder white skin almost the same color of the snow around him, "we will kill until there is no one left. Your children and mates will belong to us. Give us back our Annis-si and we vow no other lives will be lost this night." "Lies!" a Luna male barked out, eying the men holding me for confirmation. "If our King commands it, so it shall be done," the Raspan replied, his brown eyes flickering to Thatcher. "King?" The word was whispered in both fear and awe, voiced over and over again until the Luna male not holding me lifted up his hand for silence. "The only King of the Raspans that I know of is Fuyher and I do not see him among you," the male said quietly, his face fierce. But despite the bravery, fear was etched in the lines of his face. I knew if Thatcher persisted, the Lunar would break and release me. "He is not our king!" the Raspan male spat. "He is a madman. We fight under his son, Táxim-se, and his mate, Annis." Thatcher took one step forward and instantly the body behind me tensed and angled me farther away. "We are not here to fight," Thatcher murmured, his inhuman eyes slowly lighting to a warm brown. His tail, fangs, and claws began to disappear as well. "But I swear to whatever wretched Gods are watching over us now, if you do not return my mate to me, I will kill you and your men where you stand," he vowed in that quiet, careful tone of his. I locked eyes with Thatcher and felt the resistance and tension leave my body instantly as his presence in my mind took over. The arm around my neck loosened and I gently pushed the knife away from me. I took one shaky step forward then another until I could reach out and grab Thatcher's hand. He pulled me quickly into his frame, his arms coming around me tightly. "I didn't mean to lose control like that, but I thought the worst had happened." Thatcher let out a ragged sigh and loosened up his tight hold on me, his presence in my mind slowly fading. "I'm sorry I was not here sooner to save her." I eyed the lifeless form of my mount and swallowed hard. 'I was here and I couldn't do anything,' I responded in my thoughts, meeting his gaze hesitantly. "If you are not here to fight," the Luna male interrupted, "then why are you here in our territory?" Thatcher picked up my jacket and shrugged me into it after dusting off the snow, his mind a tumult of curses aimed at the Lunar and mantras about controlling his temper. "We are headed for Queensland," Thatcher said finally, pulling me back into his embrace. "We have friends there that need our aid." The Luna shifted his weight slightly, his amber gold eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Queensland?" he repeated slowly. Thatcher nodded. "To the Final Eden." The other male's expression darkened and he lifted up his dagger threateningly. "You dare harm those who are inside-" "They are already dead," Thatcher reported shortly. "My father wiped out the entire camp a month ago. He left no survivors." "YOU LIE!" the Lunar roared, advancing quickly towards us, but a growl from Mannat froze them in their tracks. The Luna male raised his hand again, calling for silence. The uproar was slow in fading, but when it did, he spoke again, his voice controlled but just barely. "If there are no survivors then how is it that you have friends who need your aid?" he asked carefully. "They were seeking sanctuary in the Final Eden. They were attacked by Fuyher and left to die in the caves. They are alive, but just. Every second we stand here arguing, they are a second closer to death," Thatcher replied coldly, his arms tightening around me. The Luna dropped our gaze to the snow, his jaw tightening. For a long while, silence reigned and not a single person moved. "You will not make it before the snows hit," the male said finally, his voice weary with defeat. "My father's herd is not far from here. We have caves where your men can sleep, but they will have to find food another way. Our supplies are limited enough as they are." His eyes met ours again. "In the morning, if the skies are clear, I will accompany you with a small group of my men to this Final Eden. If things are as you say, perhaps we will have a discussion about strategy." Relief swept through Thatcher's body and I couldn't help but smile at the other male. "We would like that very much," I told him. Surprisingly, the Luna blushed. He nodded sharply at me and looked at the dead carcass of my mount. "I assume I will have to give payment in return for the loss of the Raspan?" he asked us, not hiding the disgust or bitterness in his voice as he did so. "We'll discuss it later, when we're warm and fed," Thatcher replied, his eyes swinging up to the skies. "For now, we should get moving." "What of Rebeck-si?" asked one of the Raspans, gesturing to my mount. Thatcher's eyes glowed gold for a split second and with the next breeze of snow, Rebek's body turned to dust and was carried away into the forest. Thatcher eyed the Luna male. "Ready when you are." + + + + + + The journey to the caves was a few miles, but the ride was short. Lennox, the herd leader inherent of the Kynan Lunar, had a few scouts sent ahead to alert the herd, including his second in command, Jestin, the one who had held the dagger to my throat. As we passed through the dense trees, I noticed more and more of the Lunar scouts and warriors through the trees, gone as quickly as I had seen them. The caves were on the outskirts of the Lunar herd's territory, but both Thatcher and I agreed that it would be safe for the Raspan pack to stay. While the Raspans went out to hunt, Thatcher and I were led by Lennox into the Lunar's encampment, flanked by a couple of male warriors. I stared around at the fairly large camp, taking in the sights and smells while Lennox gave us the grand tour. The camp had been situated on the northeastern edge of the Queensland Mountains where most of the land was rocky forest and small sloping hills. Many Lunar herds, according to Thatcher's mental asides during Lennox's speech, lived in this area, because it was too rocky for Raspans to make their burrows. The Raspans usually enjoyed the western and southern parts of the mountains, around Wonderland, where the soil was loose enough to dig into, but not too loose where their tunnels would cave in on them. Lennox explained that the Lunar lived much like the natives did long ago. They followed their food source, which in the summer was the sun and in the winter normal food like meat and vegetation; traveling light, settling only when they needed to. Their communities were small-knit and upheld the ideals of family and herd traditions. Lennox's father, Kynan, had been leading them since before the Great Battle. When Kynan chose to step down, Lennox was to take his place. Because of this, not much about the Lunar herd's way of life had changed over the course of time. "Here is where we will eat," Lennox explained, gesturing to a longhouse off to our right. Smoke rose out of holes in the roof and the large doorways placed sparingly down the longhouse's length were covered with thick layers of bear skin. I cringed at that, remembering that bears were actually in these woods -- and how they were endangered. "My father's hut is just around the bend here," he said finally as we passed a corral of huge silver wolves that gnashed their teeth at us as we walked by. I started to ask if they were real wolves or Lunar, but Thatcher gave me a look that I took to mean as "Don't even think about it." As Thatcher and I followed Lennox through the camp, I started to get a funny feeling that the Lunar, like humans, were extremely clique-like. Every glance of eyes that went my way were challenging or outright threatening, studious of every move I seemed to make. Most of the Lunar were in their half-human, half-fox form; but some roamed in what Thatcher called the "warrior form": full beast. In their warrior form, the Lunar weren't nearly as large as Raspans, but I was sure they could evoke some damage if they wanted to. Wonderland Ch. 09 And many of them looked like they wanted to. Lennox led us to a round wigwam-like structure that easily outshone all the others around it. Here, Lennox explained, the children and mates of the Herd Leader lived. I had seen the wigwams throughout the entire camp, but I didn't know that the leader and family had isolated themselves from the others. It made sense, of course, because humans did the same, but maybe at the same time, that's what made it so weird. The creatures surrounding me were so obviously not human, but yet they had the same characteristics. Shaking that thought off, I ducked down under the heavy flap of fur that Thatcher held up for me, my eyes widening as I took in the interior of the Herd Leader's home. Wigwams are notoriously known for being conical and round in structure, their size varying by the amount of supplies on hand and the need for space. Kynan obviously didn't have to worry about the amount of supplies -- he was, after all, in the middle of a national forest -- and space wasn't an issue either. But there was such thing as a wigwam being ostentatious, and Kynan had certainly achieved that here. The wigwam was a juxtaposition of wood and stone, like a medieval castle. The sheer size of the wigwam was akin to that of a small house, and I have to admit I was baffled at how this thing was able to stick together despite the strain it was under. Furs and people littered the floor, as did stuffed homemade mats that served (or I presumed they served) as bedding and homemade wooden toys. In fact, Kynan's "hut" reminded me of a nursery. Furs with small handprints in different colors were hung along the walls, some of the paint more faded than others. The wooden toys were fashioned and painted in strange shapes and colors, many of which bore teeth marks. The bed mats were toddler sized. In that moment, the sound of children laughing in an excited tangle of chirps, yips and indistinguishable streams of words filled the air. I looked away from the walls just in time to see a mass of tiny children with fox-like features leap at me. I was tackled just inside the doorway of the wigwam, knocked all the way down to the floor. As I struggled for air, the kids struggled to find a place to sit on me. I blinked in surprise as my arms were stretched out and examined, my gloves ripped off so tiny little paws could study my human fingers more closely. My ears were tugged on, as were my boots, and soon I was being undressed roughly by six little demons until I wore only my sweaters and my jeans. A husky chuckle cut through my plans of how best to get back my socks. I managed to squirm my way into a seating position and stared at the group of adult Lunar who were staring back in surprise, each adult trying to hide their smiles as they took in the scene. Thatcher wore a big shit-eating grin on his face, not hiding anything at all. "I'm glad you find this amusing," I told him before plucking my sock off the head of a little male Luna before he suffocated himself. I managed to get my socks back before Lennox called them off in the Lunar tongue. All of the kids had something of mine in their hands as they retreated behind the group of adults, holding up their prizes for them to see, eager for praise. Hopefully I'll get my shoes back, I grumbled to myself as I stood up stiffly. I brushed the dirt off my jeans before facing the group fully, feeling a little embarrassed that a couple of little kids had taken me down so easily. "This is Annis," Lennox explained to the group in English. "Annis, this is my family." He rested his hand on a gangly fiery red male youth who blushed instantly. "This is my younger brother, Tavish, my mother, Saoirse, and my father and Herd Leader, Kynan. All these pups are the new litter." I nodded to each person in turn, noticing that he did not introduce the two women standing behind Kynan, but I knew I wasn't in any position to ask. I smiled politely and went to approach the group when suddenly three very tall and very serious-looking Lunar males flanked me with thick spears in hand, each metal-tipped spear angling in my direction the moment I bent my knee. "Annis is not a threat, I presume?" Saoirse asked her mate, her amber gold eyes glancing at the spears. Kynan nodded stiffly and the spears -- and the men -- backed away from me to resume their positions at the entryway. Saoirse smiled brilliantly at me then, leaving her mate's side to take my hands in hers. "The children have never met a human before, so you'll have to forgive them for running off with your things," she laughed, her eyes twinkling with humor. "I promise you that they'll return them." And of course, I said the first tactless thing that popped into my head. "Well, if it's any consolation, I've never met a Luna before, so I'd say we're about even then. And I don't mind. They're just curious, that's all." But Saoirse just laughed and released my hands to loop an arm around my shoulders, leading me closer to the rest of the group. "I'm sure you and your mate are hungry. We'll have our meals brought here, unless you object to that?" Was I even allowed to? I wondered idly. I shook my head. "Not at all." I hesitated to tag on "Ma'am," to the end, unsure how to address her. Or anyone, for that matter. Saoirse waved her hand at the girls behind Kynan, who instantly scurried off. I noticed then that both women were wearing identical uniforms, a kilt-inspired design that reflected the dyed garb that both Kynan and Saoirse wore. Lennox and Tavish wore a variant of the colored robe of their parents as well, though their kilt of sorts was underneath heavy chest padding bound together by leather straps that I assumed was a warrior's garb. Only Lennox wore a weapon, a dagger bound tightly in its sheath at his hip. Maybe the girls were servants? Before I could ask a question, Saoirse led me to the furs surrounding a large fire, shooing off the children when they came back. I was glad for that, because I wasn't sure what else I could give them. If I was undressed further, I think I'd turn into a snowman in a matter of minutes. Soon, everyone was gathered around us, though talk did not come easy. Fortunately, it didn't stay that way for long. "Lennox tells me that you have brought three hundred Raspan troops to our side of the mountains," Kynan began in a voice husky with age, but filled with strength. "But yet you do not wish to engage in battle." His golden eyes flickered and for a second, they were so bright they resembled Thatcher's. "Explain your purpose here today." I eyed Thatcher out of the corner of my eye. Kynan did not sound angry or condescending; in fact his voice was perfectly neutral. But Thatcher had been a little volatile recently, and I couldn't help but hope he hadn't transformed out of irritation. But Thatcher didn't seem bothered at all. "The men who follow me are evolved Raspans, recently displaced from Fuyher's control. I did not want to fight Lennox or your scouts, but he had my Annis in a stranglehold with a knife to her heart. Battling was the furthest idea from my mind at that point." Thatcher took my hand in his and I noticed Lennox's eyes followed the movement, his golden eyes darkening some. Weird... "But I do plan to engage in battle, Leader Kynan. Just, not with the Lunar." Kynan grunted. I couldn't decide if the noise was one of contempt or disbelief. "I am sure Lennox may have told you my title -- King of the Raspans. That is my birthright, as I am the only son of Fuyher's capable of taking human form. I am also the only Raspan apart from my father who can control others of my kind. Though unlike my father, my control is not just limited to my own." Instantly the warmth of the room changed, like a vacuum had sucked out all the warmth in the hut. 'Good going, Thatch.' His response was to squeeze my hand tightly in his own. "The troops have been released of Fuyher's control and are now under mine," Thatcher continued. "It is my hope that with these men, hopefully more, that I can help build an army to counter Fuyher's attack. That is why I am here, Leader Kynan." Thatcher straightened a bit and I watched Táxim-se take over. "I wish to fight Fuyher and I am asking you to fight with me." I looked over the fire at Kynan to see that his back was ramrod straight, his golden eyes now a curious shade of orange. A feral smile crossed his face and he stood quickly, a smiling Lennox and a confused looking Tavish following suit. Thatcher and I stood as well, and like Tavish, I was just as confused. Kynan held out his arm over the flames, his orange eyes turning the same color of the abundant fire. "Any man willing to fight that bastard has my immediate respect," Kynan said with a wry grin that instantly made him look years younger. Thatcher clasped Kynan's forearm tightly. "I will not become my father," Thatcher vowed firmly, his power evident in his voice. Kynan's smile only grew broader. "I would not have committed my men to the cause if I believed you would be a tyrant, young man." Thatcher smiled now. "I was born ten years before the Great Battle," he corrected. "Not so young." Kynan barked out a laugh as they released each other. "No, I suppose we aren't." He clapped his hands once and gestured someone forward. Instantly the smell of food greeted my nose and I couldn't stop my stomach from growling as a sizzling hot boar was placed on a spit well over the fire, leaving enough space so everyone could be seen across the flames. Saoirse laughed and patted my shoulder. "Now with the politics out of the way, let's feast!" "One more thing, I'm afraid, before we begin," Thatcher interjected, his voice slightly subdued. His tone caught everyone's attention, including my own. "Fuyher attacked the Final Eden," he announced, his eyes lifting to meet Kynan's. "My own scouts witnessed him leaving the caves and have spent the past month trying to recover from his attack upon them." Thatcher waited for this to sink in. "Fuyher left no survivors in the Eden and killed one of my scouts. He was injured before he escaped, but I highly doubt he was as wounded as my men." "Why are you saying this?" Kynan asked, his golden eyes filled with sadness that I could understand. Thatcher's hold on me tightened and briefly I closed my eyes so I didn't lose my control in front of those here. "My men took refuge in the Final Eden so they could regroup. We were -- are -- on our way to the Eden, before we were sidetracked. In the morning Annis and I will need to leave to find them." Thatcher hesitated and I looked up into his face to see pain etched in every line. "Annis - Tempest - is the life mate of one of the injured men. I informed Lennox that she was my consort and mate because I had told the same to my men." "To keep her safe," Kynan said in understanding, his eyes flickering to me briefly. "And who is this man that is injured?" Thatcher swallowed his emotions, his face adopting a neutral mask. "He is called Tze'sic, the only son and heir of the Tze'hoc Clan. He is also very likely the only Ancient Gargoyle left." The tension in the room expanded greatly as the Lunar took this information in. Kynan looked speechless and I saw Saoirse's eyebrows lift high up on her forehead. Lennox looked at me, his golden eyes burning brightly. "That is why she doesn't smell of you," he said quietly, breaking the silence. "She is bound to Tze'sic by blood." I eyed Thatcher for confirmation and he nodded. "His attack on Fuyher, if successful, has surely weakened my father. But in turn, it has also brought weakness to him. He needs his mate in order to recover fully." All eyes in the room turned to me then, the intensity of their gazes almost driving me into a panic. Respect, confusion, fear, and so many other emotions flickered across their faces as they stared at me, each Luna measuring me up to a standard that I didn't know until that moment existed. I knew they all had to be thinking one question and one question alone: The Ancient Gargoyle mated to a human? I swallowed hard and fought from running from the room. "She doesn't even know what the means," Tavish sighed in disproval. "She reeks of fear." "Tze'sic abandoned her before explaining what happened," Thatcher muttered, his voice dripping with disdain. "But she is his, for better or for worse." "I'm standing right here," I hissed up at him, anger coiling in my chest as I glared up into Thatcher's face. Thatcher suddenly smirked. "I guess the lizard's awake. Your eyes just turned silver." I blinked in astonishment as something warm brush over my thoughts. Tears gathered up in my eyes as the spot below my left collarbone, the empty void that I had grown used to in the past couple of weeks, began to pulse and warm. "I can feel him," I breathed in wonder, touching my collarbone in surprise. The coiling black anger in my chest dissipated and I tried to not scream with joy as the darkness that had clouded my mind for so long finally disappeared. Talon's presence, so unlike Thatcher's, wasn't a heady pressure or uncomfortable tension -- it was peace and warmth. That alone sent tears running down my cheeks. I met Thatcher's eyes again and smiled so wide my cheeks were aching. "He's okay!" I laughed, hugging Thatcher tightly, unable to stop giggling. Almost instantly, green violent envy shuddered through me and I was overcome with the urge to shove Thatcher away. I trembled as I fought my muscle's command to push, but I did take a step back. "He's being volatile," I told Thatcher when our eyes met, rubbing my chest with the butt of my palm as foreign emotions warred with my own. "He got jealous." Thatcher snorted out a laugh and ruffled my hair a little awkwardly. "At least he's awake." "And for that, we should feast," Kynan interrupted, already cutting into the side of the boar. Lennox patted his trim, furry stomach. "Thank Gods. I thought the pig was just for decoration," he joked. We laughed and I watched as Thatcher turned away so I couldn't see his expression. I took his hand in my own and felt the jolt through our touch. When his eyes turned back to me, I saw the hurt in them, the brown of his eyes a little darker than before. I squeezed his hand and smiled at him. 'You know that I love you,' I told him in my head. Thatcher's lips thinned briefly before he pulled me back into his arms, holding me tightly to him. "I know you do. You just love Tze'sic more." I couldn't respond to that and was broken apart from Thatcher by Saoirse, who was eager to eat and talk about getting me an honorary shendyt, which was apparently what Saoirse called her kilt and robe dress. When I was finally able to pry myself away from the food and the company, the moon was already high in the sky and my eyes itched from the smoke from the fire and lack of sleep. I excused myself from Saoirse's side and began to pull on my coat and boots. I had just tugged on my gloves when a clawed furry hand rested on my forearm. I looked up in surprise to see Lennox and smiled. The leader-in-training may have ordered me to be held at knifepoint, but he had a legitimate reason. Many of his herd had died in the Great Battle and Lunar in general did not trust easy. Despite that, he was a good host and had many jokes and stories to share. "I'm just turning in for the night," I explained. "Thatcher and I appreciate your family's hospitality, and I'm sure the Raspans do as well." Lennox waved that off, his expression somber despite the party that was taking place. "It was nothing. Duty to serve and all that." He then leveled me with a heavy gaze, his golden eyes flashing. "I'm not usually one to deliver a shaman's advice, Tempest, but listen to what I have to say." I blinked at his solemnity but nodded. Thatcher had told me during dinner that the Lunar were extremely wise and their advice, when given, was something to take note of. Anything Lennox had to share, I would definitely take to heart. "Sometimes, we're bound to people out of duty," Lennox murmured quietly. "My parents were. They respect one another and this family, but it is no secret that they have others whom they share their furs with." Lennox's eyebrows lifted slightly as he waited for that to sink in. When it did, my face flushed with embarrassment. "But some people, Tempest, are bound to one another by a bond much deeper than flesh or blood." He hesitated then, as though he was rethinking his words. "Your Thatcher is bound to you for both love and his commitment to your safety. Everyone in this camp can see that." He dropped my arm and stepped away. "I understand your duty, Tempest, and I can see you are faithful to your Gargoyle. But I also see fear." Lennox tilted his head, his ears twitching slightly as he caught the sounds of the conversations in the background. His eyes turned distant and when he spoke, his words were so hoarse that I strained to hear. "Sometimes the path so clearly laid out is not always the right course to follow. When life begins to fall into place, question why. And do not be so trustful of those whom you may meet. Such naivety could lead you into trouble not so easily amended." Lennox then blinked, the cloudy look in his eyes fading. Shaking his head as though to clear it, he laughed nervously and patted my shoulder. Lennox then gestured out towards the large rock dome of a hill in the distance. "The one you're looking for is there. It's a lookout point. Follow the path out of camp heading west and a trail will lead you to the cave. See you in the morning." With that, he joined the party again, accepting a cup of the sweet wine that I had more than my fill of from one of the young male scouts, laughing at a joke the man made as he sat back down on the furs beside his father. Shakily, numbly, and in a stage of confusion, I followed Lennox's directions towards the outlook. Nothing of what Lennox said made any sense. And the weird look on his face...like he was seeing something I wasn't...it sent chills running down my spine. I rubbed away the goose bumps on my arms through my jacket and shook the Lunar male's warnings away to clear my head. I already had too much to think about, let alone Lennox's "wisdom." Soon I was stumbling uphill to the cave, breathing hard by the time I got to the top. From here I could both smell and hear the Raspans as they burrowed down for the night. After ducking under the small entrance into the cave, I waited until my eyes adjusted to the darkness before moving in further. Thatcher was on the north end of a small fire facing the flames, already huddled up in the thick blankets from our packs. His shoes and our packs were leaned against the far cave wall, his heavy jacket resting on top. Thatcher was tending to the fire, adding kindling to make sure the flames lasted throughout the night. I toed off my boots and set them beside his before grabbing a large blanket to wrap around my shoulders. I hesitantly sat beside Thatcher and watched the lines of his face tense. "You're upset," I murmured, looking at the fire now. "I have a lot on my mind," he replied coldly. I flinched a little. Okay, so he was really upset. "Does it have to do with me?" I asked. Thatcher poked one log especially hard with his makeshift poker. "It always comes back to you," he muttered. I eyed him then. "What does that mean?" I asked hesitantly, too tired and dizzy to take offense. Thatcher tossed the poker into the flames and watched it burn. "I don't know," he said after a while. "It's just something I've been thinking. Everything kicked into motion the moment you met Tze'sic. I don't believe the meeting wasn't coincidence, Tempest, but if not coincidence, then what else could it be?" Wonderland Ch. 09 "I'm lost," I admitted. "Are you insinuating I am responsible for everything that's happened?" Thatcher sighed heavily. "You're missing the point completely, Tempest. What I'm insinuating, as you put it, is that things are falling into place. It's like we're players on a chess board, but someone put us there. Like we're the product of some bigger game that has been waiting for this exact moment in time, and now the plays are being carried out beyond our control." "Philosophical much?" I snorted, swallowing hard as Lennox's words echoed in my head. "I hate philosophy," Thatcher sighed as he wrapped the blankets around him tighter. "And I hate not knowing." He then eyed me. "Are you taking watch again?" I nodded and watched him curl up into the blankets behind him facing the fire. I stood and moved my blankets just inside the mouth of the cave to keep out of the wind. "Good night, Tempest," Thatcher called out quietly once I had settled. I looked over my shoulder to see that from his angle he could see out of the cave perfectly -- and keep an eye on me, as he had compliantly, since the moment we met. That thought threw me then. Without Thatcher, what would've happened to me when Talon disappeared? Without Thatcher, would I have gotten this far? And without Thatcher, who in this world would care about me? I pulled the blankets up higher after a brief mental shake and managed a smile. "Night, Thatch." Turning back to the night, I felt the previous elation from tonight's welcoming party fade from my system. The reminder that I was truly, inevitably alone was more frightening in that moment than it had been since seeing my childhood home go up in flames. It was in that moment when I realized that the only people in this world who knew how I felt were also the two men I cared about more than my own life. Closing off my mind to further thought, I turned my attention to the watch, allowing the chill to fill me up again. For the second day in a row, I watched the sun rise. Alone. Always, alone. + + + + + + Pronunciation: Saoirse: SEER-SHA Kynan: KEE-NAN Mannat: MUN-NAHT + + + + + + Feedback, votes, and comments are appreciated! I promise to be more diligent getting back to those emails. Xo, LilyArc Wonderland Ch. 10 Thatcher watched as Saoirse wrapped fur after fur around Tempest's lean frame, the elderly female chattering nonstop despite the early hour. Tempest just managed to nod and smile, laughing and adding her few words of input when it was necessary. He knew she had not slept last night, as she hadn't the night before. Already in the two days of her self-induced punishment, Tempest looked gaunt and frail; her cheekbones sharp under her thin skin, and her eyes were foggier than usual. Her lips were pressed in a thin line when she was left alone, an almost permanent furrow wedging itself between her brows. Two days and she looked like hell. Thatcher was beginning to wonder what she would look like in a few weeks. "Táxim-se." Thatcher gave his head an abrupt mental shake as Kynan, the ferocious but aging Herd Leader of the Lunar Kynan Herd emerged from the outdoors. He was already dressed for both battle and warmth, though he didn't need it. Like the Drul's, the elements did not affect the Lunar, for they were made up of earth magic. They changed and adapted as the earth did; nature's sway incapable of affecting their needs beyond their hunger pains. "Kynan," Thatcher responded, holding out his arm. They embraced forearms briefly before bypassing other formalities. "Is the weather holding up?" Kynan brushed off the ice from his coat and grinned viciously, bearing his sharp canines unintentionally at Thatcher. "If you consider snowstorm conditions perfect for a summer stroll, then it's grand." Thatcher smirked at Kynan's insolent tone. Kynan had always carried the reputation for belligerence to the point of brutality. Every conversation Thatcher had with the male was only fulfilling the expectations he had of the Herd Leader. "Awfully windy," Kynan commented suddenly, tugging on the golden-red beard that hung in two braids off his chin. "Wind chill is in the negative." He jerked his head in Tempest's direction. "Might be a bit dangerous for the human." "What?" Tempest asked sharply, swinging her head towards them. Thatcher fought a smile. He had to give the girl credit – she had the ears of a bat when she chose to pay attention. "I'm going," she said firmly, swinging her eyes to Thatcher, knowing with him she would have more weight than the Luna war lord. You're such a pushover; his tiny little voice mocked him. She's just a girl, a silly human, but she's got you waxing poetic come nightfall. If waxing poetic involved summoning the intense, sexually charged dream he and Tempest had shared weeks earlier almost every night for nearly five weeks; then yes, Thatcher was bloody Shakespeare reincarnate. "The lady insists," Kynan teased, drawing Thatcher back to the present. "Maybe if I tie her to one of the trees on the timber line, she'll have a change of heart?" "Only if you she doesn't tie you to it first," Thatcher quipped dryly, crossing his arms as Tempest approached. Saoirse had bundled her up nicely, so he knew she would be warm enough to not suffer hypothermia or even a sniffle. But Thatcher could not take the risk. "I'm going," Tempest repeated firmly, fire returning to her green eyes, fire that sent the smoldering coals of Thatcher's need to almost volcanic proportions. Tempest could do him in without having to even try, but damn it if he was going to make it that easy. "On one condition," Thatcher said carefully, not allowing the playfulness of his suggestion to seep through his words. He was all iron and force, the qualities of a leader. Tempest responded accordingly, submitting slightly to his aggressive stance and firm tone. "The condition?" she asked him quietly. "You ride with me. At the first sign of numbness, you tell me so we can stop. Only fools suffer in silence." "Rather be the squeaky wheel than the broken one," Kynan barked up with a hoarse laugh, clapping Tempest rather hard on the back. She took the blow with a smile, her eyes a little tight with pain. "I guess that'll be okay," Tempest said carefully, her eyes avoiding Thatcher's as Kynan sauntered off to check the status of the search party, barking orders as he went. Thatcher wasn't a fool. He knew Tempest was frightened, and it wasn't because of the weather. It had everything to do with being near him, touching him, having his skin so close to hers. She wanted nothing to do with his close familiarity, even though just days ago she had lamented his coldness towards her. Tempest could make excuses, Thatcher thought to himself as he finished pulling on his own furs and wraps. But Thatcher knew his closeness frightened her. Because she loved him. Because she wasn't supposed to love him. Thatcher cleared his head with one soft shake and pulled the skullcap down over his ears before bringing the fur lined hood of his parka up over it, tugging the strands in the hood tight. Tempest was observing a heat rock Tavish held when Thatcher approached. He felt his chest tighten at how easily she accepted the Luna male's awkward fuzzy paws against her borrowed furs. Thatcher's eyes bore holes into the Luna's face when the lanky teenager thought to tickle her as he tucked the rock in between two layers of bear skin. Thatcher took a final step forward, his chest almost brushing the male's shoulders at the close proximity. He cleared his throat and watched with grim satisfaction as the young Luna fumbled for an excuse, a blush of embarrassment and fear crossing his face as he stammered out words to appease him. Thatcher jerked his chin, gesturing for Tavish to move away. Tavish did hurriedly, almost tripping over his large pawed feet as he did so. Thatcher took over where Tavish had left off, nimbly redoing the bindings of the furs, even though Tavish had done a perfectly good job to begin with. Tempest's breath caught with each tug of the laces, her slight body jerking forward a bit when Thatcher tugged and pulled. On the final lace, he pulled her close, allowing her to feel the heat from his body – his lower body – before looking her in the eyes. Tempest's face was flushed hot pink, her pupils dilated slightly. Her full lips were parted just a hair's width, her breathing a few touches heavier than usual. Thatcher's beast rumbled in approval. "Warm enough?" he asked her quietly. Tempest nodded and blinked rapidly, trying to focus her thoughts. Thatcher fought a smile as he wrapped his fingers around her belt and felt her stomach hollow instantly. When he did smile, her pulse ratcheted up a few notches. "You'll tell me when that changes?" Thatcher pressed, his voice dropping a few levels as he took a step closer. In response her heart beat even faster and the hue of her irises darkened to a deep hunter green. A musky scent cloyed with her natural one, telling Thatcher exactly what he needed to know. "Uh huh," Tempest murmured, her eyes widening when his fingers slid around her belt to her back. Thatcher did up the ties at her back, making sure she felt the heat of his gaze. When Tempest was finally suited up, Thatcher helped her into her gloves and skullcap, his fingers brushing over the pulse points of her body as he tested her reaction to him. He was never disappointed. "Are we finished here or do I need to have Lennox throw you into the snowdrift to cool your furs?" Thatcher caught Kynan's amused gaze and smiled crookedly. "We're finished." "Excellent. Right this way, little Annis." "My name is Tempest," she bit out suddenly, her eyes flashing molten silver. Thatcher tried to ignore the black monster of rage that curled within his chest at the sight of Tze'sic using his bond, but couldn't completely. "No need to shout, Kitten," Thatcher chuckled humorlessly. He caught Tempest's arm before she could follow Kynan out into the cold. "Control your temper, Tempest. For you are not yourself," he whispered in a hiss into her ear, the smell of the oils she had taken in her bath this morning tempting his self control. Tempest stopped and turned into his chest, her hands curling themselves around his own belt before her silvery-green eyes met his. "And neither are you," she answered curtly, her voice barely level. Thatcher held her in his gaze before cupping her face in his hands. Unable to hide his glee at the responsive gasp Tempest gave, Thatcher sunk into her thoughts and found the ghost of Tze'sic within her mind, well hidden beneath veiled memories and weak magic. Weeks ago, penetration this deep would've been impossible. But weeks of taking Thatcher's blood had made Tempest immune to the damages his probing could cause. With a soft burst of energy into her frontal lobe, the "ghost" vanished. Tempest's eyes immediately turned brilliant green and the foggy glaze to them cleared. Color returned to her face and she stared up in surprise at Thatcher. "W-What did you just do?" she breathed in surprise. "I...I can..." "Focus?" Thatcher offered. "Think clearly? Tze'sic was using you as his eyes, manipulating the bond you two share." Tempest's face crumpled slightly and withdrew into herself, the fire in her eyes diminishing instantly. "I don't understand," she whispered slowly, her brow furrowing deeply. "Talon cares about me. Why would he use me when he could just ask, like you do?" The words were out of Thatcher's mouth before he could stop them. "Tze'sic and I are two very different creatures. His approach to controlling those around him is far more subtle than my own." Thatcher took a step closer, the damage already done in his eyes. "You don't know Tze'sic like I do, Tempest. The man that seduced you and the man that fights battles and controls his people are two different men. In time, you'll learn that." Thatcher held up the skins so Tempest could pass through only to find that tears were falling down her cheeks. Thatcher swore internally then. He had gone one step too far, but it had to be done! Tempest's disillusion over the Ancient Gargoyle had to be broken. In time, her disillusionment with him would have to be shattered as well. Tze'sic was a good man, one you could trust. But he was also a Gargoyle, an Ancient. His skills at manipulation did not stop at trades and tribal negotiations. It was injected into every aspect of his life, as it was also in Thatcher's. In the game of power, manipulating others was the only way to prevent manipulation of oneself. Thatcher had learned that lesson very long ago. Tempest was but a pawn, a means to fit an end. Sure, maybe Tze'sic valued her in some way, but even Thatcher knew that the Gargoyle had not found a life mate in this human. Like Tze'sic, Thatcher wasn't the only one above manipulation. Even if it meant twisting truths to win an army and ally, he'd take the risk. Tempest was no more of a life mate to Tze'sic than Thatcher was a son to Fuyher. Words whispered in the bed sheets meant little if they weren't written in blood. "Tempest," Thatcher whispered, turning his back to the cold so those in the search party could not see her tears. "You must not cry." Tempest's cheeks flushed red with anger. "Why?" she hissed. "Because I'll make you look weak?" Thatcher caught a rogue tear with a gloved finger and gently brushed it away. "No, because your tears will freeze on your skin and blister." Tempest recanted and nodded before brushing her eyes with the fur of the cloak. Thatcher gently caught her chin and felt his heart contract and expand tightly when her shimmering emerald green eyes locked onto his. "You are upset, rightfully so. But do not mourn your loss of Tze'sic now. We have others to worry about who need our aid." He stepped back and held up the furs once more, and this time Tempest did not hesitate. They walked together to Mannat and when Thatcher helped Tempest mount, she did not pull away from his touch like she had before. Thatcher easily threw himself up behind her and draped his own cloak over her before locking an arm around her waist to seal her to him. With a nod to Kynan, the small search party began to ride. + + + + Thatcher and Kynan did not call for a break until the Final Eden was in sight. The location of the mountain was ostentatious, for it was the largest and most imposing of the mountains in the Queensland chain. A fresh layer of snow left from the night before covered the entire landscape and the iron grey sky showed no signs of weakening. The entire place was a dismal sight. Thatcher called Mannat to a halt and looked down at the bundle in his arms. A few hours previous Tempest had begun to doze off, lulled to sleep by Mannat's easy gait. How in the hell she hadn't been rigid from the snow and ice that was falling on them, Thatcher had no idea. To keep Tempest warm he had cradled her to him, their furs swaddling them both for added insulation. Feeling Tempest's warm breath on his chest had been on his mind the entire ride and even now as she stirred, he was hard-pressed to let her go. "W-Where are w-we?" she shuddered a few minutes later. "And w-why is it s-so c-cold?!" "We are a few miles from the Final Eden, and it is cold because a storm is coming," he answered, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice. Tempest made a face and pulled Thatcher's cloak over her head. "Wake me up when we're someplace warm," she mumbled into the furs covering his chest. Thatcher chuckled as she fought against his tug on the cloaks. "We're taking a break," he laughed, giving up on unfolding the cloaks. "Do you need to...go?" Tempest shook her head and Thatcher smothered a sigh of relief. While he wasn't nearly as chilled as Tempest, her body had been radiating much-welcomed heat to his torso. The idea of having his own personal heater being taken from him was not an idea he cherished. A few minutes later the party was moving again, this time in a faster pace than before. Tempest was excited enough to poke her head out briefly from her cocoon and examine the terrain before tunneling herself back inside. They were only a hundred yards from the cave when the first wave of wards struck them. Immediately Mannat and the few Raspan scouts that had accompanied the party balked. Thatcher gritted his teeth at the ringing that began in his ears and fought for control on Mannat as the beast swayed and paced in place, seeking relief from the painful magic. "We must go on foot then," Kynan announced as he and one of the large silver wolves that had served as his mount went forward. They went another ten yards before a shudder went through both the mounts and their riders. "This is as far as I can go!" he called over his shoulder, shakily dismounting from the wolf. The other Lunar did the same, though some did not land gracefully and fell to the snow, weakly pulling themselves back up. "What of your human?" called one of the Luna scouts. He gestured to Thatcher and the bundle in his arms. "Can she pass through the wards?" Thatcher ground his jaw at the Luna male's insolence, but decided to ignore it. Truce or no, the Lunar and the Raspans hated one another. Tempest would be considered just as much of a disgrace, whether she was full-blooded Raspan or not. Thatcher parted the folds of his cloak and fought a smile as Tempest stirred from her sleep. Gently easing himself into her thoughts to wake her up, Thatcher felt something other than his own mind brush through Tempest's. The shock of it took his breath away. The presence wasn't threatening or intrusive, merely just curious. It latched onto Tempest and instantly the feeling of being warmed to the marrow radiated through Thatcher's bond to the girl, heating him up enough that he broke out into a sweat. Almost instantly Tempest shot awake, her breathing shaky and her eyes wide in her pale face. Thatcher was forced back into his own head, the resounding mental crash disorienting him for a moment. The presence dissipated as quickly as it had arrived, leaving the taste of ginger in Thatcher's mouth. "What was that?" Thatcher whispered, his words echoed by Tempest's own. For a few seconds they regrouped themselves before Thatcher relayed what was happening to Tempest. She swallowed hard but agreed to test the wards; her hold on him tightening as Thatcher gently helped her dismount from Mannat. Hand in hand the two of them walked towards the large, ominous gaping mouth of the entrance to the Final Eden. Thatcher forced himself to walk through the wards, each step a battle with his own endurance until finally in the last ten yards he could go no further. His entire body was damp with sweat now. His magic could not penetrate the shields around the wards, let alone locate them, making it impossible for him to break the magic. Whoever had designed the wards had used very advanced Drul magic, magic he was not familiar with or had ever trained to counteract. That thought only pissed him off more than he was willing to admit. "This is as far as I go," Thatcher gritted out hoarsely, his eyes closing as a small shoots of pain began to attack his nerves. This final stretch of spells had been designed to kill, and while Thatcher had enough protection to slow down the process, he wasn't immune. His convoluted DNA could only shield him for so long before it too reached its limits. Tempest nodded and dropped his hand. "I go in and find the Drul responsible for casting the wards. I tell them I'm a friend of Talon's and that I brought others to help." She eyed Thatcher fleetingly, her nervousness almost palpable. "Is that it?" Thatcher nodded stiffly, his fingers curling under against his will as the spell began to reach his muscles, atrophying them with growing vigor. "I'll wait for you," he vowed. Tempest smiled wanly and eyed the cave mouth apprehensively, but took a step forward. Thatcher watched her until his eyes could no longer see where she went, the darkness of the cave engulfing her completely. Thatcher stepped back through the wards until the moment his body stopped throbbing in dull pain. He was still far ahead of the others, but at least in the area of wards he stood in, he could bear the attacks on his mind and body. "How can she find them in the dark?" Kynan called out to him. "How do we know she'll be safe?" Thatcher gritted his teeth and kept walking back until he was out of the range of the wards and at the search party's side once more. "She has a flashlight and matches, if it comes to that," he said quietly, his jaw tightening as his magic began to heal the wounds inflicted upon him. "She smells of Tze'sic, so they will not harm her. All we have to do is simply wait." "Wait," Kynan repeated. Thatcher nodded stiffly. "Why can't you break the wards?" the leader asked, not hiding the accusation in his voice. "This is Drul magic," Thatcher admitted grudgingly. "Very powerful Drul magic. The spells prevent me from using my magic to locate the wards' whereabouts. I'll test the limits but I can't promise results." Thatcher walked away from the herd leader before he could be asked anymore inane questions, internally swearing at the damage done to his body. Blood pooled in his boots as he walked, the smell drawing each Raspan's attention. "My prince, you are hurt." Thatcher shook his head slightly, only briefly eying Mannat. "I will be fine," he bit out. "Were you injured from the wards?" Thatcher said and did nothing, his jaw grinding furiously as he tested the wards over and over again without thought or care or strategy. Mannat ambled up beside him and began to dig into the snow to build an above-ground nest. The other Raspans began to do the same. Thatcher inhaled the icy cold before lifting his eyes to the deep grey sky. "The storm's here," he whispered to himself as the first flakes of snow began to fall. The Lunar began to set up makeshift tents to shield themselves from the snow and the few Raspans followed suit. Wonderland Ch. 10 After healing the worst of the spells' damage, Thatcher turned his attention back to the wards, his eyes always drifting back to the mouth of the cave. "She will be back," Mannat vowed as he finished his nest made up of ice and snow to form an igloo-like structure, albeit much larger than average. He wrestled his way into the nest and curled up his body for warmth, his lids closing over his ruby red eyes. Thatcher adjusted the furs at his shoulders and threw up a shield over his frame to protect himself from the elements. He could only hope that his brother was right. + + + + "Someone is approaching, my prince." Thatcher opened his eyes and looked up into the face of the Raspan scout, not seeing him. The scout waited patiently until the gold had faded from Thatcher's eyes before repeating the news. Thatcher stood up stiffly from his perch on a fallen tree to follow the young Raspan back to the cave, his eyes wandering over the forest as he walked. Something had changed in the past hour. For some reason, the smell of ginger still cloyed within his nose. Mannat shrugged out of his cave to follow, his large head lifting slightly to smell the air, testing the new scent as he walked. A large crowd had gathered around the edge of the wards, the bodies giving wide berth as both Mannat and Thatcher stepped through. Kynan and his men were standing beside their large, growling mounts looking more than a little disappointed. Curious to the reason behind their behavior, Thatcher lengthened his stride until he was at the front of the pack. Instantly his heart sunk into his stomach at the sight in front of him. It was but a lone Drul. His human façade was delicate but radiated strength and power of someone who had been on the earth for a long while. He was the Drul responsible for the powerful wards that guarded this place. Thatcher watched the Drul's eyes tighten at the sight of Mannat, but widen as Thatcher and the small Raspan scout came forward. The Drul then approached slowly and carefully, his eyes glowing amber flecked with brown and dark red wine, like the colors of tree leaves in autumn. Thatcher felt the Drul's magic test his boundaries and with a slight smile, Thatcher responded in kind. The Drul gasped as his human features were forced to give way to his Drul ones, revealing him for what he was. Drul's in general were made of earthen elements, like the Lunar. They reflected their source of power from these elements, making them wholly difficult to look at. This Drul, however, was born of a human and a Drul. His human skin was the color of freshly tilled earth, his eyes the same as shedding leaves in fall. His hair was made of spider silk and ivy, the silk so bright it reflected the snow at their feet. His features were human, for the most part, though the plants that crawled over his skin and bloomed with springtime radiance gave away what he truly was. The Drul in return stripped Thatcher of his human features, his eyes widening at what he saw. "Abomination," he breathed, taking a step back. "Thank you," Thatcher said dryly, easily dismissing the Drul's magic to return to his human form. "My name is Táxim-se. A few of my own men are using the Final Eden to recuperate – Bayothet told me that Fuyher killed and injured many of you." "So you're here to help?" the Drul asked slowly, confusion marring his now-human features. "Do you know how hypocritical that is coming from a Raspan?" Thatcher smiled wryly. "I do. But I'm doing this as a service to an old friend." The Drul shook his head. "I can't drop these wards. Not even for 'friends.'" Thatcher nodded, understanding the Drul's hesitation and tried a different tactic. "I sent a human into the cave but an hour ago. Is she the one who found you?" The Drul crossed his arms, a wary look coming over his face. "I came out here because you've been annoying me for the past hour. I didn't see a human on my way out." Thatcher felt ice lodge into his windpipe. Frantic beneath the calm surface he projected; his eyes darted to the mouth of the cave, the darkness of it laughing at him. He had just sent Tempest to her death. And there was nothing he could do to save her. + + + + + + Warmth. That's all I could feel. It filled up my body and soul until I was practically giddy with it. The layers of fur, my Antarctic exploration designed coat, and the heat rock finally had me so warm I couldn't even function. I stripped them off ages ago to keep from sweating. It felt so nice to not walk like a penguin. The path I had taken through the mountain was certainly windy. Turning my flashlight every which way, I could see openings for cave tunnels wherever I looked. Someone could certainly get lost down here if they weren't careful. Fortunately, I had remembered to mark each tunnel I took with a red clay pencil that had been in my pocket, rubbing a large red T at the beginning and ending of the route. And I had marked at least ten tunnels now. Trying to delay the panic that was bubbling up, I distracted myself by thinking of happy, upbeat pop songs that I didn't really like and humming along to the tune. I had tried making a lot of noise earlier as I walked to get the attention of Talon or even the Raspans Thatcher had sent, but so far the only thing that had greeted me was my own off-key echo. I came to the end of my eleventh tunnel and fished for my clay marker to draw another T. Naturally, I dropped the freaking flashlight as I fumbled for the marker in my inside jacket pocket. I bent down to pick it up and froze as I came face-to-face with the largest golden clawed foot I had ever seen. Slowly I stood up, angling the flashlight up higher and higher until I almost fell over backwards looking up. In front of me was the largest dragon statue I had ever seen in my entire life. The entire thing was made out of gold – or at least something that looked a lot like it. The Western-styled dragon was hunched over on a black marble pedestal, its wings tucked neatly at its sides. It had large horns curling up off its forehead and its eyes flickered as my flashlight went over it, attesting to some jewel being placed there. The entire monument gleamed and up close it was obvious that despite the dust that had settled on it, the statue was in perfect condition. At the close vantage point I could also see that the person or persons who created this statue had taken a long time to do it – the detail of the dragon was immense. Its scales, claws, tail, and what I could see of the neck, chest and wings were detailed down to the wrinkles and folds of the skin. The membrane of the wings looked so realistic that I half-expected the dragon to take flight. Out of curiosity, I turned my flashlight to the left and felt my jaw drop. The entire time I had been walking and searching the mountain, I had been stumbling over debris, rocks, and slippery slopes where underground water had dripped from the ceiling above. The tunnels had ranged from extremely narrow to the width of a small house, from making me claustrophobic to being wide open rooms that took my breath away at their massiveness. This tunnel, however, was nothing like the rest of the cave tunnels. For starters, it was made of pure gold. It soared high above my head and curved into a point, reminding me of a cathedral glass window. The floor was made of black marble with gold veins, like the pedestal the dragon rested on, and it wound out of my sight and to the right like a long black snake. It was almost as though a palace had been carved into the mountain. A sense of déjà vu washed over me as I took a step into the gilded tunnel and my heart was beating so fast and loud that I felt like it was echoing in the silence of the cave. I knew that I needed to turn back and search for Talon and the others, but I couldn't quell the curiosity in my gut. I didn't need any other excuse but that to keep going, so I did. The tunnel, while extravagantly carved, was bare of much of anything. There weren't any windows – obviously – but the tunnel was without doors or paintings as well. Tapestries may have once hung here, but now all that was left were a few tattered pieces worn and frayed to almost nothing. Some were fuller in form than others, but all the ink had been washed out long ago. The hall slowly curved to the right and I hesitated at the turn, my eyes drifting back to the gilded dragon that was keeping watch at the end of the tunnel. Up ahead the tunnel led to a pair of large black doors, also built in the towering cathedral style. I couldn't get lost in this place, but the idea of moving forward still frightened me. The last time I had ventured into an unknown castle-of-sorts, I had met Talon and my life turned upside down. If I kept going...what would I find here? Well, my tiny voice prompted, there's only one way to answer that question. Right. To go for it. I approached the doors and stared in awe at the massive height. Each door had to weigh a ton, but there wasn't a door handle or anything to use for leverage to open them. The only way to identify the thick black marble slabs as even being doors was the long slit in the middle where ice cold air slowly wafted out of, causing the dust in the air to circulate faster and faster in little spirals. Hesitantly, I pushed against the right door with one hand, expecting nothing to come of it. Instead, writing in a language I certainly wasn't familiar with began to glow in brilliant gold across the marble, starting from the very top. I took a step back as the cracks around the doors hinted at a light source in the space beyond. Okay, so maybe this wasn't a great idea. The doors suddenly began to grind and moan as they opened to the inside, each inch that was revealed bringing more and more of the light into the tunnel behind me. I winced and covered my eyes as the light illuminated so bright that my eyes burned and sent hot tears down my face. I waited until I heard the doors grind to a halt before testing the strength of my eyes against the brilliance of the gold around me. "Well," I muttered to myself as I stepped into the room, "you certainly don't need a flashlight to see in here." The room in front of me was built in the same manner as the hall at my back. Everything was gold and black marble. The marble staircase not but five feet from me lead to a large open floor wrought entirely of fresco, depicting an insignia of seven dragons, each a different color, wound around a golden lyre. I drug my eyes up from the floor and felt my heart catch in my throat. Six dragon statues placed in a half-moon shape stared down at me from their imposing height. Each dragon was forged in a stone or metal that reflected the colors of the dragons on the floor. One was white, another was green, then blue, then red, gold, and the last was grey. "But where's number seven?" I whispered to myself as I walked around the fresco. The black dragon was the only one among the statues missing. The more I looked around the room, the more I began to realize that this place was a shrine. At the foot of each dragon was a large pile of treasure. Most of the treasure was the atypical piles of gold coins and jewel-encrusted cups and large chunks of precious gems themselves. The green dragon, for instance, had an entire trunk full of rubies. The rest of the treasure though ranged from finely made robes to colorful jars of mysterious substances floating around within them. The white dragon had an entire row of bound scrolls at its feet and piles of books rising from the floor. As I passed over the insignia, fire from the torches lit around the room flickered to almost small specks of light before bursting again into bright beams of fire. That gave me pause. I looked over my shoulder to see if anyone was there or if a door had been opened somewhere else in the shrine room, but the place was empty apart from me and the dragons. With a shrug, I turned my eyes away from the walls and mounds of treasure and sighted in a narrower tunnel straight ahead another pair of large black doors. In the center of the doors was an insignia of a lyre, engraved entirely in silver. The torches here burned with blue fire, and the treasure that lay scattered down the hall was not of jewels or precious treasure, but of bodies. Skeletons with mouths yawned open wide, forever frozen in a scream, warned me as I approached the tunnel. Their limbs were splayed awkwardly at strange angles, as though they had fallen from a great height. At closer inspection of one particular body, I realized that these just weren't any skeletons. They were human bodies. And they were all female. "O-Okay," I told myself, turning back around. "We're done playing Indiana Jones for the day..." But a blast of ice cold air at my back stopped me dead in my tracks. The breath of air was strong enough to shift some of the skeletons on the floor, sending bones, dust, and ash across the tile to the center of the shrine room in front of me. The grinding moan of the doors as they swung open on their own accord sent a chill down my spine. For the first time since I stumbled into the darkness of Final Eden, I let panic get the best of me. With shaking hands I dropped my furs to the ground, swallowing dry spit. I ignored the litany of questions as to why I wasn't running like a bat out of Hell or screaming my head off as I flipped off the light switch to the flashlight. Slowly I turned back to the doors, my pulse pounding hard and fast in my ears. The sound of a low hiss made my blood running cold, but I didn't stop moving until I was back where I had started. I lifted my eyes off the floor and took in the massive coiling black body that teased me out from the darkness of the now-open black marble doors. A pair of glowing silver eyes evaluated me critically from the dark, narrowing slightly when I shifted in place as I fought to stay still. The smell of ginger and musk filled my nose as I breathed in short, frantic pants. Stupid me had asked where the seventh dragon was. Well...I was looking right at it and if I had my clues figured out correctly, I was going to be its next meal. The only thing I could think about as I was stared down by the eyes of an animal ready to devour me whole was: Why is it always me? + + + + "My prince, we must get to Annis," spoke up the scout at Thatcher's side. "She might be in grave danger." Thatcher shot the scout a chilly glance that had the young male inclining his head slowly in submission. Thatcher waited until the male had taken a few steps away from him before speaking to the Drul once more. "I understand your reluctance, Damien, to allow me access inside the Final Eden, but you must understand – the human girl that is within this mountain is very important to someone in your party. He will be more than livid to know that she is lost. As for me," Thatcher took steps into the wards, his eyes flickering gold as he towered over the Drul, "if anything has happened to her, I will kill you and that matter of the wards will be of little consequence to much of anyone." He watched the Drul's fists clench and he smirked a little. The Drul's wards were strong, but Thatcher was stronger. He'd snap the Drul's neck if the little male even thought of using his magic against him. "I can promise you on that," Thatcher finished quietly, locking eyes with the Drul. Tense seconds passed before the Drul made any move. "You are speaking of the girl called Tempest, yes?" the Drul whispered, the power in his voice failing to make him menacing as he had probably hoped. "I am," Thatcher told him, not moving back when Damien, the Drul, straightened up stiffly. "How is it that you know her?" he demanded. "A-And how do you know who I am?" Thatcher slipped into the Drul's defenses, which were surprisingly weak, and spoke to him slowly and carefully in his mind, "I have sworn to protect Tempest with my life and I am forever in her debt. And I know who you are because you, just like everyone else I meet, cannot block their minds from me. I know everything about you, Damien; it's as simple as that." "T-Then why can't you break the wards?" Damien shot at him angrily, his voice thin with panic and anger. Thatcher slipped further into Damien's mind and was greeted with the information he needed. In an instant, the pulsing throb of pain that had been attacking his body from the moment he stepped through the wards vanished. Mannat, now free of the wards, came to Thatcher's shoulder as Kynan's wolf began to circle the young Drul, its golden eyes glowing with barely-veiled hunger. "You will lead these men to the cave tunnels where you and Bayothet are resting. If I sense any sort of foul play, any at all..." Thatcher smiled stonily, his eyes black with deathly promises. "Do I need to remind you of the consequences?" Damien shook his head quickly, his amber eyes large with fear. Thatcher pushed his beast back into the recesses of his mind and mentally shook off the anger and fear that pulsed within him. "I thought n-" But he was cut off before he could finish. In that moment an image flashed in his mind's eye, the snapshot burning his retinas. Beneath Thatcher's feet he felt the earth tremble from the very deep. The taste of ginger filled his mouth until Thatcher almost gagged at its intensity. And through his blood bond with Tempest, he felt her panic. Thatcher did not wait for Damien's permission to enter the cave – he just ran. Down and down through the mountain Thatcher went, his eyes catching the large bloody T's that scoured the rock as he traced Tempest's scent into the belly of the mountain. Part of his mind told him that Tempest really was awful with directions while at the same time, he couldn't help but marvel at how she had gotten herself into this mess. She was always stumbling into trouble, always finding a way to cause mayhem. This, apparently, was another one of those times. Thatcher swallowed hard as he greeted the large golden dragon at the entrance of a gilded hall, his dark eyes wandering over the large crack down the middle of the beast. Magic, suppressed for years beyond Thatcher's knowledge, was awakening. And Tempest, his Tempest, was right in the middle of it all. Thatcher raced down the tunnel, sliding across the marble tile as he ran towards the sounds of snarling and deep rumbling growls from the large room just ahead of him. Skidding to a halt just inside the doors, Thatcher felt his breath catch. Tempest was ensnared in the coils of a large black dragon, limp and unmoving, surrounded by six large beasts that were source of all the noise. For a moment, Thatcher's courage failed him. Dragons aren't supposed to exist. They died out ages ago! But yet...here were seven large beasts, awakening from their millennium or more of deep slumber, roaring and stretching their stiff limbs. At least, six of the dragons were trying to restore their bodies back to normal. The seventh, the coal black, wasn't making a single sound. Eyes, the color of liquid silver, were trained upon the tiny female trapped within its embrace. The dragon was legless and wingless, unlike any of the other dragons in the chamber. Its head was wedge-shaped and came to a sharp pointed snout that blew curls of bluish-grey smoke into the air from its nostrils. The head was adorned by a spiked bony plate and two thick grey horns sprouted from the area above each eye. As Thatcher approached the black dragon, he noticed that a strange bluish glow was beginning to form under Tempest's skin, turning her pale complexion into that of ash. Tempest's head suddenly fell back against the dragon's coils and Thatcher felt like the world had been ripped out from under his feet. Wonderland Ch. 10 Her green eyes were bleeding from corner to corner and her mouth was opened in a silent scream, a trickle of blood escaping her lips. The coils of the dragon's body crushed her tighter, the silver of its eyes practically gleaming as it sucked the life from her body to take into its own. Thatcher's vision turned red. Power and hatred coursed within his veins so strong that the rush of magic to his body was almost dizzying. Glowing balls of flame emerged from Thatcher's palms and without warning a roar escaped his lungs. The sound was so anguished, so filled with rage that the black dragon was pulled from his spell over Tempest to search for the source of the noise. And Thatcher's roar brought a familiar presence to his side. "We take him together," Tze'sic said quietly, his tone brooking no argument. Thatcher did not break his gaze with the dragon to look over at the Gargoyle. "I will deliver the blow that will take the dragon's life," he replied in a voice completely absent of emotion as he began to give into the dark coiled beast within him. Tze'sic summoned two wielding axes to him and nodded. "You distract him, I will help Tempest." Thatcher snarled as the Gargoyle made to move, his true form unleashing itself fully at the sound of his mate being touched by a male other than him. Silver eyes clashed with gold and slowly both pairs of eyes turned red as the truth was laid bare in front of them. "We will deal with this later," Tze'sic ground out, flashing his fangs. His red eyes went above Thatcher's head briefly. "That is, if you survive." Thatcher smiled coldly, his tail snaking across the ground as he called forth his talons. "I'm not so easily injured," he replied with an icy chuckle. Thatcher turned back to the dragon, not waiting for Tze'sic's response. With a chuckle that bordered madness Thatcher relinquished control to his beast completely and let his magic take reign. No one would take his Tempest from him. Not if he was still breathing. + + + + + Author's Note: 'Wonderland' is just about finished, which is why I'm posting again! I want to thank everyone for sticking with me so far. Comments/votes/and feedback are always appreciated. =) For 'The Coffee Shop' fans, good news: the latest chapter is finished. I'll have it submitted to Lit by Monday for your reading pleasure. And as always, a million kudos to my editor, mikothebaby, for editing this story for me. Xo, Lily Wonderland Ch. 11 I want to thank Mikothebaby for editing this for me - you're a saint, chica! Please vote, comment, and send feedback to let me know how I'm doing. Thanks for reading! Tempest It was as though nothing in this world existed, nothing except the voice of the dragons. They never spoke separately, it was all in unison. Every voice was unique, but together they sounded like a Franciscan choir; deep and harmonious, each demanding my full attention. Under the black dragon's spellbinding stare, it wasn't like I had any other choice. My awareness of the world outside had ceased the moment the black dragon had locked gazes with me, leaving only the voices. And the voices had much to say. "The matron of old Yielded to the beasts of a forgotten age. -this is a kinship you share. House of Sky, and the House of Deep Earth -each of these you can bear. A chalice coveted Of a matron of new -a blending of the origins; an era of new rule." Suddenly, I was drawn deeper under the black dragon's spell and the voices of the dragons became the voices of millions. Indistinguishable whispers pressed down on my skull like heavy weights, the voices growing louder and louder until just as quickly as it started -- it stopped. Pain began to break through my mental fog, the sharp shocks only adding to the pressure of the dragon's charm. Threatening roars greeted my ears, and for a moment, I thought I was dreaming as two familiar voices were added to the cacophony around me. It couldn't be...? Another spurt of white hot pain quickly dismissed the dream theory and with a groan I opened my eyes to look at the world around me. My head fell back as the black dragon coiled his body tighter, squeezing me harder and harder until my bones gave in a series of audible cracks and snaps. The dragon's spell was instantly broken. I looked up in panic at the dragon above me when the beast jerked as though stung, his silver eyes becoming glowing white orbs as it opened its great maw and roared loud enough to shake the room. Seconds later, large chunks of gold and marble began to fall from the ceiling. "GET HER OUT OF HERE!" a man roared; his voice almost inhuman in tone. I screamed as I was released from the dragon's coils, my breath escaping my lungs in a whiny wail as my back connected with the black marble floor. I felt something warm and wet trickle down my scalp, the smell of ginger and copper warring for dominance as the scents floated around me. Silver eyes suddenly came into my vision; the face they were set in was gaunt and unnaturally grayish-blue, like the sky before a storm. The man's mouth was moving, yelling even, but the words were lost to me. I couldn't hear over the pounding beat in my ears. I couldn't feel anything as I was picked up off the stone and placed close to the man's chest. The gesture was familiar, he was familiar, but I was so tired...too tired to make the connection, too tired to even breathe. Darkness overtook my vision, blotting the familiar man from my view. The sound of my weak pulse gave three last beats until finally, everything was silent. + + + + Thatcher After Thatcher's claws had been unfurled, he had attacked. He wasn't too far gone to understand that killing one dragon, let alone seven, was an impossible task. But that wasn't the point. The point was currently screaming silently in pain, crushed in the coils of a beast that long ago should've been destroyed. Thatcher did not think. Thatcher did not feel. He let what came so naturally to him spring forth and take control, and soon, without him even having to try, he broke the black dragon's thrall over his mate. The dragon roared in anger and Thatcher felt the earth beneath his feet tremble. The cave ceiling overhead instantly began to crack, sending large jagged chunks of marble and cave rock hurtling down to the floor. The other dragons danced out of the way, growling in warning at one another. The only good that did was to send more vibrations up through the cave. "GET HER OUT OF HERE!" Thatcher roared at the awestruck Tze'sic, who immediately jumped into action. Instantly the dragon released Tempest from its coils and her body fell like a limp doll to the ground, her skull connecting with a loud crack on the crumbling marble tiles. Somewhere in the background, Tze'sic gave a terrified cry. Thatcher's golden eyes locked onto the dragon. The large black dragon roared and twisted over the cracked tile, snarling and snapping his huge jaws as he backed away from Thatcher's advancing steps. Silver eyes flashing, the dragon lunged like a cobra with jaws agape, the heat of his mouth blasting over Thatcher like a large furnace. It zapped all the moisture from Thatcher's skin, leaving his eyes and tongue feeling like sandpaper. Thatcher easily sidestepped the leap and twisted his body over the large spiked head plate to grab on to the wicked sharp black horns above the dragon's eyes. "GO!" he yelled at Tze'sic, ducking when the barbed tail of the white dragon came swinging towards his head to dislodge him. But Tze'sic was frozen in place. Thatcher felt something cold shiver down his spine and suddenly, the humanity within him died. His bond with Tempest shattered and broke, taking away his breath with the intensity of the pain that filled him. Nothing had ever hurt this badly. Nothing. Thatcher let out an anguished cry that slowly grew into an inhuman roar. Violence and black rage swept through him, drowning out all else. With fury and vengeance he had never before felt, Thatcher released his dark magic and let it consume the dragons completely -- and take over his own self. "You will give her your life," Thatcher whispered in the dragon's tongue, his voice carrying into the minds of the animals now under his control. "You will give her your magic, your strength, and your soul. You will bring Tempest back to the world of the living. If you fail to do so," Thatcher stroked the trembling maw beneath him before sinking his claws deep into the black dragon's muzzle, "I will bind you to this place, leaving you deaf and blind to wander the depths of the earth for eternity." The dragons lowered their bodies one by one; exposing their scaled necks to Thatcher's searching talons without hesitation. Thatcher plucked a large golden chalice from the upset piles of treasure and returned to their prone bodies. With one claw he dug into the fleshy shoulder of the white dragon, tugging his nail down through the scales and muscles. Thick green blood oozed from the cut in large drops, all of which Thatcher caught with the chalice. Next, he turned to the green dragon that bled blue, then to the blue dragon that bled claret. The progression continued to the red, gold, and grey dragons, each beast shuddering under the painful grasp of Thatcher's nails. Soon, only the black dragon was left, but unlike the others, he struggled to free himself of Thatcher's mental restraints, refusing to go down without a fight. Thatcher smiled into the dragon's eyes and lifted his bloody hand so the beast could watch as its blood, the color of the shining full moon, dropped into the chalice, almost overflowing it. Thatcher did not care about the bleeding wounds or the pain the beasts were in -- the lifeless body of his mate mattered more, so much more. Thatcher kneeled beside Tempest's prone body and the broken Gargoyle who loomed over her. "Will this actually help?" Tze'sic whispered hoarsely, not bothering to wipe the tears that fell freely down his grimy cheeks. Thatcher did not answer. He couldn't. He cupped the back of Tempest's head and tilted it back. "Open her mouth," he murmured, his voice as cold as the stone that was digging into the flesh of his knees. Tze'sic complied and with a silent prayer, Thatcher tipped the chalice so its contents could empty into Tempest's mouth. The blood instantly trickled out of the corners of her lips, great grayish-green rivulets falling like tears down her pale, lifeless cheeks. "We have to force her to swallow," Thatcher told Tze'sic, holding out the chalice. "Take this." Leaning down, Thatcher pressed his fingers to each side of her throat and gently pushed. The muscles convulsed to Thatcher's touch and the pool of blood in her mouth descended. Thatcher took back the chalice and tipped more of the liquid past her lips, his black eyes not leaving her still face as he did so. "It's not working, Táxim," Tze'sic hissed, his voice torn between rage and loss. "She's not breathing and I do not hear her pulse." "She will live," Thatcher vowed stonily, his mind filled with prayers to the Gods that Tempest would show any sign of life -- any at all. Already his world felt empty and cold, the broken bond between them an icy ache that gnawed at him relentlessly. This was not life. This was even worse than death. "Are you doing that?" Tze'sic murmured suddenly. "Doing what?" Thatcher snapped, his eyes flashing red when the Gargoyle shook his shoulder to draw away his attention from Tempest. "Are you doing that?" he demanded, pointing up. Thatcher looked up and felt surprise flicker through him. Above their heads, the rocks and marble slabs from the cave collapsing in on itself fell in great arcs around them, as though a force field was in place. Thatcher looked at the bleeding, whimpering bodies of the still dragons and saw the concentration and pain in their eyes. In that moment, warmth flooded through him. Thatcher jerked as his body was forced back into his human form, a shaky sigh of relief escaping his lips as the small female below him shuddered and coughed. He pulled the chalice away from Tempest's mouth and watched with prickling awareness as she drew her first breath. Tempest's eyes whipped open and with a hoarse gasp, she inhaled her first breath of a new life, her fingers digging into the stone as her body convulsed and shivered. Hot tears fell down Thatcher's cheeks as he scooped her frame snugly into his, his sobs in her hair loud to his ears. Relief swept through him when her arms shakily came around to hold him back. "We cannot hold the earth back much longer," the black dragon spoke weakly in Thatcher's mind. Thatcher lifted his face from Tempest's hair hesitantly, not really wanting to let her go. He ignored the Gargoyle's red eyes that were locked onto his every move and wearily pulled himself to his feet, cradling Tempest to him as he straightened up. "I'll take control from here," Thatcher replied, grimacing instantly as he bore the mental brunt of holding up the heavy earth that was looming above their heads. Truth be told, he could not hold the earth back much longer either. They had to get out of here, and unfortunately, he could not leave the dragons behind. They had saved Tempest's life. His life, by default. But he could not protect Tempest and aid the dragons by himself, especially not in the condition he was in. He needed help. Thatcher turned his black streaked with gold eyes to the seething Gargoyle and fought the smug smile that threatened to cross his face. "Get Tempest out of the caves. We came here with a pack of Raspans and a Lunar herd to retrieve you from this place. They will be waiting for the both of you." Tze'sic reached for Tempest only to have her placed out of his reach. "Don't even think of running," Thatcher said quietly. "My men will hunt you down if Tempest is so much as bruised in your care. Keep that in mind when you greet them." Tze'sic slid his arms around Tempest and cradled her close to his large, but weak, body. "I don't think I need to remember how to protect my mate," he replied coldly. "Do me a favor and stay behind," he snarled. Tze'sic pushed around him before Thatcher could come up with a response and raced into the tunnel, covering ground quickly. Thatcher turned back to the dragons and quickly went to work on them despite the weary ache and strain that his body was feeling or the irritation that the Gargoyle had elicited. Slowly he managed to stop the bleeding gashes he had formed in each dragon, that alone taking his mind off the rocks. The shield descended closer to them with each distraction Thatcher had to face until finally the shield was so close he could almost reach out and touch it. Once the dragons were healed, Thatcher realized he had another problem to deal with, getting both him and the dragons out of the caves. Alive. It was the tiny golden statue of a fierce winged dragon that lay in halves at Thatcher's feet that gave him the idea. Soon, Thatcher was sprinting out of the shrine room, his arms full with seven pissed off mini-dragons. His only thought was to reach the surface, to see Tempest and make sure she was perfectly healed from her pretty head to her cute little toes. And to punch Tze'sic right in his smug, scaled face. "Shield your eyes!" Thatcher commanded the dragons as he reached the mouth of the cave. His lungs, legs, and chest burned from the climb, but he knew he still had a ways to go. Manat was waiting for him when Thatcher emerged from the darkness, his tail whipping about impatiently. The deafening sound of rock colliding with rock filled the air, and Thatcher knew that an avalanche was coming -- the distant thunder and sound of splitting trees told him that much. Thatcher jumped onto Manat's back and ordered the Raspans to run. Manat obeyed without question, his padded feet flying over the snow as he took them to safety. The dragons clung tightly to Thatcher's torn coat, shivering and snorting soft bursts of smoke as they did so. Risking a glance over his shoulder, Thatcher turned to see the mountains toppling into one another and great packs of snow sliding down the mountain faces at speeds that made his stomach tighten. The sound of snapping trees grew louder. Manat caught up to the Lunar easily, overtaking them as urgency swept through the small party. Thatcher could smell fear in the animals and Tempest's was the most potent smell of all. "WE CAN'T OUTRUN IT!" Kynan yelled at him as their animals kept pace with one another. "WE HAVE TO DIVERT THE AVALANCHE -- IT'S HEADING STRAIGHT TOWARDS OUR CAMP!" Thatcher swore under his breath and glanced over his shoulder again. The outmost tendrils of the avalanche were not but a mile away, and it was only gaining speed as they descended downhill. Did he have the strength to stop it? Would he be able to reroute the avalanche to bypass both them and the camp? It didn't matter -- the choice had to be made. Thatcher nodded quickly at Kynan and pried the dragons from his coat so he could hook them onto Manat's thick fur. "Keep running," he instructed Manat. The Raspan rolled back his eyes in confusion, a protest already forming. Thatcher shook his head and patted the Raspan's shoulder. "Don't stop running, not until you are at the Lunar encampment." Thatcher quickly turned on the mount so he was facing the back and threw himself off the beast. He landed with a hard thump, pain radiating in large shocks through his ankles and up into his knees. Tempest screamed out his name in shock, but already the sound was distant. Facing the product of his doing, Thatcher held up his arms and closed his eyes. He blocked out the rest of the world, focusing only on the energy of the earth around him. The wind from the avalanche began to blow back his hair and whip at his clothes, but Thatcher remained focused on his task. Ice cut into his skin, splinters of trees whipped past him, and still he remained focused. Suddenly, his eyes whipped open, golden and shining, and a large burst of power shot from his body, expanding and growing until it formed a thick wall of energy in front of him. His focus of magic split into two, one part focusing on the avalanche itself and the other on erecting a wall of impenetrable energy to funnel the coming snow away from those who he had sworn to protect. The avalanche came crashing through the trees in front of him, rising like a great white tidal wave over his head. It was the last thing Thatcher remembered before the white overtook him. + + + + Tempest "Tempest?" I turned from bandaging a small Luna pup's right paw to see Talon standing in the doorway of my hut looking demure and ragged. I could see it in his face that he wanted to talk, but right now, that was the last thing I wanted to do. I looked back at the Luna pup who was openly gawking at Talon, her orange-colored eyes large in her small fox face. "I think that should do the trick," I told her, smiling when her mouth snapped shut and she quickly gave a sheepish nod of acquiescence. I helped her down off the cot and watched her dart around Talon and out of sight. I picked up the tools I had used to make the Luna's wrap, trying to appear uninterested in Talon's appearance, but we both knew better. My nervous pulse had to be a dead giveaway -- that and he could smell my fear. "We need to talk about Táxim," Talon said quietly. I froze at how close he was to me. I had forgotten how silent his large frame could move, when he wanted it to. My skin tingled with warmth at our close proximity and I turned away from him only to be stopped by a strong arm. The sight of Talon's clawed fingers reminded me of those few times when he would trace designs over my skin with those same sharp claws. The action should've terrified me, but at the time I had only thought of the electricity that had raced beneath my skin and how Talon made me feel. But with the way he had been acting lately, the only feeling I had towards Talon was animosity. "Thatcher and I are friends," I said quietly, dragging myself into the very undesired conversation Talon had been so eager to have since the day in the caves. "Why do you call him Thatcher?" Talon asked icily, the disgust in his voice almost palpable. "Because that is the name he gave me," I responded heatedly, glaring up at Talon. His grey eyes were flickering with red, irritation written all over his face. "Why do you hate him so much? All he's ever done is to protect me when he didn't have to." "It is my job to protect you," Talon snapped back at me, his voice like a whip. "Newsflash, Talon, you weren't around to protect me!" I pushed my way around him only to have my back smashed into the wall of the hut. In shock I looked up to see Talon's eyes were pure molten silver, the rage practically radiating from his pores. "I did not know that Fuyher would be at the Final Eden, Tempest," Talon replied hoarsely, his hands tightening around my upper arms when I tried to push him off. "His attack rendered me useless." "Which is why you shouldn't be upset," I replied, trying to keep the accusation out of my voice. "At least, you shouldn't be upset with Thatcher or me." Talon looked like he had been slapped in the face. "That thing bonded with you! He knew that you are my mate and yet he took you as his own! Why do you protect Táxim?" I shot him a look. "Thatcher has saved my life over and over again. He didn't make promises to me and then just ditch me at the first opportunity! He has been honest with me whenever I asked for the truth! None of these things have you done for me." I pushed him off and went around him quickly, needing space. "You love him." I stopped short of my coat and furs at the tone in Talon's voice. Turning slowly, I watched as the hope in his eyes died like the candle of a flame snuffed out. He swallowed hard and dropped his dull grey gaze from mine, his hands bunching into fists. "You left me alone, Talon," I said quietly, my eyes filling up with tears. "You...you said I was special to you. That what we had was more than just sex or being together out of convenience. But when you left without warning and the way you're acting now...I feel more like a trophy than your mate." Wonderland Ch. 11 Talon jerked in response, his eyes melted silver once more. "I told you we were forever," he grumbled, taking a step towards me. "That has not changed." I squared my shoulders against Talon's rage and met his glare with defiant eyes. "Then prove it," I shot at him. "Prove to me that I am more than just a toy." "A toy? What makes you think I would ever‒" "Thatcher told me you pulled women's strings in exchange for favors," I interrupted, my temper flaring as disbelief and anger passed over his face. "He said that you and I couldn't possibly be mates because you aren't the type of man who settles. That you were just using our bond for your benefit." I took a step forward when Talon remained silent. "Is Thatcher right?" I asked quietly, my voice breaking. "Are you just using me?" Talon's nostrils flared and he looked away, his jaw tight with penned up frustration. "Answer me!" I yelled at him, pushing his chest hard enough to knock him back a step. "Are you using me, Talon?" I demanded, pushing him again. "Am I just a toy? Did you ever even care about me?" I gave him another shove only to have Talon grip my wrists in his large hands and push me hard against the wooden curve of the hut again. "You know me!" Talon hissed hoarsely in my ear. "Is our bond that weak that you cannot feel my love for you?" Talon intertwined our fingers and held our hands to his chest, pain radiating off of him in great waves. "I know it was a mistake to leave you in Wonderland, but I did not believe I would be gone long." Talon gently wiped away a tear from my cheek with the back of his hand. "I have never taken a mate before, so I am unused to answering to anyone but myself. And you are human...your expectations of a mate are much different than that of my people." Talon then backed away from the wall, pulling me with him. Soon we were sitting in the furs, his hands still intertwined with my own. "But Tempest, we never had a chance to discuss these things. As you said...I was never there. I have made mistakes with us, I admit that. But now that I am here with you again, you must give me a chance to prove that we are meant to be." I met his eyes hesitantly and saw deep pain for only a brief second, just before he let a mask of stone cross his face. "Unless," he continued quietly, "you are certain that your path is with Táxim." Instantly a moment of déjà vu struck me square in the face. "Sometimes the path laid out in front of you is not always the right one." Isn't that what Lennox had said? At the time I had thought he was speaking of Talon and how I should give Thatcher a chance. But what if Lennox was wrong? What if Talon was the right path for me? I shook my head slowly, too confused to sort it out. "I don't know what I'm certain about anymore," I said honestly. "Will you give me a chance, as you have given Táxim?" I nodded after a while. It was only right. Wasn't it? Suddenly the furs of my door rustled and a small Luna female stepped through, bowing hurriedly at us. "Sorry for my intrusion, but the Táxim asks for your presence, Annis-se." "Annis-se?" Talon muttered in surprise. "He's awake?" I asked the girl, standing up quickly. She nodded. I pulled on my coat. "I'm coming," I told her. She bowed again and walked back through the furs quickly, leaving only uncomfortable silence in her wake. "I will be with the herd leader Kynan if you need me," Talon said quietly. I looked over at him and tried not to laugh at how his huge frame dwarfed my small bed. I nodded and left the hut and Talon with that image in mind. After Thatcher had diverted the avalanche, we had doubled back to the forest only to find him unconscious and buried under an eight food high wall of snow. Thatcher's brother Manat had dug his limp body out of the snow, and I have to admit that when I first saw him, I thought he was dead. The Drul named Damien had promised me that he was just knocked out, having been too overworked using his magic. Thatcher had been taken to the longhouse reserved for the sick and wounded where Damien had been healing him ever since. That had been days ago -- five if I was counting correctly. Now that he was awake, I knew we had to talk about what in the hell had happened in that cave. Talon and I had already given our sides of the story to Kynan and the others, and now it was his turn. I pulled aside the heavy bear furs of the longhouse and sidestepped a heavyset Luna woman carrying a huge jar of smelly substance. I stared around in shock at how busy the longhouse was before hesitantly moving forward. Georgina, one of the few female Luna scouts in the herd and a potential mate to Lennox, found me wandering and led me to the room Thatcher had been given. When I walked into Thatcher's small room, he was reclined back on the mats, pale and thin-limbed. It was as though Thatcher had just won a battle with a deadly disease. His hair was greasy and hung in strands to his collar. His face, already gaunt to begin with, was practically skeletal, and his skin was sweaty and sallow in color. Surrounded by the small dragons, Thatcher almost looked pathetic. At the sight of me, Thatcher's dark eyes turned black. A cold stone lodged in the pit of my stomach at his guarded expression. Instantly I knew that whatever Thatcher was going to say next I wouldn't like one bit. "You wanted to see me?" I asked unnecessarily. Thatcher nodded. Hesitantly I took a step closer, then another, until I was standing beside his mat. I lowered myself down to my knees and sat slowly, my eyes never leaving his. "What happened?" he asked me, his voice hoarse from disuse but still firm -- and cold as ice. I winced at the tone but answered anyway. "You overexerted yourself when you changed the avalanche's course. We found you‒" Thatcher lifted his hand and shook his head to stop me. "What happened in the mountain?" he clarified in a voice more than a touch impatient. "How did you go from finding Tze'sic to being wrapped up in the coils of a black dragon?" My eyes drifted to the small black beast coiled at Thatcher's side, swallowing my fear as I stared into its milky eyes. Instantly the dragon's words filled my head. "The matron of old Yielded to the beasts of a forgotten age. -this is a kinship you share. House of Sky, and the House of Deep Earth -each of these you can bear. A chalice coveted Of a matron of new -a blending of the origins; an era of new rule." I broke the dragon's gaze and looked back at Thatcher to find his expression one of surprise. Instantly I knew that either I had spoken the words aloud, or Thatcher had been in my head. "In your head, as usual," Thatcher replied to my unasked question as he sat up stiffly. "Well, what does it mean?" I asked him, too tired from my argument with Talon to really summon up more anger. Thatcher's black eyes left mine briefly. "It explains why you are caught up in this mess," Thatcher murmured, swallowing slowly. "The matron of old is the first human woman -- Lilith. It is said in some lore that she wouldn't submit to Adam, who then took a second wife, Eve. Lilith left him and mated with the fallen angel Samael, bearing demons." "And this has to do with me how, exactly?" "'This is a kinship you share,'" Thatcher repeated slowly, his eyes meeting mine. "It means you and the matron of old are family -- of the same bloodline." "I'm related to the queen of demons?" I snorted. "Fantastic." Thatcher kept my gaze, the intensity of it almost unnerving. "Dragons are considered wise for a reason, Tempest, and these particular dragons are from the beginning of the ages. They know a lot more than you think," he reprimanded gently, his tone reminding me of an elementary school teacher. "But how?" I demanded irritably. "How could a couple of dragons know where my family came from? I mean, I always thought I was just Irish." Thatcher put a hand over his face. "Christ, Tempest..." "Let's just think of all this hypothetically, alright?" I asked him, failing to keep the pleading tone out of my voice. "Don't get too serious with me. I'm freaked out enough as it is." Thatcher held up his hands in defeat and met my eyes with a heavy sigh. "We'll think of it hypothetically," he agreed. "Good. Now...what does the rest of the poem thingy mean? I'm not exactly a fan of poeticism." Thatcher eyed me with a dry look. "Hypothetically speaking, the 'poem thingy' is about you. 'House of sky and the house of deep earth' is easy: it's about the Gargoyles and their ancestors, the dragons; and their Raspan counterparts. 'Each of these you can bear...'" Thatcher blinked. "Surely I don't have to interpret that for you." I felt the sick feeling in my stomach grow more tumultuous and I nodded slowly. "It means I could have a child with either a Gargoyle or a Raspan." Thatcher nodded slowly, his expression blank. "The final stanza shouldn't be a problem for you to understand either then. Or is it?" I shot him a dirty look and crossed my arms over my chest, pondering over the words briefly. A chalice coveted? Is that like the Holy Grail or something? Chalice...chalice... Instantly it clicked. "Legend tells us the Holy Grail is a chalice - a cup. But the Grail's description as a chalice is actually an allegory to protect the true nature of the Holy Grail...The Grail is literally the ancient symbol for womanhood..." Why thank you, Dan Brown. Chalice means womb. And a matron of new... Surely the dragon couldn't be talking about...me? Could it? I eyed Thatcher as the blood drained from my face. "No," I breathed. "That's...that's just cruel." Thatcher reached out for his cup of melted snow on the ground beside him, his eyes narrowed as he concentrated on his task. "Every species needs to evolve," he said quietly. "It is critical that in order to survive, we evolve once more. Your blood allows us to do that. All you have to do is choose which...house...you would wish to honor. It makes your path easy, doesn't it?" "Easy?" I breathed in shock, his words almost like a physical blow to my stomach. "What...what in hell does that mean?" Thatcher's dark eyes met mine and just briefly I saw regret in them. "Tomorrow I will leave with my team and search for my father," he stated matter-of-factly. "I am not the 'right path', as your dragons put it, so that makes your choice fairly clear." Thatcher took a big swallow from his cup before reaching out and plucking a small bottle from the selection at his side and dumped the contents of the vial in. The smell of oak reached my nose and I frowned a little. "Is that alcohol?" I asked him as he swished the contents of his glass before taking another large swallow. "It helps numb the pain," Thatcher replied hoarsely, clearing his throat as he set the drink aside. "You and Tze'sic will train and lead the Elites while I'm gone," he continued, as though he wasn't unloading the second worst news of my life onto my shoulders. "Lennox has agreed to toughen you up; though I'm sure he'll be too busy parading Tze'sic around to give you much notice. Georgina should be a decent replacement, if you're interested in learning a thing or two about protecting yourself." Expecting the blow did not make it any easier to stomach. Closing my eyes tightly, I waited until the worst of the pain and shock had passed before I spoke. "Why are you doing this to me?" I asked quietly. Even to me, my voice sounded strained and weak. I opened my eyes when Thatcher did not answer to see him staring at me blankly. "You cannot choose me, Tempest," he said firmly, showing anger for the first time since we spoke. "Isn't it my choice?" I reminded him. I sounded bitter and childish, but I didn't care. I was grasping at straws now, desperate to keep my rock at my side no matter what it took. "No. Not this. I am not the right path for you." I stood up swiftly, his rejection beginning to hit me full force. "I told Talon that I love you," I hissed at him. "I told him that you had always been there for me, protecting me, standing at my side even when you didn't want to, but you're just like him, aren't you? You can toss me aside just as easily." I wiped my tears roughly off my cheeks as I glared down at him. "If you leave tomorrow, there will be nothing for you when you come back. I won't wait for you." And with that, I left the room, blinded by my tears, rage, and pain. I raced out of the longhouse and into the fiercely cold night, the wind whipping at my wet face and freezing the tears the instant they leaked from my eyes. Stumbling in the snow, I pushed aside the Lunar guards reaching for me and sprinted through camp and into the dark forest beyond. I found myself following the path to the lookout cave that Thatcher and I had stayed in on our first night at the Lunar encampment, as though I was glutton for more punishment. I stumbled up the steep slope, gripping at the ice-slicked stones as I pulled my way up the hill. I collapsed in the mouth of the cave, sweating and bruised beyond belief, and shivering with the cold. Ignoring my protesting, aching limbs, I pulled my knees up to my chin and closed my eyes, humming away the sounds of the camp below and of Thatcher's sharp rejection that kept playing over and over in my head. But eventually I had to admit to myself the humming wasn't working. Anger, bitter and strong, rose up through me fierce and swift. Thatcher had rejected our love, at any chance of us being together. And hadn't he just days before been ready to fight for me? To fight against Talon? What had changed? Had I done something wrong? Why, after all the hell we had been through together, was he going to give me up so easily? I pulled my hood over my face and released a scream into the chilled fabric, over and over again until my throat was raw and my cries were hoarse. I rolled onto my side and buried my face into my arms. First I lost my parents. Now I was going to lose Thatcher too? + + + + I woke up to a bright ray of sun shining directly on my face. For a few moments I was a little disoriented by my surroundings but the events of last night came rushing back in full force, unbidden, and I remembered clearly what I was doing here. I had come to run away, to hide and lick my wounds. The fresh sting of Thatcher's denial grated on my nerves, but my growling stomach told me that I had to leave the cave sometime. When I stumbled into camp, I knew instantly that something was up. The heady buzz and excitement from the Lunar as they jogged towards the edge of camp sent warning flags up in my head. Quickly I followed after them, my heart pounding hard in my ears as I wove my way through the maze of bodies to the front of the pack. I was a row away from breaking through the pack when I heard Lennox's exasperated voice. I stopped walking and searched through fuzzy limbs to find his back to me as he walked beside Manat around the edge of the longhouse. Abandoning the migration to the edge of the camp, I followed after them. I pressed my back to the edge of the longhouse and slowly edged to the corner. "I don't understand why you're doing this," Lennox was saying slowly, his voice filled with irritation. "I thought you loved Tempest...but you're just letting her go? How hard did you hit your bloody head after the avalanche, T? The man that came into this camp would've never given up so easily." A subtle warning hiss greeted my ears and I quickly looked around the corner to find Lennox standing next to a strong, lean body I knew well as he threw packs filled with heaven-knows-what over Manat's beefy shoulder. Thatcher paused from doing up the ties and I quickly pulled myself back around the corner, not wanting to be found out. A few seconds later, he spoke. "My mother possessed the Sight, which she passed to me. Sometimes I can sense things, see events before they happen. When I was hit by the avalanche, I saw things." Lennox sighed heavily. "And? What does that have to do with anything?" he asked in a voice that was barely patient. "I love Tempest," Thatcher said suddenly, his voice firm but raw with pain. "I love her more than...more..." He cut off and coughed to clear the emotion from his voice. "Leaving her here for that pig is the hardest thing I've ever done." "I'm still confused here, Thatcher. What does the Sight have to do with you copping out?" I peeked around the edge of the longhouse and found Thatcher and Lennox facing each other, both men glaring at the man before them. "If I leave Tempest behind, she will mate with Tze'sic," Thatcher said coldly. "And their firstborn, a daughter, is my true life mate." My breath caught in my throat and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. Even Lennox seemed taken aback. "B-But how do you know?" he finally stammered. "What if you were just...hallucinating or something?" Thatcher turned back to Manat with a snort. "If only it were a hallucination," he muttered darkly as he finished up the straps. "I still think this is a terrible idea," Lennox sighed as he crossed his arms. He recognized defeat and knew better than to think Thatcher was going to budge. "You don't know for certain that you weren't just dreaming it all up." Thatcher snarled and whipped around to face Lennox, his eyes glowing brilliant crimson. "Are we finished here?" he spat, advancing on the Luna male. Lennox took a small step back and uncrossed his arms, the tension clear in the set of his shoulders. "We're finished," he said quietly. Thatcher looked over him with his crimson eyes before turning back to the Manat. "You should at least tell her," Lennox murmured. "LEAVE ME IN PEACE!" Thatcher roared. When he turned again, it was clear to see the tears running down his face. "Just leave me alone!" he demanded hoarsely, almost pleading. Lennox nodded stiffly and began to turn, making it my cue to leave. I ducked inside the longhouse, surprised at how empty and abandoned it was. I waited until I heard Lennox's footsteps recede into the distance before I poked my head out from the longhouse again. I stepped outside and walked to the corner, but hesitated before walking out into the open. Thatcher's entire body tensed the moment I faced him. Even with his back to me, he knew I was there. "You were listening," he said after a while, his tone low and gruff. I swallowed hard. "Y-Yes. I was." Thatcher looked over his shoulder at me. The evidence of his tears was gone, replaced by a cold mask that sent wary chills down my spine. "Is it true?" I asked him when he faced Manat again. "Is she really your life mate or did you just make that up because you knew Lennox wouldn't leave you alone otherwise?" "It's true," he shot at me, his eyes turning deep crimson. I crossed my arms and planted my feet firmly, even though every iota of my being was set on running far, far away. "I can tell when you're lying." Thatcher was suddenly towering over me, having moved nearly ten feet in the span of an eye blink. I looked up at him in surprise to see his eyes were now black with anger and his nostrils flared as he took in deep breaths. "Believe me, Tempest," he snarled. "I would not lie to you. I've just made your choice easier," he spat. He stalked away again, heading for the village. "Easier for whom?" I called out to him. "Easier for you, maybe?" Thatcher stilled instantly. I had him! I swallowed hard as I took a step forward, praying to whatever Gods there were to give me strength to finish. "You're scared of being with me. I can see it. As my guard or protector, you can love me from a distance -- a perfect relationship for you. You can bed me and leave me and hoard over me...but anything beyond that frightens you." Wonderland Ch. 11 Thatcher's hands curled into fists, but I kept going. "You're weaker with me. That's something else that frightens you. You care too much and that's the last thing you want anyone to see." I chuckled bitterly. "Or is it you just don't want Talon to see? He's the one you're competing with, isn't it? You want to show him who is the stronger man. If you take me as your mate, your true mate, that power and freedom that you could have goes to Talon. I'm a weakness that you don't want to bear the burden of." I took another step forward and saw him stiffen. I was pushing it, I knew that, but I needed to know! And, if I was being truly honest, I wanted to hurt Thatcher like he hurt me. Pathetic, I know, but he deserved it. "Tell me you are willing to give up what we have," I continued. "Look me in the eyes and say that you don't love me enough to fight. Tell me that, Thatcher, and I'll let you leave without another word." Thatcher turned slowly. His face looked as though it was etched out of stone, his eyes two inky black orbs of glass that regarded me without expression. He took a step forward, then another, until he was standing in front of me. Hot pricks stabbed the backs of my eyes as I realized in that moment that Thatcher wasn't going to budge. A sharp ache in the center of my chest burst the small ray of hope that had filled me, shattering the illusion that Thatcher, in any way or form, was going to deny every word I had said and take me as his. Thatcher suddenly lifted up his hand and brushed away a falling tear with the back of his hand. My breath caught at the warm hum that buzzed under my skin at his touch, the contact startling me with its intensity. But as sudden as the action had been, it was only brief. He took a step back and regarded me with those chilly eyes, unmoving and blank, like stone. "I love you, but it is not enough," Thatcher replied on a cool, distant tone. "And you are right. You're a weakness that I don't want to bear the burden of, not any longer." Thatcher took another step back. "Goodbye, Tempest." It felt like someone had their hand wrapped tightly around my heart, squeezing tightly and refusing to let go. The dull, heavy ache contrasted greatly with the sharp, knife-like pain that stabbed at my lungs. The tears overflowed and spilled like a heavy waterfall down my face, blurring Thatcher's receding image. Each blink just brought more tears and each gasp of air brought only more pain. "Tempest..." said a voice behind me as hands gently brushed over my shoulders to draw me away. "NO!" I screamed, shoving away the hands blindly. I ran towards Thatcher, unaware of the whiny breaths I was taking or the sounds of my sobs. Thatcher turned and caught me, his grip tight and painful on my wrists as he pushed me away from him. "Thatch please, you can't...you can't do this! Don't I mean anything to you? I love you, you stupid idiot! I love you!" Hands grabbed me from behind and pulled me away. Suddenly Thatcher grabbed my skull and squeezed his palms tight against my soft temples, murmuring under his breath. White spots flashed in front of my eyes before the edges of my vision began to grow dark. I squirmed against the hands that held me and Thatcher's rough touch, but neither pair of hands moved. I screamed in pain as something cold and dark shot through me, radiating from Thatcher's palms. Sharp pinpricks of pain stabbed at my temples and when I opened my mouth to scream again, everything went still and dark. The last thing I remembered was falling to my knees in the snow and the sound of Talon yelling my name. + + + + + Author's note: The excerpt taken from Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code is copyrighted by the author and the Doubleday publishing house. I have not altered the text in any way and do not take any credit for the piece. It is merely used as a reference only. Wonderland Ch. 12 I want to thank Mikothebaby for editing this chapter for me. You're a blessing, chica! As always, thank you readers for giving me the kick in the tush that I so desperately need. You guys rock and I hope you enjoy this chapter of Wonderland! Comments, feedback, and (nice!) words of how to improve are always appreciated. Xo, Lily A. Wonderland Ch. 12 I shook my head slowly, trying to ignore the mocking 'for my own pleasure' that was whirring like a merry-go-round in my head. "So...we are bonded?" I asked in confusion. Talon gave me a ghost of a smile. "We have been since you rescued me from the castle. Táxim's blood weakened it some, as did my illness. But it's never been broken. He is wrong, Tempest. He most likely didn't want to acknowledge that a Gargoyle would take a human as a life mate. I don't blame him; it is unusual..." "But I thought that's how Gargoyles and Raspans and everyone else were created? By taking humans as their mates?" I asked, more confused now than ever. "No, you misunderstand. 'Life mate' is permanent. Procreation can be formed without taking a life mate. It was common to simply 'mate' in the beginning, but after tribes and herds and packs grew in number, each species began to breed with their own. That's been the practice for hundreds of years." "Oh." Well now I felt dumb. Talon squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. "I've already told you that my feelings for you are sincere." Talon then hesitated before continuing. "And I do not fault you in any way for loving Táxim. You are young and he clearly cares for you. He was very adamant before he left that if I cause you any distress I will have no need for a loincloth." My eyes shot to Talon's in surprise only to find him smirking. "As much as it pains me to admit, I admire Táxim. I always have." He swallowed hard and the smirk faded into a tentative smile. "It is only out of my respect for him that I let you mourn. Even if it grieves me to know that you love another, you deserved the time and space." I nodded my jaw tight with suppressed emotion. "Thank you for that. Though I could've done without the bucket of ice water on my head, I'm glad you kicked me out of bed. I needed it." Talon's smirk was back. "I have to admit that I have never seen you move that fast since we've met. Your anger was impressive." I rolled my eyes, glad to be out of the intense discussion he had put us in. "I bet if I dumped cold water on your head, I'd have to watch my back for a week." "Of course," he agreed with a soft chuckle. The awkwardness came back and Talon pulled his hand away, standing up again. I followed suit, trying not to fidget nervously as Talon hesitated at my side. "So...does this mean we will become friends again?" Talon asked, sounding almost childish in his timid eagerness. I fought a smile as our eyes met and nodded. Evident relief crossed his face and a smile broke the tension between us – I had forgotten how charming Talon's smile could be. "I'm glad. Talking to Kynan and Lennox is almost as interesting as talking to a tree." "Talon!" I gasped in surprise. "You can't talk about them like that!" Talon made a face. "It's not an insult to tell an uninteresting man that he is uninteresting. They clearly can't help it." I shook my head in exasperation. "You haven't changed a bit." Talon smiled coyly. "Things have changed." "Oh?" I asked, ignoring the playful look in his eyes as he regarded me. "Oh yes," he teased, a sexy smile coming to his face. "This time, I will be relentless in pursuing the things I want most. You see, before I couldn't have cared less if my persistence paid off. But now, nothing will stand in my way." I blinked. "Nothing?" I repeated slowly. Talon leaned forward and brushed his lips over my cheek. "I gave you your space, Tempest. Now I will pursue." "I'm not an animal you can hunt or a battle you can win," I warned him, my anger coming back. "You are the riddle I will solve," Talon chuckled, his breath feathering over my ear. "A definite challenge." "How so?" I asked him, a little curious. "I was practically putty in your hands before," I reminded him. "True," Talon said with a laugh, ignoring the dirty look I cast in his direction. "But this time, the situation is different. You fell in love and lost it. You will be harder to please, more cynical of the words I whisper to you." Talon's smile reflected the sincerity of his words. It frightened me. "But we both know I belong to you now," he continued. "And you know that I will do anything to keep you." Talon then pulled away completely, easily straightening himself up before striding to the door. "Remember, Tempest, we're bonded." He sent a smile over his shoulder that sent heat flaming up my face. "And that the chase works both ways." I watched Talon leave in awe. He had entered my home angry and bitter and left it with promises of chase and taking the place of the man who I still longed for. How he could turn things around so quickly blew my mind. That's when it hit me square in the face – Talon had played me. His act with the serving girl had been a test to gauge my reaction. He insulted me about Thatcher to get the answers he needed. And he took my blood to repair the bond that Thatcher and my mourning had weakened. I chuckled and shook my head as I blew out the candles. Talon deserved his credit – he was one sneaky Gargoyle when he wanted to be. Wonderland Ch. 13 A/N: Sorry about the long wait everyone. I hope this chapter makes up for it! As always, this work is copyrighted, and all comments, votes, and feedback are welcome. -LA Wonderland Ch. 13 "Wait." Talon caught my elbow and turned me to him again, his tail snaking around my right ankle and squeezing tight. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it a few moments later, swallowing whatever words he had been about to say. "You and I are to head the Raspans," he said finally. "We're in the forest." I nodded in understanding and ran after him in the opposite direction of the crowd. As we passed through the camp, gradually the noise and presence of the Lunar faded. Soon all that could be heard were our footsteps and the distant clanging of the bells. An eerie feeling shot up my spine and my eyes went to the forest automatically. Rows upon rows of red eyes greeted me, the Elites and their Guard prepared for battle. Silent and ominous, they stood in their half-human, half-Raspan forms, awaiting orders. Hoshkin stepped forward when we approached. Like the others, he wore no armor and bore no weapon. He didn't need to. "Fuyher's army has split into two groups," he informed us. "One section of the force is coming here, around the back of camp. The main line is heading to the southern wall where the Lunar have control." I swallowed hard at that news. We were the only ones standing between half of Fuyher's army and camp, where women and children and the old were hiding for safety. We had to make our stand here, and we had to make it count. "How many?" Talon requested. "Five hundred." I eyed Talon quickly. We were outnumbered by two hundred. Our plan of attack had to be effective and our playing field was the forest, making the fighting in forcibly close quarters. "We need to keep our line," Talon said finally, not showing that he was put off by the dire ratio. "If the army slips around and reaches the Lunar camp, not only do we lose innocents but the Lunar will have to watch their backs as well. Hoshkin, draw a second line back to guard the camp. They are not to enter the surge under any circumstances." Hoshkin inclined his head. "Done. What of the dragons, Tze'sic? They are out in these woods." Talon eyed me briefly. "I do not wish for Fuyher to discover them. Where are the scouts you had trailing them?" he asked Hoshkin, still not looking from me. "Still out following the hunt. They are near the mountains, where the elk range is. They are waiting for orders at your command, Tze'sic." Talon's brow furrowed in thought. "Make sure the dragons are kept occupied," he said finally. "I don't want to unleash them unless absolutely necessary, understood?" "Yes, Tze'sic," Hoshkin answered dutifully. "They're coming," warned one of the Guards. "Right. Let's move into position," Talon commanded loudly so all could hear. We slunk into the forest and followed the curve around the edge of the Raspan dens, using the large rocky hills as our barrier between the approaching army and the Lunar camp. I felt wary of fighting with a wall to my back, but I knew I had no other choice. It wasn't an ideal playing ground, but it would have to do. I then mentally laughed at myself. What in the hell did I know about war or tactics? I just needed to focus on making it out of this fight with my limbs intact. Talon silently signaled us to a halt. I instantly froze in place, my heartbeat pounding in my ears as we waited. At first, there was nothing. The warning bells from the wall had long since died down during our march to the north end of camp, and the world had gone unnervingly still. The skies overhead were steel grey, the clouds unmoving and hanging low above our heads. The smell of future snowfall had me internally swearing at my clothing -- I wasn't dressed for a snowstorm and the color of the sky promised just that. Then, suddenly, the air around me grew oppressively heavy and the hair at the back of my neck prickled. That's when Fuyher's army came. The fog that had woven itself between the junipers revealed large dark blotches that grew in number so quickly they blurred together, moving like shadows behind a curtain as they slowly approached. The heavy plodding and crunch of Raspan paws in the snow greeted my ears, followed by the heavy puffs of air being blown from their nostrils. The first line of Raspans broke through the fog and stopped just fifty yards away, as silent and still as the men on either side of me. A chilly breeze blew from the north just then, bringing a soft smattering of ice and the smell of rotting fruit along with it. I was aware in that moment of how badly I was sweating, but I didn't want to draw attention to myself by wiping my palms or face. I glanced out of the corner of my eyes to see that Talon was as still as stone, looking thoroughly unruffled. Our bond gave me nothing but I wasn't surprised. These men surrounding me had grown up in war, had fought battles, and had taken lives. I was just a pretender; one Raspan death hadn't made me a fighter, I had just been lucky. Hopefully my luck would play out here, or this would all be for nothing. Suddenly a low, haunting horn blew from deep within the woods, the sound sending goose bumps pebbling across my entire body. Talon tightened up beside me. After a quick glance I saw his grey eyes were shining eagerly with bloodlust. The look gave me chills. Fuyher's army began to pound the snow under their large paws, tossing their heads and smacking their tails on the solid ground. They were intimidating us, hoping we would break rank. In my case, it was kind of working. My grip tightened on the sword hilt and I withdrew it shakily as the Raspans at my side began to hiss and transform, their crimson eyes glowing in the monochromatic world around us. Fuyher's men began to hiss and sway in their places, their muscles rippling beneath their fur, taut with expectation and eagerness. One particularly large Raspan snapped its teeth in our direction, flashing the sharp yellowing rows of shark-like incisors that crowded its foul-smelling mouth. The horn bellowed again in a rhythm, and this time the Raspans filled the air with their high-pitched cries before plunging towards us, unfurling their thick legs as they gained speed and ground. Talon drew up to his massive height and roared before racing off to meet them. A strangled scream of both panic and relief escaped my throat as I ran with the Elites, easily being bested as they leapt over the snow instead of me who had to plow through it. I was just a few feet from my first Raspan when suddenly I was pulled back by my waist and tossed all the way back to where I had started. I propped up on my elbows in the snow and stared at the lean dark form twenty feet from where I lay. Instantly all thoughts of bloodshed and fighting ceased to exist. Warm brown eyes locked onto me with an intensity that never failed to take my breath away. His face, tanned from the warmer, sunnier climate was now marred by a crescent shaped scar that marked the skin from left eyebrow to the curve of his chin. His hair was longer than it had last been and was streaked light brown from the sun. Thatcher's eyes went above me and he jerked his head slightly. "Take her to the camp. Don't let her out of your sight." His eyes went back to me briefly before he turned back to the onslaught of Fuyher's army, his body rippling with the change. Soon he was lost in the mass of bodies, leaving only a trail of dead in his wake. "Up we go," a male said in my ear, tugging me by the armpits as he pulled me up out of the snow. I was bodily turned towards camp and I blinked in surprise at the men who surrounded me. I knew the team Thatcher had left camp with, but these weren't the same men. "Introductions later," said the male who had picked me up. He was neither Raspan nor Gargoyle, and he didn't appear to be Luna. A Drul maybe? "First we must get you to safety." "Why can't I fight?" I blurted out. The shock of seeing Thatcher was wearing off and anger was quickly replacing it. "I'm not some damsel you lock up in a tower, you know! I can fight just like everyone else!" "I'm sure you can," another man replied sardonically. "But we obey our orders, and our orders are to take you to safety and keep you alive." "Thatcher said‒" "Táxim-se gave us orders," the male holding me interrupted. "Argue all you want, but you're just wasting air." I gave him a dirty look but he took no notice. Instead, he dragged me along beside him as we raced towards camp. The sounds of fighting surrounded us as we entered the seemingly abandoned stretch of huts, the noises of men yelling in pain or the Raspans' screeching after being dealt a deadly blow setting my teeth on edge. We arrived at my hut without seeing a single soul, something that both frightened and relieved me at the same time. "I can't believe this," I hissed when the men shoved me inside, my raging emotions getting the best of me. "I'm a leader!" I shouted at them. "I'm supposed to be out there, fighting! What good am I here, under lock and key?" "Save your energy," the Drul barked at me. "You have no idea how to handle a sword, let alone swallow the idea of killing another. Did you ever stop to think that your purpose was not to fight in battle but to protect those here at camp?" I swallowed the words I was going to say, briefly remembering from the history books that when the lord of the castle was away the lady was usually in charge of affairs, including protecting those who lived within the castle from invaders. Suddenly contrite, I tossed my sword aside, the metal clanging as it fell like a dead weight to the ground. That's exactly how I felt in that moment, a dead weight, useless. I sat on the mat and let out a huff of air, refusing to meet the glares of the two men who were watching me. The rest of the small team that had followed me here were outside, barring the door and keeping an eye on the camp itself, in case stragglers came through the line. Waiting put me on a new edge that I had never experienced before. Through my weak bond with both Thatcher and Talon I could feel their rage, bloodlust, and strangely, calm detachment as they charged through battle. Both men unintentionally sent images of their slaughter through the bond, a sight that was easily as gruesome as it sounds. The Drul had been right -- I couldn't imagine doing the things that Talon and Thatcher did. I didn't have the stomach for it. As the sounds of war began to intensify and grow, my guards grew restless. I started to pace then, unable to sit any longer. The itch came back, this time with force that nearly drove me mad. I rubbed at the damp skin of the back of my neck, gritting my teeth as I reminded myself not to use nails, but finally I had to give in. Horror filled me as my skin began to peel away. In the same moment, the itch grew seven fold. With a soft cry, I dashed to my water basin, my shaking hands reaching for a cloth. I wet it and scrubbed at my exposed skin, tears filling my eyes as flesh gave way to expose soft coral pink scales beneath. "Annis-si?" called a guard. I shuddered as the cold winter wind blew in from the outside as the guards funneled into the hut. Shaking harder now I turned to face them, their faces blurred by my tears. "She's...molting?" one of them whispered. "Like a snake?" "No," said the Drul, taking a step closer. I blinked and watched the Drul take in my skin, making sure to keep his distance from me like I was some sort of leper. "Like a dragon." The guards behind him stepped back, their fear almost palpable. "Get the Gargoyle," the Drul told them. "Not Táxim-se?" a guard asked. "Táxim-se can be of no help here," the Drul replied. "And he will not appreciate being taken out of battle." "But his woman is injured," said another guard tentatively. "He wouldn't like to be kept in the dark." The Drul turned in fury and the men moved quickly from the hut. He stood at the door and watched them go before pulling the furs over the doorway once more. "I'm going to assume that Táxim-se did not tell you what happened in the mountain," the Drul said quietly. "What do the mountains have to do with anything?" I asked hoarsely. "I'll take that as a no, then." The Drul sighed and turned to me, his blue eyes like chips of ice. "Táxim-se did very old magic to bring you back to the world of the living after the dragon attacked you. The spell was old, it was dark, and it has its consequences, as you can see." "How do you know what Thatcher did?" I asked him, suspicions getting the best of me. "Did he tell you?" "Yes," the Drul answered shortly. "As your personal guard, he felt like I had the right to know. Also, being a Drul, he felt that in case something went wrong with the spell and certain symptoms began to manifest over time, I would be able to detect it and prevent it." "And cure it," I tagged on bitterly. I held up my peeling palms. "So, doc, why don't you get started?" "Because this is not a symptom I can cure," the Drul returned sharply. "This is a consequence of drinking the life's blood of seven Ancient beings. You are now cursed with a half-life, but still a life nonetheless." "H-Half-life?" I choked out, the bitterness in my heart becoming fear. "Half human, half something else. Half dragon, in this case." I felt my knees begin to shake. "T-That's not possible!" I stammered. "I'm just...I'm just human!" "You were," the Drul acquiesced. "Now you're not. In any case, you're going through the mutations as we speak. It's a wonder that you aren't in any pain." "Pain?" I repeated. "The mutation is not just external, Annis-si," the Drul remarked, sounding a bit too amused for my taste. "Not just external?" I whispered chokingly, as I slowly sunk to the ground. "What are you, my echo?" the Drul scoffed. "Yes, it's not just external." I touched my face in horror and felt the skin, now papery and wispy like onion layers, crackle beneath the touch. I had just peeled off my left cheek when the guards returned, their eyes meeting the Drul's purposefully. "Take care to keep close to the fire," the Drul said in parting as he ducked under the furs. Suddenly the furs parted with a ferocity that almost tore them off their bindings and Talon burst through, his gruesome battle worn frame catching my breath in my throat. Blood splattered his face and body, and his hands were practically soaked with it. His hair and skin were saturated with sweat, melted snow, and the crimson life blood of those he had killed. His helmet was missing and his chest plate was covered in mud and other grime, the metal dented where Raspan claws had nearly got the best of him. His eyes were fierce with intent and his expression was as hard as granite, his body set like at any moment the enemy was coming to charge into the hut after him. Talon looked like hell. He looked like a warrior. He took one look at me and stripped himself of his bloody armor and dropped his leather belt adorned with dozens upon dozens of Raspan tails onto the floor. He tossed his bloody sword aside but gently laid Thatcher's dagger on my mat before he lowered himself down beside me. "I'm molting," I moaned, sobs beginning to build up in my chest. "I can see that," Talon stated, his eyes looking over me. He shook his head as he sat down, his grey eyes hard. "This is from the dragons' blood." I nodded, even though he wasn't asking a question. Talon swore under his breath and caught my hand before I could touch my face again. "Let...let it happen naturally," he said slowly. "It may not be such a good idea to..." Tears began to fall freely now and Talon's hardened expression cracked completely. "Tempest," he murmured soothingly. "Little one, don't cry..." I cried anyway and like a child I reached for him. "Tempest, I'm not really..." He began again. "I've never comforted..." I ignored his excuses and moved across the floor into the broad confines of his chest, burying my face in the curve where his neck and shoulder met. "Shut up and hold me," I told his chest. Talon let out a sigh that sounded like a smothered laugh and wrapped his thick arms around me lightly. I tugged his right arm tighter and he obeyed wordlessly, his hold becoming gentle but firm. "Is the war over?" I whispered a few minutes later. "It's a battle," Talon corrected. "And no, it is not." I swallowed hard. "I'm sorry." Talon shifted a little. "Sorry for molting?" he chuckled. I pinched his left pectoral in recant, only making him laugh and catch my hand with his own. I studied the contrast of our two hands, my eyes resting on his wicked claws as they gleamed like black diamonds in the firelight. "I meant I was sorry for taking you out of battle," I said quietly. "I know you'd rather be out there, fighting, not coddling me." Talon's warm breath feathered over the top of my head. "You are more important than any battle, Tempest," Talon replied softly. "You are my mate." I closed my eyes, lulled into a sleepy trance by the flames in front of me. "I know, Talon," I mumbled. "And you're mine." Wonderland Ch. 14 A/N: Hey all! I just wanted to apologize about any confusion from the last chapter regarding Tempest and her mutation. To answer everyone's question, YES, she's dragonish. (At least, that's my term for it.) Don't worry, the upcoming chapters will go into more detail about what that really means. ;) Thanks to kitten2010 for editing this chapter for me. Any flaws you see are undoubtedly mine, as I like to tinker before I post. Also, a hearty thank you(!!!) to everyone who emailed me these past couple of months. Your words of encouragement is what pushed me to finish. Enjoy! - L.A. ----------------------------- Thatcher The dragons distracted Fuyher long enough for Thatcher to escape. Gritting his teeth, he drew himself to his feet and stumbled into a run, his blood leaving a crimson trail behind him like glistening rubies in the snow. Raspans scrambled through the trees ahead of him, screeching their fear as the dragons stormed the forest in pursuit. Thatcher was right behind the massive hoard of sweaty, smelly bodies, gasping hoarsely for air as he sprinted towards the Lunar's camp as fast as he could. Suddenly, a dragon's roar filled Thatcher's eardrums and frightening warmth against his back urged him to run faster. As Thatcher leapt over a split pine tree in his path, he shot a brief glance over his shoulder. Behind him, the forest was ablaze. The rusty red dragon responsible for the inferno disappeared into the fire. Fuyher, at the dragon's feet, was bathed in the same element before he too vanished to nothing. Thatcher landed awkwardly on his left leg and fell to the forest floor with a loud curse, the telling snap and pain radiating from his ankle seconds later taking his breath away. He stopped rolling when his back connected hard on another pine, his face taking a lashing from the low branches. With a groan, Thatcher propped up on his good elbow and surveyed the damage to his leg. One swift look at the bone poking through flesh and jeans had his stomach rolling, but he managed to keep his food down. Closing his eyes, Thatcher focused his magic on his breaks, intending to heal them, but the massive headache that struck like daggers into his temples forced him to stop. Opening his eyes to glance around at the forest once again, Thatcher shook his head in disgust at the predicament he was in. No magic. No one to watch his back. Bum leg and a bum arm... And the forest is on fire. Thatcher swore loudly at his terrible luck, his body protesting as he pulled himself out from the pine's undergrowth and straight into a wall of smoke. Unnatural colored flames clung to the pines and began to creep ever closer, thanks to the soft wind of a coming winter storm. The smell of snow and fire and old magic filled his sensitive nose, the scent growing exponentially stronger with each passing second. He had to get out of the forest. Not giving himself time to consider the danger of limping out from his hiding spot, Thatcher pulled himself onto his one good foot, gripping the branches of the pine for balance. Finding his bearings quickly, Thatcher turned east and began to shuffle through the snow, grimacing at each jarring jolt that his arm and left leg took. The flames were coming quickly now, the heat of them warm enough to send sharp tingles of awareness through Thatcher's numb limbs. Panting heavily from exertion, he shuffled faster, his eyes never still as he swept across the silent landscape searching for signs of the enemy. The closer he got to the clearing, the noisier the world became. Thatcher's bum leg caught on a root and with a whoosh he fell to his stomach, bringing him face-to-face with a Common Raspan, its dull black eyes staring accusingly into Thatcher's soul. Closing off his air to keep from breathing in the smell of death, Thatcher used the pine responsible for his fall to pull himself to his feet again, his eyes never leaving the still-smoking body of an unfortunate Raspan that had been caught in a dragon's flames. Another ear-splitting roar turned Thatcher's eyes to the valley, the sight causing a sickening feeling to settle in his gut. Common Raspans ran unchecked through the Lunar camp, screeching and wheezing and wheeling about in terror as they sought to escape the danger from above. An entire herd streaked up towards the Elite Raspan's nests, only to be encountered by the white and blue dragon and set ablaze. Luna women and children scrambled for the safety of the forests, clinging what little belongings they had left to their chests, their eyes constantly darting back over their shoulders to check for anyone falling behind or to see if they too were being chased. The forests aren't safe! Thatcher tried to scream. But the words, like his breath, were caught in his throat and he could only stare after them in mute protest. As he watched another one of his brother's fall to the flames of the dragon, Thatcher felt his resolve waver. For so long, he had wanted revenge and freedom from his father's legacy. Now that it was here, the victory left him feeling hollow. Death in war was inevitable, he knew that. He had seen Gargoyle clans die by the hundreds under a single Drul spell. He had seen humans slay one another by simply releasing a ten-foot weapon of uranium out of a passing airplane. But seeing the deaths and knowing that he was the cause of them was something entirely different. Father was supposed to be the only one, he thought, as he watched a Luna male be stampeded beneath the large clawed feet of a Common. I didn't want anyone else to die. Tears fell down Thatcher's grime-covered cheeks as he stared at the results of his own making. Stumbling backwards until his body connected with the stump of a pine, Thatcher sank awkwardly to his side in the snow, the colors around him blurring as exhaustion and pain, both spiritual and physical, swept over him. The last thing he saw before he succumbed to darkness was a single fleeing Raspan covered in arrows streaking across the Lunar camp, its eyes wild and rolling as it tried to escape the large gaping jaws of the black dragon...and failed. Tempest As the Druls sang a low haunting tune to ferry the slain souls to the next life, their subtle magic spell calmed the flames that the dragons had started until nothing but sweet-smelling smoke was left in their wake. After the last Common Raspan had been brought down in a volley of arrows, no one had been able to move, most out of fear and some out of weariness. But when Lennox had released his shrill battle cry, one of victory, the instant answering call of the Lunar had signaled their rise. Everyone rushed to the gates, stabbing at fallen Raspan carcasses to ensure their stillness was out of lack of a beating organ and not out of play, their once fear-filled eyes now sparkling with relief and joy at being able to live to see the end of the day. The battle was over now, and the funeral for those who had not lived to see the sun set had to be made. I hadn't ever been to a funeral before. My family had all passed before me, but yet, I had never buried anyone in the ground. I have never stood before a mass grave, surrounded by those whom the dead had once loved, laughed, and dined with, bemoaning the shortness of life and the dire consequences of war. I had never shed tears over old memories or prayed for a happy, peaceful life in realms where the dead souls mingled. I was detached from the world around me, but yet...I could feel everything. I could feel the sorrow and pain of the Luna female standing next to me, her golden eyes locked onto the small body of a young girl, her fingers clinging to the torn hem of the girl's furs desperately as though afraid of letting go. She cried soundlessly, still in shock. I could sense the anger in the body of a young Luna boy who never once looked away from the Druls as they sang, his tiny clawed hands sullied with someone's blood and clenched into tiny fists. His orange-gold eyes were distant, seeing things that I didn't dare imagine. The emotions of those standing around me were not so silent. Their moans and whimpers almost overpowered the soft, droll hum of the Drul's song, some women wailing so loudly and in such pain that goose bumps spread across my body at the sound. My eyes cut across the gathered circle of Lunar and Elites, across the pit of bodies to the place where Lennox and his father stood, the Council at their back. Talon stood beside them, his silver eyes watching the Drul's flames consume the bodies in the pit, his lips moving softly to the words of the Drul's hymn. I looked up at the golden spikes that protruded from his skull, swallowing thickly. Sometime during the battle, I had mutated into what the Druls called 'a child of the dragon', shedding my human skin for scales. In return, Talon too had changed -- his magic, suppressed by a few thousand years of sleep in a castle that I had freed him of, had broken free of its restraints, also during the battle. He stood taller than he had before and had aged dramatically, now resembling something so wholly inhuman, but still unnaturally beautiful. His eyes were constantly silver now, reflecting the Ancient magic that flowed through his veins. The golden spikes that encircled his head to resemble a crown bespoke of whom and what he was: the Gargoyle King. The Druls told him it was an ancient honor, one bestowed upon those worthy of such a title. I guess they didn't stop to think that as the last full-blooded, Ancient Gargoyle, there was no one else to "bestow" such a title to. Worth and honor were most likely not the key factors in the spell, but I wasn't going to say that aloud. The Druls' haunting song came to a soft end, the final note lingering heavily in the air long after. I swallowed hard as Kynan's voice, low and rumbling, cut across the entire valley with a prayer of the dead for the slain Lunar warriors. Lennox followed with a eulogy for the innocent, his husky tone more soothing than Kynan's had been, but just nearly as haunting and lost as the hymn of the Druls. After he had finished, the scant remains of the Lunar camp were packed into carts and sacks for them to carry. No one spoke beyond carrying out a command, and the grey sky above did nothing to help alleviate the black mood. Strong Elites in their natural form were made to carry the wounded on litters constructed of nothing more than planks of roughly cut wood still charred from the dragon's fire, roped together and covered with furs. Not exactly the most comfortable of conditions, but considering time constraints and the black forest of stumps that stretched as far as the eye could see no one had a choice as far as comfort went. Once the valley was empty, Kynan and Lennox formed us into a line and began the march. I ended up towards the back of the long procession, next to Georgina and Saoirse as we led the women and children behind the remaining Elites, now numbered to a slim one hundred and twenty. At our sides, the Lunar warriors rode up and down the line, keeping everyone together as we passed out of the sweet smoke of war and into the frigid cold snow towards the mountains beyond. I can't say how long we walked then. Hours drug on, days felt like weeks and a single week seemed to span an eternity. I had grown used to living off the earth and out of a pack due to the war, but living in a way that gave little in comfort, rest, and safety, I wasn't prepared for. Spirits had been low prior to the march, especially after the dead had been gathered and the wounded accounted for. The body of the one Raspan we had wanted to capture most, Fuyher, was missing or lost. Regardless of Fuyher being alive or not, we couldn't remain at camp any longer, not with the threat of humans breathing down our necks. Now, a week into the march north, into the safety of the winter-torn Queensland Mountains, spirits were bleaker than bleak. They were nonexistent. There were a number in the party who fell asleep in the snow and didn't wake up. There were women who had lost children that went crazed in the walk and ran towards things unseen in the forest, screaming out names to the sky. Some of them ran too far for us to find, most ran into traps or stumbled, their falls killing them. In the rocky terrain that we had encountered, many had fallen and broken limbs due to poor footing. Those women didn't stand a chance. The few Raspan men that had succumbed to instinct and mated with the Lunar females were often irritable. They held themselves a bit away from the rest, hovering protectively over their mates and unborn brood with eyes that I couldn't look at for too long. One female had died during a hybrid's childbirth, leaving the male to fend for himself and a child that he had little knowledge of handling. The babe died with the cough three days in and he followed soon after in a manner of which that I don't wish to recall again. This was the life of the march for me. I had never seen such death or loss in my entire life. I had seen movies and read books on these terrible subjects, ranging from the Holocaust to the Trail of Tears. But never before had I lived it. So when the mountains came literally towering over us, only a day's journey away, I had to admit that I was relieved. The physical exhaustion was probably just beginning, as who knows what lay inside the mountain. The spiritual and mental exertion of forcing myself to put one foot in front of the other, to keep the line moving and those around me from falling into their own sort of oblivion, was hopefully coming to an end. At least, for tonight it was. I helped set up camp beside the Three Creeks, which had swollen to three rivers due to the large amount of melting snow in the mountains. The water was ice cold and moving fast, churning into white froth around the large rocks and bends. The Queensland Mountains were beyond the fairly treeless valley we had yet to cross, their peaks lost in grey clouds and their sides adorned with the same glaringly white powder that covered the ground. It seemed the closer we came to the mountains, the cooler the world felt, the damp air settling deep into a person's bones. Fires would be aplenty and well-managed tonight, that was for certain. After making sure the camp had caught up and everyone was fairly settled in for the night, I pitched my own rugged lean-to and went off in search of spare firewood. I swallowed hard as I passed through camp, unused to the eyes that followed after me and lingered on my new tail. Their expressions differed depending upon the man and woman. Most of them eyed me with something akin to fear. Some pitied me. Others just found me to be an interesting curiosity. During the march, my random and spontaneous mutation had been the talk around the fires. I was no longer just human, but what was I? A child of the dragon was unheard of, and the dragons themselves were mum when it came to gathering information. Perhaps they had no clue what I was either. I ducked my head and gathered my furs tighter around me, burying my face into the thick pelt of a black bear as a gust of wind whipped across my exposed skin. I stumbled around a sleeping Elite and his family, avoiding his wild, unsettled eyes as I hurried past. His growls followed me until they were swept up by the sounds of the wounded laying prone in their thin canvas tents. I knew Thatcher was in one of them, but I didn't dare seek him out. Lennox had been the one to find him, buried under the snow next to a Common Raspan missing half its flesh. He barely had had a pulse, and his wounds were "severe" according to Georgina. He had been moaning incoherent things under his breath, prayers the Druls had said. None of the words made sense, and Thatcher had yet to wake up -- or stop praying. I swallowed hard as I passed by the tents, mentally closing my ears to their cries of pain. The stack of firewood set along the edge of camp was growing as I approached, thanks to the efforts of the Lunar and Elites who were dutifully cutting the pines, keeping the branches in a separate pile to be used for kindling. A Drul or two lingered close by, using their magic to warm the pine's sap so it would flow freely. I knew from experience that pine sap was flammable, and since war still undoubtedly loomed ahead, this could be used as a weapon of some sort. Shaking my head clear of thoughts of battles, I grabbed as much firewood as I could carry and turned back towards camp. I stopped short when a lone figure barred my way. Standing tall and silent above me, Talon was every bit as formidable as he had been when we first met, if not more so. His wings were fastened around him like a cloak, the clawed wing forefingers acting as a hook that fastened snugly in the dip of his throat. A light grey elk pelt was draped over his shoulders, acting more as a shield from the snow than to keep warm. Even I could feel Talon's heat from here, the warmth calling me in like a moth to the flame. Snow flurries clung to his long dark hair, the strands shimmering emerald and amethyst in the firelight. Silver eyes bore deeply into my own, seeming to see everything. When he reached out for the wood in my arms, the spell was broken. Stumbling back, I stammered out, "I-I can carry my own firewood, thanks." Talon ignored me and plucked the wood from my arms. He picked up the log I had dropped into the snow and wordlessly turned back towards camp, his long gait taking him far from me within no time at all. Swearing silently under my breath, I followed after, trembling for more reasons than one. Since leaving the Lunar's camp a little over a week ago, I had been seeing more of Talon than I ever had in camp. I saw him leaving for the hunt every evening, flying ahead to scout during the march, him walking beside Lennox and Kynan discussing whatever it is those three discussed...no matter where I seemed to go, there was Talon, always within sight. On the march my thoughts had wandered -- a lot -- and embarrassingly, I found them more often than usual lingering on Talon. Or on Talon's arms, or his clawed but nimble hands, or the gentle smile on his lips when he brought food to camp and the little ones would gather around him to ooh and aah at his quarry. I had always admired Talon, and yes, fawned over him a bit, but the feelings in my chest when I saw him each morning wasn't admiration, I don't think. The emotions I felt were...dangerous. Dangerous in their implication and dangerous in a way that brought fear I had buried deep inside me to the fore. The logical explanation to these feelings, as much as I was hesitant to admit it, was love. But I didn't want to fall in love with Talon. The idea of losing him like I had lost my family or have him leave me because of some twisted sense of principle or logic, like Thatcher had, was enough to stamp out those girly, butterfly-in-my-stomach sensations. A patient, but amused, throat clearing sent my thoughts back to the present, though not entirely away from the towering Gargoyle in front of me and I hurried to catch up. When we reached the main camp, Talon didn't take the path towards my raggedy lean-to but instead turned north towards the large sturdy tents where Kynan, Lennox, and a few Elites had made their home for the night. I swallowed hard as we passed those as well and stared off into the distance at the lone tent built back against a rocky outcrop that may have once been an outlook building for the park rangers, maybe even an abandoned hunter's cabin. I noticed immediately that his tent didn't whip around like the others and his fire was low and controlled. Talon set my meager pile of firewood next to his and pushed aside the furs that covered the entry, beckoning me inside with a subtle gesture of his chin. Wonderland Ch. 14 "Talon..." I began, trailing off at the shimmer his silver eyes took. "If I had had the time, I would have pitched your tent for you," Talon said quietly, gesturing towards a small roll of wrapped buckskin beside the fire. "It's much sturdier than your lean-to. Warmer as well," he added, with a hint of a smile. I swallowed rocks and looked over at my little lean-to, already blown down by the wind. "But my pack is there," I said lamely. "I'll go get it and‒" "I will," Talon interrupted gently. "There's a spare roll inside. It's yours," he told me when I tried to speak again. "Take whatever furs you need." It was futile to argue with him. We both knew my lean-to wasn't worth much and that the rising wind only promised more snow and perhaps even a freeze. He was offering me a warm place to sleep and a pile of fur besides. I'd be an idiot not to take it. Swallowing my pride, I nodded and stepped into the tent without meeting his eyes. The fur dropped behind me, barring the cold air from getting through. Like a ghost, he moved silently away from the tent and into the darkness, where his shadow cast by the fire could no longer be seen. Shivering, I dropped down and fumbled with the ties of the spare sleeping bag, my numb limbs prickling painfully with awareness as warmth began to creep in. By the time I had even undone the knots of the bag, Talon was already stepping through the entry, shaking snow off his wings. "It's coming down already?" I asked in surprise. Talon nodded. "The weather has been worse in these parts than in our valley. We were lucky there." We both understood the implications of that but said nothing. If Raspans hid in these mountains, I wasn't surprised. I just hoped that our group would be able to find a place to hide as well, and that food held out. Nothing was worse than a cranky party of Elites, we all knew that. Talon handed me my small pack jammed full of provisions before turning to his own. His pack had been modified considerably, due to his proportions, and his bed almost consisted entirely of furs. It looked far comfier than my meek pallet, but I didn't quite have the courage to test my theory. When I had finally settled in, I looked to see Talon holding out a small bag from his pack. "It's jerky," he told me when I eyed it with contempt. "I would've made stew, but considering the weather, this will have to do for tonight." I smiled a little then, understanding his frustration. Jerky and Lunar bread had been our fare for the past week. I couldn't even remember what homemade stew or fresh baked rolls even tasted like anymore. "Thanks," I told him honestly. Talon merely nodded and relaxed onto his furs, gesturing me to take first dibs. I divided up the loot and we ate silently, listening to the sound of the rising storm outside. The tent whipped back and forth, especially up at the top where it was exposed to the wind's full force. But inside, I was warm, and the silence was a blessing. I hadn't even realized my eyes were closing until Talon murmured, "Tempest, lie down and rest. You're nodding off where you sit." I merely tipped over onto my side and kicked the furs over me, drawing a low laugh from Talon. Just before I slipped off into dreamland, I felt his tail creep over to mine. Through slits I peered across the furs at him, not surprised to see him reclined back, his silver eyes watching me. A tingle went up my tail to the base of my spine as Talon's tail gently grazed my new appendage before delicately draping over it. I was too tired to pull away and too tired to keep my eyes open any longer. With a sigh, I greeted sleep with open arms. Wonderland Ch. 14 "Tempest," he groaned loudly, his thighs stumbling in their tempo as my teeth sank into the soft skin of his neck, deeper and deeper still until something warm and thick and intoxicatingly sweet filled my mouth. "Drink," he commanded huskily in a voice not entirely human. "Take what you need, Tze'san." Something about that name shook me to the core and I tightened my hold on him, never wanting to let him go...and I never wanted him to let go of me in return. "Yes, Tze'san," Talon moaned softly as I drank, his bruising thrusts careening out of control. "Yes...YES!" I pulled my fangs from his neck after I felt him come inside me again, his wordless cry of pleasure soothing the possessive beast that had risen to the surface. His bite throbbed in time with the ache in between my legs, but I didn't care. I was sated and so was the need inside of me...for now. Spent, Talon slowly lowered his body down to his elbows, his breath hot and ragged against my collarbone. Wordlessly, his limbs intertwined with mine and locked us into place, making it clear that I was to remain beneath him...not like I minded. I gently stroked his body with my hands and fingertips as we came down from our high, needing the closeness -- and time to catch my breath. "Tze'san," I whispered quietly against his damp neck a long time later. "What does it mean?" Talon lifted his head so our eyes could meet. I smiled as I saw the beast fighting the man to respond. The intense look didn't scare me anymore, not like it used to. Instead, it made me smile. "Tze'san is the name of my mate," Talon said huskily as I stroked over the hard lines and planes of his face. I paused at that and watched the magic in his eyes turn them into a molten silver pitch. Emotions flooded his face -- and me -- as he drew himself even closer. "It's you."