Page 6 of Knave

“I still feel everything from inside that palace.” She rested her head in the crook of his shoulder, her chest heaving, not wanting to discuss how she craved to taste him. That would be another of her secrets, one that would have to go away.

He ran a hand through her wet hair. “I know. So do I.”

Chapter Three

Ferris

“Ferris?” Mouse whispered.

Ferris stirred from sleep and cracked open his eyes to find a halo of pink hair framing Mouse’s face as she looked down at him. She’d come into his room this time, which she did whenever she needed him. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

“Nothing really.” She set her head back down on his pillow and snuggled closer.

A sheet was between them, kept there so his naked flesh touched no part of her body. Mouse knew he slept without clothes and never once tried to crawl beneath the blankets. An unspoken agreement between them so their nights together didn’t get awkward. It was especially important now that he couldn’t stop wondering what it would be like to settle between her legs. To have her naked body beneath him. Ferris shoved the thoughts away before blood could rush to his cock. This wasMouse.

“Nothing?” he repeated.

“I just wanted to hear your voice,” she replied quietly.

“Ah.” Ferris draped an arm over Mouse and tugged her closer, giving her what she needed. “Should I tell you a story to help you fall back asleep?”

She sighed against his chest, relieved. “Yes, please.”

Ferris set his chin atop her head and thought for a moment. “Have I ever told you about when I learned to play drums?”

A gentle shake of her head.

“Well, I was only ten when I begged my mom for lessons, but she was dead-set against it because it would be a racket. My dad though? He only winked. A week later there was a drum set in my room when I came home from school. My first lesson wasn’t until later in the month, but of course I was too impatient to wait. I wailed on those things, smashing the cymbals as loud as I could. It was complete chaos. My mother nearly went mad listening to it.

“But once the lessons started, I practiced everything I’d learned over and over. Which, I’m fairly certain, only made things worse.” Ferris chuckled, remembering his mother’s exasperated stares. “Soon enough, I understood how to read music and the noise became songs. It took a while for them to begood, but at least they were recognizable.”

On and on Ferris went. Talking about his different drum sticks, about the first time he’d played through one of his lessons without any mistakes, his mother’s growing acceptance of never having a moment’s peace. The story wasn’t riveting by any means, but it wasn’t meant to be. It was simply a way to soothe Mouse and, he supposed, relive a memory or two.

Once Mouse’s breaths were soft and steady again, Ferris slowly slipped from the bed. He was no longer tired, and he ached to play the set Ever had given him. He glanced wistfully at the drums in the corner. It was far too late to play now unless he wanted the whole palace to wake up.

Instead, he grabbed a pair of loose gray sweatpants and settled into the chair beside the bed with his sketchbook. The pencil was still between the pages where he’d left off, the last drawing of a rose bush covered in blooms that made him think of Mouse. Not quite as beautiful as her, but delicate, soft. And her hair matched the petals almost exactly.

He quietly pressed the pencil tip to the next blank page and began drawing the outlines of Mouse’s face. Her features were smoothed in sleep, her plump lips parted slightly, her long lashes caressing her cheeks. A few strands of pink hair slipped over her temple and down her cheek, over her chin to rest against her neck.

The drawing took shape slowly as he tried to capture her essence with a simple piece of lead. He erased, retrying parts until his muscles ached before setting the book and pencil on his lap to stretch his back. The pencil fell to the carpet and, as he bent to reclaim it, the book followed. When he opened it again, it was to a sketch of Ellie, and his chest tightened. He didn’t have the heart to tear the image from the spiral binding, but he’d made a point ofneverlooking past a certain point in the notebook.

Practically flinging the sketch pad back onto his bedside table, he grabbed a black T-shirt from the floor and left before he could wake Mouse. He needed to expel some energy and, if he couldn’t play drums, he needed to do something else. But what? What couldpossiblystop the memories from overwhelming him? Swallowing him whole?

Ellie. Their daughter. The crash. Crunching metal. Flashing lights. Sirens. A funeral.

Ferris shook his head violently to rid himself of the thoughts building without permission. There was only one thing that had ever helped him cope.Two things.But he could never ask Mouse to feed from him now. He knew what happened when two vampires indulged in sharing blood—a practical fuck fest followed. After everything he and Mouse had lived through in the Ruby Heart Palace, he didn’t want to use her like that. Not that he didn’t think she was the sexiest vampire in Wonderland.

“Shite,” he swore under his breath. Some time away from the palace might do him good, help him clear his head. And maybe he needed a little bit of help managing it. He scribbled a quick note to leave on his bedside table in case Mouse woke up to find him gone, then he fled the Ivory Palace.

When he stepped through the main doors without running into anyone, Ferris breathed a sigh of relief. The cool air filled his lungs but did nothing to help the frantic edge building in his head. He needed to go … justgo. What he needed could only be found in the mortal world.

Ferris ran his trembling finger along the crack in the outer wall and dropped through the portal, landing unceremoniously on his knees in an old cemetery. He stared up at the night sky, purposely avoiding looking at any gravestones, and stood. A heaviness thumped in his chest in time with his heart. The sorrow of losing Ellie and their unborn daughter had never left him, but sometimes it was easier to live with the pain. He could’ve lived without the reminder of death at the moment though.

Rushing from the cemetery, he let his feet carry him away from the portal. A slight drizzle fell from the sky, just enough to make everything damp and smell musty. He’d missed this place, though he didn’t want to admit it. But Wonderland was his home. It was where he could be himself, live his life without judgment—at least now that he was no longer forced to slave away for the Queen of Hearts. He had played his part as the love-struck Knave well, but he’d always belonged to Mouse. Saving her was worth the torment he’d suffered. He’d do it again in a moment if he had to, but sometimes he still felt like a true knave for not telling Mouse about his past. The death of Ellie and their unborn daughter, Luna, set off a chain of events that led to him in the back hallway where he’d nearly died.

His mother and father had refused to speak to him for months after he’d gotten Ellie pregnant. They were strict Catholics and he wasn’t married. Even after Ellie died, things remained strained with his parents. So, he’d tried drugs to cope with Ellie and Luna’s deaths and found they worked—almost too well. Ferris had only ever been an embarrassment to his parents. And his bandmates…

After Mouse saved him, he’d refocused, found a new high to thrive on—her bite. Getting clean was enough for his bandmates to forgive him, but that hadn’t meant they’d trusted him anymore.

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