Allison's Adventures in Underland

by C. M. Stunich

  Dee moves up to stand beside me, his arm brushing against mine and making my breath catch in my throat. I glance in his way and watch as he flashes a grin of his own in my direction. It's flirty and full of promise, and I have a really good feeling that promise is for more sex before I leave Underland.

  “If you get tired of playing with boys, Alice,” the cat purrs as he flicks his gray eyes in Dee's direction and I roll my own at the name Alice. Even the damn cat knows who I am. “And decide you'd prefer to play with men instead, just let me know.”

  “Hmm,” I say as Tee bristles and squeezes his hands into fists at his sides, “Dee is bigger and better than you'd ever be, I'm sure. I'm just fine with these boys.” The cat laughs, stretching his arms lazily above his head and giving me a piercing sort of look.

  “Well then,” he purrs as he fades almost instantly from view, “message received. I'll just be on my way then.”

  I search for his grin in the trees, but don't see anything. Of course, I have no doubt that he's still around here somewhere.

  “Can I ask you something?” I start, turning to Dee and trying to forget that just twenty or so minutes ago he was buried inside of me.

  “Can you? Or should you?” he asks, getting that playful nonsensical edge to his voice. “Or could you? Would you?”

  “How long does this last?” I continue, ignoring him and gesturing in the direction of his wings. He pauses and glances back with a small sigh, curling them around his body like a shield, so the only part of him I can see is his face.

  “Only until midnight. Like all fairytales, it has to end sometime.”

  “Oh,” the cat's deep voice coos from up in the branches of a nearby tree. “It just occurred to me—did you say he was figger or bigger. Because, you know, figger is not a word. A fig is a fruit and not an adjective. Unless you meant to say figure in which case, either your or my spelling is wrong. And to be quite frank, Alice, I don't think there's anything wrong with my spelling.”

  “I said bigger and you know it, now fuck off,” I growl as the cat grins again and starts to fade from view, starting with the tip of the fluffy tail sticking out the back of his leather pants, then his legs, his muscular torso, his head, and ending with his grin.

  “The duke wants to give you the Vorpal Blade,” Tee says, as I turn to look at him, standing farther away than seems reasonable for a normal conversation. Sucking in a deep breath, I move over to stand in front of him, put my hands on his shoulders, and lean up on my tiptoes to kiss his mouth.

  As soon as I do, I can feel the fabric of his jacket stretching and bulging beneath my fingers. Before it can rend completely, I break our kiss apart and notice his eyes, wide and blue as the sea, staring at me in shock and … gratitude?

  I unbutton Tee's shirt while he slips out of his jacket, feeling his strong arms wrap around me just before we kiss again, tongues tangling in a considerably more violent frenzy than the kiss I shared with Dee. We break apart once more so he can shed his shirt, and then I'm free to dig my fingers into his purple and black feathers, the heaviness of the chains weighing my hands down as I explore his wings. The sound of them hitting in the floor in a heavy clatter is so satisfying that for a moment, I forget where I am and what I'm doing.

  “Well, now, look at this,” North's voice growls from behind Tee, appearing out of the foliage with his tail swishing, his golden eyes narrowed, and a cruel smirk etched into his lips. “The king will certainly be pleased to know Miss Liddell is enjoying her new toys.” He's smacking a large knife against one hand and grinning at me. Right away, I recognize that knife as the one Rab was holding on his palm, outstretched as an offering to the king. “If you have a moment, though, I'd like to share a few tricks with you—you're going to need them if you want to survive one of the Hatter's famous parties.”

  The Duke of Northumbria and I seem to have varying opinions on what a few tricks entails. I assumed he was going to give me a few pointers on etiquette, or a quick lesson with the Vorpal Blade like Dee gave me with the Queenmaker.

  But no.

  I stand in the middle of a room with polished wood floors and white painted lines. There are leather punching bags in one corner, and mats filled with down feathers—the feathers of angels I'm told. My stomach churns at that, thinking of that memory or flashback or whatever you want to call it that I got from Dee. If the duke had said it with pride, I'd have probably punched him in the nuts. As it were, he sounded matter-of-fact about it and not much else.

  Staring at him with that awful grin though, I start to get nervous.

  “I'm not really the fighting type,” I tell him which isn't necessarily true. If I have to kick ass, I can. I can scrap with the best of them, but I don't have any formal training. That, and I'm ridiculously out of shape. Like I said, I'm a reader, not an athlete. “Can you just give me a few pointers on how to use the knife and we can move on?” I don't bother telling him I won't be in Underland long enough for it to matter—the duke seems convinced that I'll be marrying that tyrannical nightmare of a king.

  “The Vorpal Blade isn't a knife anymore than Excalibur is a sword,” North says and I raise my eyebrows.

  “But Excalibur is a sword …” I start when North moves around behind me and takes my hands in his, mimicking that moment on the boat when Dee fixed my grip on the Queenmaker. North does the same with the Vorpal Blade, curving my fingers around the black hilt. It's smooth and polished to a shine, its surface as reflective as a mirror.

  “The Vorpal Blade's hilt is carved from the horns of a jabberwock,” North explains, ignoring my protest, his body warm and solid behind mine. I can't help but flick my eyes in the twins' direction as he gets a little closer than necessary, sliding his fingertips over my own. They don't look jealous, but who knows? I can feel the muscular length of his tail curling around my ankle and giving it a bit of a squeeze. Not sure if that's intended as a come on or not. It's hard to say when I've never met a man with a tail before. “And the blade is made from a fractured piece of the previous Looking-Glass. There were only three shards recovered after the Riving, and this is one of them.”

  “Why do you have it?” I ask, because if this blade is as special as North is making it out to be, wouldn't the king have it in his possession?

  “Because it was owed to me,” he growls, and the hair on the back of my neck stands up straight. His accent is pretty, cultured, melodic … but the way the duke talks? Like he's on the verge of a letting loose in a violent roar? I can see why they call him savage. He's got this feral, primal quality that both frightens the fuck out of me … and intrigues me. Can't explain it. It's just … there, this pulsing bestial quality in my chest that makes me want to growl right back. “And now I'm giving it to you, Miss Liddell because it is mine to give.”

  He steps away from me, black tail thrashing as he pads across the room and spins back to face me, the flickering torches on the walls making the curved, deadly shapes of his horns look like they're glowing. They also serve to highlight the big, white grin in the corner of the room. So much for leaving me be. The damn cat's back.

  “Now, Miss Liddell, come at me with the blade.”

  “You want me to … try to stab you?” I ask and North gives me this utterly irritating self-assured little smile that really seals the deal. Fine. Crazy son of a bitch. He wants me to chase him with a giant, magic knife? If he's going to have that sort of attitude, then he doesn't even really need to ask. I'll fuck him up with the Vorpal Blade for fun. “Suit yourself, Duke.”

  I look down at the blade, grasped clumsily in my fingers and think about the twins, spinning their knives around their fingers on The Long Tale. They made it look so damn easy. Holding it in my hand now? There's nothing easy about this. Just the weight of the blade feels unfamiliar. The only time I ever hold a knife this sharp is if I'm about to cut into a piece of steak.

  I have no goddamn idea what I'm doing here.

  “Well?” North asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “I haven
't got all bloody day.” He pauses, flicking his gold eyes up to the glass ceiling above our heads, the rain still coming down in violent sheets. “Wait a moment, please. That might not be an accurate statement. Rab?” I glance over as the door to the training room … gym … whatever the fuck it's called, opens and in walk Lar and Rab. Lar immediately takes a seat on the floor, sitting cross-legged and smiling at me with this I know you're about to get your ass kicked facial expression.

  I glare at him and refocus my attention on the White Rabbit, watching as he unbuttons his waistcoat and shirt, shrugging out of them to reveal his tattooed arms, chest, and belly. With a single fingertip, he traces his way up his abs and over his shoulder, locking his bloodred eyes with mine as he goes about. Fucking tease, I think as he pauses on his bicep and taps at the clock there.

  “We're due back at the palace now so suffice it to say, you do not have all day. In fact, we're late.”

  “And if you had to give me a timeframe to go by?” North asks in his crisp English accent.

  “I'd say you actually owed the king a half or maybe even a full day,” Rab adds and North nods like that makes any sense at all.

  “So you see, Miss Liddell, we don't have a day. We don't even have a second. We're in the red now. If you please.” I roll my eyes at the nonsense and take a deep breath, holding the knife out to the side as I run forward, straight toward North and his beautiful bronze skin, blonde hair, and gold eyes. He looks wicked terrifying with that savage smile, the black horns, that whip of a tail, but I keep going, swinging the Vorpal Blade at him with every ounce of strength I have.

  As if he's picking fucking tulips on an afternoon stroll, North reaches out and snatches my wrist, twisting it just enough that I cry out in pain and drop the knife. Before I can even register what's happening, he's used my arm to flip me over and onto my back, my body crashing into one of the feather mats that line the training room floor.

  “That was dreadful, Miss Liddell,” he says, looking down at me, his gold eyes sparkling with amusement. “It won't do for the Alice to be so … soft. You're liable to get yourself killed far before you even make a difference in this world. Stand up.” North steps back and holds out his tail for me to grab. I'm not quite sure what the etiquette is with extra body parts and all that, but he is offering.

  I curl my fingers around the muscular end of his tail, the black scales smooth and silken beneath my palm, and North yanks me to my feet like I weigh nothing at all.

  “Pervert,” I hear Lar whisper as I glance back and find him with his butterfly wings spread wide. “If you're grabbing his tail, you may as well be grabbing his dick.” He brushes razored pieces of blue-blonde hair from his fae and gives me a bemused smile.

  Wrinkling my nose, I ignore North's raucous laughter and swipe my palm against my shirt.

  “Again,” he says as I sigh and pick up the Vorpal Blade from the floor. Under different circumstances, I might've liked this, learning to use an actual weapon for self-defense … or in this case maybe, offense? But knowing my ultimate goal—to go home and get back to my life, it just doesn't seem like a practical use of time.

  Still, when North directs me to start again, I do.

  I try a different method, throwing my body at him and keeping the knife close. I figure he can't grab my arm if he can't reach it, right? Instead, he steps nimbly out of the way and I end up sprawling across the ground, rolling over at the last possible second and lifting up the knife in self-defense as North brings down a wooden practice blade that I hadn't seen him grab. I manage to just barely block the blow with the Vorpal Blade, but that's enough.

  Magic surges through me like electricity, and I realize then that the violent tremors I felt when using the Queenmaker weren't from the gun itself. No, they were from me. Those same tremors travel through me and into the blade, sending North flying across the room.

  He hits the wood floor with a grunt and rolls, coming up to his feet with his brows raised in surprise. But he doesn't stop. He comes at me again, so quick I can barely think of what move I want to make, let alone act on it. At the last second, I get a booted foot up and into his stomach, but he's anticipated the move, curling his fingers around my leg and yanking me hard enough that I slide across the floor and underneath him.

  North straddles me, grabbing my wrists in his hands and pinning them to the floor above my head, a mockery of the gentle way Dee held me only an hour or so ago. The thing is, it's not entirely unpleasant to have North above me like that.

  Sometimes, I wonder though, what it might've been like if Fred hadn't burst in that door and saved me. If Liam and his filthy friends had … Sometimes I have nightmares about it, about what could have happened. Sometimes I wonder if something worse did.

  Liam and his friends killed my brother.

  Claimed it was self-defense.

  Got away with it.

  And my mother killed them.

  “Are you crying, Miss Liddell?” North asks, pausing our sparring session as I tear my hands out from underneath his wrists. He stands up off of me and I raise a hand to my face. I'm not crying, not yet. But he must see something in my eyes that makes him think I might.

  “I'm fine,” I growl out, pushing to my feet without his help, the Vorpal Blade still held tight in my hand. “Let's go again.”

  North raises his eyebrows, but he doesn't question me when I set up for the exercise again.

  And again.

  And again.

  By the time I'm done for the night, my body is soaked in sweat and the twins' wings are … gone.

  The clock's struck midnight and the fairytale is over.

  Dinner is served in the formal dining room, a black glass chandelier dripping low over the table's black lacquer surface, place settings and silver trays already laid out and waiting. My stomach growls in protest as I sit my freshly showered ass down in one of the tall chairs with the heart-shaped backs and try to figure out where to start first.

  Working out all day and not eating? Not my idea of a good fucking time. I'm starving.

  I'm also wearing the skintight red dress Rab gave me, and it doesn't take an especially observant person to see that all the men in the room are appreciative of the outfit. I could probably tell them off like I did the sailors on The Long Tale, but … as long as they're polite, they can look. After all, I've spent all day ogling the way North's muscles dance beneath his skin. About halfway through our training session, he took off his shirt and I couldn't help but look, really.

  And having all that sweaty, muscular flesh pressed against mine?

  It was just a tad tortuous, I have to say.

  “Do you want your wings back?” I ask, finding myself at the head of the table with the duke and the twins on one side; Lar, Rab, and the cat sit on the other.

  “It's not our decision to make,” Tee says carefully and North laughs, lifting up the top on a silver tray and revealing a whole roasted miniature pig. The scent of pepper teases my nose and I sneeze, rubbing at my nose as North snaps his fingers and a servant appears to carve the meat.

  “Don't be shy on my account,” he says, flicking his golden eyes over to me. “The king doesn't like the twins to use their wings unless it's an emergency, a life or death situation so to speak. If you were to, say, unlock their curse every night just after the stroke of midnight. Well, I can't say that he'd be pleased.”

  I narrow my eyes as another servant steps up on my right side and starts lifting the tops off trays, filling my plate with a variety of things that at least smell good—even if I don't quite recognize everything on it. Once the other servant is finished carving, North lifts up a slab of juicy pork with a pair of tongs and lays it on my plate without asking.

  My eyes narrow even more.

  “Don't the twins belong to me now?” I snap, hating that I'm saying it even as I do. After all, if what Dee says is true—that the king wants to turn him and Tee into high-priced whores—I have to step up and take responsibility, don't I? Besides … and I w
on't tell anyone this, so if you spill my secret, I will lie … I like knowing they're mine.

  I'm attracted to them both, and I genuinely like their personalities—even if they're a little weird. I'd proudly keep them … if I were staying. And by keep them, I mean, like, let them live their own lives while under the guise of my control of course. Even if we did have to meet up every night at the stroke of midnight to break the spell again …

  “I should be able to do whatever I want with them,” I say as Dee grins and piles his plate with a sweet smelling tower of what looks like orange mashed potatoes. Taking a careful bite of the matching pile on my own plate, I find myself with a mouthful of buttered yams with brown sugar. Mmm. “If I want them to have their wings out, it's my prerogative.”

  “Well, I suppose the king might make an exception for his future bride,” North adds and I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes. Why sit here and announce that I have zero intention of marrying the piece of shit, some jerk that thinks it's okay to gift me two naked men and then demand I be his bride. Not happening. But I'd rather keep my cards close to my chest so to speak. If I need to sneak into this Looking-Glass—or make a run for it—it's always better to have the element of surprise.

  “What's your name anyway?” I ask as I glance over at the cat, sitting with one elbow on the table, lazily sipping milk from a wineglass. Please. What a cliché.

  “Isn't it Cheshire Puss?” he asks, letting the last word roll of his tongue in a purr. “It's what you called me earlier, and I quite like pussy. Cats, that is.”

  “How vulgar,” I say, engaging his stormy stare and refusing to look away first. “But if you want me to call you Puss while we sit at dinner together, I will.”

  “His name is Chesh,” Tee adds helpfully, drawing my attention over to him and his violet eyes.

  “Chesh?” I ask with a small sigh. “That's almost as creative as North or Lar.”