Allison and the Torrid Tea Party: A Dark Reverse Harem Romance (Harem of Hearts Book 2)

by C. M. Stunich

  Yep.

  For whatever reason, he cared that I was gone; he cared a whole fucking lot.

  "Were you really?" I ask, feeling my heart thunder in my chest. Just before we head inside, I glance out at the lawn once more and see North standing next to the King, gazing after me with heavy-lidded eyes. He blinks them twice then smiles. Guess he's not worried about this whole effed-up situation. He is, after all, a ‘hefty giver of tithes to the crown’ anyway. These dudes all seem pretty serious about this prophecy thing, and about dating me, so maybe the Duke’ll keep me safe against the King?

  If he can.

  I give North a wave, he salaciously rubs his hand up one of his horns, and then I turn back around just in time to see the black and white checkered marble floors of the palace. We're not two feet into the place before things start to get weird.

  The arched ceilings are covered in faceted mirrors, lending this eerie funhouse quality to the ostentatious beauty of the palace. There are intricate gold arches sweeping above us, a match to the gilded frames on the walls featuring various members of the royal family in frilly gowns or furred cloaks—essentially all of them are female.

  "I take it there aren't often kings that aren't attached to queens?" I ask, and Tee makes a slight, soft sound in his throat. Almost a scoff, but not quite. His amethyst eyes are focused straight ahead, but I direct my stare toward him, let it burn until he finally flicks them my way and blinks like he's coming out of a coma.

  "It's your world, reversed. So no, there aren't many unattached kings." Tee rubs his hands down his face, flashing some of the tattooed skin on the backs of his arms, and sighs again, like he's exhaling the stress of the last twenty-four hours. "The court expects him to be married as soon as possible."

  "As soon as possible," Dee repeats, his voice a much more chipper version of his brother's. "To you, of course." He fluffs his wings, almost like he’s just checking to make sure they’re still there. I see Tee’s eyes go straight to them, and I’m tempted to free his, too, right here where any asshole could see. And yet, there’s something about the idea of kissing Tee that makes my cheeks go bright-red. I think it’s his intensity. While Dee is light and fluffy and fun, like a beam of sunshine on the skin, Tee is as fleeting and rare as moonlight.

  "I'm not marrying the King," I say, and those aren't empty words. My brother died because he was protecting my right to decide what to do with my own body. He shouldn't have had to, but he did. And I bet marriage in this world carries similar expectations to that in mine. If you’re not catching my drift here, I’m talking about sex. "I'm not fucking that prick of a king," I say aloud, grinding my teeth. "If I have to, I’ll make a run for it, straight through the damn Looking-Glass."

  Tee turns me suddenly toward him, cups my face in his hands, and kisses the ever-loving shit out of me. His tongue slides against mine in this passionate, frenzied tangle. There's fear in that kiss, or maybe panic, I'm not sure. Either way, his wings burst from his back, rending his shirt, and spreading like rain clouds across a desert sun, bringing shadow and wetness where there was none. I feel drenched, and I mean metaphorically speaking, not just between my thighs.

  "Don't talk about it," Tee whispers, his lips pressed close to mine. I open my eyes and all I can see is him. His face is too close to my own, there are too many shades of purple in his irises, and his mouth is too full and beautiful. My knees start to quiver, and if he didn’t have his hands on my waist, I might’ve hit the floor. "Not here."

  "Won't the King flip out if he hears you were tonguing his future bride?" I whisper, my hands trembling and curling into unconscious fists in my nightie. I can feel a single bead of sweat working its way down my spine, a warm heat blossoming low in my belly.

  "We belong to you," Tee says curtly, releasing me and stepping back. But I don’t miss that last, lingering look he gives me, his eyes as purple as summer grapes. Dee makes a sound from behind me, and we all pause as a pair of playing cards with arms and legs scurry past us. They're the size of small children with faces printed on their fronts, frozen in expressions of terror, like they died screaming.

  And they're fucking terrifying.

  "What the hell are those?" I ask, stumbling back and slamming into Tee's broad chest. He puts his hands on my shoulders and squeezes as the pair of animated cards walks past with silver trays on their outstretched palms. The creepiest part is how human their appendages are, with skin tones in shades of cream and cocoa. Not to mention they each have scabs and scars and hair decorating their limbs.

  "House servants," Dee says, snapping his fingers. One of the cards, the one with a female face, makes her way over to us, a pair of black Mary Janes on her feet and little frilly white socks poofing around her ankles. "Can we get three meals brought up to the Penthouse Suit, please?"

  "Penthouse Suite," I correct, but Dee just raises a dark eyebrow at me.

  "Not Suite, although it is very sweet, but Suit. Penthouse Suit, like Suit of Cards. Although it's just the difference of a single 'e', now isn't it?"

  "Make that four meals, you crooked little tidbit of dark magic, you," a voice purrs—quite literally—in my ear. In the span of an instant, I've got a heavy weight on my left shoulder, and a fucking cat rubbing against my cheek. "I'm quite fur-amished." I narrow my eyes at the admittedly terrible pun, and reach up to give Chesh a small scratch on the head. There is a distinct possibility he’s looking down my top, so I should probably punch him, but I’m too much of a crazy cat lady at heart. Even lecherous pussies deserve love.

  "Are you even allowed to be here?" Tee asks, crossing his arms and lifting his chin in the direction of the guards posed against the opposite wall. These, at least, are human, even if their red suits of armor are a bit strange. They reek of blood, too, this coppery scent that stings my nostrils and makes my eyes water. If the blood is supposed to repel things like jabberwocky, then how is North putting up with it?

  "Can a person really be allowed or disallowed from being in a certain place or time?" Chesh slides off my shoulder, shifting as he goes, like a cloud of smoke moving from one place to the next. When he materializes, he's dressed in tight, leather pants, a silver chain belt, and nothing else. It's hot as hell, especially when he licks his tattooed right arm and slides it over his head, crushing one of his striped ears against his dark hair as he cleans himself. "Only gods have the right to do that, and gods do not exist." Chesh flicks his tail and narrows his gray eyes on the three of us. "How was your date with the Hatter?"

  "Maybe we should head up to the room before we discuss this?" Tee snaps, and Chesh lifts his gaze lazily up in the twin’s direction. He looks downright bored—like most cats. I still can't figure out his position in all of this. There's the King, the King’s servants, the King’s bloody Duke, and the King’s, uh, spiritual advisor, as well as the King’s enemy-plus-sidekick, and then there's … this guy. With no relation to the King whatsoever. I'd been guessing he was the Duke's servant, yet he seems a tad … removed from the situation.

  But standing here under a mirrored ceiling, with fucking playing cards sweeping past us with their creepy little legs and silently screaming faces, is not really the place to get into it.

  "I could use a bath," I say, feeling a slight heat suffuse my cheeks. There's still evidence down there of my rumble with North. And yeah, by evidence, I mean cum—his and mine. "And a dress that doesn't show my nipples."

  Dee snorts as Chesh smirks lazily at me, his mouth stretching wider than it rightfully should, all sharp, white teeth and sass.

  "I like a dress that shows your nipples," he says, disappearing from view until there's nothing left but that smile.

  “Mind your manners,” Tee snaps, brushing strands of hair from his forehead as Dee gives him a quizzical sort of look. I think Tee carries more stress on his shoulders than his brother realizes. I’m starting to wonder what time they realized I was missing last night, and if they got any real sleep. Tee has dark purple bags under his eyes. “You may come only
if Allison gives you permission.”

  “Allison, is it?” Chesh purrs, his eyes and striped cat ears fading back into view. “Oh, he calls her Allison. How charming. But her cat—and we all know there’s no higher authority on Topside above or Underland below that’s more prudent—calls her The Midnight Knicker Dancer.” I choke on my own spit and Dee has to pat my back to help me breathe again.

  “What the hell did you just say?” I ask, feeling my cheeks go beet red as I think about dancing in my panties at home in front of my little black cat, Dinah.

  “Your pussy,” Chesh purrs, reappearing fully and then rubbing his whole damn body against mine, “calls you The Midnight Knicker Dancer. It’s written all over your face and ankles.” He pauses in front of me and points to my head and then my feet with a sharp-nailed finger before leaning in and rubbing his cheek against mine. “Cats have scent marking glands in their face, didn’t you know?”

  “Yeah, I did know,” I say, pushing him away from me as Tee scoffs and Dee raises both eyebrows. “What does that have to do with a stupid nickname you just made up?”

  “Made up?” Chesh asks, putting one hand on his bare chest and drawing my attention to his myriad black and gray tattoos. “If I were going to make up a nickname for you, it most certainly wouldn’t be that.” He licks his lips, his two little feline fangs sticking out in the most adorable way. “Your cat left it written in your scent, as bright as the fireworks on coronation night. She quite literally rubbed you the wrong way, didn’t she?”

  “You learned all that by smelling me?” I ask, getting sassy and cocking a hip out as I cross my arms over my chest. As soon as the question leaves my lips, I regret it. Oh God, my tumble with the Savage Duke!

  “That’s not all I smell,” Chesh purrs as Tee shoves him to the side and grabs my arm.

  “Let’s head upstairs. You don’t want your first meeting with the King to be when he’s in a mood.” Tee scowls, tossing a glance over his shoulder that’s pure poison. I’m not sure yet if he hates the Mad Hatter or the King of Hearts more.

  “Head is right,” Dee says with a small grimace, drawing a line across his throat with his finger, reminding me of the King’s scar. “Because heads will roll if we piss him off.” Dee takes up a position on my other side as Chesh shifts again and hops into my arms. I grab him out of habit, but give out a little growl of my own when his head gets too close to my boob.

  If he ‘scent-marks’ that with his cheek, there’ll be hell to pay.

  “Lead on,” I tell the twins, and they do, away from Raiden Walker and the King of Hearts and all of their bullshit.

  At least … for now.

  But peace, true peace, doesn’t last long in Underland.

  The Penthouse Suit of Hearts is basically an entire floor that encompasses a bedroom, sitting room, library, and bathroom all in one. Only downside is that the bathroom has no door, just a sheer curtain on a circular metal loop that I can pull closed. I decide I don't care enough for modesty to be bothered by it, and sink into the hot water. It was piped in here, just like it was at Rab's. This world is both medieval and modern. Total fucking mind trip.

  "So what happened?" Tee asks, just outside the curtain, leaning against one of the curved, white walls with his boots crossed at the ankles. It's like he's afraid to walk away from me, like I might disappear if he does. Hell, maybe I would? In this place, it's hard to find anything that's an impossibility.

  "You mean when I was kidnapped?" I ask, feeling the deliciously scalding water surge over me, cupping the sweet soreness between my thighs, buoying my breasts. Have you ever noticed that? That breasts float? Like … sexy pool toys or something. "Because I was about to ask you the same thing. You said I was safe on the Duke’s estate."

  "I thought you were," Tee chokes, his voice much rougher than it was before. I think he feels like he failed me. Not in my book though. I get the idea that the Mad Hatter and Company are pretty badass. He's a fucking vampire for Christ's sake. "Although that doesn't excuse our behavior."

  "Off with our heads," Dee quips playfully, trying to lighten the mood as he lounges on my new heart-shaped bed. There's a knock at the door, and I watch as his shadow rises to its feet and makes its way over to answer it. Guess our food is here. And it’s been delivered by creepy little card people with macabre expressions of torture and terror etched into their fronts. I’m sure dinner will be downright goddamn delectable.

  "Did the king order you beheaded?" I ask, narrowing my eyes. I've read the book; I've seen the movie. Isn't that what the Queen of Hearts always says? Off with their heads?

  "He said it, but he doesn't mean it," Tee growls as Dee wheels in a cart and heels the door closed with his boot. "He likes our pain and suffering too much to end it."

  "Well, if North was captured by the Mad Hatter and the March Hare, there wasn't really much hope for me, was there?" I say, picking up a red bar of soap. It's, unsurprisingly, also in the shape of a heart. They're really big about themes around here. I lather up and start soaping my armpits. Hate to admit it, but I could really use a razor. "They were waiting downstairs with North's head bashed in. I had the Vorpal Blade, but no chance to use it."

  Running the soap down both arms, I take a surreptitious glance at the decorative table next to the tub. It's plied with all sorts of different toiletries, but I've only got my eye out for one thing. I spot a straight razor next to a bottle of glowing perfume that says FUCKING SPRAY ME! which is like, never going to happen. If EAT MEs turn me into a house and DRINK MEs shrink me into a mouse, what the crap does that thing do?! Grow me some slimy green tentacle arms?! I snatch the razor up, flip it open, and try to figure out how to shave my pits without filleting all my skin off.

  Yes, I am a very classy girl. Cue eye roll.

  "How on earth did the Duke manage to survive that particular encounter?" Chesh purrs, curled up on the massive continent they call a bed. Clearly, it was made for like … hmm, let's say ten people. Yeah, I really could fit nine suitors into that thing. Huh. They really do take that fucking prophecy seriously. "It's no secret that the Hatter and the Hare are not exactly fans of the Heart."

  "I made a bet and won it," I say, letting my mind wander to that glorious kiss between Raiden and North. Now, that made the whole experience almost worth it. Almost. I mean, other than the threat of being sold to the King of Clubs, forced marriage, and/or death. "Raiden gave him some blood and voila, he was healed."

  "Raiden gave North blood? Because of a bet?" Tee pauses and exhales. "Sounds about right. He's fucking insane."

  "Mad really," Dee says, pushing aside the curtain and making me squeak. I'm covered in bubbles, but still, the invasion of privacy annoys me. Sure, we had sex, but that doesn't mean I want him watching me shave my armpits with a too-sharp razor. My anger is mollified though when he hands me a chocolate cupcake with sparkly heart candies on the top. "Can I get you a towel, Allison-who-isn’t-Alice? Or a kiss? A hand job perhaps?"

  Never mind. My anger is not mollified. I’m still irritated, but also … I think he’s cute, too. Damn my girlish hormones.

  "A towel, yes. The rest: not a fucking chance,” I say, tearing the wrapper off the cupcake and shoving half of the dessert in my mouth. Dee complies, fetching a red towel and robe from the cabinet and draping it over the little side table. He slides the gauzy red curtain back into place, giving me that extra second I need to finish shaving.

  And why are you so concerned with shaving, Allison? I think as I examine my calves for any stray hairs. Because you plan on rubbing up naked against a pair of fallen angel princes? With a sigh, I drop my leg back into the water and realize that I’ve sort of given up on fighting this whole Underland experience. It’s happening; I’m here; I’m going to make the most of it.

  “The King was serious about us joining him downstairs?” I ask as I splash my face with water and fight off a crippling wave of fatigue. When my head finally does hit those (obviously heart-shaped) pillows, I’m a goner. “Because I could rea
lly use a nap.”

  “A cat nap?” Chesh purrs, but I ignore him.

  “The King is always serious,” Tee says, and the melancholy in his voice makes me want to wrap him up in a hug. It was the current king’s father who sent soldiers after the twins’ people, right? I can’t be bothered remembering the whole history of Underland; I’ll ask questions later, when Chesh isn’t around to eavesdrop. Speaking of the prior king … those soldiers in Dee’s memory, they looked like cards, too, didn’t they? What’s up with that? “The Duke will keep him occupied for a while, but we shouldn’t push our luck.”

  “Speaking of the Duke,” I start, wishing I could sink into this bathtub and drown my embarrassment, “we sort of … mated.”

  Hearts above, why did I just use the m-word?! What the crap is wrong with me?!

  “With that arrogant look on his face,” Dee muses, rooting around on the food cart, “there was no doubt.” All I can see through the curtain is shadow, but his voice sounds light enough. There’s not even a hint of jealousy in there.

  “No doubt, nohow,” Tee repeats softly, and I wish fervently that I could see his face. I pop a soap bubble with my finger. “And no surprise: there’s not a soul in Underland who didn’t think the Alice would fall in love with the Savage Duke.”

  “I’m not in love with him,” I blurt, but does it really matter? I slept with him; I like him. I guess that makes him one of their supposed nine? “But, uh, aren’t I supposed to ask the primary if he can … join the harem?”

  “Oh, harem, I like that word,” Dee says licking something off the tip of his finger. It’s hot, even if all I can see is his shadow.

  “Can I join your harem then?” Chesh asks, tail flicking anxiously. “Because I didn’t just bring you mice—I brought you rats. That’s a worthy gift, don’t you think?”

  “Make Tee the primary,” Dee says, ignoring the cat. His voice is still all light and fluffy, but I can see right through him. He cares about his brother, and he’s trying to make him happy. My heart grows three sizes like the damn Grinch’s, and I shift in the bathtub, my bare butt cheeks squeaking against the porcelain. “And ask him.”