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

by C. M. Stunich

  "I thought just last night you told me you wanted to go home?" the King asks loudly, loudly enough that I'm sure all the guards and a couple dozen bitchy flowers probably heard him. There are human servants tending to our table. Maybe even old Red finds the silent, screaming cards creepy?

  "If I'm the Alice, I can claim nine men, and I'm claiming those three." I pick through the crumbs of my scone, checking for insects. Fortunately, there aren't any. There is a candied honey bee on the cupcake I grab next though. I carefully pluck it off and set it aside. "Does it matter what I said or didn't say last night? Because if I did say it, I certainly didn't mean it. And if I didn't say it, then I'm most certainly not at fault, am I?"

  Look asswads, I can riddle, too!

  "Cute," drawls Brennin, but I'm pretty sure I just pissed him off. "But to answer your previous question: these men are here because you brought them. There are no package deals here. Only the Alice knows who the true nine are." The King taps his fingers on the table while somewhere off in the distance, there's that horrible whistling sound of the guillotine. When I glance over, I see a body with two big angel wings, twitching while blood spills across the pavement.

  Cold chills break over my body, and I find it suddenly hard to swallow. It's obvious even from here that the wings are fake, but the gesture has its intended effect. Both Tee and Dee pale, and I can feel my heart thundering wildly.

  Brennin Red just smiles.

  "Listen Brennin," I say, putting a huge amount of emphasis on the prick's name. "If you don't stop executing people left and right, we're going to have problems."

  "Are we now?" the King asks. He puts his head on one white-gloved hand and leans his elbow on the table like he's bored. "And what, exactly, are you going to do about it?" I squeeze my hands into fists on my thighs as anger roils hot and wild inside of me. What am I going to do about it? Against the King and his million guards? All I have is a knife, a gun, and a few loyal allies. But would the Duke really stand up against the King for me? I wouldn't want to test that theory.

  Brennin waves his hand in the direction of the guillotine. I glance over my shoulder just in time to see a girl in a blue and white dress being dragged toward the bloody red edge of the blade.

  "What the fuck?!" I snarl as I stand up, knocking my chair over in the process. "Don't you dare." Now I'm shaking, my fingers curling into fists on the white tablecloth. "Don't." This last word is whispered, my eyes locked onto the King's ebony ones.

  The way he smirks at me … I know I’m in for some trouble.

  He gives a slight nod of his head, and the girl is brought forward, shoved to her knees, her neck put on the wooden part of the guillotine.

  "I said don't," I repeat, feeling that strange energy spiral up and through me. Magic. My magic. And I'm not afraid to use it—even on a King. Lar’s blue eyes widen, his earrings and hair dancing in the breeze, while the March Hare raises one arched brow at me. They’re the only ones who seem to notice that’s something going really wrong inside of me.

  "Or what?" Brennin taunts, standing up from the table. He stares me down for a long moment before tilting his head just slightly. The guards pull the rope and the menacing blade of the guillotine rushes down toward the girl's neck.

  Something wild floods through me, like electricity coming from inside my heart, trying its best to find a way out. Without thinking, I fling my arm up in the direction of the execution, and energy shoots through me, tearing across my chest and making me scream. It feels like I'm being ripped to pieces from the inside.

  "Allison, don't!" Tee screams, shoving up from his seat and leaping the table in a single vault. He's at my side, grabbing me before I can hit the ground. My body spasms like I'm having a seizure, but even with all of that, I don't miss the fact that the guillotine explodes into a million pieces. Even the blade shatters, sending shards like knives throughout the garden. "Allison!" Tee shouts, putting his fingers into my mouth.

  I don't realize how hard I'm biting my tongue until he gives me relief from it. Pain explodes like starbursts behind my eyes as I bite down on his fingers instead. He grits his teeth, but doesn't pull back, keeping my airway clear as the power finishes its wild ride through my body.

  "It's okay, Allison-who-isn't-Alice," Dee whispers, kneeling on my other side. He spreads his wings and then dips one underneath me. Tee lets his brother pull me up and into an embrace, taking his fingers from my mouth only when he's certain I won't choke on my tongue … or bite it off.

  I'm panting now, eyes rolling back into my head.

  "Well now," the King says, pausing beside Tee in his stupid suit. The Hatter stands next to him, his decorative cane held underneath two carefully folded hands, tapping gently against the stones beneath his feet. “That sure was stupid, wasn’t it?”

  North slides between us, tail smashing the stones beneath his feet.

  "You know I'll do whatever it takes to protect my mate," he snarls, and the King nods.

  "At least now I know she's not entirely useless," Brennin says, looking down at me like a tool he's just found a use for. "So the magic does still sleep inside of you?" The King smiles and leans down, getting in my face. “By the way, I prefer to be called Red, rather than Brennin. Maybe I’ll call you Allison instead of Alice if you return the favor?” The King stands up with that awful smirk still on his face, and then saunters off in the direction of the castle. I can hear the flowers chuckling at me from their beds. Butt waffles.

  "Are you alright?" Dee whispers as I shake and shiver in his arms. I can't even describe what I'm experiencing; it's too intense. My thoughts feel like electric sparks pinging around inside my skull. I don't even feel human right now. All I can think about is the Riving. If my weak-ass magic just fucked me up that bad, then what was it like to be torn apart by it? To be changed into a man and stripped of all that power?

  Because even though I feel like it just killed me, I want it back.

  No, not just back.

  I want more of it.

  As much as I can fucking get.

  The Duke sits on the end of my bed, the long black lengths of his talons digging into his pants. I can see tiny of beads of blood welling up through the pierced leather breeches. That’s nice, and very prophetic—the first thing I see when waking up from my short nap is blood. I reach out and grab the pocket watch that’s sitting on my nightstand—pretty sure it belongs to Rab—and check the time.

  "No training today?" I manage to choke out. Three hours and a nap later, and I've just now gotten my voice back. Sort of. I sound like a frog with strep throat.

  "Are you taking the piss with me?" North asks, looking over his shoulder and blinking big gold eyes. He did stand up for me out there, didn't he? The thought warms my heart, and I lick my lips as I struggle to sit up. "I've already cancelled lunch and dinner; our meals will be sent up to the room."

  The Cheshire Cat stands up—in cat form—and stretches his front paws out in a little bow, kneading at my sheets and snagging the fine fabric. He doesn't seem to give two shits, and neither do I. I hope he fucks up all the King’s nicest linens and pisses on his pillows. Because that’s what cats do when they’re mad: they pee all over your favorite stuff.

  "The King was going to execute that girl," I cough, picking up the strange pink drink on my nightstand. My hands shake, and I end up sloshing half of it onto the bed. But when Dee approaches to help, I wave him away. I've got this. Even if the drink is glittery and has gold sparkles around the rim of the glass, I’m too thirsty to care. "Because she looks like me."

  "Miss Liddell," North starts, and then pauses. He turns more fully to face me, tail swishing gently as Chesh bumps his furry head against my elbow. "That girl is dead anyway."

  "No," I say, starting to shake my head, but that doesn't change reality, does it? I screamed and cried and wished and prayed away my brother's death, my mother's incarceration. It didn't change anything. No, I lost my family to toxic masculinity and nothing can bring them back, no matter how h
ard I protest.

  "The King only kills convicted criminals," Tee says softly, but with a voice laden with anger. I don't think he's trying to defend Brennin; he's trying to protect me. "He just wanted to hurt you, make you think it was your … our fault. But it's not. He just dresses them up like that to screw with our heads. Those people are all murderers—or worse."

  "Underland is not a pretty place," Dee adds, crawling onto the opposite side of the bed and making his way over to me. There's more than enough room for his wings, at least, on a bed this big. "I promise you, if they were innocent, we wouldn't let the King execute them like that."

  "It's still fucked up," I say, scrubbing at my face with one hand while I hold my drink with the other. It tastes like strawberries and sunshine. Honestly, it tastes a little bit like Dee himself, like I’m kissing him every time I take a sip. I take three more. "Psychological torture. And how do you know they're guilty?"

  "A simple curseworker incantation can turn a person's hands red if they're guilty of murder," Tee says, reminding me of the King's gloves. He's always wearing gloves. Why is that, I wonder?

  "Discussions of capital punishment aside," I begin, sipping the sweet glittery drink. Despite the dead butterfly garnishment on the side of my glass, it's actually pretty miraculous. With every sip, I feel the fiery pain in my throat easing a little. "What the hell happened out there?"

  "You called on the magic," North says, lifting his head up, like he's scenting the air. He pauses after a moment and looks back at me. "The Alice is special because she isn't limited to the power inside of her; she can draw on the world's energy like it's on tap. That, my dear mate, is why the world either wants you … or wants you dead. There's no one you can't defeat, if you learn how to use that skill."

  "Except for the anti-Alice," Chesh says, shifting back into place with his head on my lap. Dirty, sneaky little trick. I shove him off, but I can't resist pinching and rubbing one of those fuzzy little ears first. He bats at me with his fist curled up like a paw.

  "What's the anti-Alice?" I ask, feeling this ominous shadow creep over me. The ice cubes clink in my glass, and I realize my hand is shaking. Whatever I did out there, it really and truly messed me up. I’m not sure if I’ve ever felt this weak and this powerful, all at the same time.

  "The Walrus and the Carpenter, their queen," Tee says on the end of an exhale, his amethyst eyes glittering with anger. "She can quite literally suck the magic out of anything and everything. She can't use it, but she can absorb it. It's why training with the Vorpal Blade, and with the Queenmaker, with North … why it's so important. If you're going to destroy her, you're not going to be able to use magic."

  "Not that I can use magic now," I say on the end of an exhale, but my lids are already feeling heavy and I'm too tired to argue. Everything on me hurts, everything. I feel like I'm having period cramps in every part of my body, that's how bad it is. And ladies, you know that's real pain.

  "We'll get there," North says, watching me as my eyelids slip closed. Dee reaches out at the last second and grabs my drink, sliding his fingers gently against mine just before I pass out. It's nice, having them all there.

  Even after the crap-tastic day I've had, I'm starting to like it here.

  What the fuck is wrong with me?

  "Can I get sick every day that I'm here?" I ask as Dee places a tray on my lap the next morning. His wings are gone, and poor Tee never got to have his out yesterday. But that couldn’t be helped: I slept through the afternoon, the night, and into the early rays of dawn. Once, when I opened my eyes, I could’ve sworn I saw Lar drawing some sort of magical symbol in the air in front of my face. Then again, there’s also a good chance I hallucinated that, too. "Then I won't have to see the Hatter or the King. Frankly, I'd take about a hundred of those magical shocks to stay out of their company."

  "I also brought you breakfast, if you prefer a raw food diet," Chesh interrupts as he drops an armload of rodents on my floor, most of them in various states of decapitation. Off with their heads, right? He grins at me, and then crawls up to sit on the top shelf of the carpeted cat tree in the corner. Pretty sure it was intended for him in cat form, but he doesn't seem to care, leaning his elbows on his leather covered thighs and peering at me curious gray eyes.

  "Uh, thanks," I say, lifting the silver lid on my tray and finding porridge with edible flowers. I wonder if some of them were talking a few minutes prior to my meal? Oh well. They all seem like assholes anyway. It brings me some sadistic pleasure to crush their pretty petals between my teeth. “But as much as I enjoy cat-spit covered, dead rodents, I’ll stick with the porridge.”

  "We'll need to continue with your training today," North says, standing with his arms crossed at the end of the bed. He seems awfully eager to get back into it. Maybe he just wants to rub his sweaty, muscular body all over me again? Perv. Or am the perv for looking forward to it? "You'll also need to learn about the quintrille."

  "What the fuck is a quintrille?" I ask as I dig around in my food. The flowers have a bright, sharp sweet taste that melds perfectly with the strawberries and blueberries mixed into the porridge. Truth: I’m just making sure there aren’t any insects hidden in there.

  "It’s like a quadrille, only different,” Dee supplies, smiling brightly in my direction. I cock a brow at him.

  “Thank you, oh so helpful seer. And a quadrille is … what, exactly?”

  “It's a card game,” he quips, teasing my arm with the tip of his wing. I like it too much to stop him.

  "Or a dance," Tee adds.

  "But never both at the same time." Dee crosses his arms behind his head as he watches me eat. If I knew having this many boyfriends would essentially give me free slave labor, I'd have started my little harem up months ago. I wonder if they write scholarship essays, too? Because my parents used up Fred’s college fund on his funeral, and mine and Edith’s on a lawyer for Mom. If I want to go to college—maybe I don’t anyway—then I’ll need some serious help paying for it.

  Then again, maybe I’d just rather stay in Underland for the rest of my life?

  "And which version will I be learning?" I ask as I wonder where the White Rabbit and the Caterpillar are. Brennin Red the Royal Prick seems to 'need' their services on a regular basis. Not that I need or want them around anyway, but … what if I did, huh?

  "The dance," Chesh purrs from his perch. "But certainly the Savage Duke won't be teaching you. He's a Hearts-awful dancer, aren't you, North?" The Duke ignores his cat, narrowing his gold eyes, his horns ridiculously tantalizing to my achy fingers, like they're just begging to be touched. If I ran my fingertips up the hard, curved lengths and touched the tips, would I bleed?

  "Lar will teach her," Tee interjects with a small sigh, raking his fingers through his purple-streaked black hair.

  "Why not you?" North asks, tilting his head quizzically. "You and Lar, you're the only ones who dance the quintrille with any skill or grace." He pauses for dramatic effect. "Well, besides, Red."

  Red, huh?

  ‘By the way, I prefer to be called Red, rather than Brennin.’ Puh-lease.

  "I've got errands to run today," Tee says, and I catch his gaze for just long enough to know he's talking about the Looking-Glass. He wants to find it for me, even as he’s starting to believe I might be able to make a difference here. I don’t stop him though, even if I’m beginning to believe the same thing. Having a steady, reliable way to get back and forth between Topside and Underland is vital. "Lar's a good teacher though. He'll make sure you know it well enough to dance at the ball."

  “The Ball of Broken Hearts and Stolen Tarts,” Dee singsongs with a sigh, folding some laundry and moving into the closet to put it away. He doesn’t seem to be bothered that he went from prince to pauper in a relatively short period of time.

  "The Ball of Broken Hearts and Stolen Tarts?" I ask, because what the fuck is wrong with that name? It's a rhetorical question, so nobody bothers to answer me. "What's the point of this thing anyway?" />
  "To introduce the Alice to the Court of Hearts," Tee says, exchanging a glance with the Duke. "Although I don't know how good of an idea this is. We'll need to be on top of security at all times. Assassination attempts are likely."

  "Oh, well, great," I say with more than just a little sarcasm. Sunlight streams in through the massive windows on either side of my bed, casting gold bars across the thick furs covering my legs. There’s a knock at the door, and I watch as Tee moves over to answer it. "Now I've got assassins chasing after me?"

  "You had assassins chasing after you already," Rab says, sweeping in the door as Tee opens it. "Remember? I so gallantly protected you." He swipes his gloved hands down the front of his red and black striped vest and pulls out a watch from his front pocket. The white ears on the top of his head twitch. "The King of Clubs—the Carpenter—he sent that Rabbit after you."

  Rab pauses near the refreshments table. It's always fully stocked with goodies although I never see anyone tend to it. I'm pretty sure it's the terrifying little card people, but frankly, I don't want to know. Maybe it’s just Dee?

  The White Rabbit pours himself a glass of lemon-infused sparkling water, and then makes his way over to stand near the bed. Having him this close to me, I can feel the tension between us, as taught as a bowstring. Let it snap and an arrow’s bound to fly. The question is: exactly whose heart will be pierced by the wicked tip? "I'll be on patrol during the party, so don't worry." The look he flashes me is built of both confidence and violence as he taps a single tattooed finger against the side of his glass, lifting it carefully to his full, smirking lips for a drink.

  "In bandersnatch form?" I ask, fishing for information. Supposedly, all Rabbits have three alternate forms, but I have yet to see more than one of Rab’s. Considering Rabbits have to eat the meat of all their other forms, I just hope he doesn't turn into a kitten or a puppy. Shudder. Although I do suspect he can turn into a mouse. M.T. and the Gryphon basically said as much.