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

by C. M. Stunich

  "I don't think Red likes you, Allison-who-isn't-Alice," Dee says, moving up to stand beside me. He puts his hat back on and pulls it down firmly over his mussy hair. With Lar on one side and Dee on the other, their beautiful wings resting behind them, I feel pretty plain and boring. At home, I was the weirdo. Here, I'm the beige house with the white picket fence.

  "Good, because I really don't like him," I say as Tee strides in the open door and makes his way straight over to us. He pauses for a moment as he glances at the Caterpillar.

  "Continue your plotting," Lar drawls, reaching down to play with his gold bracelets. "I already know what you're up to. Don't worry: I won't tell."

  Tee narrows his amethyst eyes before looking over at me. I can't believe I had sex with him. What was I thinking? Now I'm invested in what happens to the guy. Life must be a hell of a lot easier for assholes like the King and the Hatter.

  "The Looking-Glass," he starts, giving Lar another skeptical look. With a scoff and a shake of his head, Tee turns back to me. "It's inside a Game."

  "Fuuuuuuuck," Dee says, sliding his hands down either side of his face. "How the hell are we supposed to deal with that?!"

  "Uhh, what's a Game?" I ask, crinkling my brows up. Lar is whistling, so I'm going to guess that this shit is bad. I've already flown over the forest hanging from a giant bat, so I don't think they're going to be able to say much to surprise me.

  "It's enchanted by a curseworker," Tee says, putting his hands on his hips and looking at the floor.

  "And what is it?" I ask as Dee runs the tip of one finger along the leather brim of his hat.

  "A Game can be … a lot of things," he says with a loose shrug of his shoulders. "But in the King’s case, it’s probably chess." He lifts his blue eyes up to the glass ceiling above us as the giant bat passes by overhead with a screech that cuts straight into my brain. Speak of the devil …

  Twinkle, twinkle little bat, my ass.

  “A chess game with life-size pieces,” the Caterpillar adds, looking at my mouth for much longer than is really appropriate. His stare makes my lips tingle, and I shift unconsciously, doing my best not to think about that vision in his wings, the one that just showed me making love to the guy. “And life-size appetites.”

  “In short, they’re armed, alive, and very, very angry,” Tee adds as I look between the three men.

  "An entire set of aggressive, people-size chess pieces?" I ask as I raise my eyebrows. "And what idiot curseworker was responsible for that shit?"

  "I was," a voice says from near the door. I look up and find a beautiful woman cloaked in flowing red robes with a big frilly white collar around her neck. The way she smiles at me, I can tell we're not going to be friends.

  "Who's that?" I ask, feeling a small spark of fear. This is only the second woman I've spoken to since I got to Castle Heart.

  And I don't like her.

  Ugh, I'm trying not to act on my patriarchal-blessed internal misogyny, but all of a sudden, I'm nervous. Like, really fucking nervous. A bunch of alpha dude assholes, I can deal with. But women are smart, creative, and logical. That scares the crap outta me.

  "The Knave of Hearts," Tee says, curling his hands into fists at his sides.

  "A knave is a jack, right?" I ask, and I feel like I should get serious points for that. Doubt Edith would've known the answer. And Fred … I wonder if Fred could've been the Alice?

  "She's like, a second-in-command, as Underland doesn't consider males intelligent or rational enough to run kingdoms, yet at the same time shuns anyone who isn't of royal blood,” Dee adds. “All the kingdoms have male rulers now with no queens, so the Knaves act as backup. They can veto any decision the King makes."

  Oh … dear.

  The Knave sweeps into the room with a pair of men on either side of her. One is dressed in gold with a thick brown-gold beard, sideburns, and mustache, while the other has long white hair scooped into a bun on the back of his head. He doesn't look old though, maybe thirty at most. They stick to her like glue as she makes her way across the empty marble dance floor toward us.

  "Those are her husbands, the Lion and the Unicorn," Tee growls out, and I can already tell he doesn't like this woman any better than I do. I stare at her, her silky brunette hair hanging nearly to the floor, her spring green eyes focused on mine.

  "Why are they called the Lion and the Unicorn?" I whisper, but then, I'm standing next to a dude named Caterpillar, and a pair of twins named Tweedledee and Tweedledum, soooo … Stupid question much?

  "The Lion has all that facial hair," Dee says with a chuckle, catching my eye and winking, "and the Unicorn, well, it's not because his horn is on his forehead, if you catch my drift." I clamp a hand over my mouth to stifle a chuckle, and the Knave narrows her eyes on me. I'm wracking my brain trying to remember any of these characters from the original books.

  The Knave … pretty sure he was accused of stealing the Queen of Hearts' freshly baked tarts. He was a minor character though. And the Lion and the Unicorn? They must be from Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There. I'll have to check in that copy Tee gave me. There's no such thing as being too prepared here.

  "Aren't you pretty?" the Knave says as she pauses next to me, a good half a foot shorter than me at least. Her husbands, however, are huge. I have to look up to meet the cold, silver eyes of the Unicorn and the equally drab rust-red of the Lion. "These are my husbands, Rook and Knight." She gestures at the Lion first, and then the Unicorn. But considering the Mad Hatter's name is Raiden, the King is Brennin, and the freaking Duke's name is North, I'm not surprised. Normal names, weird nicknames. It works with the Underland vibe.

  In fact … I sense a chess reference. Isn't the entire second Alice book just one big chess game? My chest feels tight suddenly, like a queen on a black and white board. Fuck. Is Tee sure the Looking-Glass is trapped in a Game? Because it feels like I am already one of the players.

  "I could say the same for you," I reply, smiling tightly. I could say the same, but I'm not going to. I'm hoping the Knave will miss my play on words, but nobody here ever does, do they?

  "The King doesn't seem to like you," the Knave quips bluntly, stepping back so she can look me over. "You are a bit scruffy, and awfully uncouth. Although it's not a surprise why the Hatter is interested."

  "A mercenary powerful enough to topple kingdoms? That's an offensive thing to say," I blurt, knowing that I shouldn't start shit with a person I just met. Who knows? Maybe we could be friends? Lord knows I don't have many back home. Before the Knave can speak again, I exhale and hold out a hand. "Name's Allison Liddell. And you are …"

  "Ines Fripon," she says, looking at my hand like it's diseased. She lifts her green eyes up to mine, and I see it right there in her beautiful irises: she's jealous of me. Guess it makes sense, considering I'm supposedly the next Queen of Hearts. I get this little mean girl thrill out of the moment, and then shove it down.

  No, that's something Edith would do, use this woman's insecurities against her. I'm not like that; I don't want to be like that.

  "Nice to meet you," I say, forcing a genuine smile. It almost hurts my mouth. Guess I'm still a cynical asshole at heart. Dee looks at me like I've sprouted a second head—something I feel could easily happen here in Underland—while Tee frowns hard. Lar brushes some of his pale hair behind one ear, showing off his silver hoops at the top of his ear. He appears contemplative, looking between the two of us like he's got money riding on our interaction.

  "We came to see if you needed any further assistance with the quintrille? It's a very important dance, you know," the Unicorn, err Knight, says. Think that I might go mad trying to memorize all these fucking weird-ass names. "It's vital for building alliances and friendships within the court."

  He smiles at me, and I swear, he's got big, horsey front teeth. Maybe that's why he got the nickname Unicorn? Just so long as he doesn't ask me to start believing in him, we're good.

  "Allison is a quick learner," Lar says, li
fting both brows. "I think she'll make a fine dance partner."

  "Well, we'll see," the Knave of Hearts says with a little titter of a laugh. She looks over at Dee like she's just seeing him for the first time, and her lips curl up at the sight of his wings. As soon as he sees her looking, I notice his shoulders stiffening up. "Glad to see you and your brother are getting along now." Her sneer changes to a smile as she flicks her eyes up and down my boys. "Because I'd hate to see what I might do the second time around."

  The Knave turns and leaves, gesturing for her husbands to follow after.

  "Wait," I start, looking between the twins. "Is that …"

  "The witch that cursed us?" Tee asks in a low voice. "Yes."

  Oh.

  Well.

  No wonder I hated the cunt from moment one. Never mind all that shit I said about the benefit of the doubt and whatnot. Bitch is going down.

  "You didn't think to tell me about the Knave?" I ask Tee and Dee as we sit on these ridiculously comfortable red chairs in a fitting room so draped in fabric, I feel like I'm crouching inside a tent. Hoarders: Underland Edition, anyone? There's so much fabric in here, I could easily drown in it.

  "She's not important," Tee says, watching Rab as he checks his pocket watch for the thirtieth time.

  "He's late," the White Rabbit grumbles, rolling his red eyes. His gaze comes to rest on March, and I see the corner of his mouth curl up into a sneer. "He's late, and you're not welcome. What do you want with a dress fitting anyhow, you stupid fuck?"

  "Oh, I'm the stupid fuck, now am I?" March asks, reaching out to finger a pink dress on a headless mannequin. Heh. Hope that one's not for me. I am not a fan of the color pink. "I'm not the one who broke the FUCKING DRINK MEs and left the Alice behind. You know, if you hadn't done that, it's doubtful that Raiden and I would even be here."

  Rab scowls, snapping his pocket watch closed with a finality that promises violence. So far as I know, all 'Rabbits', that is, servants to the Kings and Queens of Underland, have bandersnatch forms. That's what makes them Rabbits. As for their other two forms … I intend to ask March about his Raiden form at some point.

  "It feels like you're here simply to irritate me," Rab grinds out, swiveling one ear back in March's direction. When he glances over his shoulder with those bloodred eyes of his, I get chills. "And you know I don't fucking like to be irritated."

  "Are you going to fight me in here while the Alice watches?" March teases, his panty-melting accent dripping with disdain. "I'd bloody love to see you try."

  The White Rabbit turns around slowly, this cool, calculating look tracing its way over his features. I would not want to be on the receiving end of that look. He glances down at his vest and then slowly, oh so slowly, unbuttons it. Once his bare chest is revealed, he seeks out a clock and taps his finger against the tattoo.

  "Damn, it's not quite your time to die," he says with a false moue of disappointment. "Shame, that. I was looking forward to hastening your demise."

  March just laughs and shrugs out of his velvet trench coat, tossing it onto the pink-dress wearing mannequin before striding forward in his massive combat boots. When he stands next to me, I realize how fucking tall the guy really is. I hear he's some sort of master thief, but how the fuck does he get any sneaking around done with that big, muscular body of his?

  "If you'd like, the Alice, I could challenge Rab to a cock-race, and you could see which Rabbit fares best in a brawl."

  "Thanks, but no thanks," I say, still feeling slightly lightheaded from my dance with the Caterpillar. I hate heights, but I have to say, that was one of the most miraculous things I've ever done. I'm suddenly desperate to do it again. How long do I have until the ball? A week? And I have lessons with Lar every day until then.

  Fantastic.

  My mind conjures up that moment when our mouths connected … and then dives straight into the dark, carnal delights of that vision.

  I shake my head to clear it, and reach my fingers up to rub at my temples.

  "After this, we'll go back to the room," Tee murmurs under his breath, giving March a dirty look, like he doesn't appreciate him standing so close. "I'll have dinner brought up."

  "By one of those creepy card servants?" I say, because I still can't stop thinking about the King and how he killed one of them in cold blood. Nor can I possibly forget that he won a kiss from me—a kiss in front of the entire court.

  I imagine he'll collect at the ball. Why wouldn't he? Fucking prick. I hate him.

  "At least you know they're all given fair chance to defend themselves at the Trial," Dee says, lounging back in his chair and tapping his fingers against the red leather arm. I can see about two inches of the chair's actual fabric peeking out beneath the mounds of cloth draped over it. This entire place is just swimming.

  "The Trial?" I ask as March leans against a decorative column, keeping his brown eyes locked on me. It feels like he's searching for something intangible, something I can't name, but want to keep hidden. Maybe I'm just imagining it? Does not hurt to be paranoid in a place like this. "Like, there's only one?"

  "The King holds the Trial once a week," Rab says, pausing in front of me and smiling in that cruel way of his, a slash across the face, sharp as a knife. "The accusers are tested with magic to determine their, shall we say, veracity. Some are selected for servitude … and others for execution. Rapists, murderers, traffickers, that sort of thing."

  "I feel like you're trying to make me hate the King less. FYI, it's not working." I cross my arms over my chest and try not to sigh. Whoever this tailor person is, I'm getting mighty irritated. All I want to do is crawl up the stairs and flop into bed. Of course, now that I've fucked North, Tee, and Dee, it's like sex is on the plate with all of them—it's an option. I could go back to the room and invite them into bed with me.

  Oh, it's tempting …

  "I would never try to sway your opinion," Tee says, looking up from under the leather brim of his peaked cap. My mouth is aching to kiss his, to free those gorgeous wings from his back, but again, it feels weird to do it front of these other men. Not because I'm ashamed or embarrassed, but because it feels like special moments with Tee should be private. "I just want to reiterate: if any of those people were innocent, Dee and I would've made a stand a long time ago."

  Exhaling, I lean back in my chair and close my eyes, crossing my legs at the ankle. With the twins around, I feel safe. Maybe I shouldn't, considering I did get kidnapped out of North's house, but I do anyway. Since the biggest, baddest mercenary in all the land is now supposedly engaged to my ass, I may as well relax.

  The sound of a curtain swishing back draws my attention, and I crack my eyes to see Rab slipping out of his vest, and slipping into … another vest.

  "What are you doing?" I ask him as he picks up a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles from a side table and perches them on the end of his nose, peering at me over the top of them.

  "I've just received a text from the King," Rab says, shaking his phone in my direction. Every freaking time I see one of these weirdos holding what looks like the newest iPhone, I have a mini heart attack. It's just too weird to be sitting in a castle, being fitted for a ball, and seeing the King's servant holding something that looks like it could be browsing social media or looking up porn. "The tailor was executed this morning, so I'll be acting tailor until we can find a new one."

  "Do you know anything at all about sewing clothes?" I ask as Rab buttons up his new brown leather vest and rolls up his sleeves to reveal a sea of glorious ink. It feels like every time I look at him, I notice something new. My eyes catch on a sea of ghosts drifting up from a graveyard toward a full moon. Very pretty, very me. I would totally get something like that tattooed on my body.

  "I've sewn flesh before, does that count?" Rab asks, which is not a particularly comforting sentiment.

  "Flesh?" I ask as he holds out a tattooed hand, gesturing for me to step up on a round dais surrounded by mirrors. There are a lot of fucking mirrors here. I
wonder if Brennin Red has one above his bed?

  Aaaand, why am I thinking about Brennin Red's bed anyway?

  "You know, battle wounds and all that," Rab replies, but his voice is too smooth and practiced. He's lying to me. And the sad part is, I don't actually want to know the truth anyway.

  "Since when have you ever sewn up a wound, mate?" March asks, trailing along behind me as I stand up and head for the dais, shrugging out of my coat and boots. Reluctantly, I also set the Queenmaker and the Vorpal Blade aside. "Usually you're the one making them."

  "I've been known to show compassion," Rab says as he grins at me, white ears twitching atop his head. I can smell him from here, this musty, earthy scent mixed with the copper reek of blood. I shouldn't find it appealing, but I do. My nipples pebble beneath my shirt, and I curse under my breath.

  Great.

  He's going to measure me, and I've got my headlights turned on bright.

  Fan-fucking-tastic.

  Tee and Dee flank either side of the dais, arms crossed over their chests in identical positions. One has wings, and one doesn’t. That makes me sad somehow.

  "You? Compassion?" I ask as Rab slides a cloth measuring tape from a hook, winding it around his hand as he watches me with those red, red eyes of his. He manages to make the motion sexy, wrapping it around two fingers and suggestively licking his lower lip.

  I roll my eyes.

  Hey, I can't help it: I'm a fucking young adult. It's in our DNA to do annoying shit.

  "Sorry, but I can't see it," I say as Rab steps closer and March circles around behind the dais, balancing a knife on the tip of his finger. "You being compassionate, I mean. Isn't that against the very nature of a sociopath?"

  I'm smirking when Rab comes around in front of me, but that quickly dies when he leans in and wraps the measuring tape around my waist, tugging it tight and stealing my breath away. His mouth is disturbingly close to my nipple.