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

by C. M. Stunich

  “What does the tag mean anyway?” I ask as he smirks and drops it back over his head, covering up the white hat underneath once again.

  “Costs ten and one sixth coins,” he explains as I roll my eyes and the man puts two fingers up to his lips, letting out a shrill whistle that echoes through the towering forest of trees and mushrooms. I thought the King of Hearts literally killed people who fucked with his mushrooms? But none of the three assholes here seem to care as the Dormouse shoves the massive hunks of multi-colored mushroom meat into the back of the carriage, slams the door shut, and slaps his palm against the side of the oversized teapot.

  The carriage takes off, the horses’ hooves splashing rainwater as they gallop off. I remember North telling me that in a wild magic storm, a horse is as likely to be a pumpkin as it is an equine. But the Mad Hatter’s horses are all wearing raincoats, little hats, and boots, and they seem just fine. Huh. Glancing down, I realize that my legs are now wet with this supposedly horrid magic rainwater.

  “The wild magic moved on hours ago,” North tells me as Raiden continues to whistle, “and the regular rain washed most of the power away. Don’t worry.” He reaches down and takes my hand in his, squeezing me so hard that his talons dig into my skin, these shiny black hooks of claw that I actually find sort of … sexy?

  The Mad Hatter pauses in his whistling to sing a ridiculous little doozy of a tune, his voice this low, icy creepy sound that both fascinates and frustrates me to no end. His accent—because supposedly, he’s from my world, right?—is definitely a West Coast USA sort of sound, but heightened, elevated, like he’s a bit older than I think he is.

  “Twinkle, Twinkle, little bat! How I wonder what you’re at? Up above the world you fly, like a tea-tray in the sky. Twinkle, Twinkle—”

  When he sings, I get chills. When he stops singing, cut off by the sudden sound of flapping wings above us, I feel the blood drain from my face.

  What. The. Fuck. Is. That?!

  My mouth hangs open as a massive bat swoops down low and drops two long ropes from its hooked back feet. With a skip and a hop, Raiden Walker steps onto a metal bar attached to the rope and then curls his arm around my waist, snatching me from North’s grip. Dor does the same, taking hold of the March Hare and the second rope at the same moment.

  The dinosaur-sized fucking bat changes course on a dime, rising into the sky with huge, long flaps of its leathery wings. As dumbfounded as I am by the size and sudden appearance of yet another weird ass creature, I don’t miss the fact that we’ve just left North behind.

  “Wait!” I scream as the air rushes past me and the ground … gets farther and farther away. My stomach lurches and like, I have a fucking thing about heights. Remember that C I got in gym because I refused to climb the damn rope? Well, now I’m on a rope with nothing to cling to except a vampire/mercenary asshole who wants to marry me.

  And the ground … the ground is so very far away.

  Turning my head, I bury my face in the hollow of Raiden’s throat and throw my arms around his neck. I even wrap my legs around him and hang on for dear life, my heart thundering in my throat, my eyes closed so tight they hurt. I bet the view is amazing. Hell, I’m sure it’s spectacular. I just don’t want to see it.

  A roar sounds from behind us, this bone-shattering, eardrum-bursting screech that I somehow recognize as being North’s. Well, at least that answers that. He’s shifted and is following us via jabberwock wing. Good for him. Hope no horny females pop out of the trees and attack. How ironic, is it, that in this world, it’s the men who have to live with a low-grade anxiety at all times, wondering if a woman might pop out of nowhere and sexually assault them?

  All those stories Tee and Dee told me about the Riving, and about my world—Topside—affecting Underland make so much sense when I think about it from North’s point of view. He’s living the life of a human woman … as an Underland male.

  “I’m going to puke all the hell over you and this bat thing that’s carrying us,” I choke out, but the Mad Hatter just chuckles and wraps his arms around me, holding me tight. We move through cool, misty morning air, beams of yellow sunshine warming our icy skin. My dressing gown sticks to my body like plastic wrap, whipping in the wind along with my hair.

  Fortunately, the ride only lasts maybe an hour, but to me, it feels like weeks. Weeks in the goddamn sky, hanging above a forest made of old-growth trees and mushrooms. By the time we land, I’m shaking, brimming with adrenaline, and the last person in either world anyone should mess with.

  The bat drops us off in a copse of trees, undistinguishable from the rest of the forest, and then flaps patiently above us as March and Raiden re-tie the ropes around its feet. Looking up at it, it doesn’t look any different from the bats back home. Same piggish little nose and giant ears, leathery wings, black fur, hooked claws. Just … all in gargantuan proportions. Of course, it only looks that way until North lands behind it, a sinuous curve of black scales and horns and claws.

  He hisses at the bat creature, and it hisses right back at him.

  “Best control your male before he makes a fool out of himself,” Dor barks, but I’m not in the mood to take shit.

  “Maybe you best control yourself because you’re already acting a damn fool!” I snap, storming over to the massive form of the black goddamn dragon sharing the copse with us. He’s a jabberwock, fine, okay, but he looks like a dragon to me, this lizard/cat/dog hybrid with big webbed wings, claws, and a long sinuous tail cutting ruts into the undergrowth. He smashes mushrooms and wildflowers that explode with poofs of bright dust and glitter.

  Hope none of that’s poisonous because it sure as fuck looks it.

  “Hey,” I say, putting my hands on one of his massive front feet. “Shift back for me, would you? I could use someone to talk—” Before I can even finish speaking, North’s wrapped me up in his massive tail and lifted me off my feet. He’s so large that even though it’s just the tip—get it?—that he’s using, I’m completely wrapped up in thick muscle and smooth, black scales.

  The Duke’s eyes flash gold as he pushes his way through the trees and over to a spot of dewy nine-leaf clovers. I wasn’t even aware there were such things as nine-leaf clovers, but he lays me down in them, still holding me with his tail, and proceeds to sniff me from head to toe. His breath is hot as he snorts from his massive nostrils and then slowly, shrinks back down to size.

  That sun-kissed bronze body is now hovering above me, every muscle taut, cock swollen and erect, horns curved and deadly. The wings are the last things to go, shifting off of his back as his tail unwinds from around my waist. The smell of man, musk, and arousal is unmistakable in the air.

  The Savage Duke indeed, I think, as he pins my arms down and sniffs the side of my neck again. I wiggle, bringing my silken nightie riding up my thighs.

  “Mate with me?” North asks, his voice barely above the level of a growl. My heart is racing, and I so desperately want to fuck this guy, take the beast out of him, and bring him down to a more manageable level. What’s hotter than that? Taking a wild animal like the Duke and making him feel human again. Something about that appeals to me.

  We’re both basically naked, so the question of condoms is out; clearly he doesn’t have any.

  “I don’t want a baby or a disease,” I choke out, even though it’s the hardest thing in the world for me to say. There’s nothing more I want to do right now than have sex with the Duke of Northumbria.

  “Jabberwock,” he snaps out at me, dropping his forehead to mine and then nuzzling the side of my face and neck with this rumbling growl that does all the right things to my body. My core is already slick and throbbing, my nipples pebbled and tight. “No diseases. Can’t get a human pregnant.” His teeth are clenched tight and he looks about two seconds away from tearing out of here and destroying everything in sight.

  Putting my hand to North’s chest, I try to use my magic to invade his mind the way I did Dee. Doesn’t work though. All it does is encourage
him to press closer, running his tongue up the side of my neck. He pushes his pelvis into me, the only thing separating us the thin layer of my silken nightgown. But I can feel the hard tip of him push into my body, just a little.

  My breath rushes out and I arch my back, dragging that nightgown out of the way just enough that there’s now nothing between us anymore. North drives into me and I groan, wrapping my legs around him as he fills up every empty part of me. My body contracts, gripping him tight, and he makes this sound in my ear that isn’t at all human.

  His tail, that stupid tail that I’ve been fighting off for days, wraps around the top of my nightgown and yanks the lace out of the way, curling around my breast and squeezing it tight, the tip flicking across the hard pink point of my nipple.

  My fingers dig into North’s hair, threading through the silken gold strands and then taking firm hold of both curved, wicked horns, holding on tight to him as he fucks me into the dewy clovers. My back is all wet from the foliage, and my core is all wet from my arousal and the Duke’s deep, wild thrusts.

  Our mating is a little … well, like a mating and not much like any other sex I’ve had. It’s fast and wild and quick, but the Duke knows exactly what to do, dropping his tail between us and teasing my clit with the very tip. He keeps us going until my body locks around him and holds tight, my spine bowing in an intense, animalistic little orgasm. I claw at the Duke’s hair, yank his head close to me, and kiss him with tongue and teeth until I feel him tense up, exploding inside of me with a snarl that catches between our joined lips.

  When I collapse back into the clovers, the Duke collapses onto me and just lies there, panting hard, breathing frantic. His tail twitches absently against the wet leaves of the plants.

  “So much easier to come down from my other form with a mate,” he grumbles, and then pushes up, looking down at me with gold eyes and a satisfied smirk that both excites and infuriates me at the same time. I shove him off and sit up, the Vorpal Blade still strapped to my thigh, my heart thundering faster than the bread-and-butterfly’s wings as it sits on a flower not ten feet from me.

  I know what the damn thing is because I remember reading about it, an insect with wings of bread and butter, the body of crust, and the head a lump of sugar. Mostly, it looks like its head is actually made up of two multi-faceted pearl-white eyes, similar to what a dragonfly’s back home would be. But I only stare at it for a moment because all three of our captors are coming through the trees, and I’m tugging my nightgown back down my thighs.

  “Excellent,” Raiden Walker says, adjusting his hat as he grins at me with two sharp canines. The March Hare is still lazily eating his apple, cutting slices from it with his knife and then stabbing them. He sucks the bit of fruit right off the end of the blade. The Dormouse, on the other hand, just glares at North and me like he’s fantasizing about bashing both our heads in this time. “You’ve soothed the jabberwock, and now we see the king.”

  He removes a small, golden key from the front pocket of his jacket, steps over to a large tree and bends down, unlocking a tiny little door.

  “For the future Queen of Hearts,” March says, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a pair of bottles, both labelled FUCKING DRINK ME! I take them both, my heart contracting at the thought of the twins and what they might be thinking about my sudden disappearance. Without looking at the Duke, I pass over one of the bottles, our fingers tangling together and sending warm little thrills through my body.

  Oh, what the hell? I can’t help myself. I flick my gaze his way and pop the cork on my bottle. He does the same, and we toast each other.

  “Bottoms up,” I murmur, and then chug the sweet liquid in a single gulp.

  There are simple rules in life that everyone knows: such as, always smoke pot first and binge on booze after, the pullout method doesn't really work, and if you drink from a bottle marked 'poison', it's almost certain to disagree with you, sooner or later.

  However, this bottle's marked FUCKING DRINK ME so like, I'm pretty sure it's not arsenic. Anyway, it's bubbly and reminds me of champagne. It has, in fact, a sort of mixed flavor profile. And by mixed flavor profile, I mean this is some effed up Willy Wonka type shit. The taste on my tongue morphs from cherry-tart to custard, from pineapple to toffee, and then cycles through roasted freaking turkey and hot buttered toast. It takes me all of one gulp to finish it off, downed like a shot of vodka.

  "What a … curious feeling," I grind out, blinking as my head swims and the Duke reaches out to steady me with a hand on my elbow. I can feel the whorls of his fingertips pressing against my skin, and a warm flutter takes over my tummy. Either I have a massive crush on him (hard enough to make diamonds) or this drink is not sitting well with me.

  "Are you alright?" North growls, his tail curling around my ankle as I blink furiously through a flood of adrenaline. It sends my heart racing as I stumble into his big, beautiful bronze body. My fingers curl around his shoulders as an earthquake starts up beneath our feet, and I let out a high-pitched squeak.

  "What the hell is going on?" I choke as the ground roils and the trees sway in a supernatural breeze. Or ... wait. Am I the one moving and they're all standing still? I squeeze my eyes shut as my stomach lurches up and into my throat. You know that first hill on a roller coaster, the one you roll up with an ominous click-click-click sound from the tracks? And then you hit the top and there's one peaceful moment before all hell breaks loose?

  Yeah, well, there's no peace here, just that horrific feeling of my stomach being left behind while the rest of my body hurdles through space.

  When I flick my eyes open, I'm standing in front of the little door that's not so little anymore. And when I turn back to look at the trees … they make the sequoias back home look like playthings. My brain swims as I blink frantically and try to make all of this strangeness work within the confines of my logicality.

  There's a leaf next to me that's bigger than my ex's fucking car. That’s a hard pill to swallow.

  "What happens if I drink more of that while I'm this small?" I ask, and the Duke cocks a golden brow.

  "Most certainly," he says in that crisp accent of his, looking down at me with serious bedroom eyes, "you'd go out altogether, like a candle. I wonder what you should be like then? What is the flame of a candle like after it's been blown out? Simply smoke, I'd say."

  Carefully, I extract myself from North's grip, trying not to let what just happened between us take over my thoughts completely.

  But oh, we're close. So close. I’ve got giddy girl thoughts for days.

  Eep! Just look at him! My lady parts sing, staring at his chiseled muscles, wide shoulders, and … well, his entire package is still on full-display. Now, that, that is a man.

  Crinkling up my nose, I turn back to the Mad Hatter as he lifts his hat and draws out a decorative black cane from underneath it. It shouldn’t rightfully fit in there, but of course, it magically does anyway. As soon as North sees Raiden’s new toy, he curls the edge of his lip up in a snarl, claws extending from his fingers.

  It's made of the same material as the hilt of my Vorpal Blade … so, jabberwock horn? No wonder North is pissed.

  "Shall we?" Raiden purrs, smirking at us before swinging his cane in a circle and taking off through the now open door and into bright-ass sunshine. Wherever we're headed is a hell of a lot less cloudy than the forest.

  "I thought there was only one door into the king's garden?" I ask. "Or rather, one door that leads anywhere close to the castle-grounds at all." See, I do sometimes listen when Tee and Dee talk. Tee and Dee … I bet they’re freaking all the way out right now. If I’d woken up and found them gone, I know I would be.

  "There is only one permanent door," the March Hare says, smoothing his hands down the front of his black trench coat. Yeah, did I mention that yet? That he's gone total villain cliché with a trench, a velvet trench at that? Looks stupid good on him though, the bastard. "We just made this. Now, if you'd kindly step through before Dor gets fu
ssy, that would be highly advisable."

  March blinks big, brown eyes in my direction, and the ears on the top of his head swivel to listen to a distant sound, the cracking of a twig and the rustling of leaves.

  Uh.

  It sounds like something's stalking us.

  I don't need to be told twice. I might not like taking orders, but I also don't like being hunted and eaten by things with names I can barely pronounce. Can you imagine, being masticated by a mome rath? Now try putting that on a headstone: Allison Liddell, eighteen years of age, gobbled up by mome raths.

  Reaching down, I snatch North's hand and drag him through the door. Maybe I just want an excuse to touch him again? Maybe I just need to hold onto something that feels strong and solid? I have no idea. But he squeezes my hand with his just hard enough to pierce me with his claws. Doesn’t hurt really. I almost like it.

  No, no, I do like it. I should start being honest with myself. Then again, I often give myself pretty good fucking advice although I very seldom follow it. Probably why I've gotten into so much damn trouble in my short eighteen-year span on earth and … well, Underland.

  A large rose-tree stands near the entrance of the garden; the roses growing on it are white, but there are three gardeners at it, busily painting them red. Curiouser and fucking curiouser, I think as we step through the small door into the royal grounds I saw on my very first day here.

  Everything—including the flowers—towers above us, masking for just a split-second the rancid scent of blood in the air. My gaze drifts back to the gardeners, and I realize with a start that their red paint is actually blood.

  “Jabberwock, bandersnatch, jubjub, and so on and so forth,” North whispers, naked and standing too close to me. I can feel his heat, clenching my thighs tight and trying not to think so much about how wet I am between them. “That’s their blood, mixed up and painted around the gardens to keep them away from the castle. It’s nauseating.” He wrinkles up his nose with a wicked little growl, sending a sharp surge of adrenaline through my body.