"We'll see," Rab says, his voice low and slow and dangerous. No wonder he's the King's personal go-to guy; he's terrifying. He blinks those red eyes at me, and I have to resist the urge to squirm as he snaps his pocket watch closed and tucks it into his pocket. His sleeves are rolled up, so I can see his tattoos, tick-tick-ticking away. "It depends on how … interesting the night gets."
"Hopefully not too interesting," Tee says with a small sigh. He takes a small step back, and when I reach for his hand, he takes another one, putting himself out of my reach. I raise an eyebrow. "Wings might … make my chores take longer today," he says, giving me another look. Ah. Gotcha. It’s a bit harder to sneak around with a thirty-foot wingspan, huh? I nod and let him go, waiting until the door closes before I set my food aside. All of a sudden, I've got butterflies.
What if Tee comes back in an hour and says he’s found the Looking-Glass? What will I do then? Take the twins with me and leave the others behind? Leave Underland to the King of Hearts and the Mad Hatter and the Anti-Alice?
Shit.
Since when did I grow a conscience?
"So," I start, swinging my legs out of bed and feeling this prickly rush of sensation race through me. "Should we get started with training?"
"Only if you think you're up for it," North says as I rise to my feet and close my eyes against a sudden wave of dizziness. I slept so hard and so long that I didn't realize it was morning when I first woke up; I still thought it was the previous afternoon. Fail.
"I'm up for it," I say, opening my eyes and locking gazes with the jabberwock. "Let's go downstairs, so you can kick my ass."
Or cup it, pound it, or otherwise touch it some way … That part I only add inside my mind.
Yep, I am the pervy one here. No doubt about that.
The Vorpal Blade reflects the light from the chandelier above my head, the one made of black and red glass in the shape of little hearts. It's quite beautiful, if out of place for a gym. But this is no regular gym. The floors are a sleek, shiny black, the walls are striped, and the ceiling is mirrored.
It's disconcerting, to see my own sweaty face staring at me when I'm flat on my back on the mat.
I wonder what else I could be doing on my back on this mat?
"Focus," the Duke growls, circling around me with quick steps. "The Anti-Alice will have trained her entire life for this moment. You … may get months at most, more likely weeks." He pauses and ruffles up his golden hair. "Hopefully not bloody days."
"Days?" I ask, feeling my throat get tight. I can't imagine fighting a combat trained woman in my current state. Whatever happened with that magic, it's still affecting me. I don't feel right, and I imagine it's going to be several days before I'm back to normal. But this ball bullshit, it's at the end of the week.
That doesn't give me a lot of time to prepare.
"What happens if I stab her with this?" I ask, flashing the blade. The Duke gives me a savage smile and steps close, bringing that warm, masculine scent with him. He reaches out one bronzed finger and traces it down the length of the blade, drawing blood.
"The Vorpal Blade is part of a Looking-Glass, pure magic. If you manage to penetrate the Anti-Alice with it, she'll try to absorb the power in it."
"And …" I start as blood drips down the length of the blade, hot and warm against my skin. I still don’t understand who this Anti-Alice is exactly, and why she’s called the Anti-Alice, but I’m learning as I go. It’s hard to get a straight answer out of these people on the best of days anyway. If I were to sit down and ask them to lay everything out for me, they’d probably just confuse me with stupid riddles.
"Well, just as you can only channel so much magic without feeling the effects, it's the same with her. She'll pull endless amounts of energy through that blade … and she'll die."
"I've never killed anyone before," I say as North wraps his fingers around my bloody wrist and pulls me close, so close that my breasts brush against his chest when I breathe. His stare is so intense, I swear I can feel it cracking my soul in half.
"You'll do just fine," he says as Chesh moves up to stand beside us, flicking his fluffy, black and white striped tail. He's supposed to be my sparring partner while North corrects my form. So far the only thing he's done since coming down here is nap. "There are two sides to every coin; you can't always flip for heads."
"That doesn't make any sense," I say, stepping back from North. If I let myself, I could get all wrapped up in the Savage Duke. Hell, I'd love to be wrapped up in the Savage Duke, tangled up in blankets, his hot, sweaty skin pressing against mine … Yeah, opening my sexual floodgate was maybe not the best idea. Now it feels like all I can think about is sex. "Not a lot does in this world."
"Maybe it's your world that makes no sense?" Chesh purrs, sheathing and unsheathing his claws. "Have you ever thought of it that way?" He circles around me like, well, a cat circling a mouse. Only, this bitch is no mouse.
North adjusts my grip on the Vorpal Blade's black hilt and then turns me to face the Cheshire Cat. He's wearing a loose leather vest over his bare, tattooed form, along with tight leather pants, and no shoes. I'm properly dressed in the full 'twin' outfit: black denim, button-up shirt, and boots. I started off in the coat, but I'm already soaked in sweat. I shed that shit a while ago. And yeah, there was no way I was wearing a skirt to train in. Can you imagine? It would get beyond carnal in here.
I did, however, put on Lory’s corset with all the little hidden knives tucked into it. Figured that could very well come in handy.
"Put him on his bloody back," North growls, shaking himself out and then reaching up to tap at the pointed tip of one of his horns. "I already know you're good on yours."
"Oh fuck off," I snarl as I widen my legs in a fighting stance … and Chesh yawns, stretching his arms up over his head. Clearly, he's not concerned. "Are you gonna fight me? Or you gonna lick your crotch again?"
"I'd much rather have you lick my crotch," Chesh says as he flashes a grin at me, showing off just enough fang to be cute. His eyes are wrapped in liner, and he's wearing a fucking collar. It even has tags on it—with my name on them. Well, Alice's name anyway. And I guess I am the Alice. Mistake or not, I'm the one that's here.
"Make me," I say, but Chesh just yawns and scratches at his fuzzy little kitty ears. Bastard.
"I'd rather just wait. That's what cats do, you know, stalk their prey. Don’t you ever just sit and converse with your pussy?"
"Dinah doesn’t exactly talk much," I say, ignoring his innuendo, and then I lunge forward, swinging the Vorpal Blade like North taught me. I hold it tight and low, thrusting forward as I pivot on my feet. I may as well have tried to shoot a slingshot at a fly.
Chesh leaps nimbly out of the way and lands in a crouch, smirking at me.
I shove my hair off my face, sending rainbow strands fluttering as I feign left and then sprint right. Chesh just flops onto his side and rolls out of the way, tail flicking as he laughs at me.
"Come at me, Alice," he purrs, all four limbs sporting claws. He looks like Dinah does when she meets a new cat or dog, lying on her back with all five of her weapons exposed—two front paws, two back, and a mouth full of teeth. Dogs might be surrendering when they show their belly, but cats … they're getting ready to whoop some ass.
"You son of a bitch," I growl as North circles around us, watching Chesh twist up like an acrobat and land on his feet. When I come at him again, he grabs my wrist and uses my own momentum to flip me over and onto my back.
All I can say for myself is that I manage to keep the knife.
Using my left foot, I kick out at Chesh's right knee, and watch as he jumps and sails right over it, landing with a foot on either side of my pelvis. I see that he's going for a pin, and pull both legs back, doing this awkward somersault thing that gives Chesh the perfect moment to go for my throat.
His fingers dig into the back of my neck, claws drawing blood. I cry out, but I don't stop, using my full bodyweight to pull back. This ti
me, I stumble, but I don't fall. Warm rivulets of blood drip down the sides of my neck as I fling my head back just in time to see Chesh coming at me again. Instead of throwing a punch, he shifts into his cat form, slips between my legs, and comes up behind me.
"In Underland, there's always another trick or two up your opponent's sleeve," he growls as he wraps an arm around the front of my neck, pulls back, and lifts me clear off my feet. Without thinking, I stab the Vorpal Blade down and back.
I really don't expect to hit him.
Blood explodes hot and warm around my fingers as Chesh screams and releases me with a hiss, stumbling back and collapsing to his knees. This time, he really does take the blade with him.
"Fuck!" I curse spinning and falling into a crouch next to Chesh. He's pulling the Vorpal Blade out with a snarl and tossing it aside. The mirrored weapon spins across the floor, leaving a trail of red in its wake as Chesh puts his hands over his wound and curls up in serious pain.
"Let me see it," North snaps, trying to pry his … uh, cat's … hands off the wound. There's blood everywhere, so much fucking blood. I feel woozy for a moment as I remember my brother, Fred, lying in a pool of the stuff. Dead. Cold. Gone forever.
My throat closes up, and I feel the hot, uneasy waves of panic washing over me.
"I didn't think I'd hit him," I choke as North forces Chesh's hands away from his stomach and takes a look at the injury. "I didn't know I could hit him."
"Never apologize for improvement," North says, but he's frowning hard, sweating, too. "Get the Mad Hatter," he tells me, flicking his gold gaze up in my direction. I look from his sweaty bronzed face to the Cheshire Cat's pale one, and I realize how much trouble we're really in.
Without hesitating, I stand up and take off for the door that leads back into the main hall. I have no idea where to find Raiden Walker, but I'll figure it out. I'll choke a dozen card servants if I have to.
Instead, I run into March.
He's waiting just outside the athletic facility doors, checking the cylinder of a revolver. Might be gold-plated, but I don't hold that against it. Everything in this world is deceiving.
"Where's Raiden?" I ask, and one brown rabbit ear swivels to face me. Or is it a hare's ear? I have no idea.
"He's in conference with the King," he says, noticing the blood on my hands, and reaching out to touch his fingers to mine. I jerk back, but all that does is make the asshole smile. "Why? Have you finally decided you can't live without him?"
"Just get him for me!" I scream, and I swear to God, the entire palace shakes around me. "Get him please," I correct, but the March Hare is already smirking at me. He closes the cylinder on his revolver, slides it into a holster under his jacket, and nods briskly. "I live to serve," he drawls, but I get the idea that I'm being mocked. Doesn't matter, as long as he's getting the damn vampire mercenary asshole for me.
Well, it doesn't matter right now.
Later, I may very well punch him in the nuts.
March moves down the hallway, leading me to a small, quiet study at the opposite end of the palace. I swear, it takes forever for us to get there. I want to run or scream, but I have the feeling that if I do, he'll take longer, just to see me sweat.
When we finally do get to the room, the guards let us in without question, and I burst inside, all dramatic and shit.
"Hatter, I need you," I say, hating the words even as they come out of my mouth. They feel like sand, scraping past my tongue. When he lifts his head to look up at me, there's already blood on his mouth. And there's red on the King's neck. That bastard Brennin Red just smiles at me, like he doesn't care that I've just caught him red … uh, necked? No, that sounds too much like hillbillies. Red-throated? Fuck, red-handed it is then.
"You do?" Raiden asks, his dark hair feathering around his face. He looks like a metalcore star, some guy who screams onstage in a five-piece band and makes millions for doing drugs and banging chicks. I hate him. "That didn't take long, did it?"
"The Cheshire Cat," I start, and I swear to fuck, the King actually smiles, like he looks happy. His crown slides forward on his head, obscuring one of his stupidly beautiful eyes. "I need you to heal him the way you did the Duke."
"The Cheshire Cat is dying?" Brennin asks, so interested it's almost creepy. The one eye of his that I can see is literally sparkling with magic. It really does look like a galaxy, filled with endless possibility and stars. At the same time, the expression on his face is most certainly malevolent. "Excellent. Let the little bastard bleed out."
"If you let him die," I start, curling my hands into fists, "you'll wish you'd never brought me back to your palace."
"Is that so?" Red asks, standing up from his massive desk and tilting his head to look at me. "And you have the power to back that up, Alice? Because yesterday, it seemed to have laid you flat."
I can feel those knives burning a hole in my corset. If this asshole keeps pushing …
"Hatter," I start again, focusing my attention on the man sitting at the King's right. He pulls a white handkerchief with red hearts on it out of his pocket and dabs at the blood on his lips. "Please."
"There's a price for every occasion, Alice," he says, standing up from his chair. From the shelves, I hear strange whispers, like the books are talking. I don't have time to deal with that shit right now, so I file it away for later. "What are you willing to pay?"
I'm shaking so bad right now that it feels like I'm having another seizure.
"Save the Cheshire Cat and prove to me you're not a complete waste of breath," I snarl as Raiden rises from his seat, picks up his cane, and makes his way over to stand beside me. His orange eyes are locked on mine. I feel trapped, like I can't look away. I wonder for a moment if he's trying to like, fucking hypnotize me or some shit. "And if you ask me to answer another riddle, I'll stab you with your own cane."
Turning away, I start back toward the doors, the Mad Hatter following along at my heels. The March Hare is waiting just outside for us, but doesn't bother to move as we pass him by.
"Leave the cat to die," Red says, moving into the hall behind us. "That's an order."
Without thinking, I spin around and stalk back toward him. The guards bristle a bit, but the King holds them off with a wave of his gloved hand. Guess he isn't afraid of me. He should be though. Tenacity goes a long way for making up for lack of physical strength.
I open my mouth to start off on a rampage, but the Mad Hatter beats me to it.
"If you think you can order me around—even on a good day—you've got another thing coming," Raiden says, reaching out and taking me by the wrist. The King is lucky, really. I might've stabbed him.
I can practically feel Brennin radiating anger from behind me as Raiden pulls me down the hallway, our boots loud against the marble floors.
"You're lucky, little Alice," the Mad Hatter says as we move in the direction of the athletic center. I'm so stressed right now that I can barely think straight. The thought of the Cheshire Cat dying at my hands is making me sick to my stomach. "Because I don't take orders from any king."
We step into the gym and move over to Chesh, lying on his back in a pool of blood. His face is ashen, and even the sturdy Duke looks concerned.
"What price is this going to come at?" North snarls as Raiden kneels down beside him, unconcerned by the blood soaking into the knees of his pants. I wonder what he was doing in there with the King, but I don't have time to analyze that at the moment. Another issue for future-Alice to tackle.
"Only your dignity," Raiden says as he bites hard on his wrist and opens his veins. Chesh is awake and breathing heavily, eyes half-lidded. "I just hope you'll remember this next time I need a favor."
"You're insufferable," Chesh manages to choke out before the Hatter puts his wrist to the man's lips. The cat laps it up with a grimace while I look on fascinated. There's something about all of this that interests me. Maybe it's because I've been a bookworm my whole life and now, I'm finally the character in the story. Isn't
that what every reader wants? To discover their own adventure?
"Insufferably vital," Raiden purrs as Chesh reaches up and digs his claws into the Hatter’s arm—with his claws out. The exchange only lasts a moment, but when Raiden pulls his arm back, Chesh's face is already warming up, pink returning to his cheeks. He sits up and adjusts his vest, giving me a sly look.
"Nice shot, Alice." He winks at me as he rises to his feet. There's blood literally everywhere, but nobody seems to mind. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm the only one freaking out. Before my nervous heart can catch up with my brain, I'm flinging my arms around the cat's neck and giving him a massive hug.
He hesitates for a moment, but then his arms go around me. You can tell a lot about a man by the way he hugs. Chesh is strong, and he squeezes me tight, but not too tight. His breath feathers my hair near my ear, but he doesn't press his luck or turn the moment into anything weird.
As I pull back, I reach up and give him a pat on the head and a scratch behind the ear. He doesn't look offended by it; I even get a little purr out of him.
"I'm really sorry," I say as North picks up the blade, swings it around in a circle with a single flick of his hand, and then offers it up to me. I hate to say it, but I'm pretty sure that look on his face is relief. "I let you both down."
"Down?" the cat asks, swishing his tail. "You just stabbed me. And if you can stab me, you can stab the Anti-Alice. I must say, I'm quite proud."
"If anything, it was my fault as your teacher," North says, and he's flicking his tail, too. They look like tail twins, these two men. It's kinda funny, really. "But now that I know you've moved past the fatal flop stage and onto a new level, I'll be more vigilant." North glances briefly in the Hatter’s direction, sneers, and then grinds out a forced, "thank you."
"Don't thank me, thank the King," the Hatter says, dipping a finger in the blood and lifting it to his lips. He sucks the red off while staring right at me, and then grins. "If I didn't hate him quite so much, your pussy here might just be dead."
He stands up and leaves the three of us staring after him.
Allison and the Torrid Tea Party: A Dark Reverse Harem Romance (Harem of Hearts Book 2) Page 13
