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

by C. M. Stunich

  "Mm," Lar murmurs, and when I glance over at him, I catch him watching me with that half-lidded stare. I get the feeling there's something he's not telling me. Another prophecy? I wouldn't be surprised.

  "Your lack of interest in our glorious King of Hearts is disturbing to me," the Knave purrs, her voice like velvet and sandpaper. There's a painful softness to it that makes my teeth hurt. "And what's disturbing to me is disturbing to the court."

  "That's quite enough of that," the King says, and when I glance over my shoulder again, I get caught in that ebon stare, and find it impossible to take another breath. "You were invited to observe, not to talk."

  The look on the Knave's face is priceless. The Lion—I can't remember if he's Rook or Knight—takes a step forward, but Ines reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder. The three of them move over to a seating area filled with tufted chairs in red and white, sitting their black-clad asses down on the cushions. They look like they're on their way to a freaking funeral.

  I turn back to Lar and accept the hookah again, pulling in a long, smoky breath of tobacco and flowers, teased through with the fruity freshness of blueberries. Already, I can feel that lightness in my skull, as if I'm starting to float.

  "Let's get to this, shall we?" March says, his accent thick and sexy as hell. He looks like a model, lounging there in an unbuttoned white shirt, the sleeves pushed up, a small top hat on his own head. He's still eating—do I ever see him not eating?—sucking the lollipop between his lips in a very suggestive sort of way. "The Alice and I have an appointment in the dungeon."

  "And you're already late," Rab says, checking one of his tattoos. "I don't see how we're going to be ready for the ball. If everything went smoothly—and I mean everything—we'll be lucky to get out of there with a disdainful approval from the court. But I can hardly imagine getting through the evening without bloodshed and substantial crimson splatter."

  "Why is it you sound so fucking excited about that?" I ask, passing the hookah around the circle. Brennin Red finally sits down on the side opposite the Hatter, two titans in one room. I have this feeling they're being civil for now. But their relationship is like a powder keg ready to explode. I'm desperate to know what they were up to in the study, with that blood on the King's neck and Raiden's mouth. Clearly, the vampire was drinking from the King, but why? And why did Red let him?

  "Oh, I love blood and bones," Rab says, rolling his head in a circle and blinking those disturbingly beautiful eyes at me. "Snacking on assholes feeds my soul."

  "You'll get a chance to eat at the ball, I'm most certain," the King says, his voice that disturbing eerie calm I was so awed by when we first met. I've seen his temper though, and it's mighty. I've also seen his self-control crumble away, when he pinned me to the wall and kissed the fuck out of me.

  The way he's staring at the floor though, I get that there's something else going on inside these castle walls. Internal politics. Gross. I've never liked politics. As far as I'm concerned, republicans and democrats … douchebags and turd sandwiches.

  "Well, I hope so," March says, drawing Rab's attention over to him. "Because it's been a while since I've popped someone's head from their shoulders. It comes right off, just like a bloody grape."

  "Don't you dare steal my kills, or I shan't ever fucking forgive you," Rab says, as Tee rolls his eyes, meeting mine from across the circle.

  "Can we get on with this?" Chesh purrs, sitting with one knee propped up, his elbow resting atop it. "I've got rodents to kill, a hairball to choke up, and an Alice to woo."

  "Please don't put hairball and woo into the same sentence," I say as the hookah finally makes its way back to the Caterpillar.

  "Purrrr-lease make me part of your harem, Alice?" Chesh yowls, flopping onto his side and pawing at the air with tattooed hands.

  "Insufferable beast," the King grinds out, as North slaps his tail against the floor and then grabs Chesh by the collar, making him sit upright like the rest of us.

  What a ragtag group of men, I think as I glance from Raiden Walker to Tweedledee. What am I going to do with them all?

  "So," Lar says, his quiet, commanding voice drawing a close to all of the nonsense. "The quintrille. Alice, do you know why it's called that?"

  "Uh, no clue," I say as he gives me this calm, easy sort of smile. He draws designs in the air with his fingers, and the blue-gray smoke from the hookah forms into a little, smiling crocodile.

  "Because it requires five couples," he explains. "As opposed to the quadrille which requires four."

  "Quint and quad, got it," I say, giving him a salute without even thinking about it. My cheeks flush and Dee grins at me from across the circle, his wings framing his beautiful face. I've been around the guy for a handful of weeks and already, I'm picking up his habits. "Five couples, ten people, the prophecy?" I continue, cocking a brow.

  Everything in this damn world revolves around the prophecy.

  "Ten people," Lar says, standing up and handing off the hookah to a card servant. There are a few of them scattered around the room, staring at us with dead, ink-drawn eyes. A few others approach as the men stand up, removing the pillows as Lar slowly unfolds his right arm, holding his hand out to me. "Five couples. Come, Sunshine, and we will dance."

  I take his hand as the boys pair up around me.

  Tee and Dee; Chesh and North; March and Raiden; the King and Rab.

  Lar leads us into the center of the ballroom, positioning us over a gold medallion inscribed with small designs. They make a story around the circle, with a much larger design in the center. I don't have time to examine it at the moment, but it looks interesting.

  The Caterpillar leans in, putting his mouth against my ear, overwhelming me with his scent.

  "Pretend I'm the King," he says, but I'd rather not. I get that I'll be dancing with Brennin Red at the ball, but I'd much rather dance with Lar right now. "You'll start in the center of the room, with everyone else around you."

  He places my hand on his shoulder, and curls his fingers around my other. We stand tall and straight and proud, staring into one another's eyes.

  "The other couples will approach the circle, turn to one another, bow." Lar nods his chin, and one of the card servants starts up the gramophone. "And then they'll turn to their right, and bow again."

  The music gurgles out of the old machine, a cheery marching band sort of sound with trumpets and a piano.

  Lar and I wait, poised like statues as the King and Rab waltz forward to meet March and Raiden, weaving around us and clasping hands as they pass. When they get to the opposite side of the circle, the King puts his hand on Rab's lower back and they spin in a circle, coming to face us again. They do the same moves one more time before clasping arms and parading around us.

  I'm happy standing right here, not doing any of the actual dancing.

  "How long does this part take?" I whisper as the same two pairs move forward and switch partners; the Hatter ends up with the King, while March and Rab wind up together.

  Oh.

  The plot thickens.

  "You'll see," Lar says, tilting his head to the side, his beautiful hair feathering across his face, his earrings dancing in that strange supernatural wind that seems to follow him around. He, too, has an aristocratic air, and I can't help but wonder if he's some sort of fae prince. It would only stand to reason, considering Tee and Dee. But who knows? In Underland, anything is possible.

  The other two couples switch partners as well, and then repeat the first set of movements, doing what the King and Co. did in reverse.

  "Now, we dance," the Caterpillar says, turning us in a circle, sliding his hand to my lower back, and then galloping us around the circle of men. I can feel all their eyes on me, watching me, studying me. I've never had so many guys interested in me before; it's fucking weird.

  Some part of me can't be happy about it though, because it feels like most of them are after the Alice and most definitely not Allison.

  Except … not
the twins, or North, maybe not even the cat.

  Lar, he's hard to read. I study his face as we weave in and out of the four other couples, our feet slowly rising off the ground as we go. My heart stutters a bit, half from fear, half from excitement as the ballroom slowly falls away.

  My dance partner opens his wings, these two glorious glittering swathes of color and magic. They glow blue, the edges ruffling in the breeze. It jangles the bracelets on his arms, his earrings, teases his nipple piercings. The coat, despite not actually being on his arms, sits pretty on his shoulders, the gold fringe and epaulettes catching the wind.

  God, I hate heights, but holy shit I love this, I think as we dance, Lar adjusting our arms until they're hooked at the elbow, and spinning us in a circle. What girl doesn't want to fly, after all.

  The other men are floating, too, but not as high as we are, not until Lar spins me one more time and releases me. He pauses for a brief moment, wings flapping softly, as he adjusts my arms so that one is behind my back, the other held to the side, bent at the elbow, with my palm up.

  He bows and sinks down a few feet, switching places with the Hatter.

  Fantastic.

  "Hello, Alice," he says, grabbing my outstretched hand and bringing it to his lips for a kiss. I shiver, but not in an unpleasant way, letting him parade me around in a circle.

  The sky outside is darkening, but I do not miss that giant ass bat landing on an arch and peering in at us with eyes as dark as the King's.

  "Your pet is staring at us," I say as Raiden raises an eyebrow and marches us around in the air. A small bat peeks out from under his hat and takes off, perching itself upside down from a decorative rose carved into the golden arches of the ballroom.

  "Is that so?" he asks, not even bothering to look in the creature's direction. "Does she bother you?"

  "No," I say, feeling far less comfortable all the way up here with Raiden than I did with Lar. Not only does the Caterpillar have wings, but he's just generally a much nicer guy. "I don't like heights, that's it. I don't have a problem with bats."

  I stumble over my own foot, an odd sensation floating that high up in the air, but the Mad Hatter catches me and keeps me upright, his tattooed fingers curled around my arms. His marmalade colored eyes are so intense, all I want to do is look away. And yet, I can't bring myself to do it.

  "How did you get here anyway?" I ask, licking my lower lip and trying my best to keep my gaze neutral and focused. "To Underland, I mean. You're from Topside, aren't you?"

  "Not everyone that falls down the Rabbit-Hole is an Alice," he breathes, spinning me around and then stepping back. Before I get a chance to probe him further, the King is taking his place, and I groan.

  "Try not to act so thrilled," Brennin grinds out, his stupid crown reflecting back the chandeliers' lights as they flicker and dance along with us.

  "Don't worry: that shouldn't be hard," I quip as the music changes to this slow, strange drawling song with a heavy bass and a chorus of snapping fingers, like some jazz lounge special performance.

  "What's all this talk of marriage?" he says, his eyes like shards of onyx. "I thought you wanted to go home?"

  "You clearly don't listen to a damn thing I say: I want to be able to go home and come back at will. That's what I want. Free will. Ever heard of it?"

  Brennin tightens his lips at my words, but he doesn't stop dancing. I realize that North and Tee were right: he's as good as Lar. Raiden was a decent dancer, but I had to think about the steps with him. With the King, it comes naturally.

  We stop talking then, and with the arrival of silence comes that awful, aching tension.

  My body wants the goddamn King, and I don't know how to make it stop.

  "Your Majesty." A female voice rings out, and I glance down to find the Knave with her head tilted in our direction, the White Knight at her side. "We have a problem."

  With a growl, Brennin Red scoops me up in his arms. I let out a small squeak, but I'm all the way up in the fucking air, so I thread my fingers together against the back of his neck as we drift toward the floor. Without meaning to, I play with the fine red hairs at the base of his scalp, and feel my heart skip a few beats.

  "What is it?" he asks, setting me down and stepping away in a swirl of robes.

  The White Knight cups her hand around the King's ear, and I see him stiffen.

  He glances back at me, slides his eyes down my body and makes me feel like I've just been dipped in warm honey. When they flick back to my face, I know I'm in serious trouble.

  This thing between Brennin Red and me, it's going to come to a head at some point.

  "Continue with the lessons," Red says, snapping his fingers. The White Knight steps forward and offers me a cheeky smile and a little bow, stepping in to take the King's place. I wish I wasn't sorry to see him go.

  But I am.

  Fuck.

  He moves across the marble floors with the Knave and her minions falling into step behind him.

  "Interesting," Raiden purrs, exchanging a look with March. "Very interesting."

  "Keep your filthy nose out of the King's business," North snarls, getting between the two mercenaries and his ruler's retreating back.

  "The King's business?" Raiden asks, tapping the brim of his hat in thought. "But the King's business is now my business. We're soon-to-be husbands-at-arms."

  "Over my dead body," I grumble, but I'm not about to get into it with them right now. I cross my arms over my chest as the Duke stares down the Hatter. Near the ballroom entrance, the Dormouse stirs, cracking his knuckles and stretching his neck from side to side in a particularly menacing way.

  If he goes for North, I swear, I'll unleash some of my special Alice magic on his ass.

  "Boys," I say, stepping between them before things can heat up. The last thing I need is a jabberwocky/vampire battle in the ballroom. "When am I going to start training to use my magic?"

  "Once we've dealt with the Anti-Alice," North says, but my change of subject isn't working. He's not even looking at me.

  "After the Torrid Tea Party," the Mad Hatter says, finally turning to look at me. "I'll show you how to use your magic."

  "The Torrid Tea Party?" I ask, blinking stupidly as the other men gather around us. "Is this one of the 'Hatter's famous parties'?" I make little quotes with my fingers.

  I get a saucy vampire smile in response.

  "Oh, most certainly."

  "And when is this supposed party taking place?" I ask as March lifts up his top hat and extracts a new lollipop, this one in the shape of a knife.

  "The night before the ball," Raiden says, smirking and looking stupidly delicious as he goes about it. Bad guys are not supposed to be attractive. They're supposed to wear dark robes, smell like old cheese, and cackle from the shadows. "I have to know who I can trust."

  "And how would a tea party help with that?" I ask as Dor moves up to stand beside his boss in a very threatening sort of way. North reacts, black scaly wings exploding from his back as he takes a step forward.

  I leap between the two of them and put my hands on the sides of his face, kissing him hard and fierce, a tangle of tongues that he accepts with carnal desperation. His hands are all over me, his wings wrapped around us, his tail squeezing my ankle.

  "If I weren't a civilized monster …" he snarls against my mouth, and I find myself melting against him. "I'd throw you to the floor and fuck you right here in front of the rest of these morons."

  "Oh god, don't say that," I breathe, my body throbbing in response to his words. "I might just take you up on that."

  "When I get agitated, I need to mate," he growls, nuzzling at my hair. I wrap my arms around him and sigh, knowing that everyone else is staring at us. Frankly, I just don't give two fucks. "It calms me down."

  "Oh, I see how it is," I whisper, but North tucks his wings back behind him and looks me over.

  "I can wait though," he says with this devilish expression on his face, his big black horns curving wicked
ly up from his gold hair. "Tonight, we'll mate in the Suit of Hearts."

  "Thank you for announcing that to the whole world," I say, feeling a blush color my cheeks as the White Knight chuckles at me, and the Dormouse scowls. I hope he gets hit by a brick and dies. Freak accidents happen, you know.

  "Shall we continue?" Lar says, appearing beside us and holding out a hand.

  "We shall," March replies from behind me. "Enjoy your dancing, because in about, oh, an hour or so … I'm going to fucking poison you."

  The dungeon is as clichéd as my future ball.

  It's down a spiral stone staircase, and it's cold, damp, and scary as shit.

  "This is beyond creepy," I say as the twins escort me past flickering torches and down into the bowels of Underland. The March Hare is walking just ahead of us, but I can see his brown ears swiveling to listen to our conversation.

  "The former King of Hearts used to keep prisoners down here," Tee says, and there's something incredibly melancholic about the way he phrases that. I wonder if any angels were locked up here previously? "The current king just curses them into card servants or sends them to the guillotine."

  Tee pushes purple-streaked black hair off his forehead and casts his jewel-toned eyes in my direction. I can't tell if he's relieved or upset by what he's just said.

  "They say the stones have absorbed the screams of the wicked over the years," Dee whispers, keeping his wings tucked in close and refusing to touch the stone walls if he can help himself.

  "Nonsense," Tee scoffs, and Dee rolls his eyes.

  "Contrariwise, it makes perfect sense. Locations absorb trauma, that's common knowledge."

  "It's common nonsense," his brother quips back, and I smile. I love their interactions. It makes me miss Fred a little, but in a good way, floods me with happy memories. Oh, Fred. Being here in Underland, that trauma seems so far away, but I know I'm not over it, not even close. Does a person ever really get over losing a loved one? Or does the pain just crouch deep inside the soul, waiting for the worst possible moment to pop out and shout peekaboo!