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

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 fussy, 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.

“Makes some sort of perverted sense,” I say as Raiden Walker strides down a small dirt path that winds through a path of daffodils, as bright and cheerful as the morning sunshine. “But aren’t we going to, uh, nibble some FUCKING EAT ME cakes and get big again?” I can’t help it; my eyes find the gardeners again, as large to me now as North was to me in his jabberwock form.

“Not until we get into the castle,” March tells me, tossing his apple core onto the ground … and then receiving a middle finger from one of the flowers. He flips it off right back as my mouth hangs open and I stick close to the Duke’s side. I figure if someone comes close to stepping on us, he could shift into his jabberwock form and he’d be at least the size of a small dog, right? “If any of the guards see us here now, they’ll probably stick us all full of arrows before we get a chance to explain.”

“Oh, well, that makes me feel better,” I snarl as Dor takes up the rear and we trudge on through the garden. At this rate, it feels like it’ll take days to get to the castle. Shit, it probably will. And my thighs are wet, and I’m wearing a flimsy, damp nightgown. The Duke is naked, and neither of us is wearing shoes.

“You’ll see, when you meet the King,” North says, drawing my attention over to him. “Becoming the Queen of Hearts, that’ll heal all of Underland.” I narrow my eyes on him, trying not to think too hard about the wild, angry mating session we just had. That’s a problem for later. Right now, I just want to get into the castle, shower, and put some damn clothes on.

I don’t bother to tell the Duke that first chance I get, I’m bailing through the Looking-Glass. And not just because I’m afraid he’ll try to stop me. No, it’s more than that. I don’t even know if I want to go back anymore. I make a rough, low sound in my throat and put my hands up to my face.

The Duke doesn’t say anything else for a while, but he does curl his tail around my ankle. I let him do it, too, even though I grit my teeth. I guess seeing him comatose with a hunk lopped off the side of his head endeared the asshole to me more than I care to admit.

We walk like that for several hours, beneath the lush jungle-like folds of … a well-manicured flower garden. But from down here, it all seems so wild and untamed, so dangerous. The rocking-horse flies and bread-and-butterflies look like fucking monsters. They don’t seem interested in us though, and North stays fairly calm as we walk, so I decide to relax my shoulders a bit and just marvel at the idea that I am this tiny. How cool is that? Besides, if I really need to, I have that mushroom meat stuffed in the Vorpal Blade sheath. I can pull it out at any time and return to my normal size.

For the next few hours, we walk in silence, the sunshine filtering through the leaves.

Occasionally, I hear Dor mumble something rude and violent behind us, but I ignore him. Seems like Raiden and March have him on a pretty short leash anyway.

Sometime later, just before we reach the edge of a white gravel pathway—a full-sized one that looks like a hundred mile stretch of white desert at this height—I hear the thundering of footsteps. It’s like a herd of elephants barreling down on us, and I shrink back, unintentionally putting myself against the Duke’s naked front. He’s half-hard, too, and stabbing me in the lower back with his dick.

First come ten soldiers carrying swords; they’re all dressed in red, black, and white livery decorated with hearts, their faces severe, mouths in tight, thin lines. Next, ten courtiers: they’re all ornamented in dresses and jewels and fine shoes, cloaks billowing out behind them. I’ve never even seen such a prissy, spoiled looking group of people.

Oh. Wait.

An old memory of Ellie Arkley—showing up to the first day of school in a stretch Hummer limo, dressed in a pair of ten thousand dollar shoes and an outfit that could purchase a homeless family a decent place to live—springs to mind like a weed. I remember her glittering diamond earrings, plastic surgery smile, and eight hundred dollar haircut, and almost puke.

Yep.

That’s what these people remind me of, privilege and unchecked wealth and greed.

I’ll see when I meet the King, huh? Yeah right. If these are just the courtiers, then I’m sure the King is a nightmare. And how could I ever like a man who treats the twins the way he does? No, no matter what happens with the Looking-Glass and the prophecy and my staying here … this King and I are never going to get along.

After that horrid procession moves by, I finally catch sight of him.

The King of Hearts … and beside him, the White Rabbit.

“Rab!” I shout, tearing from North’s arms and stumbling out onto the white gravel. He doesn’t seem to notice or hear me, so I shove the silken folds of my dressing gown out of the way, flip open the small leather pouch on the side of the sheath and take out a bit of mushroom meat. I used my fingernail to carve a ‘B’ into one and an ‘S’ into the other—for big and small.

Taking a small nibble from the ‘B’ side—I learned a lot from reading the original Alice books, and I know not to take too much, too fast—I feel myself rise up into the air, like I’m on the rope dangling from Twinkle the Bat’s massive hooked claws. My stomach lurches, and I almost scream, but then everything is snapping into place and I’m staring into Rab’s red eyes.

“Miss Alice,” he whispers, his ears twitching on his head.

I don’t even get a moment to breathe before the King is putting a blade to my neck with so much force that I feel a drop of hot, red blood leak down my throat and chest.

“Your Majesty,” Rab growls, putting up his white-gloved hands in a placating gesture. “Please, calm yourself. This is the Alice.”

“My name is Allison, so please Your Majesty,” I snarl out between clenched teeth, my eyes meeting the dark irises of the King of Hearts. His hair is blood-red, his scar ragged and white in the sunlight. I’ve never seen such a handsome face, but my God, what a complete and total prick. Even though his advisor is standing right there, telling him who I am—the girl he supposedly wants to marry—he holds his blade in place for so long that I start to sweat, beads of moisture mixing with the blood leaking from my throat.

When he finally pulls back, he turns his mouth into this disgustingly triumphant smirk, sheathing his blade at his waist and planting his hands on his hips. He gives me a very slow, very unnecessary once-over and then nods, like I’m a bit of horseflesh that’s met his stern and calculating approval.

This guy … he can go fuck himself with his royal scepter for all I care, shove it right up his ass to join the stick that’s already clearly wedged there.

“The Alice,” the King breathes, ignoring my previous proclamation. Eh, so what’s new? Not a single person here has listened to me about my name … except for Tee.

Speaking of … Behind the King and Rab, just off to the right and down another white gravel path, a set of double doors swings open and there they are, my twins.

My twins?

Uh-oh.

“Allison-who-isn’t-Alice!” Dee shouts, taking off across the gravel and grabbing me before I can take two steps toward him. He wraps his arms around me and squeezes me so tight and close that my feet come right off the ground. His wings are nowhere in sight—they couldn’t possibly be, since I wasn’t around to free them—but he’s smiling so big and wide that I can’t help but smile back. “Oh, you gave us quite the scare.”

“Quite the scare,” Tee chokes out from beside his brother, his amethyst eyes locked on mine, the sun catching on his purple-streaked black hair. His brother kisses me before I can get another word out, burying his tongue in my mouth and making me groan. He isn’t shy about his hands either, groping my ass in two tight handfuls. I encourage it by leaning into him, rubbing up against his body and lifting my nightie a bit on the process. Enjoy that show, you assholes, I think, smirking as I continue my kiss with the angel prince.

I don’t think Dee’s intention is to break the curse—his kiss is too pure—but that’s what happens anyway. In two brilliant bursts of sapphire light, Dee’s wings explode from his back, pushing up his trench coat and tearing through his black and white striped shirt. There’s a collective gasp from the courtiers waiting up ahead on the path, hiding like the little blue-blooded bitches they are behind a row of guards.

Oh. They don’t like seeing how princely and perfect their slave really is, do they? Too damn bad.

I pretend not to notice the genteel gasps and mutters, pulling away from the kiss with a laugh dancing in my heart and tingling on my lips. I even take a moment to brush some blue and black strands of hair from Dee’s forehead. The tension is thick enough to cut with a knife, but I make sure I look him in the eyes to let him know that to me, he matters. His expression is equal parts worry and fear, but he still manages a smile.

“You son of a bitch,” I breathe, pushing him back a little, so I can get some air. He lets me go, and then his brother and I stand there awkwardly for a moment before I embrace Tee, too. It surprises me how happy I am to see him, and I find myself rubbing my cheek against his chest as he curls his fingers around the back of my head and pulls me close.

“I’m glad you’re safe, Allison,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. His hot breath stirs my hair, and I shiver slightly. “And I’m sorry that we failed to keep you safe …”

“Oh, cheer up, would you?” an ice-cold voice says from behind me, and I whirl around to see the Mad Hatter rising up from the edge of the flowerbed. The King goes to put his sword to the man’s throat, same way he did me, but Raiden just laughs and knocks it aside, throwing up some sort of magic shield to catch a good two-dozen arrows aimed for his back.

Soldiers rush up and surround him as I dive forward and just narrowly manage to protect the Duke from being trampled. My reward is to get kicked in the face, have my leg stepped on, and end up almost getting killed myself when a jumpy soldier shoots an arrow at my back.

“Enough!” the King screams, throwing his arm wide and sending the soldiers scurrying back. Most of them drop to one knee. All of them except one, tall, blonde woman with a serious fucking attitude problem. Her eyes catch mine for just the briefest of moments before I hear Raiden Walker chuckling behind me.

I glance back over my shoulder and find that it was him who snatched the projectile that was aimed for my back out of mid-air, his other hand help up and brimming with a magic shield to keep Rab and the twins back.

“Relax, relax, everyone,” he purrs as I scoop the Duke into my hand and leave the March Hare and Dormouse on the ground. I also inadvertently saved them, too, but North is the only one I care about. I tuck him to my chest and then offer up the bit of mushroom flesh still clutched in my left hand. I forgot I was holding it, and it’s a bit squished now, but it works. “You see, the Alice, why I didn’t want to make such a fuss? Now you’ve ruined my grand entrance.”

The Duke of Northumbria gives the mushroom a lick, and then he’s toppling into me, knocking me onto my back and giving me a very vivid reminder of the sex we just had. We exchange a long, languid look before he finally stands up and pulls me along with him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Tee snaps before the King gives him a look. Tee curls his lip up in a snarl, but he steps back … even though his eyes go straight to mine and his hand hovers at the knife on his hip. I feel a little guilty, having had sex with North. I should tell Tee and Dee, first chance I get.

“Me?” Raiden says with a smirk and a cocky little head tilt. “I’m just delivering both the Alice and your precious Duke.” A moment later, the March Hare and Dormouse sprout to life behind the Mad Hatter’s shield. In fact, all five of us are trapped inside of it.

“Explain yourselves,” the King says in a surprisingly level voice. His dark eyes are as cool and even as granite, his shoulders relaxed. While everyone else looks like they’re about to turn this into a brawl, he looks like he’s about to take tea. Well, maybe not boosted tea, but like tea back home. Normal fucking tea. “What do you want Hatter?”

“Your pet Duke here,” Raiden begins, letting his marmalade orange gaze slide over to North. “He guaranteed me you’d match his generous donation of say … five hundred thousand coins, and the Alice here—the Alice, mind you—has also promised me her hand in marriage.” He turns back to the King, but there’s still no emotion brewing in the man’s eyes.

“Bargains made under duress are no bargain at all,” Tee snaps as Dee curls his lip in agreement, reaching up to adjust the peaked cap on his head. His wings cast beautiful shadows on the pavement in front of his feet.

“No bargain at all,” he agrees, his sapphire eyes lighting on mine. I don’t know what the hell this magic shield is that’s separating us, but nobody seems willing to approach it, so I don’t either. Instead, I hang back and wait to see how these politics play themselves out.

No chance in fucking fuck that I’m going to marry the Mad Hatter, but I’m also not going to tell him that while I’m standing inside some magic spell he’s just cast.

“I can leave right now?” Raiden asks, pulling off one top hat, and then another, and then another. He tousles his dark wavy hair with his fingers, but just keeps smiling, like he knows he’s already got this one in the bag. “Leave the Duke with a musking jabberwock, and turn the Alice into the King of Clubs like I’d originally planned.”

“Stand down,” the King says, lifting a gloved hand in the air. It’s covered in rings that sparkle with an unnatural light, like there’s so much more going on here than first appears. I feel a sigh come over the courtyard as the courtiers stop tittering, and the soldiers rise to their feet to put their bows away. A quick glance up at the walls and the turrets shows me dozens of other soldiers relaxing their postures—pretty much all of them are women, by the way.

The monarch licks his lips and then flicks his eyes down my front before turning back to Raiden.

“I’ll have a page show you to a guest room. Clean up. Have something to eat. Join me on the lawn for croquet—both of you. Duke, with me, if you please.”

The King gives me one last look, his dark eyes meeting my blue ones, before he spins away in a sea of red and black robes, Rab catching my attention before he moves off after him, dressed in a waistcoat and pinstripe slacks.

The shield around us comes down, and nobody tries to stop North and me when we move out of that bubble and over to the twins. Dee puts his arm around my waist in a semi-possessive but also comforting sort of way.

“Let’s get you some food,” he says as my tummy rumbles, and I put a palm over the front of my nightgown. Dee rubs his coat sleeve against my throat to clean off the blood from the King’s knife as I glance briefly at North, still gloriously naked and not giving two flying fucks about any of it. He meets my eyes, and I find myself biting my lower lip in a flirtatious sort of way. Gross. Edith would make so much fun of me if she could see me in my current state—panty-less and making come-hither faces at a dragon.

“I suppose I should tend to the King,” North says, but the way he looks at me makes me think he’d rather be tending to me. I shiver and Dee cocks a dark eyebrow in my direction. Ah. Clearly I have some explaining to do. “Take your time and fetch yourself a pair of knickers.” He flashes a sharp grin at me as my cheeks heat and I narrow my eyes on him. “I’ll keep the wanker occupied and be waiting for you when you come down.” He reaches out with the long, muscular length of his tail, tucking my hair behind my ear with the tip before he turns and moves down the path in the direction of some rolling green lawns.

“Something’s changed between you,” Tee says, drawing my attention back to him. He doesn’t sound upset though, just … curious. And relieved. God, if I could bottle up his relief and sell it, I’d be a millionaire back home.

The thought makes me smile.

“Food sounds good,” I say, finally responding to Dee’s statement, “but I’d prefer a shower and some fresh clothes first, if you’ve got any.”

“Your wish is my command,” Dee says, keeping his arm around me but affecting a little half-bow as he sweeps his hat off his head. The feathers of his wing brush against my bare back and make me shiver as he stands up straight and folds them tightly together.

As we walk away, I look back and see the Mad Hatter, watching me with a smirk on his face and a wink at the ready.

He gives it to me nice and slow, theatrical, and then we turn the corner to head inside and he disappears from view.

‘I was so fucking worried about you,’ Dee says, hugging me close and making me go all warm and fuzzy inside. The feel of his hard muscles pressing against the thin fabric of my nightie is nice in so many ways. I missed him, weird as that sounds. I mean, we were only separated for a day. Not even, really. But it feels like an eternity. I guess the thought that I might be raped and killed has sort of … shifted my priorities.

‘We were so fucking worried about you,’ Tee says, standing straight and tall and proud on my other side. He’s looking dead ahead, toward a set of double wood doors that are standing wide open. On the outside, he’s all calm, quiet strength; on the inside, I can see him fuming. When he flicks his aubergine eyes in my direction, I can tell he’s scared shitless, too—or was.

For me.

Tee was scared for me.

‘Worried, anxious, distraught, broken, twisted …’ Dee pauses and adjusts his hat with his left hand, shifting his wings around in the process. Before I can think better of it, I reach out and ruffle the feathers, making him shiver. He casts me a lascivious little wink and tosses a smile my way that’s only slightly tainted by worry. My disappearance really messed with their heads, didn’t it? Just like you’re starting to care about them, they’re starting to care about you, I think and then shake my head to clear it.

How can I really care about someone I just met? How can they care about me? And yet … I study Dee’s blue military jacket, the silver heart buttons, the tight black denim jeans, and the leather belt with his knife hanging off it. His mouth is pinched just a little too much, his eyes are just a tad too hooded.

Yep.

For whatever reason, he cared that I was gone; he cared a whole fucking lot.

‘Were you really?’ I ask, feeling my heart thunder in my chest. Just before we head inside, I glance out at the lawn once more and see North standing next to the King, gazing after me with heavy-lidded eyes. He blinks them twice then smiles. Guess he’s not worried about this whole effed-up situation. He is, after all, a ‘hefty giver of tithes to the crown’ anyway. These dudes all seem pretty serious about this prophecy thing, and about dating me, so maybe the Duke’ll keep me safe against the King?

If he can.

I give North a wave, he salaciously rubs his hand up one of his horns, and then I turn back around just in time to see the black and white checkered marble floors of the palace. We’re not two feet into the place before things start to get weird.

The arched ceilings are covered in faceted mirrors, lending this eerie funhouse quality to the ostentatious beauty of the palace. There are intricate gold arches sweeping above us, a match to the gilded frames on the walls featuring various members of the royal family in frilly gowns or furred cloaks—essentially all of them are female.

‘I take it there aren’t often kings that aren’t attached to queens?’ I ask, and Tee makes a slight, soft sound in his throat. Almost a scoff, but not quite. His amethyst eyes are focused straight ahead, but I direct my stare toward him, let it burn until he finally flicks them my way and blinks like he’s coming out of a coma.

‘It’s your world, reversed. So no, there aren’t many unattached kings.’ Tee rubs his hands down his face, flashing some of the tattooed skin on the backs of his arms, and sighs again, like he’s exhaling the stress of the last twenty-four hours. ‘The court expects him to be married as soon as possible.’

‘As soon as possible,’ Dee repeats, his voice a much more chipper version of his brother’s. ‘To you, of course.’ He fluffs his wings, almost like he’s just checking to make sure they’re still there. I see Tee’s eyes go straight to them, and I’m tempted to free his, too, right here where any asshole could see. And yet, there’s something about the idea of kissing Tee that makes my cheeks go bright-red. I think it’s his intensity. While Dee is light and fluffy and fun, like a beam of sunshine on the skin, Tee is as fleeting and rare as moonlight.

‘I’m not marrying the King,’ I say, and those aren’t empty words. My brother died because he was protecting my right to decide what to do with my own body. He shouldn’t have had to, but he did. And I bet marriage in this world carries similar expectations to that in mine. If you’re not catching my drift here, I’m talking about sex. ‘I’m not fucking that prick of a king,’ I say aloud, grinding my teeth. ‘If I have to, I’ll make a run for it, straight through the damn Looking-Glass.’

Tee turns me suddenly toward him, cups my face in his hands, and kisses the ever-loving shit out of me. His tongue slides against mine in this passionate, frenzied tangle. There’s fear in that kiss, or maybe panic, I’m not sure. Either way, his wings burst from his back, rending his shirt, and spreading like rain clouds across a desert sun, bringing shadow and wetness where there was none. I feel drenched, and I mean metaphorically speaking, not just between my thighs.

‘Don’t talk about it,’ Tee whispers, his lips pressed close to mine. I open my eyes and all I can see is him. His face is too close to my own, there are too many shades of purple in his irises, and his mouth is too full and beautiful. My knees start to quiver, and if he didn’t have his hands on my waist, I might’ve hit the floor. ‘Not here.’

‘Won’t the King flip out if he hears you were tonguing his future bride?’ I whisper, my hands trembling and curling into unconscious fists in my nightie. I can feel a single bead of sweat working its way down my spine, a warm heat blossoming low in my belly.

‘We belong to you,’ Tee says curtly, releasing me and stepping back. But I don’t miss that last, lingering look he gives me, his eyes as purple as summer grapes. Dee makes a sound from behind me, and we all pause as a pair of playing cards with arms and legs scurry past us. They’re the size of small children with faces printed on their fronts, frozen in expressions of terror, like they died screaming.

And they’re fucking terrifying.

‘What the hell are those?’ I ask, stumbling back and slamming into Tee’s broad chest. He puts his hands on my shoulders and squeezes as the pair of animated cards walks past with silver trays on their outstretched palms. The creepiest part is how human their appendages are, with skin tones in shades of cream and cocoa. Not to mention they each have scabs and scars and hair decorating their limbs.

‘House servants,’ Dee says, snapping his fingers. One of the cards, the one with a female face, makes her way over to us, a pair of black Mary Janes on her feet and little frilly white socks poofing around her ankles. ‘Can we get three meals brought up to the Penthouse Suit, please?’

‘Penthouse Suite,’ I correct, but Dee just raises a dark eyebrow at me.

‘Not Suite, although it is very sweet, but Suit. Penthouse Suit, like Suit of Cards. Although it’s just the difference of a single ‘e’, now isn’t it?’

‘Make that four meals, you crooked little tidbit of dark magic, you,’ a voice purrs—quite literally—in my ear. In the span of an instant, I’ve got a heavy weight on my left shoulder, and a fucking cat rubbing against my cheek. ‘I’m quite fur-amished.‘ I narrow my eyes at the admittedly terrible pun, and reach up to give Chesh a small scratch on the head. There is a distinct possibility he’s looking down my top, so I should probably punch him, but I’m too much of a crazy cat lady at heart. Even lecherous pussies deserve love.

‘Are you even allowed to be here?’ Tee asks, crossing his arms and lifting his chin in the direction of the guards posed against the opposite wall. These, at least, are human, even if their red suits of armor are a bit strange. They reek of blood, too, this coppery scent that stings my nostrils and makes my eyes water. If the blood is supposed to repel things like jabberwocky, then how is North putting up with it?

‘Can a person really be allowed or disallowed from being in a certain place or time?’ Chesh slides off my shoulder, shifting as he goes, like a cloud of smoke moving from one place to the next. When he materializes, he’s dressed in tight, leather pants, a silver chain belt, and nothing else. It’s hot as hell, especially when he licks his tattooed right arm and slides it over his head, crushing one of his striped ears against his dark hair as he cleans himself. ‘Only gods have the right to do that, and gods do not exist.’ Chesh flicks his tail and narrows his gray eyes on the three of us. ‘How was your date with the Hatter?’

‘Maybe we should head up to the room before we discuss this?’ Tee snaps, and Chesh lifts his gaze lazily up in the twin’s direction. He looks downright bored—like most cats. I still can’t figure out his position in all of this. There’s the King, the King’s servants, the King’s bloody Duke, and the King’s, uh, spiritual advisor, as well as the King’s enemy-plus-sidekick, and then there’s … this guy. With no relation to the King whatsoever. I’d been guessing he was the Duke’s servant, yet he seems a tad … removed from the situation.

But standing here under a mirrored ceiling, with fucking playing cards sweeping past us with their creepy little legs and silently screaming faces, is not really the place to get into it.

‘I could use a bath,’ I say, feeling a slight heat suffuse my cheeks. There’s still evidence down there of my rumble with North. And yeah, by evidence, I mean cum—his and mine. ‘And a dress that doesn’t show my nipples.’

Dee snorts as Chesh smirks lazily at me, his mouth stretching wider than it rightfully should, all sharp, white teeth and sass.

‘I like a dress that shows your nipples,’ he says, disappearing from view until there’s nothing left but that smile.

“Mind your manners,” Tee snaps, brushing strands of hair from his forehead as Dee gives him a quizzical sort of look. I think Tee carries more stress on his shoulders than his brother realizes. I’m starting to wonder what time they realized I was missing last night, and if they got any real sleep. Tee has dark purple bags under his eyes. “You may come only if Allison gives you permission.”

“Allison, is it?” Chesh purrs, his eyes and striped cat ears fading back into view. “Oh, he calls her Allison. How charming. But her cat—and we all know there’s no higher authority on Topside above or Underland below that’s more prudent—calls her The Midnight Knicker Dancer.” I choke on my own spit and Dee has to pat my back to help me breathe again.

“What the hell did you just say?” I ask, feeling my cheeks go beet red as I think about dancing in my panties at home in front of my little black cat, Dinah.

“Your pussy,” Chesh purrs, reappearing fully and then rubbing his whole damn body against mine, “calls you The Midnight Knicker Dancer. It’s written all over your face and ankles.” He pauses in front of me and points to my head and then my feet with a sharp-nailed finger before leaning in and rubbing his cheek against mine. “Cats have scent marking glands in their face, didn’t you know?”

“Yeah, I did know,” I say, pushing him away from me as Tee scoffs and Dee raises both eyebrows. “What does that have to do with a stupid nickname you just made up?”

“Made up?” Chesh asks, putting one hand on his bare chest and drawing my attention to his myriad black and gray tattoos. “If I were going to make up a nickname for you, it most certainly wouldn’t be that.” He licks his lips, his two little feline fangs sticking out in the most adorable way. “Your cat left it written in your scent, as bright as the fireworks on coronation night. She quite literally rubbed you the wrong way, didn’t she?”

“You learned all that by smelling me?” I ask, getting sassy and cocking a hip out as I cross my arms over my chest. As soon as the question leaves my lips, I regret it. Oh God, my tumble with the Savage Duke!

“That’s not all I smell,” Chesh purrs as Tee shoves him to the side and grabs my arm.

“Let’s head upstairs. You don’t want your first meeting with the King to be when he’s in a mood.” Tee scowls, tossing a glance over his shoulder that’s pure poison. I’m not sure yet if he hates the Mad Hatter or the King of Hearts more.

“Head is right,” Dee says with a small grimace, drawing a line across his throat with his finger, reminding me of the King’s scar. “Because heads will roll if we piss him off.” Dee takes up a position on my other side as Chesh shifts again and hops into my arms. I grab him out of habit, but give out a little growl of my own when his head gets too close to my boob.

If he ‘scent-marks’ that with his cheek, there’ll be hell to pay.

“Lead on,” I tell the twins, and they do, away from Raiden Walker and the King of Hearts and all of their bullshit.

At least … for now.

But peace, true peace, doesn’t last long in Underland.

The Penthouse Suit of Hearts is basically an entire floor that encompasses a bedroom, sitting room, library, and bathroom all in one. Only downside is that the bathroom has no door, just a sheer curtain on a circular metal loop that I can pull closed. I decide I don’t care enough for modesty to be bothered by it, and sink into the hot water. It was piped in here, just like it was at Rab’s. This world is both medieval and modern. Total fucking mind trip.

‘So what happened?’ Tee asks, just outside the curtain, leaning against one of the curved, white walls with his boots crossed at the ankles. It’s like he’s afraid to walk away from me, like I might disappear if he does. Hell, maybe I would? In this place, it’s hard to find anything that’s an impossibility.

‘You mean when I was kidnapped?’ I ask, feeling the deliciously scalding water surge over me, cupping the sweet soreness between my thighs, buoying my breasts. Have you ever noticed that? That breasts float? Like … sexy pool toys or something. ‘Because I was about to ask you the same thing. You said I was safe on the Duke’s estate.’

‘I thought you were,’ Tee chokes, his voice much rougher than it was before. I think he feels like he failed me. Not in my book though. I get the idea that the Mad Hatter and Company are pretty badass. He’s a fucking vampire for Christ’s sake. ‘Although that doesn’t excuse our behavior.’

‘Off with our heads,’ Dee quips playfully, trying to lighten the mood as he lounges on my new heart-shaped bed. There’s a knock at the door, and I watch as his shadow rises to its feet and makes its way over to answer it. Guess our food is here. And it’s been delivered by creepy little card people with macabre expressions of torture and terror etched into their fronts. I’m sure dinner will be downright goddamn delectable.

‘Did the king order you beheaded?’ I ask, narrowing my eyes. I’ve read the book; I’ve seen the movie. Isn’t that what the Queen of Hearts always says? Off with their heads?

‘He said it, but he doesn’t mean it,’ Tee growls as Dee wheels in a cart and heels the door closed with his boot. ‘He likes our pain and suffering too much to end it.’

‘Well, if North was captured by the Mad Hatter and the March Hare, there wasn’t really much hope for me, was there?’ I say, picking up a red bar of soap. It’s, unsurprisingly, also in the shape of a heart. They’re really big about themes around here. I lather up and start soaping my armpits. Hate to admit it, but I could really use a razor. ‘They were waiting downstairs with North’s head bashed in. I had the Vorpal Blade, but no chance to use it.’

Running the soap down both arms, I take a surreptitious glance at the decorative table next to the tub. It’s plied with all sorts of different toiletries, but I’ve only got my eye out for one thing. I spot a straight razor next to a bottle of glowing perfume that says FUCKING SPRAY ME! which is like, never going to happen. If EAT MEs turn me into a house and DRINK MEs shrink me into a mouse, what the crap does that thing do?! Grow me some slimy green tentacle arms?! I snatch the razor up, flip it open, and try to figure out how to shave my pits without filleting all my skin off.

Yes, I am a very classy girl. Cue eye roll.

‘How on earth did the Duke manage to survive that particular encounter?’ Chesh purrs, curled up on the massive continent they call a bed. Clearly, it was made for like … hmm, let’s say ten people. Yeah, I really could fit nine suitors into that thing. Huh. They really do take that fucking prophecy seriously. ‘It’s no secret that the Hatter and the Hare are not exactly fans of the Heart.’

‘I made a bet and won it,’ I say, letting my mind wander to that glorious kiss between Raiden and North. Now, that made the whole experience almost worth it. Almost. I mean, other than the threat of being sold to the King of Clubs, forced marriage, and/or death. ‘Raiden gave him some blood and voila, he was healed.’

‘Raiden gave North blood? Because of a bet?’ Tee pauses and exhales. ‘Sounds about right. He’s fucking insane.’

‘Mad really,’ Dee says, pushing aside the curtain and making me squeak. I’m covered in bubbles, but still, the invasion of privacy annoys me. Sure, we had sex, but that doesn’t mean I want him watching me shave my armpits with a too-sharp razor. My anger is mollified though when he hands me a chocolate cupcake with sparkly heart candies on the top. ‘Can I get you a towel, Allison-who-isn’t-Alice? Or a kiss? A hand job perhaps?’

Never mind. My anger is not mollified. I’m still irritated, but also … I think he’s cute, too. Damn my girlish hormones.

‘A towel, yes. The rest: not a fucking chance,” I say, tearing the wrapper off the cupcake and shoving half of the dessert in my mouth. Dee complies, fetching a red towel and robe from the cabinet and draping it over the little side table. He slides the gauzy red curtain back into place, giving me that extra second I need to finish shaving.

And why are you so concerned with shaving, Allison? I think as I examine my calves for any stray hairs. Because you plan on rubbing up naked against a pair of fallen angel princes? With a sigh, I drop my leg back into the water and realize that I’ve sort of given up on fighting this whole Underland experience. It’s happening; I’m here; I’m going to make the most of it.

“The King was serious about us joining him downstairs?” I ask as I splash my face with water and fight off a crippling wave of fatigue. When my head finally does hit those (obviously heart-shaped) pillows, I’m a goner. “Because I could really use a nap.”

“A cat nap?” Chesh purrs, but I ignore him.

“The King is always serious,” Tee says, and the melancholy in his voice makes me want to wrap him up in a hug. It was the current king’s father who sent soldiers after the twins’ people, right? I can’t be bothered remembering the whole history of Underland; I’ll ask questions later, when Chesh isn’t around to eavesdrop. Speaking of the prior king … those soldiers in Dee’s memory, they looked like cards, too, didn’t they? What’s up with that? “The Duke will keep him occupied for a while, but we shouldn’t push our luck.”

“Speaking of the Duke,” I start, wishing I could sink into this bathtub and drown my embarrassment, “we sort of … mated.”

Hearts above, why did I just use the m-word?! What the crap is wrong with me?!

“With that arrogant look on his face,” Dee muses, rooting around on the food cart, “there was no doubt.” All I can see through the curtain is shadow, but his voice sounds light enough. There’s not even a hint of jealousy in there.

“No doubt, nohow,” Tee repeats softly, and I wish fervently that I could see his face. I pop a soap bubble with my finger. “And no surprise: there’s not a soul in Underland who didn’t think the Alice would fall in love with the Savage Duke.”

“I’m not in love with him,” I blurt, but does it really matter? I slept with him; I like him. I guess that makes him one of their supposed nine? “But, uh, aren’t I supposed to ask the primary if he can … join the harem?”

“Oh, harem, I like that word,” Dee says licking something off the tip of his finger. It’s hot, even if all I can see is his shadow.

“Can I join your harem then?” Chesh asks, tail flicking anxiously. “Because I didn’t just bring you mice—I brought you rats. That’s a worthy gift, don’t you think?”

“Make Tee the primary,” Dee says, ignoring the cat. His voice is still all light and fluffy, but I can see right through him. He cares about his brother, and he’s trying to make him happy. My heart grows three sizes like the damn Grinch’s, and I shift in the bathtub, my bare butt cheeks squeaking against the porcelain. “And ask him.”

“I don’t need to be the primary, Dee,” Tee says, and his brother snorts, turning and leaning against the food cart. I need to get out of this damn bath, so I can see facial expressions.

“Contrariwise,” Dee snorts as I stand up and dry off (well, in a half-assed sort of way—there’s still some bubble bath in my crack). “You’re the older twin, so you should be the primary. Technically, you were the crown prince back home.” I wrap the fluffy white robe around myself and step out of the bathroom, trailing bubbles behind me. Both twins and Chesh turn to look at me with varying expressions on their handsome faces. “Don’t argue with me: you know I always win.”

“Fine,” Tee says, giving in surprisingly easy. My guess? He didn’t want to win this particular argument. “Then I accept the Duke, but not you.”

“Ouch,” Dee hisses, cringing and then winking at me as I pause next to the smorgasbord of … totally weird shit. It looks like food, but who knows for sure? I drop the cupcake wrapper off and trade it out for, well, I think it’s a sandwich. There’s a dark brown roll (did you guess that it was heart-shaped? if not, you fail, because it is) that smells like sourdough, and it’s piled high with meat and veggies. What sort of meat, I just don’t want to know at this point. Probably freaking jubjub bird again. “So awfully cruel, brother.”

“And what about the cat?” Chesh insists, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting up. “Or has he not courted Midnight Knicker Dancer for long enough?”

“If you call me Midnight Knicker Dancer again, not only will you not be welcome in my harem, you won’t be welcome in my room, or even my good graces.” I sit down heavily on the edge of the bed with my food and try not to sigh with bliss. It’s beyond soft. The King of Hearts really knows how to live. It takes every ounce of willpower I have to resist the urge to lie down and go to sleep. Back home, it’s my favorite activity. In this world, it’s a rare treat. I rub my hand down my face. “Let’s pick up this discussion later, when I’m running on more than just fumes. What do I wear to this croquet thing anyway?’ My lids are heavy, and my lashes feel as if they’re coated in sandpaper and sitting heavy on my cheeks. ‘And do I really have to play the game with a flamingo as a mallet and a hedgehog as a ball?’

‘Even more proof that you are the Alice,’ Dee says, swinging back a heavy red velvet curtain on one wall and revealing a hidden closet. It’s about, I’d say, three to four times the size of my bedroom at home. There’s a crooked chaise lounge, no less beautiful because of its wonky shape, and a chandelier made out of skulls that are just a bit too human for my liking. The clothes inside, however, are exquisite: velvet, furs, brocade, leather, embroidery, silk, and more jewels than one girl could wear in a lifetime.

I miss jeans and t-shirts.

‘How is that proof that I’m the Alice?’ I ask, taking a bite of my sandwich and sighing with relief when it actually tastes good. I force my tired body off the bed with a groan and move to stand in the entrance to the closet. It’s too big, too grand; I don’t know what to do with it. As nice as it is, it can’t last. Nothing good ever really does. ‘I’m too tired for riddles.’

‘You just know the prophecy oh so well,’ Dee says, hip-bumping me out of the way and moving across the thick white rugs piled high on the closet floor. He opens one of the cabinet drawers on the far wall, digs around a bit, and pulls out a pair of black suede slacks, a peaked cap similar to his own, red leather riding boots, and a black and white checkered blouse. ‘You’ve even got it memorized.”

“So … there are flamingos and hedgehogs then?” I ask as Dee presents me with the clothes, and cocks his head to one side.

“What’s a hedgehog?” he asks, but my brain is too tired to deal with nonsense. I just push him out the closet door and kick it closed, so I can change in peace. I keep telling myself that in this castle somewhere is the Looking-Glass, my ticket home. I’ll get to see my dad and my sister again, my cat, Dinah. Somehow none of that provides me much motivation, not when I know the fate I’d be leaving Tee and Dee to. And then there’s North … and his cat. Fucking Cheshire Puss.

Ugh.

This is why I don’t sleep with guys on a first date. Things get complicated; things are already complicated.

“How do I look?” I ask after I slip out of the robe and into my new outfit, throwing the closet door open with a dramatic flourish. Dee ruffles up his hair with long fingers and gives me a slow, calculating once-over.

‘Like a queen,’ he says, and then I’m sorry I even asked. How can I be a queen of anything when I can barely take care of my own life? Back home, all I do is read, sleep, and eat. Rinse, repeat. That’s my entire life; I can’t be expected to run anyone else’s.

“You look beautiful,” Tee adds as I exhale and pick my robe up off the floor. Maybe there are servants who do that sort of thing here, but having morbid little card creatures doing my laundry is not an idea that appeals to me.

“Good enough to eat,” Chesh purrs, arching his back and digging his nails into the bedspread. He hops off the bed and swaggers his leather-pant-wearing ass over to a tall, carpeted sculpture in the corner.

Oh. It’s a cat tree, as in a play structure made specifically for cats.

‘Who are you anyway?’ I ask, glaring at Chesh as he climbs up and then lounges on said cat tree—in full human form, I might add. His leather pants are too low slung, and there’s a tantalizing trail of dark hair below his belly button. Normally, I’d try not to stare, but this is Underland, and I’m tired, and there’s a vampire and a king waiting downstairs for me. So I just look at him until he reaches down, unzips his leather pants, and then— ‘Please don’t lick your crotch while I’m in the same room as you.’

‘Would you rather lick it for me?’ Chesh growls, mouth spreading into a cat’s grin. I flip him off and take a red wool military jacket from Dee’s hands, our fingers brushing together for a moment. He purposely tangles his with mine and pulls my hand close, giving my knuckles a long, lingering kiss with his hot mouth.

‘I’m glad you’re safe,’ he whispers, going down to one knee in front of me. Our eyes lock, and I feel this little quiver of excitement sizzle through me. I can’t forget the feel of his wings on my skin, the warm slide of his body inside of mine. ‘I’m really glad.’ Dee gives my hand a kiss and a squeeze, and stands up, stepping back to give me some room. Tee hands over the thigh-sheath with the Vorpal Blade in it next, and the Queenmaker tucked in a gorgeous red leather waist holster with tooled black hearts.

“Thanks,” I say, licking my lips and glancing down at the black hearts on the toes of my new boots for a moment. There’s an awkward silence that follows that I’m so desperate to fill, I turn back to Chesh again. ‘Anyway, you ignored my question: who are you?’ I repeat, focusing on the asshole’s pierced septum and wondering if I sound too much like Lar. Speaking of, where is that cheeky butterfly?

‘Why, I’m the cat,’ Chesh purrs, sweeping his black and white tail around in a curious little wave. ‘The Cheshire Cat.’

‘I’m well-aware,’ I say, struggling and failing to put the new belt around my waist. Tee steps close to help, his body heat seeping into mine, his serious stare a welcome bit of steel in this crumbling world of rainbow madness. ‘What I meant was, who are you in relation to the hierarchy here? Are you the Duke’s servant?’

Chesh blinks huge, gray eyes at me, and then yawns, flashing his bright pink tongue.

‘Servant? You know as well as I that a cat serves no one but himself.’ Chesh sits up and leans over, his beautiful stomach muscles bunching up, my eyes drawn right back to that line of dark hair all over again. ‘I’m the Duke’s friend. Don’t you have any friends, Alice?’

‘Allison,’ I say out of habit, sweeping back wet strands of hair from my forehead. ‘And that’s it? You’re just a friend?’

‘Just a friend?’ Chesh asks, cocking one triangular ear back. ‘Friends are rarer than diamonds and twice as precious. Are you quite mad?’

‘Apparently,’ I say, shrugging into the wool coat and taking a deep breath. I’m about to play croquet with a bunch of mentally insane psychopaths; this is a new low, even for me. I hadn’t had much of a plan before I got to the palace, and I’m starting to feel like I’m even more out of my league than I first realized. ‘We’re all mad here. I’m mad, you’re mad …’ I trail off as Chesh howls with laughter, run my suddenly sweaty palms down the front of my new jacket, and get ready to face off against the King of Hearts.

The March Hare is waiting just outside the gargantuan double doors that lead from the palace to the royal gardens. He’s got a carrot in his hand which should be funny, considering his brown rabbit ears and all, but really, it’s almost sexual the way he eats it. He sucks the tip into his mouth, swirls his tongue around the orange flesh, and then gives me this easy, one-sided smirk.

‘The Boss wants me to keep a close eye on you,’ he says, his voice laced through with an English accent. It’s much less formal than North’s, but it has this quiet, lilting quality, like I’m hearing his words inside of a dream.

‘Does he now?’ Tee snaps, his teeth clenched tight. ‘Seems to me that your boss best defer to the King when it comes to the Alice.’

‘Oh?’ March asks, tipping his top hat forward to shade the velvet brown color of his eyes. ‘You think the King of Hearts has any influence over the Hatter? That’s a unique perspective.’

‘You think one mercenary asshole has the power to topple an entire kingdom?’ Tee asks, stepping forward and putting the toes of his boots against March’s. It gives me a little thrill, watching him stand up for me like that. Not that I can’t stand up for myself, but it’s always nice to have allies.

The look on the March Hare’s face is demented. Deliciously demented, but still, it gives me pause. He runs his fingers along his chin and twitches one brown ear.

‘Ask the Queen of Clubs,’ he drawls, and then sets off toward the grassy area on our left. I’ve never seen such a curious croquet-ground in all my life. Hell, I’m not sure that I’ve ever seen a croquet-ground in my life. It’s all ridges and furrows; the croquet balls look like ivory lumps, and the mallets shimmer in the sun like bone.

The wickets are made up of the little card people, their grotesque faces twisted into silent screams. Just looking at them, with their human legs and arms bent into unnatural positions, makes me want to puke. Sure, the garden is beautiful, and the flowers smell like honey and sugar, but there’s a tension in the air that I don’t like. It snaps against my face with each gust of wind, stinging my lips and tangling my white-blonde hair into snarls.

It also brings with it the metallic scent of blood.

‘What the fuck is that?’ I ask, but I’m well-aware of what I’m looking it, shimmering in the sunlight across the courtyard.

It’s a guillotine.

Not sure how I missed it before.

It’s impossible to miss now, considering the fact that it’s spattered with blood, and there’s a guard dragging a body away. For a moment there, my chest fills with panic when I see a pair of limp, butterfly wings on the back of the dead man. But then Lar is standing right beside me with a deep-set frown etched into his face. Relief pours over me in a wave.

“What’s going on here?” I ask him as he studies me with eyes like chips of ice, his pale blonde hair tinted with the slightest drop of blue. It goes well with his pale skin and provides a nice contrast against the vibrant sweep of his blue, black, and gold wings. He has the most mild of expressions on his face, too, like nothing in the world bothers him. His hands though, I can see them curling into loose fists.

“It’s nice to see you’re still alive, Sunshine,” he says, eyes going half-lidded as he smiles at me. The wind picks up strands of his shoulder-length hair and sends his sapphire earrings dancing. Light refracts through them and casts a blue glow on the white squares of my checkered top. When he finally lifts his head to look in the direction of the guillotine, his smiles fades to a thin line. ‘The King likes to kill decoys to vent his anger, when he can’t be bothered to rid himself of the real thing.’

‘He’s killing a decoy of you?’ I ask, studying Lar’s white jacket, tossed casually over his shoulders. I still can’t get over how similar he is to the character of Howl from the movie Howl’s Moving Castle. Kills me every time. I find myself subconsciously running my tongue over my lower lip. Hard to maintain a flirty moment though, knowing some innocent dude was killed because he looks like the Caterpillar. ‘Why?!’

‘We failed the king by losing you,’ Tee whispers, voice low and dark. He won’t look at me now, especially not when he sees my gaze swing over to the trail of blood that mars the perfection of the white gravel pathway. At the end of it, there’s a whole sea of familiar corpses, wearing hats that match the twins, one with a tail that matches the Duke’s.

I know then and there that I am always, always, going to hate the King of Hearts.

‘We failed the King, but he fails himself if he loses us,’ Dee riddles, adjusting his hat to protect his eyes from the sun. I notice that most everyone out on the croquet-ground is wearing a peaked cap of some kind. Guess it’s in fashion around here. Even the King—can’t miss that handsome face, not even from a hundred yards away—is now wearing slacks, a jacket, and a hat, too.

“Oh, but he’d kill me if he could,” Chesh says, curling his furry little cat body around Dee’s neck and staring at me from eyes like two full moons in his black and white striped face. “You’ll see no by-proxy murder of this pussycat. The King hates me with a violent passion. Not a cat person, but I suppose there’s no accounting for taste.” Chesh waves his tail across his body and disappears behind it, like he’s erasing himself from existence. The only sign that he’s still there is the faintest whisper of a purr.

“This can’t be happening,” I whisper as I shake myself out and rub at my temples with two fingers. There’s no one actively being shoved onto the guillotine, but I’ll be damned if I stand by and watch an innocent person die. “I can’t let this happen.”

“Tread with care, Sunshine,” Lar whispers, tugging on one of his sapphire earrings and giving the twins’ angel wings a slow once-over. “The King is already displeased with the lot of us.”

“Yeah? Well I’m displeased at his execution factory over here,” I grind out, gesturing wildly in the direction of the bodies. There are multi-colored crows pecking at the corpses, their feathers a sea of rainbow colors that reminds me of the dyed strands in my own hair. Just over the castle wall, perching in a tree, is a row of vultures with eyes like shards of obsidian.

I shiver and straighten my coat out, starting across the too-green grass with my metaphorical hackles raised, the men trailing along behind me. The March Hare is waiting along the way, falling into step beside us, but I ignore him, cutting a path straight to the King, the Duke, and the Hatter. I do not, however, miss the mischievous little smile March tosses my way. He’s eating again—a big ripe peach this time. I wonder if he ever stops?

‘Well, well, so lovely to see you again,’ Raiden says, the orange-color of his eyes obscured by heavy lids and thick lashes. There are two card servants nearby, holding up frilly parasols covered in hearts. They shade Raiden’s pale skin from the relentless rays of the late afternoon sun. ‘And so soon.’

The Duke snarls under his breath, claws curling from his fingertips as he whaps his tail against the lawn, creating little divots. He’s dressed in a loose white top, fully unbuttoned and flashing bronzed skin, as well as tight brown leather pants and black boots with red hearts on the toes. His gold eyes glare daggers at the Mad Hatter before sweeping my way with a heat that’s twice as powerful as the sun’s rays. Now I feel like I might need a parasol.

‘You’re dressing people up like your servants and then having them slaughtered?’ I blurt as the King turns slowly toward me, his face drawn into this expression of intentional neutrality that scares the crap out of me. He’s not scared of anyone, not intimidated by anything—not the Duke, not the Hatter, and most especially not me. ‘The great wonder is, that there’s anyone left alive.’

Glancing around, I notice that the entire entourage that was parading through the garden earlier is seated and watching … and they’re all fucking staring at me.

‘Here,’ says the King, his dark eyes sparkling in the sun. He passes over a mallet which, unsurprisingly, is a petrified skeleton. It looks like a flamingo, you know, except for the sharp teeth in the fossilized little beak. ‘Take a mallet, hit a ball, Alice.’

‘It’s Allison,’ I correct, watching the dark shadows flit over the King’s face—both physically and metaphorically.

‘Well, Alice,’ he says, purposely putting emphasis on the name and tapping the skull of his mallet against the soft ground. He’s tall, towering over me and enjoying looking down his perfect nose, I bet. It really is a perfect nose, too. It offsets his full mouth beautifully, the scar just barely noticeable on the right corner of his lips, trailing down his chin, and slicing across his throat. His blood-red hair ruffles in the breeze, and I’d almost find him handsome if he wasn’t such a horrible human being. Or … is he human? I don’t even know. ‘Why don’t you play a game with me? Winner can decide when the killing stops.’ He lifts his hand and the human guards in their red and white suits of armor drag one of the card people over to the guillotine, cutting the creature in half with the wicked metal blade before I can even think to utter a protest.

Blood sprays everywhere, and the scream that spills from its dying throat will haunt my nightmares for years to come. My hand drops to the Queenmaker, and I have to fight really goddamn hard not to blow this arrogant asshole’s head right off.

“Careful, Miss Alice,” an icy voice whispers in my ear, just before Rab appears on my right side, holding out a mallet and a ball. His red eyes meet mine, and he raises his brows as if to say you have no idea what you’re messing with here. “The King is as vindictive as he is handsome.”

I snatch the equipment from Rab as the King smirks and twists his white-gloved hand around the base of his mallet. The way he’s looking at me makes my blood boil, like he’s a farmer inspecting his cattle and finding one of his beasts sorely lacking. My nostrils flare as I struggle to hold in my temper and do my best not to think about all the eyes on me. I’ve never been much for public displays; I’d rather sit in a corner and read.

‘You’re on,’ I say, dropping my ball to the grass and putting my foot on it. It takes me a moment to realize it’s a skull. Yet another fossil in this maelstrom of hell. Not sure if this one’s human or not. If it is, it must’ve belonged to a child. Bile rises in my throat as my stomach roils. ‘I win, and you stop beheading people without my permission.’

‘Your permission?’ the King asks, his voice low and dangerous, like the whistle of a far-off wind, one that promises future storms. ‘How interesting. It’s a deal then: you beat me in a game of croquet, and I’ll let you stay my executions.’ His mouth curves up into a cruel smile, pulling at the ragged scar etched into his skin.

I take a deep breath and shrug my shoulders, loosening my joints.

No fucking way I’m losing this match.

“And if I win,” the King continues, moving closer to me. When he glances over at Rab, the rabbit-eared man takes several steps back. I meet the Duke’s narrowed eyes over the monarch’s shoulder and at least get the feeling that he’d fight to defend me if needed. That doesn’t do much to comfort me though because I’m not at all certain he could take the King down. “You’ll kiss me in front of the entire court.”

“Are you insane?” I ask, but the arrogant male triumph on his says he most definitely is not. Piece of shit. “Fine, bring it on, bitch.” The King raises his brows at my name-calling, but tosses his skull into the air and then rolls it onto the grass next to a red and white stake.

Oh, wait. It’s not a stake—it’s a bone with blood spatter on it.

‘How intriguing,’ says the Hatter, adjusting his black top hat and grinning with two sharp canines. ‘Mind if I excuse myself to make some bets? Where there’s a challenge, there’s always money to be made.’ He moves off to join the March Hare near the white lawn chairs where the audience sits, and starts to smoke a cigarette in a gold holder with lazy drags.

My eyes lock onto the King’s dark ones, but they’re impossible to read. I’ve never seen someone so closed-off before. It’s terrifying. Kissing this guy must be like swallowing a mouthful of ash and hate. You’re only thinking that because you’re disturbingly intrigued by him, my mind whispers, but I ignore it.

‘So, what are the rules?’ I ask, because like, I’ve clearly never played fucking croquet before. Even if I had, I doubt the rules in Underland would be anything like they are back home. “Who goes first?”

‘The blood-spattered ball always goes first,” the King says, turning his skull ball with his foot so I can see the red stains on the front. “And the rules … are exactly what I want them to be.’ He lines up a shot with his macabre mallet while the grotesque little card creatures shiver and shake, their painted faces twisted into expressions of horror. Without even bothering to aim for the wickets, the King knocks his bloody ball into the fray, and the cards shuffle to accommodate him. ‘Four points,’ he calls out after the ball passes underneath several arches. ‘And four extra swings.” I watch as he works his way around the heart-shaped court. I think in traditional croquet, the wickets and stakes are supposed to be in a double diamond shape. But, of course, there’s nothing traditional about Underland. “Your turn, Alice,’ he mocks as the nick on my neck throbs and smarts. I won’t forget that he held a blade to my throat anytime soon.

‘Son of a bitch,’ I snarl as I kick my own ball into place, trying to ignore the entourage behind me. Tee, Dee, Lar, and … I have no idea where Chesh went, maybe rubbing his invisible self against the Duke’s legs. Rab is standing off to the side, arms crossed in front of him, one of his white ears twitching. It’s impossible to miss the grimace that crosses his face.

He turns one of his arms over and shows me the watch tattooed there, ticking down to something ominous, no doubt. Probably my inevitable loss in this game.

As I ready my shot—because I have to at least try—I notice something strange shimmering in the air near the slave-card wickets. It weirds me the fuck out until I realize that what I’m looking at is a grin.

‘How are you getting on?’ says the cat, as soon as there’s enough mouth for him to speak with. It’s no use talking to him until his ears are there, or at least one of them. In less than a minute, there’s a cat’s head floating in the air not six feet in front of my face.

‘I don’t think they play at all fairly,’ I growl, gritting my teeth and glancing back over at the King. He’s staring at the cat with a mixture of rage and frustration. Oh. I like that. So there is something that can shake the unshakeable. Good to know. ‘There don’t seem to be any rules in particular; at least, if there are, nobody fucking attends to them.’

‘How do you like the King?’ says the cat in a low voice. Clearly, he’s trying to pick a fight. Not sure how smart of an idea that is. The rest of the guys seem pretty freaked-out by the King of Hearts. Understandably so, considering he kills random strangers to vent his anger.

‘Not at all,’ I say. ‘He’s so extremely”—I pause when I notice how close the King is behind me—’likely to win, that it’s hardly worthwhile finishing the game.’

The King smiles, but it’s not a very pretty expression.

‘I see you’re back again,’ he says, resting his hands on the end of his mallet, the skull dug firmly into the grassy earth near his boots. ‘After last time, I’d think to find you more intelligent than all that.’ Chesh smiles, his eyes twinkling, a disembodied tail fluffing around behind him. ‘I don’t like the look of you at all. However, you may kiss my hand if you like.’

‘I’d rather not,’ the cat remarks, and just like that, all of that cool, easy calm leaves the King in a violent flood. I can see the muscles in his jaw ticking with rage.

‘I’d fetch the executioner myself,’ he growls out, ‘if you had a body that I could remove your head from.’

‘What a pity, what a shaaaame,’ the cat purrs, its head twisting around until it’s looking at us upside down. ‘So there is something the precocious King of Hearts can’t attend to?’

‘Whatever am I going to do with you?’ the King grinds out as Chesh tosses me a little wink, licks his lips, and promptly disappears from view.

‘He belongs to the Duke; you’d better ask him about it.’ And then I crack my mallet on the ugly little skull and send it flying. The card wickets try to shuffle out of my way, but a little shimmer and a swipe of some nearly invisible claws keeps them in just the right place for my ball to fly right on through.

‘Five points,’ I mock as I stand up straight and give the King a triumphant look that, had these idiots not completely bought into the prophecy thing, probably would’ve gotten my head lopped off.

The King’s gloved hands squeak as he tightens them around the handle of his mallet.

‘Very well then,’ he says, curling the edge of his lip up and meeting my eyes dead-on. The crown perched atop his head slides to one side, this lazy little dip that’s too sexy for words. But it doesn’t fall off, like it’s defying gravity just for him. ‘I’ll play you fair, Alice.’ The King stands up and spins his mallet in a circle, cracking the skull side against the ground before he takes off to meet his ball, the empty eyes of the hollow skull staring up at a blue, blue sky.

‘Don’t even try to win, Allison,’ Tee whispers, grabbing my arm. I glance back at him, and whatever he sees on my face must convince him that I’m doing this whether he likes it or not. “Fuck, you’re going to get yourself killed.” With a growl and clenched teeth, he releases me, watching as I follow along after the King.

The asshole’s next shot is damn near perfect, and even without cheating, he manages to knock his ball through three more wickets. Not sure how many of those arches are supposed to be in the game, but here in Underland, there are hundreds, maybe thousands. It almost looks like a graveyard, all these silent faces staring up at an unyielding sky.

‘I’ve got your baaaack, so to say,’ Chesh purrs in my ear. I can’t see him, but at least when I hit my ball, all the cards stay in place. I miss the next wicket and don’t get any points, while on the King’s next turn, he hits my ball with his own, calls a ‘roquet’, and then smashes my ball into kingdom come with his next swing. I finger the Queenmaker as I grind my teeth. Bet this baby could turn the dickhead to mush, I think as I stretch my neck and give a deep sigh.

The audience may as well be made up of corpses for all the noise they make, sitting quiet and still as a storm cloud rolls in, covering up the sun and casting strange shadows on the field.

‘You should know better,’ the King says, his voice even-keeled and wicked all over again. The way he looks at me, I just want to turn and run, stumble through the castle until I find the Looking-Glass and forget I was ever here. There’s something in his stare that promises I might do things I never thought I’d do—and that I might like it. ‘Challenging me.’

‘I’ve seen bigger bullies than you,’ I snort. If I hadn’t met the Mad Hatter all of say, oh, twenty-four hours ago, that might not be the case. I can’t help but glance over at the man in question, wondering not only how he came to be in this world, but also how he became a vampire. ‘Now if it will please Your Majesty …’ I can’t help an eyeroll to punctuate my words as I gesture at the King with my mallet. He glances down at the lump of bone near his feet, folds his arms across his chest, and stays put. With a small snarl, I stalk over to him and stand far too close for comfort.

He smells just as good as his garden, but with a solid note of thyme and rosemary that hits the back of my tongue when I breathe in, something savory to balance out all the sweet.

‘You know what would please his majesty,’ he whispers, his breath far too near my ear for comfort.

‘No,’ I say firmly, cracking my ball and managing to just barely sneak it through the right wicket. ‘And I don’t think I want to know.’

‘I will have you, Alice,’ he says, his dark eyes glittering like a starry sky. ‘You’ve always been destined to be mine.’

‘I’d rather marry the Mad Hatter,’ I grind out, and the King’s full mouth twists into a severe frown.

‘That’s part of the arrangement. At first, I was upset. But I’ve decided this can only bring prosperity to the Kingdom of Hearts. If the most powerful mercenary on the continent is tied to the crown, think of the possibilities.’

‘I think that my heart and my vagina aren’t bargaining tools,’ I snap as the King purposely brushes past me, his fingers curling around my wrist. When I glance up, I get caught in his eyes. Fuck, I practically fall into them. It’s like I’m tumbling down the Rabbit-Hole all over again, getting twisted up in glitter and bones.

‘And I think that your fate is to belong to me.’ The King grabs my chin in tight fingers, but my reaction commands are on point. I smack his hand away and stumble back, stepping on one of the poor cards by accident. The sound it makes … it’s like I’ve taken all its breath away. A gasping choke tears from the poor creature’s throat as I jerk back, tripping over and crushing my ball before falling right on my ass.

The card person thrashes and chokes, sitting up and turning its silent screaming face toward me. It reaches its too-human hands up and claws at its neck, like it’s choking. I back away, even though I know I shouldn’t, even though I know I should feel pity and sympathy instead of horror and fear.

‘It’s a curse they brought on themselves,’ the King says, smashing the end of his mallet into the card’s face. A tear of blood escapes its frozen eye before it collapses to the ground, shudders … and dies. ‘You’re wasting your sympathy.’

I look up at him with this expression of horror plastered across my face. When he sees the way I’m staring at him, something flickers in his gaze that I can’t quite read, like a shooting star cutting across all that darkness. But he turns away too quickly for me to get a good read on it.

‘Your Majesty,’ Rab is saying, his red eyes flickering briefly to me and then back to the King’s. ‘The Mocking Turtle and the Gryphon … they’re at the gates.’

I wish I could explain the expression of rage that crosses the King’s face then … and the look of terror.