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

‘Lurid, sordid, a bacchanalian affair,’ Dee says, twirling his hat around on the top of his head. He’s dressed in red and white today, like everyone else here. The uh, matchy-matchy thing is starting to get ridiculous. Although I do have to admit he looks damn good in the red military coat with the gold buttons, the tight red and white striped shirt, and the black slacks. ‘That is what a Torrid Tea Party is.’

‘This is a real thing?’ I ask, squinting in his direction. ‘Like the cock-race? This is an actual thang?’ I’m sitting at the edge of the training room with a spread of toadstool cupcakes, actual toadstools that glitter, and huge stacks of bread with butter. Tea is always served, and I always refuse, but this time there’s also floral infused water with little edible blossoms floating on the surface.

There is a chance these things were alive and flipping people off not three hours ago, but I try my best not to think that. No point in it. The flowers are dickheads anyway.

I poke at one with my finger and try to bottle up some of this weird, gushing joy that’s poisoning my body. There’s no way happiness like this can be caged or contained. No, it always flutters away on broken wings.

‘The Torrid Tea Party is a real event,’ Lar explains, his wings outstretched and drooping lazily on the floor. His key-shaped nipple rings keep catching the sunlight streaming through the glass ceiling panels, and I feel the urge to ask about them perching on the edge of my tongue. I saw the White Knight open the front gates with one, but why? Why is the most important key in the Kingdom of Hearts pierced through some guy’s nipple? ‘The Mad Hatter is famous for it.’

‘So what makes this different than a mad tea party?’ I ask, looking into Lar’s blue eyes and thinking how much brighter they are than Dee’s. The twin’s eyes are an azure shadow, a rich jewel tone that gives his happy face a slightly darker note. Lar’s eyes are almost Caribbean, light in color but heavy in saturation. In the sunlight, I’d almost call them aqua or teal or whatever the fuck that tropical blue-green color is. Sorry, but I played with black Sharpies instead of crayons as a kid. My parents were always too busy to remember to bring any when they took me to work with them. It was just me and Fred and yellow legal pads and Sharpies.

Fucking Fred …

‘All tea parties are mad, of course,’ the cat says, slinking up beside me and putting his head in my lap—his very human head with the double lip piercing, the septum ring, and the silver stud in his eyebrow. Asswad. I shove him off, and he groans when his skull hits the red and white striped blanket underneath us.

Yeah, even picnic paraphernalia is themed here.

The King of Hearts has a big ego … among other things.

Piece of shit, I hate him, I think, even as I get this uncomfortable throbbing between my legs. Thinking about Brennin Red turns me on. And it shouldn’t. And yet it undeniably does.

‘All tea parties are mad?’ I ask, trying to see if I can get clarification. It seems like, in Underland, that all of the nonsense really does have some sense to it which I suppose makes sense because the word sense is the root of the word nonsense. Sensibly, of course.

Oh God.

What the fuck did I just think?!

‘All tea parties are mad, but there are even madder tea parties which is to say, that the Torrid Tea Party is really the maddest party of all,’ Dee starts, looking up toward the ceiling as he muses and taps a single finger against his chin. ‘Seems strange then, to wonder why it isn’t simply called the Maddest Tea Party? Since it is mad, and the Mad Hatter is undeniably mad, and the March Hare may very well be the maddest of the mad—’

‘Dee,’ I interrupt, reaching out to put my hand on the back of his. ‘Thank you.’ I force a smile that quickly turns real when he flashes one of his happy grins at me. I don’t actually mind his riddling nonsense anymore. It’s growing on me. Maybe it’s growing on me like a tumor, but that’s okay. I accept it.

‘Why, thank you for such a glowing compliment,’ March says, snapping the end off a white chocolate bar with little red berries in it. See what I mean? All done up in the kingdom’s colors yet again. I’m pretty sure he’s always eating. In fact, I’d be hard-pressed to think of a single moment where he hasn’t had something in his mouth.

Once again I can’t help but wonder if he’s had Raiden’s something in his mouth, too. Like, are they lovers or just companions? And how does the Dormouse factor into all of this? I hope he’s not at the Torrid Tea Party; he gives me the fucking heebie-jeebies.

‘Explain to me exactly what goes on at these things again?’ I continue, pushing some stray strands of hair off my sweaty face. The rest of it is gathered up in a high ponytail on the back of my head. North yanks on it during training, but I refuse to cut it off. Guess I do have some vanity, huh? Maybe the whole world does? Err, both worlds I mean.

‘The room falls dark,’ Dee whispers, walking in a half-circle around us while he spreads his arms wide, palms out like he’s miming the shape of this imaginary room. ‘The curtains are drawn, the candles are lit, and the tea is served piping hot.’ He squats down across from me, next to his brother, eyes glittering. ‘Tarts are served. Tarts are always served, preferably with gooseberries or cloudberries.’

‘And fresh cream,’ the Cheshire cat adds, still lying on his back and lifting a single black-nailed finger, his black and white striped ears twitching in his raven-dark hair.

‘The tea is boosted with twice the usual magic,’ Tee says with a small sigh, pushing some of his purple-black hair away from his handsome face. The twins have such big, round eyes and long lashes, it feels impossible to look away from their faces sometimes. They’re this perfect mix of pretty and masculine, this dichotomous contrast that makes my lady parts titter in the best way possible. ‘And steeped in truth herbs. Whoever it is that you’re trying to vet—because a Torrid Tea Party is always about uncovering enemies or vetting allies—sits in a circle and drinks one cup per round.’

‘What’s a round entail?’ I ask, examining a glittering pink mushroom as North steps back in from the hallway, and my heart starts to skitter and jump. He’s so … much. I mean, he must be exuding like alpha male beast pheromones or something because I don’t act right when he’s around. My cheeks flush with heat and I stuff the mushroom in my mouth. It’s all crystalized with sugar, and it crunches when I chew. The taste of bubblegum fills my mouth, and I almost choke. Not because it’s bad, but holy shit, that’s weird as fuck.

‘A round …’ the Duke starts, making his way haughtily over to us and sitting cross-legged on my right, his chin raised defiantly. I’m starting to realize he’s one of the only people in the kingdom that can or will stand up to the King of Hearts. I wonder what they were talking about out there? When Ol’ Red popped his head into the training room and asked to play a quick round of croquet with the Duke, I figured something must be up. More internal politics maybe? ‘Consists of one question and one answer.’ He flicks his gold eyes over to mine and then sneaks his tail around my ankle. I let him do it, too, and I like it. Ugh, I really, really like it.

It’s really starting to grow on me, this idea of being queen and dating all these guys. I mean, who wouldn’t want that? The only obstacle is the King. Because he’s a piece of shit and I hate him.

Oh and also … my family.

I can’t leave my family with more questions than answers, especially not after Fred.

I lift my face up to meet Tee’s gaze. It feels like he can sense when I’m thinking about my family. Maybe because he lost his, he’s more empathetic or something? We stare at each other across the circle of food before I look away and pick up a toadstool cupcake. One bite and I can already tell I’m going to like it: it tastes like vanilla ice cream and hot fudge.

‘One question and one answer?’ I ask around a mouthful of cupcake. Oops. I have bad manners, sorry. Sometimes I talk while I chew. Guess we all have shit to work on, huh?

‘Sometimes the question is a quest which is interesting because quest is the root of question,’ Chesh says, sitting up and stretching as he also surreptitiously goes to curl his tail around my other ankle. I grab it first, and give it a squeeze which turns his face into a leering grin.

‘May as well just stroke my cock then?’ he purrs, sitting up and then rubbing his cheek against my bare shoulder. He nips me and I yelp, causing a stir of chuckling around the circle. I’m still getting used to the idea of these guys not being jealous of one another.

‘Get stuffed,’ I tell him, bringing the floral water to my lips, so I don’t have to say anything else. Because the idea of touching Chesh’s cock is pretty enticing. It’s like I’m sitting in front of more than just a food-laden smorgasbord. There’s a buffet of men here for me to choose from, and I can have any one of them I want. Or all of them. And that’s the best part. Why choose?

‘So, a quest or a question?’ I ask and then snap my fingers. ‘Truth or dare?’

‘That’s a silly name, isn’t it?’ Lar asks, blinking long blonde lashes in my direction. ‘Quest or question makes much more sense.’

‘And how do you figure that?’ I ask as he shrugs his jacket off his bare shoulders and leaves his muscular arms open to investigation from my wandering gaze. And boy does it wander. Being eighteen and perpetually horny never looked or felt so damn good.

‘Because a quest implies a goal while a dare implies nothing but cheekiness,’ Lar continues, looking at me like he’s staring into my soul. I notice he’s finished his cup of tea, and as I watch, he leans in and pokes around the tea leaves at the bottom of his chipped, wonky little mug. ‘This tea party tonight,’ he says with a nod of his head, blonde-blue hair falling over his forehead, ‘it’ll give us answers.’ He lifts his face again and smiles in a way that promises there’s something else that he’s not saying.

And from the look of him? I’d say it was something truly lascivious.

‘How humdrum dull and boring,’ Rab drawls as he rolls his red eyes. His right ear flops in half and he reaches up to straighten it. He’s dressed in a black vest with his pocket watch chain hanging from one pocket. There’s no undershirt this time, just rippling muscles dressed in tattoos. ‘Just pick a dress and be done with it. We’re already late.’ He taps the clock on his right forearm and then saunters over to stand behind me.

When I glance back at him, I see that his slacks are hanging way too low again. There’s this delicious strip of skin between his vest and his pants that’s making it hard to concentrate. I wonder if he’s finding it as difficult to focus with me wearing nothing but a pair of red lacy panties and a matching bra? Did I mention that there’s a heart cutout on the back of the undies, flashing a delicious amount of crack?

‘We could make it more interesting, however,’ he starts, his warm breath stirring my hair. It’s interesting, how cold his voice is in contrast. He smells like the forest after a good rain, like wet earth and the softness of decaying leaves.

‘And how might we do that?’ I ask, digging though the massive closet and trying not to be creeped out that everything fits. Have you ever had that before, an entire closet of clothes made for you? Even stuff that doesn’t look like it’ll fit ends up stretching or laying just right. There are items in that closet that I never would’ve picked up before, big poof-y things that remind me of Edy’s dress.

‘I think naked is more interesting than dressed-up, don’t you?’ Rab comes around to stand in front of me, leaning against the wall near the door and looking me up and down with slow, decadent menace that turns my insides to mush. Asshole. He’s a serious asshole. Most of these guys are. Maybe they have to be to survive in Underland? It’s fucking brutal here.

‘What makes you think you deserve to see me naked?’ I ask as I flip through dress after dress after dress. This event has a dress code: black. And although my closet is made up of rainbow colors, it’s a rainbow that’s heavily skewed toward red and white.

‘I’ll fight in a cock-race for you,’ he whispers, red eyes focused on me, white ears twitching. When I look at him, I can’t help but think of his bandersnatch form. But what is his third one? What other meat did he get forced down his throat at the Inaugural Feast? ‘I’ll whip my dick out, and swordfight the King’s prick if I have to.’

‘You’d fight the King?’ I ask with a chuckle and a roll of my eyes. Imagining Rab and Brennin slapping their erect dicks together is about ninety-percent hilarious and maybe like ten percent sexy. Maybe eleven or twelve percent. ‘Please. You’re his lackey, through and through.’ I pull a skintight black dress off the hook and hold it up to examine it. I would never wear anything like this back home. It’s sort of … grown-up and sexy, and I want it all over my body right now. Besides, it has bat shapes cut out of the midsection, leaving these sexy little gothic peepholes. The back is low-cut, and sewn to look like the top of a bat’s wings. ‘King’s orders,’ I mimic in Rab’s cold voice, miming shooting a gun at Brandon’s head.

Brandon.

Well, fuck.

Now that I’ve been here and I’ve seen what I’ve seen, I believe Rab. Which, of course, means that the Rabbit who was parading around as Brandon … had to have eaten the real Brandon’s flesh at some point.

Gross.

‘You’re still upset about me blowing your crush’s brains out?’ he asks, licking his lips as I step into the dress and wiggle it up my body. It has cap sleeves and a soft lining on the inside that makes my skin tingle. If I pair it with the black pirate boots I got from Lory, I will look fucking dope.

‘It was a hard thing to witness,’ I admit, glancing at Rab and watching as his ears twitch like antennae on the top of his head. They’re so expressive. I can see everything he’s thinking. ‘But I … guess I’m glad it happened.’

‘Oh?’ Rab asks as I scoot around him and pause for a moment in front of the mirrored dressing table to the right of my bed. It has little clawed feet on the bottom and I swear, it wiggles its toes every now and again. ‘You like it here, do you Miss Liddell? Fitting, since you’ll be the ruler of Underland-turned-Wonderland for one hundred and twenty-seven years, give or take a decade or two.’

‘Nobody lives to be a hundred and twenty-seven,’ I start, and then pause. Or do they? After all, we don’t have any angels or Rabbits or cat shifters back home.

‘You will be, if you live long enough to save Underland. It’s in one of Lar’s prophecies.’

‘Well, don’t believe everything you read in tea leaves, I always say,’ I joke as I lean over the table and apply red-red lipstick and too much black liner. The lipstick smells like berries, and the liner has a sweet, smoky sort of scent. Hey, I bet it’s all natural, right? Probably organic. Most likely not vegan. This world is so fucked-up, I would not be surprised if my lip color was made from the blood of baby lambs or some shit.

‘It was in his wings, I saw it,’ Rab growls, and there’s something fiercely protective in his voice that draws me around to look at him. His reflection isn’t enough; I need to see his face. He’s looking down at me with this determined set to his features. I almost want to reach up and touch his cheek. Almost. Instead, I drop my arms to my sides and glance away, toward the door.

Everyone is already at the party. Even Tee and Dee went early to set it up. It’s just me and Rab they’re waiting for.

‘We should go,’ I say, but when I try to move away, Rab reaches out and curls his fingers around my arm, drawing me close to him.

‘There’s only a thirty-five percent chance,’ he whispers, mouth slightly parted, red eyes ringed in liner and flooded with shadows, ‘but it’s a chance worth fighting for.’ Rab touches the side of my face with his tattooed fingers, running his warm fingertips from my cheekbone to my chin, cradling my head in his hand.

We just look at each other for a long, quiet moment before Rab uses his other hand to brush the hair from my forehead.

‘Can I kiss you, Alice?’ he asks me, his voice like the quiet, cool shadows of a cave. I want to crawl into it and curl up, sleep in the circle of his muscular arms. Eww, what the fuck?! I must be getting soft.

‘Yes.’ It’s the only word that can make it past my already parted lips.

Rab slides his right hand back to cup my head, pulling me close and breathing against my mouth. I can already tell what his is going to taste like, this refreshing mix of peppermint and lavender that makes me wet my lips with anticipation.

The asshole takes his sweet time coming to me, teasing my bottom lip with his tongue, tasting me and making me groan. I rise up on my tiptoes and lean into him, pressing my breasts against his vest. It’s not enough fabric to disguise the flat, chiseled expanse of muscles underneath, and my nipples pebble into hard points.

My right hand slides up and over his shoulder and doesn’t stop until I’m running my fingers up the soft, fuzzy length of his ear.

‘Oooh,’ he growls, moving his hand from my face so he can wrap an arm around me instead. ‘Harder.’ He pushes his lips against mine, his tongue invading my mouth. It’s the sort of first kiss you don’t forget and yet, one where you can’t remember all the details because it’s nothing but a wild, ardent blur.

Rab lifts me up and sets me on the edge of the dressing table, knocking makeup and FUCKING DRINK ME bottles onto the floor. He presses in close, grinding our pelvises together and pushing my dress up in the process. I can feel him hard and wanting through his slacks as he presses against me, and I squeeze him tight between my thighs.

My hands play with his ears while one of his plays with my breasts, kneading and massaging the tender flesh until I’m breathless and wanting, near desperate for it. Rab drops his grip to my ass, squeezing me and pulling me even closer to him.

‘If we didn’t have an appointment with the King …’ he growls against my mouth, and I turn my face away, these breathy gasps for air passing between my lips as I close my eyes and try to pull myself together.

‘You said you’d fight the King for me,’ I whisper as Rab lowers his mouth to my neck and licks me, from shoulder to ear. My entire body flushes white-hot and I rub my pelvis against Rab’s without meaning to.

‘I can challenge him to a cock-race, if you want. But there’d be substantially more blood and substantially less cock than I might’ve promised.’ He is the one to break us up, stepping back and sighing as he smooths his palms down the front of his vest. He’s still sporting a boner, but I don’t think anyone in this nightmare fest gives a shit.

‘No, I don’t want that,’ I say with a sigh, running my fingers through my hair. ‘Besides, what would be the point? It’s not like I’d fuck the King even if he did win.’ With a smirk, I hop off the dressing table and shove my skirt down my hips, heading for the door without waiting to see what the expression on Rab’s face—or ears—is like.

Nope, I don’t want to know.

And yet, my cheeks are warm and I know for a fact that there’s a smile on my face I can’t wipe off.

The Torrid Tea Party is being held in a tower because like, of course it is, since this is a fairy tale on crack.

In the Disney version, there’d be a glittering pink wonderland in that tower where I’d wait for nine shining princes with white-toothed smiles and shimmery gold hair to come and save me.

In the Grimm version, I’d have a sleep spell cast on me and wake up giving birth after being raped. Yep. Did you know that’s how the real Sleeping Beauty tale goes? Yeah, it’s fucked-up beyond all reason.

In this version, there’s a winding staircase with flickering torches and stone stairs worn down in the center to little dips that threaten to trip me with each step I take. At the top, there’s a heavy wood door with a gold handle in the shape of a heart.

How shocking. More heart paraphernalia.

I reach out to open it, and the door swings inward on its own, propelled by the long, graceful fingers of the Mad Hatter.

‘Hello Miss Alice,’ he whispers as he gives me a vampire grin and steps back to welcome me into the dark, hazy interior of the tower room. The incense is thick and smoky, and it smells like sandalwood and roses.

I can’t see much of what’s going on inside, but I can hear Dee chuckling from the shadows. I ignore Raiden and step into the darkness, feeling it close around me. It’s not as stifling as I thought though, more like a warm blanket being wrapped around my shoulders. As I stand there, trying to take it all in, my eyes adjust to the flickering candles and I start to see familiar faces sitting at a table in the center of the room.

My eyes catch Tee’s first, then Dee’s, Chesh’s, Lar’s, North’s … and the King’s. I narrow my eyes on him, but he barely acknowledges me, leaning back in a black-on-black suit and looking like he’s fucking bored out of his skull. On the opposite side of the table, March waits with a shiny black apple in his hand, yet another fairy-tale trope that scares the shit out of me. Sorry, but thanks, no thanks. He can keep it.

I sit down at the head of the table (or is it the foot?), so I can be next to Tee, staring at the other men across a small pile of warm rocks with a kettle resting above them. It has two spouts and no handle which is weird as shit, but I’m still all twisted up over my encounter with Rab. I’m like a soda bottle that’s been shaken, all fizzy and threatening to bubble over the top.

Rab flops down on my left, purposely pushing his shoulder into mine as he passes.

‘I can’t believe you’re letting these mercenary fucks put us through the wringer,’ I tell the King, wondering what the hell his motivations are. I half-expect to see the Knave and her husbands lurking at the dark edges of the room with Dor. I’m pleasantly surprised to find them all absent.

‘When one is entrenched in shadows, one doesn’t simply turn on a light.’ The King sits up and stares at me from across the glowing embers. They cast strange shadows on his face, highlighting the perfection that is Brennin Red, the King of Hearts. He has high, defined cheekbones, and a mouth that won’t quit. That little scar on the corner of his mouth just emphasizes how gorgeous he really is.

‘What does one do?’ I mimic, fluttering my hands near my face. ‘Trip on a pile of dirty clothes and break one’s toe?’

‘Speaking from experience?’ Dee asks with a bright grin. His wings cast beautiful shadows on the wall behind him, and I have to hold back a malicious grin when I see Ol’ Red cast a frustrated glance in the twins’ direction.

‘Maybe,’ I quip with a small shrug. ‘One of my toes is a little crooked. You make your own assumptions.’

‘Assumptions …’ Dee starts, but then pauses when he notices the dark-eyed gaze of the King sweeping over him. With a sneer, Brennin turns back to look at me as the Mad Hatter carries over a tray of chipped little tea cups.

‘Aren’t you a clever one?’ Brennin purrs cruelly, tugging at the white gloves on his hands. It’s driving me up the wall trying to figure out why he never takes them off. Like, maybe because he’s a murderer with red palms? ‘Look at you with your puns, Your Majesty.’ The King sits up straight, crown sliding lazily across his bloodred hair. The heart-shaped jewels seems to glow in the ominous half-light. ‘I’m sure that’ll make for exceptional pillow talk.’

‘Go eat a dick,’ I say smartly, smirking and flipping him off as I get comfortable and glance over at Rab. He’s pulling a pipe from the pocket on his slacks and glancing over at me with eyes the color of a smoky moon. Last year, there were so many forest fires in California that the smoke tainted the sky for days, and the moon … the moon was as red as blood.

‘You thought I was poking you with something else?’ he asks as I snort and shake my head.

‘If your pipe is capable of growing when aroused, and caps out at … six inches,’ I start with a loose shrug of my shoulders. I’m a little bit full of shit though because I’m pretty sure it was longer than that. His dick, I mean, not his pipe.

‘Such a clever little Alice,’ Rab says, lighting up and holding the smoke in his lungs for an inordinate amount of time. When he exhales, it all comes out through his nose, like a dragon billowing smoke.

Speaking of dragons …

My eyes meet North’s gold ones from across the circle, and he smiles at me, reaching up to slick some of his hair back. As he does, he runs his fingers over one of his horns. Pretty sure that’s, like, a come-on. It’s working, too.

‘Welcome all,’ March says, waving his hands dramatically over the flames. He flicks water into the coals, and pink steam rises up from the warm rocks. I have no idea why the steam is pink, but at this point, if I asked questions about every little idiosyncrasy in Underland, I wouldn’t get a single other word out. ‘To the Torrid Tea Party.’

He stands up and claps his hands, casting a dark gaze around the table. There are sky-high silver trays filled with cookies, cakes, tarts, sliced fruit, and unidentifiable little pastries covered in raisins. Dee and March are already eating, so I just help myself.

‘Before we begin,’ March says, adjusting his own top hat. It’s not quite as top-hattish as the Mad Hatter’s, but that’s to be expected, isn’t it? Clearly, we all know who the boss is here. ‘I’d just like to acknowledge a very merry un-birthday to both Alice and the King.’

‘Oh fuck my life,’ I groan, putting my face in one hand. ‘Here we go with the nonsense.’

‘So you can see they’re a perfectly matched pair,’ March continues, whisking a teacup off the tray and spinning it in his hand. With a brisk flick of the wrist, he pushes it down the length of the table. It twirls and dances until it comes to a stop directly in front of me. At first I think he’s given me three cups stacked together, but when I move to pull them apart, I realize it’s all one piece.

‘We mustn’t waste China,’ Chesh purrs, tapping at the side of my cup with a nail. ‘It’s on the other side of the world, you know. To get there, we must dig a very great hole.’ He winks at me, and I’m not sure if he knows how ridiculous that sounds. I’m about fifty-fifty on that one.

‘Before I was so rudely interrupted,’ March continues, and Chesh puts his ears flat against his head.

‘I was un-rudely interrupting,’ he corrects, and March pauses like that’s actually a valid point.

‘Righto, my apologies,’ he says, lifting his hat and pulling out another small tea cup. ‘I should pay more attention. I just get so … excited when we host these parties.’ At the word excited, March reaches down and cups his junk. I fling a pastry in his direction and he catches it with his mouth. ‘As I was saying, clearly the Alice and the King are meant to be together as they share the same un-birthday. What a coincidence.’

‘We all share the same un-birthday,’ I growl out because a girl can only take so much nonsense before she snaps. I grab another raisin-covered pastry and bite into it. The inside is savory and spicy, filled with some sort of meat and vegetable paste. It’s actually fucking delicious, although the source of the meat is a questionable thing.

‘So we do …’ March continues in his drawling English accent. ‘Bloody brilliant observation. So, we all share the same un-birthday—except for Dor. Today is his actual birthday.’

‘And you’ve locked him out of the party?’ I ask with a roll of my eyes. ‘Some friends you are.’ Although I’m seriously fucking thrilled that nutbag was not invited. I’d be more likely to put my life in the hands of the wisteria blossoms outside my bedroom window (although one of them did call me a whore today which is most certainly not appreciated) than trust the Dormouse.

‘We are not friends,’ March says as Raiden leans back in his chair and crosses his booted feet at the ankle. ‘Friends are as rare as diamonds and twice as precious. The only person with a friend in this room is the goddamn Savage Duke.’

‘I have three friends,’ North growls, squeezing my ankle with his tail. ‘The Cheshire Cat, Brennin Red, and Sonny Liddell.’ He ticks the names off his fingers with a little growl. ‘I may very well be the richest man in the Kingdom of Hearts.’

‘Second richest, as I’ve just taken a large sum of your money,’ Raiden corrects, pulling his top hat low and shading his orange eyes from view. He’s unbelievably gorgeous, dressed in a black and white striped suit jacket with a frilly white undershirt and a big orange bow-tie. The only part of his face I can see right now is his smile, twisted to the side and sharp as the slash from a knife.

Good thing I remembered to strap my knives to my thigh before I left; I’ve got my trusty ol’ Queenmaker on my hip, too. Allison Pleasance Liddell, totally rad badass extraordinaire … in training. Can’t forget the in training part.

The Duke just growls as March spins a second tea cup over to his boss. I can hear the King’s white-gloved hands curling into squeaky fists. I get a kick out of that and decide I don’t quite hate the March Hare as much as I thought I did—although he does give Red his cup next.

‘So it seems we’re all celebrating a special day today,’ March continues, locking eyes with me as he passes out the Duke’s cup, then his own, Rab’s, Lar’s, Chesh’s … and then Dee’s and then Tee’s.

Clearly, he’s the least favorite of the twins. This is not the first time I’ve noticed.

Tee clenches his hand tight around his mug, his nostrils flared, a muscle in his jaw ticking. I also notice he fluffs his wings dramatically, drawing the attention of the entire room.

‘He’s a prince, too,’ I say, looking into my cup. ‘They both are.’

‘They’re servants, little more than slaves,’ the King says, and I slam my cup down so hard that it breaks it half.

‘They’re mine, you gave them to me,’ I snarl, even as Tee reaches over to put a hand on my arm.

‘Allison, don’t,’ he whispers, voice tight and ragged.

‘So I did. It doesn’t change the fact that that’s what they are.’ The King lifts his gaze to mine, and there’s this unyielding defiance in them that makes me crazy. For the first time in my life, I want to break someone’s spirit, watch them collapse into a heap on the floor covered in tears and snot.

I hate the King.

I fucking hate him.

‘Your idiot father did this to them. He slaughtered an entire race.’ I stand up from my chair, knocking it to the floor. Brennin follows me up, leaning his palms on the table and staring at me like he’s feeling the same damn way, like he wants to break me.

Well, all I have to say to that is good fucking luck, buddy.

‘My father,’ the King says, sliding a gloved finger along the scar that bisects his throat. ‘Did this to me. My father,’ he continues, stepping back. I notice that he manages to keep his chair upright. ‘Murdered my mother and my sisters, and he tried to murder me.’ He comes around the table to lord the fuck over me, and I just curl the corner of my lip up in a snarl.

‘So you’re going to continue his legacy by treating the twins like garbage?’ I ask, my voice low and dangerous. Swear to God, I am this close to stabbing the man with the Vorpal Blade. Wonder if I could do it?

‘What do you suggest I do with them?’ he growls out, and I lift my face to look into his.

‘Let them go. Release their chains, remove their curse, and admit that your father made a mistake.’ I cross my arms over my chest as the King stares at me. He looks like he wants to strangle me. Instead, he turns away with a flutter of his black cloak, and returns to his seat—the biggest, nicest chair of the whole bunch. He might not be sitting at the head of the table, but he’s damn well made sure we all know who he is.

‘Continue, and let’s get this nonsense over with,’ Brennin says with a wave of his hand.

I resist the urge to chuck my broken tea cup in his direction as Tee helps me right my chair, pushing me back in before he whispers in my ear.

‘No one has ever stood up for us like that before,’ he whispers, curling his fingers around my upper arms and giving me a long, lingering kiss on the cheek. Dee is watching us, his mouth half-stuffed with cupcake. He stops chewing as he gazes in my direction. There’s too much there, in Tee’s whispered words and Dee’s longing stare.

I glance away sharply.

What can I say? I have intimacy issues.

March lifts up his hat again, sliding it up and over his ears, so he can grab another tea cup. He gives it a little spin and sends it my way.

‘Once I pour the tea, we all drink, and then we switch places,’ March says as he picks up one of the twenty-plus teapots on the table. This one is painted to look like a jabberwock’s scales. I wonder if all jabberwocky are black? Seeing as I’ve only seen one, I have no idea.

‘Why would we switch places?’ I ask, and I get several are you serious? looks from the men.

‘To have a clean cup, of course,’ March says as he walks around the table and starts by pouring me a steaming cup of black tea. He pours in the same order he passed out the cups, and I swear it takes a massive amount of effort for me to hold my tongue on this one.

Once March is seated again, he lifts his cup up for a toast and everyone else follows suit.

I’m the last one to raise mine up.

‘To a very torrid tea party,’ March says, and the other men repeat after him.

‘To a very torrid tea party,’ I say, lifting the cup to my nose for a sniff. I’m getting hints of molasses and a subtle milkiness, even though I’ve yet to add any cream. When I peer a little closer, it looks like the liquid inside my cup is redder than I first thought.

Oh, and also, there are little jars filled with needles on the table that I failed to notice before. The men each grab one and start pricking their fingers, kneading tiny drops of blood into their cups.

“To activate the magic,” North explains when he catches me staring at him.

Oh, well, of course we’d add blood to our tea. Nothing less would make sense. With a sigh, I do the same, wincing as I stab my finger and watch a tiny crimson drop well up. I shake it into my cup and try really hard not to think much more about it.

‘What sort of tea is this?’ I ask as a few of the men add varying amounts of sugar and cream to their cups.

‘It’s quite tippy,’ the Mad Hatter says, cocking his head to one side. I still can’t see his eyes with the brim of his hat pulled so low. ‘Large golden buds, delicately twisted leaves. There’s a copper finish to it, wouldn’t you agree, March?’

‘This here blend is a Golden Shower Black Tea,’ March says, sipping his cup with a single pinky outstretched. There’s a pretty wicked looking ring on it, too, and I get the idea that maybe the motion isn’t just for show.

‘Pardon, what?’ I ask, blinking stupidly through the shadows at him.

‘Your pardon is granted,’ he says, but he doesn’t bother to answer my question. I narrow my eyes at him and try to resist the urge to throw hot tea in his face. I’ll show him what a scalding hot golden shower can do.

‘Golden Shower means the tea was watered only by rain coming down when the sun is out.’ Tee adds two scoops of sugar with one dash of cream, staring at his drink like he’s already dreading taking a sip.

‘So what do they do the rest of the time when it rains?’ I ask as Dee fills his cup with cream and about ten scoops of sugar.

‘They cover the field with a tarp,’ he says, downing his own drink in a single gulp.

‘A golden shower back home—’ I start, when Rab interrupts me.

‘Is hot piss in the face during sex? We know that, Alice.’ Rab smokes his cig, glances to his right and takes a good, long look at the Mad Hatter sitting next to him. ‘We’re all moving one space to the left, am I right?’

‘Most assuredly,’ Raiden growls, one sharp fang showing over the edge of his lip. He watches as Rab taps his cigarette ash into the tea cup. ‘How clever are you? Perhaps I’ll leave a wad of warm jizz in your cup next time I serve you?’

‘Wouldn’t be anything I hadn’t tasted before,’ Rab says as Lar extends his pale hand across the table and takes the cigarette from Rab’s fingers. The light from the fireplace filters through the Caterpillar’s wings, turning them into stained glass windows that paint the faces of the men on the right side of the table a brilliant blue.

‘You’ve tasted jizz before?’ I ask, but the Cheshire Cat is already tapping at my glass with the tip of his tail.

‘Drink, Alice, drink,’ he says, his pupils dilated to the point that I can’t even see his gray irises anymore. I can’t tell if that’s because of the dark … or the drugs. Maybe both. ‘You and your angel prince.’

I look around and realize that Tee and I are the only ones yet to take a drink.

‘Are you okay?’ I ask him, noticing the tightness around his eyes and the hard lines next to his even harder frown. He takes his peaked cap off and rakes his fingers through his hair.

‘Tee used to be a tea addict,’ Dee says, rhyming the words in that silly singsongy way of his. ‘He was drunk more often than he was sober.’

‘You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,’ I say, but Tee is already shaking his head. I can see small beads of sweat on his forehead, and I pick my red cloth napkin up to wipe them away.

‘He can’t leave, not now,’ March says, twitching his brown ears. Rab’s white ones seem to twitch in response, and the two men turn to glare at each other. They’re both the same species, aren’t they? And they’re both cronies for corrupt kings. They’re rivals when really, they should be besties.

‘Why not?’ I ask, narrowing my eyes and then tilting my head as I hear the lock on the door slide closed. My mouth drops open and I flick my eyes in that direction.

‘Once a Torrid Tea Party’s started, it’s impossible to get out the door,’ March says with a shrug, and the Mad Hatter tsk-tsks, wagging a finger in his direction.

‘Not impossible, simply impassable—nothing’s impossible.’ He lifts his hat up and flashes those marmalade orange eyes in my direction.

‘If he leaves, he’s out,’ the King says, in that same bored, no-nonsense voice of his. ‘You cannot marry him.’ I flip Brennin off and turn to Tee, reaching out to put my hand across the back of his.

‘If you don’t drink, neither do I,’ I whisper, and he lifts his amethyst eyes to look into mine. There’s a quiet pleading there, but also an inner strength that I feel resonating in the very depths of my soul. We’re peas in a pod, me and Tweedledum. Heh. Tweedledum … I like his nickname better.

‘I’ll drink,’ he says, looking straight into my eyes, ‘for you.’

He lifts his cup and downs the whole thing before I can even take another breath.

I watch his hands shake as he puts the cup down and runs his arm across his mouth, gasping as he shakes his head and yanks his cap back down on his head.

If Tee can do it, then so can I.

But also … I want to know more about his time as an addict later.

‘Cheers,’ I mumble under my breath, and then down the sweet-smelling tea, feeling the hot liquid burn its way down my throat.

As soon as it hits my stomach, I can feel the effects.

‘That was delicious,’ I blurt without meaning to.

‘Truth herbs,’ Lar says, crossing one arm over his chest and resting his head in the hand of the other. ‘It makes you say and do things you never would otherwise.’

‘I want to fuck the Alice,’ the King says, and then he smirks at me and I get the idea that maybe that wasn’t an accidental little quip.

‘I want to kill the King,’ I say, crossing my arms over my chest and then shrugging, sticking my tongue out in a silly, stupid way, like Dee always does. ‘Oops. Guess the effects of the herbs are already setting in.’

‘I don’t want to become an addict again,’ Tee whispers, and then closes his eyes and covers his mouth like he didn’t mean to say that.

‘Shall we begin the torrid bit of our illustrious tea party?’ March asks, lifting his finger and motioning for us all to switch. Like we’re playing a game of musical chairs, we all stand and shift places, moving one spot to the left. I get the idea that it’d be really easy to poison someone like this. I should’ve used one of my test kits. Epic fail.

‘Has anyone poisoned these cups?’ I ask, and I get several blurted no’s in response.

From everyone but the King and the Hatter.

‘Sadly, no,’ Raiden says after a moment. Spinning his top hat around on his head, he flicks his attention in the direction of the King of Hearts. ‘And you, dear friend?’

‘He knows that if he poisoned you, I’d blow his head off,’ March clarifies as he gestures absently in Red’s direction.

‘I didn’t poison anyone,’ Red says with a cruel smile that stretches the scar on the edge of his mouth. ‘If I wanted someone dead, I’d simply take their head.’ He adjusts his crown and then lifts his chin. ‘So Your Majesty, please pick a man and start the questioning.’

‘I start?’ I ask and several of the men nod, like that’s the obvious route. ‘Okay, then … Red.’ I turn to look at the King and try not to scowl. ‘Did you really bring me here with the sole purpose of showing the court how useless I am?’

‘Yes,’ he answers without hesitating, sitting up and crossing his arms over his broad chest. I can hear Tee growling from beside me. ‘I don’t like you, and I think you’re a useless figment of the past. The Alice you might be, but I don’t need your help to right Underland’s wrongs.’

‘I suggest you watch your tongue when you speak to my bloody mate,’ North growls, skin rippling like he’s having a physical reaction to watching me be disrespected. ‘You know I can’t handle that.’

‘My turn,’ the King says, ignoring the Duke and the order in which March passed out the cups; he looks straight at me as Raiden snarls some very creative curse words in the background. Like I said, battle of the alpha titan assholes. ‘If I were to give you the key to the Looking-Glass right now, would you leave? Would you run?’

‘I’d go, but I’d come back,’ I blurt, digging my nails into my thighs to stop myself from elaborating on that. But I guess those truth herbs are really fucking strong, and I can’t seem to hold myself back. ‘I can’t leave my family not knowing. I also don’t think I can abandon Underland, not anymore.’

The King’s mouth flattens into a thin line.

‘Sorry, not sorry to disappoint you,’ I spit out, and I don’t even try to fight the herbs on that one.

‘The Knave wants you dead,’ he says, and then he cringes slightly as I raise my brows.

Well.

Now I don’t feel so bad about hating the bitch.

‘Why would the Knave want the Alice dead?’ North says, slapping his heavy, muscular tail against the stone floor in a rhythmic pattern. ‘She wants your dick, doesn’t she, Red?’

‘She wants to be the Queen of Hearts,’ the King says, which is virtually the same thing. ‘I’m not sure if she wants to kill me or fuck me.’

‘She can’t be queen,’ North growls, his nails lengthening at the end of his fingertips. ‘She isn’t the Alice. The prophecy most specifically mentions the Alice. And you, you should be ashamed of yourself for trying to get rid of her. Fucking wanker.’ The Duke leans back in his chair with the gilded gold frame. He just sort of melts into it, draping his body elegantly across the navy blue velvet cushions.

‘I should have you beheaded,’ Red says, but then the truth herbs kick in and he adds, ‘but I never will.’

‘No, you shouldn’t. I hear a jabberwock can still bite with its head cut off.’ North taps his nails against the table and then scowls. ‘And now the Mad Hatter may have one question.’

‘I have a quest, not a question,’ Raiden Walker says, his mouth curling into a cheeky little smile. ‘For the Alice.’

‘Shocker,’ I say with a roll of my eyes. ‘What do you want?’

‘I want you to let me drink your blood—and I dare you to enjoy it.’ The Mad Hatter lets his smile eat up his entire face, shadows from the fireplace dancing across his pale skin.

‘Those are two separate things,’ I mumble, but I can already feel my cheeks heating.

Avid reader, remember? Like I’ve never fantasized about what it would feel like to be bitten by a vampire … Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I’m going to enjoy this too damn much, aren’t I?

‘I’m only asking you to let me as a quest,’ Raiden says, running his tongue over his lower lip. ‘Whether you enjoy it or not, that’s up to you.’

‘What happens if I refuse the dare—err, quest?’ I ask, not because I really want to, but because I feel like I need to make some sort of motion to pretend I’m not as eager as I am.

‘Then you’re out,’ Lar explains, folding his wings behind him. ‘You don’t get to ask anymore questions although you must answer them.’

‘And if I refuse to answer?’ I ask, and several of the guys chuckle at me.

‘The herbs won’t let you refuse.’ Lar smiles, gold bangles dangling on his arms as he leans back in his chair.

‘Well, there’s no way in fuck I’m letting myself lose this game,’ I say, standing up from my seat, and throwing some rainbow and blonde hair back from my face. I move over to the Mad Hatter and sit down on his lap before I can stop myself.

And oh.

Holy shit, that feels nice.

He wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer, filling my nose with that metallic, bloody scent of his, making my heart flutter strangely in my chest. I reach up to take his top hat off and hear several of the men make sounds behind me. Guessing it’s taboo to touch the Mad Hatter’s hat?

Still, he lets me take it off. And the next one. And the next one. The fourth hat is a small white one with the name Alice in gold cursive on the tag. It has red hearts, a big black feather, and black lace on it.

It’s unspoken that it’s supposed to be mine.

‘A gift,’ Raiden says as I take the top hat and put it on my head. I can almost feel it sealing to my skull and let out a little yelp. ‘A spell to keep it on your head,’ he explains as I experimentally lift it up and set it back down again. Weird, but useful, I suppose. ‘It’s got a little extra magic in there, too, just in case.’

He sweeps my hair over my shoulder with long fingers, making me shiver as I close my eyes tight.

‘This might hurt, at first,’ he whispers, kissing the side of my neck and sending hot, excited little thrills zinging through my blood.

‘This is sexual, Alice,’ Tee says, his voice rife with worry. ‘If you don’t want him to touch you like that, just refuse the quest. I’ll ask your questions for you.’ His offer makes me smile, but I’m not backing down from this.

Not only will my stubborn side not allow it, but it … feels really freaking good, too.

Raiden licks his way over to the throbbing pulse point in my throat, putting his lips to it and tasting me as I struggle to hold back a groan, wiggling on his lap and feeling his cock hardening beneath my ass.

His teeth graze my skin, lighting every nerve-ending I have on fire.

When Raiden bites me, sinking his fangs into my neck, there’s this white-hot burst of pain behind my eyelids that makes me cringe. I’m about to shove him back and pull away when a delicious heat spreads through me, invading my blood, poisoning me from head to toe. I let out a little whimper and sag against him as his arms tighten around me, and he growls against my throat.

I swear there’s a string between that bite and my clit, yanking and pulling on it, making it throb. Like I wasn’t already hot and bothered from what happened between Rab and me. But this, this is overwhelming. I feel like I’m drowning in my own pleasure.

Raiden takes his sweet time, sucking and licking, twirling his tongue around each of the teeth marks on my neck before he bites me again. And again. And again. Leaving his mark on my neck.

His arms tighten around me and I can’t help but wiggle on his lap, eliciting a sharp groan from his throat. The sound weaves around and through me, almost like a drug, and I find myself melting into him.

‘That’s enough of that,’ the King says, and there’s a strange tightness in his voice that’s either jealousy or longing or both.

I pull away from Raiden, slamming into the table and knocking over several ceramic tea pots. One rolls to the floor and shatters, but I’m too dizzy and disoriented to care. My head is spinning and I’m not sure if it’s from the bite or the tea or what.

‘Holy crap,’ I groan, using the table to feel my way back toward my chair. I end up in Dee’s lap instead, and he helps steady me. ‘Is that … the bite or the tea?’

‘Both,’ Raiden says, and he sounds … explosive. Not at all like the cool, calm psychopath he’s been presenting himself as. ‘It’s fucking both.’

He’s panting heavily, a bit of blood smeared across his mouth. When I lift my fingers to touch the bite, it feels too good and I let out a small groan of pleasure. My fingers are stained with red when I stand up, smearing across the surface of the table as I do my best to make it back to my chair.

As soon as I slump into it, I know I’m not going to make it very long.

We have to drink a fresh cup of tea after each round? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

‘North,’ the March Hare says, ears twitching as he grins, his teeth white in his dark face. ‘Your turn.’

‘My question is for the Cheshire Cat,’ he says, surprising me. I sort of figured almost all of the guys would go for me. Egotistical much? The Duke turns toward his friend and leans in close. Chesh does the same until they’re nose to nose, tails twitching in a similar rhythm.

‘Do you like the Alice? Or are you simply after her because she’s my mate?’ His accent flows over me like water and invades my brain. I am so high, y’all. Like, higher than a goddamn kite. My head lolls against the back of the chair as I blink through a foggy haze and start to sway to imaginary music.

‘Maybe a little bit of both?’ Chesh says, triangular ears swiveling on the top of his head. He flattens one back against his dark hair and then glances over at me. ‘She’s growing on me, you know. And she seems to like princes. Must be part of the prophecy?’

‘You’re a prince, too?’ I ask, just barely managing to swing my gaze over to him.

‘I’m a cat,’ he says, flashing me pointed little kitty teeth. ‘All cats are princes.’

What a non-answer. But I’m too high to question it.

‘Looks like I’m next,’ March says, rubbing his hands together and then plucking up a sugar cookie in the shape of a pink bat. He bites into it and then gestures at me. ‘Okay, Doll,’ he says, and even though I’m feeling out of it, I roll my eyes at that. ‘Are you afraid?’

‘Am I afraid?’ I ask, and the question gives me cold chills.

Because the answer … is yes.

After meeting the Mocking Turtle and the Gryphon, after seeing the King so callously kill one of his card servants, after hearing the Mad Hatter tell me he’d like the Duke to be raped and killed … How am I supposed to tell who the bad guys are anyway?

‘Yes,’ I say, because I’m just an eighteen year old girl from nowhere … but the question is, am I destined for somewhere? Am I really meant to be something? Prophecy or no prophecy, it’s really up to me, isn’t it? Only I can decide.

‘True fear is fine,’ March says as he looks at me with eyes the color of coffee with cream. I want to drink them up, savor them against my tongue. Aaaand how high did that shit sound just now? Jesus. ‘It’s how brave you are in the face of it that matters.’

‘Excellent question,’ Rab says, smoking his cigarette with this easiness that invades every action he takes. He’s just so damn confident, but also a little bit scary. I think about him holding me over that pile of bones beneath the Rabbit-Hole, and I can hardly match the memory to my current reality. It’s no use going back to yesterday; I was a different person then. ‘But mine’s better. Mine isn’t simply a question but a quest which is funny because question is actually longer than quest, but I suppose spelling doesn’t much matter tonight?’

‘Just get on with it,’ Tee grumbles, slipping out of his jacket and using his napkin to wipe sweat from his neck and chest.

‘My quest is for you to let me prick you, Miss Alice.‘ Rab taps his cigarette ash onto the floor and then flicks the butt across the table and into the fireplace. Pretty impressive. But I’m still sitting there fucked off my ass on boosted tea and trying to figure out what he’s really saying.

‘You want to give me a tattoo?’ I ask, because if he wanted to sleep with me, he’d just come out and say it. Well, I’m sure he does want to sleep with me, but I feel like there must be an unspoken rule not to ask for sex during the Torrid Tea Party. Although the word torrid means ardent or passionate, right?

‘Exactly that,’ the White Rabbit says, leaning forward in his chair and steepling his fingers beneath his chin. ‘So do you accept my quest, Sonny Liddell?’

‘I’ve always wanted a tattoo.’ The words burst from my lips before I can stop them. Fucking truth plants or whatever the hell they are. There must be a cooler name than truth herbs, right? Everything else here has weird names. ‘Okay.’

‘Allison,’ Tee says, and I get the idea that maybe I’ve agreed to something I don’t quite understand.

‘Come here,’ Rab says, leaning back and patting his knee. It takes a lot of effort for me to stand up, pushing my bat dress down my thighs because it keeps riding up. No wonder I only wear jeans at home. That’s one thing I’m really starting to miss. Note to self: if I ever do go back through the Looking-Glass, I need to snatch my favorite denim to bring back with me.

Back with me?

Wow. Look at that. I’ve already committed myself to coming back to this crazy place.

Because … I can’t just let Underland descend into madness, now can I?

Steadying myself with my palms on the table, I make my way over to Rab, using the backs of Tee’s and Dee’s chairs to keep myself upright until I reach him. And then I tumble right into his lap, same way I did to the Hatter.

‘Where do you want me … I mean it, Miss Sonny Liddell,’ he whispers, tucking some loose hair behind my ear.

‘Where do I want it?’ I ask, looking down at my bare thighs. I tap the left one as the blood sloshes around in my head like waves in a storm. I’m so fucked up right now, but I also figure that I’ve always wanted a tattoo. How could I possibly regret this?

Sounds like something a drunk person would say, huh?

Rab reaches out and pulls one of the tea pots close to him, lifting the lid and … removing a tattoo machine full of gears and cogs?! What in the ever-loving fuck?

‘Who puts a tattoo gun in a teapot?’ I slur, even though I’ve been told by several different tattoo enthusiasts that it’s rude to call it a gun. It’s a machine.

‘Someone who’s mad,’ the White Rabbit says, setting the machine aside and then tapping his fingers against the sheathed Vorpal Blade. ‘May I borrow your knife, Sonny?’ He whispers my nickname against my ear and I shiver.

‘For what?’ I ask, but Rab’s already ripping the sheath open and sliding his fingers along my thigh. My breath catches, and I feel that pulsing heat between my legs like it’s shouting at me via vagina-megaphone.

Rab slides the knife out and then tugs a small China creamer over. He empties the cream out into his empty tea cup then cuts his wrist, bleeding a profuse amount into the pink and white harlequin patterned China.

I watch mesmerized as he massages ruby red droplets from his wrist, grabbing yet another teapot and adding some steaming hot tea to his bloody concoction.

I’m weirded the fuck out, but nobody else seems bothered by what Rab’s doing, so I just wait. I’ve seen a man turn into a cat, prophecies played out on faerie wings come to life, and a living card have its neck snapped. I may never be shocked by anything ever again.

‘And a little sweetness, just for you, Sonny,’ Rab says, adding a bit of sugar to the mixture and stirring it up with a teaspoon. He sets it aside and goes for the Vorpal Blade again, stuffing a cloth napkin into his mouth and biting down on it before he lowers the blade to his arm … and starts to cut into his skin.

My lips part in shock, but it feels like I’m moving in slow motion when I reach out to stop him. The Mad Hatter leans over my shoulder and pulls my hands away.

‘Let him finish,’ he whispers into my ear, and I wait as Rab filets his pocket watch tattoo off and peels his skin away from his arm. My tummy rumbles with nausea, and if I weren’t high, I might make a fucking run for it.

‘What the hell is going on?’ I ask, my voice slurring like I’ve had way too many bottles of Dad’s top-shelf brandy. He used to have a small glass every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night, sitting in the living room with a fire blazing and some hard-boiled crime show on that he’d watch with Mom.

Guess he didn’t realize he’d be starring in a real life version of one, huh?

Rab pulls the tattoo off his body as I shriek like a banshee. When he puts it on my leg, I almost faint.

‘Can I get a heal?’ he grinds out as he picks up the tattoo machine, and pulls a … a needle and fucking thread from the end of it?! It’s a literal goddamn sewing needle and piece of string.

The Mad Hatter releases my hand and bites his wrist, lifting it up to Rab’s mouth. The White Rabbit licks him as he makes eye contact with me, stirring my hormones into a frenzy. I can’t stop myself from thinking about what I walked in on, with the Mad Hatter’s mouth on the King’s neck.

If drinking blood can be sexual then what the hell were they doing in there?

As I sit there and watch, Rab’s arm heals over. The tattoo is gone, but his skin is unblemished and whole. I run my fingers over it, and he shudders.

Of course, there’s still a bit of his skin sitting on my leg.

Rab takes the needle and thread, and then bites my earlobe, making me shiver.

‘Hold still,’ he breathes in his bones-and-ice voice. He dips the needle into the blood and tea mixture, then threads it into my skin, making me yelp. As I sit there trembling, he ‘sews’ the edges of his tattoo to my skin. As he goes, not only does he tattoo a lacey design onto my flesh, but he melds his tattoo into my leg, to the point where I can’t see where his skin ends and mine begins.

When I poke at the design with a fingernail, it hurts.

It’s not Rab’s skin anymore, it’s mine.

When he finishes and removes the needle, snapping the thread with his teeth, the seconds hand on the clock begins to tick.

‘What is this a countdown to?’ I ask as I rub my thumbprint over the design. There’s a tiny calendar on the open face of the pocket watch, and I can see that we’ve got quite some time until this one hits its target.

‘This is a pivotal point,’ the White Rabbit says, wiping some of the blood from my leg. It hurts, but it’s also riding that fine edge of pleasure and pain. ‘We probably won’t know what it means until it happens. Could be this is the moment you either save Underland … or destroy it.’ Gently, he pushes me off of his lap and pulls his white ears down to cover his eyes. ‘Now get the fuck off my lap before I come in my slacks.’

‘Charming,’ I groan as I look down at my new tattoo and wonder how long I’m going to last before I pass out … or what I might think when I wake up. I manage to make it back to my chair, but just barely.

‘Now,’ March says, grinning and then biting down hard on a pastry. Red filling squirts out of the end like blood, making me feel dizzy. My leg, it still hurts like hell, too. ‘My turn.’ He watches me for a moment, and then turns to the Mad Hatter. ‘My quest for you … is to kiss the King.’

‘Really?’ Raiden says, looking irritated. He pops an elbow on the table, cradles his hand in it, and sighs. ‘I suppose if I must.’

‘Really.’ March shoves the rest of the pastry in his mouth and then delicately wipes off his fingers with a cloth napkin. ‘That’s my quest: kiss the goddamn King on the mouth.’

‘As opposed to where?’ Raiden asks, tilting his head to the side and giving March a pissy little look.

‘I’m sorry, but … if you must?’ Brennin drawls, looking bored out of his fucking skull. I’m not sure what March is up to with this game, but I’m intrigued to see how it plays out. That is, if I can keep my eyes open. Twice the boost, they say. More like ten times. I remember how I felt dancing at The Pool; it wasn’t nearly as psychedelic as this. ‘You’d only be so lucky.’

Raiden stands up and straightens his bowtie with a sigh, letting his gaze slide over to mine. Now I’m thinking about his mouth on the King’s neck which, of course, makes my own neck tingle and throb. I put my fingers against it, smearing blood everywhere, and find myself letting out the most embarrassing fucking moan known to man.

I sound like a dying cow or a birthing giraffe, maybe some combination thereof.

‘Why were you sucking on the King the other day?’ I drawl, flopped over my chair like one of Salvador Dalí’s melting clocks.

‘Royal blood has a certain …’ the Mad Hatter pauses and adjusts his velvet top hat. ‘Je ne sais quoi. The King knows how to win over a mercenary’s shaky loyalty.’

‘What a non-answer,’ I drawl, rolling my eyes as Raiden makes a show of rounding the table. The King acts like a kiss with a blackmailing rival mercenary male means nothing to him, leaning back in his chair and waving a gloved hand around dismissively.

‘Let’s get this over with, shall we?’ He scoots his chair back, and then gets this super fucking annoyed expression on his too-handsome face when Raiden steps between him and the table, leaning down and putting his palms on either of the chair’s arms. The Mad Hatter is pinning the King of Hearts into his seat and getting ready to kiss him.

Somebody pinch me please.

‘I knew you’d like this, the Alice,’ March drawls, eyes sparkling like maybe I’m not the only one who’s enjoying the show. I can’t decide if he’s into the guy-on-guy thing or if he just likes teasing his boss and seeing the King suffer.

Raiden Walker stares Brennin Red down, his top hat sliding forward to shield his eyes from view. Yet I can tell from here that they’re both staring at one another. The Mad Hatter holds that position for an inordinate amount of time, letting the crackle of the fire be the only sound in the room.

‘Well?’ Red demands, reaching up to adjust his crown. He just sits there with his stupidly stoic face until the Mad Hatter finally grins, flashing fang. Raiden closes the distance between them slowly, languorously, his mouth hovering above the King’s scowl for an uneasy moment. I almost wonder if Brennin is going to shove him away and put an end to the Torrid Tea Party.

Instead, at the last moment, Raiden walker rips his hat off—his last fucking hat!—and Brennin Red tilts his head slightly to the side. Their lips meet, and their mouths part. There is clearly tongue at play here.

My jaw drops, and I find myself leaning forward in my chair to gape at them.

The kiss doesn’t last long—a few seconds maybe—but it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Not only do both men look like experts in the field of making out, they execute it with movie-style perfection, a single take that falls together in perfect unison.

When they part, there’s this thin string of saliva that connects them for half a second before the King shoves his gloved hand across his mouth, and the Hatter lets out a raucous laugh.

‘Now, that was fun, wasn’t it?’ he asks, standing back up and swiping his palms down the front of his jacket to straighten out imaginary wrinkles in the fabric. Of course, there are none because the Mad Hatter is perfection incarnate.

He returns to his seat, as the King sighs dramatically and rubs at his temples.

‘White Rabbit, if you’d please. I have other business to attend to tonight.’

‘Well, don’t let my torrid little party interfere with your busy work schedule,’ the Mad Hatter says, putting his fingers to his chest in a very mocking way. He rolls his marmalade colored eyes and replaces his hat.

‘Is that an order to hurry my ass up?’ Rab asks, checking his pocket watch and sighing dramatically. ‘Oh my ears and whiskers, how late it’s getting.’ He tucks the watch into his vest and sighs. ‘What do you wish me to ask, Your Majesty?’

‘Wait, what?’ I snap, getting just a hint of mental clarity back. ‘It’s your turn: you pick the quest or question.’

‘I live to serve,’ Rab drawls, propping his head on his knuckles and staring at the King with a rather disrespectful expression. Brennin ignores him, sitting up in his seat and raking his gloved fingers through his red hair.

‘Ask the room if anyone has been involved with the tampering of our network as related to the King of Clubs.’ Brennin pours himself a cup of tea from a red pot—I’m assuming this is just regular boosted, drugged tea as opposed to truth herb tea—and takes a sip. Seems to me like he’s throwing a bit of shade.

‘We all heard the question,’ I mumble, but Rab repeats it anyway.

‘Is anyone in this room involved with the tampering of our network as related to the King of Clubs?’ Rab touches his fingertip to the flickering flame of a taper candle. His eyes shift around the circle, waiting for the truth herbs to kick in and kick our asses.

‘No.’ There’s perfect unison from the twins, a grin from the cat, and me rolling my eyes as I answer.

‘Intriguing question and good use of our time,’ the Mad Hatter says, watching the King carefully. ‘Well-played. And no, no I am not involved.’

‘Nor me.’ March moves onto his third or fourth cupcake—I’ve lost count at this point—and flattens his ears against his head.

‘I would never.’ Lar fans his wings softly and takes up smoking a cigarette on a long, decorative gold holder, blowing blue smoke rings into the hazy darkness.

‘And we all know I’m clear. I kill things; I don’t network.’ Rab smiles sharply and unbuttons his vest, like … it’s getting hot in here, so take off all your clothes sort of a thing.

‘You’ll ask the Mad Hatter and the March Hare how the Clubs knew the Alice was with us on such short notice,’ the King says, looking to Lar next. ‘I mean, unless it was pure unhappy coincidence that the Mocking Turtle and the Gryphon showed up like they were summoned.’

‘That’s a low blow, coming from someone like you,’ Raiden says, but the way he’s grinning at the King says he likes the way this is going. There’s violence and sex in the air here, and I feel like I’m drowning in it.

My body likes it though. As if I weren’t wet enough from my encounter with Rab, from the Mad Hatter’s mouth on my neck, his kiss with Brennin Red, the drugs also seem to have an arduous effect on my cunt. My panties are soaked, and my nipples hurt from staying pebbled for so long.

‘Where did the Clubs happen to come across information that might lead them to believe the Alice was in our care?’ Lar repeats, leaning back in his chair and using his finger to draw dog-and-caterpillars in the air next to him. Ya know, bugs with cat and dog heads? I’m assuming they exist somewhere in this nightmare.

‘I haven’t the faintest idea,’ the Hatter says, glancing over at his right-hand man. ‘March?’

‘My only guess is that they were keeping a pretty close eye on us, tracking our movements. I can’t imagine the King of Clubs trusts us much. After all, we do have reputations, don’t we Hatter?’

‘Oh March, we most certainly do. And so undeserved, too!’ Hatter replies, spinning his hat around on his head.

March winks at me from across the table, and I cock a brow. Right. Undeserved. I shift in my seat because my pussy is so damn swollen, it almost hurts. March notices. Like I said, eyes, ears, and nose of the operation.

The rest of us mutter our thoughts on the matter, or lack thereof. It’s quite clear this is a chess match between the Hatter and the King. Nobody else matters much.

‘And now it’s the damn cat’s turn,’ the King snarls. ‘Horrid beast. I found hairs all over my finest robes this morning. How do you think they got there? I don’t keep cats; I prefer dogs.’

‘No accounting for taste,’ Chesh repeats, disappearing from view, and then reappearing as an upside down white smile. His grin is as big as his head. ‘Though I suppose with the truth herbs I can’t outright lie to you. All I can say is that I quite enjoyed urinating in your shoes.’ The Cheshire cat laughs as I sway in my seat and notice that the darkness in the room has now begun to take on multi-colored hues. Oh dear. I’m quite high, aren’t I? ‘For my turn, I’d like to offer up a quest for the Alice.’

‘Of course you do,’ I ooze, barely aware of my own lips moving. ‘And what’s that? A blow job? Because I’m not into perpetuating rape culture. A little bit high over here.’

‘A blow job?’ Chesh’s smile asks, turning back around the proper way. ‘Not at all. I was going to ask if you might scratch me behind the ear?’

The King sets his mouth into an ugly snarl, and sneers at the poor cat in a way that makes me furious. I stand up so quickly, my chair almost topples over, and Tee has to reach out to steady my swaying ass.

‘You, sir, are a prick,’ I say before I head over to Chesh’s spot, throwing my arms around his neck before he even really has one. His human body fades into view and he starts to purr. I rub my cheek against his, feeling this white-hot heat flare between us. Oh, this is so much more than a simple pet; it feels like a mating ritual.

My fingers stroke over his silky black and white ears, teasing the silver hoops, and noticing that there’s a very distinct bulge in his lap that was not there before. His tail hooks around my ankle, and he makes this growling/mewling sound that has my panties all twisted in a knot.

‘We’ll be explosive pussy partners, don’t you think?’ he asks as I stumble and end up falling into his lap. I don’t bother to move because, well, is there a better seat in the house? That, and I’m not sure I’ll make it back to my own chair.

‘Piss in my shoes again and you’ll see the meaning of explosive,’ the King snaps, looking up as I chuck a teacup in his direction. He knocks it aside at the last moment with a gloved hand, and it explodes in the fireplace, sending bits of China all over the old stone floors. ‘That was not a particularly smart decision, Your Majesty.’

‘The cat is mine; he belongs to me. Leave him alone.’ I rub my cheek against Chesh’s as his grin grows to gargantuan proportions, like it may very well fall off of his face. ‘You’re mine now, Cheshire Puss. I’ll hug you and love you and snuggle you as if you were my very own Dinah.’

‘Oh dear,’ Dee says, gritting his teeth from beside me. ‘You are quite out of it, aren’t you Allison-who-isn’t-Alice?’

‘She won’t make it a second round,’ Tee says, but I’m barely listening. I’m too busy snuggling the Cheshire Cat. Never snuggled a cat with an eight inch erection in his leather pants, but hey, there’s a first time for everything! ‘Dee, make this count.’

The chipper angel prince nods his head and offers up a salute, shifting in his chair to look at me, the feathers on his wings rustling.

‘Allison-who-isn’t-Alice,’ he coos, reaching out to run a finger down the bridge of my nose. ‘I need to ask you a question, my little Mary Sue.’ I grin and try to smack his hand away, but it looks like it’s flickering in about a million different colors, and I find myself simply staring. ‘Can you look at me?’ He taps my chin, and I lift my gaze to those glorious blue eyes of his. Like oceans, I could swim in them.

We stare at each other for what feels like eons, and I know in that crazy drug-induced moment that it will never be long enough. I want to stare at Dee forever.

My hand lifts up and seems to cup the side of his face of its own accord; Dee leans into my touch.

‘Allison,’ he says, using my real name for once, ‘what should I ask?’

I blink my eyes at him, and it takes a good twenty seconds for the question to sink in. Lar and Rab still defer to the King, but the twins … are mine.

‘What’s Rab’s third form?’ I blurt, which is really a waste of a question, but I’m entirely wasted, so what does it matter? I reach over the table and snag a cupcake from one of the tiered silver trays. It has a crystallized butterfly on the top, which I eat in one bite. It tastes like marmalade and butter on toast.

‘Rab,’ Dee singsongs as the bandersnatch assassin rolls his red eyes, ‘what’s your third form?’

‘It is a literal state secret that I’ve sworn on my life not to reveal without the King’s permission,’ Rab says, looking like he’s about to choke on his tea. The Duke grins and passes over a jug of ice water with tiny flowers dancing on the top.

‘Two magical oaths warring against one another,’ North says, smiling and teasing the tip of one of his horns with a finger. ‘Whatever shall you do?’

‘Your Majesty?’ Rab chokes out, giving the King a look. But Brennin simply sits stone-still and says nothing at all. ‘Fuck.’ Sweat pours down the sides of his face as he leans over and curls his fingertips into the wood of the table. ‘May I simply say that my third form is a royal and be done with it?’ After the words leave his lips, there’s a visible loosening of the tight skin around his eyes and forehead. ‘Oh for Heart’s sake, that was awfully cruel.’

Rab exhales and leans back in his chair, my curiosity peaked to high hell. A royal, huh? Perhaps his third form is the King, like March’s is the Mad Hatter? It wouldn’t surprise me.

‘An intriguingly insightful question,’ North says, glancing over at the King. Brennin returns his look and they hold each other’s gazes for the longest fucking time. Or maybe I’m just high on boosted tea? Either way, that look is sketch as fuck. Makes me wonder if Rab’s third form is actually something worse? What … if he’s got the King’s father’s form in him or something?

‘Surprisingly so,’ Tee replies, narrowing his eyes slightly. He doesn’t trust North, and I know it’s because of the Duke’s close relationship with the King. But I think—think—that North is on my side now, or at least leaning that direction. ‘I won’t waste your time because I can see Allison isn’t faring well. Lar.’ He turns to the Caterpillar who’s still lazily smoking his cigarette. ‘In any of your visions, did you see us as being the Alice’s nine?’

Oh.

Damn.

Tweedledum does not fuck around.

Lar smiles slow and easy, tilting his head to one side, earrings swaying with the motion. His jacket is black today, to match the dress code, but the epaulettes and fringe are still gold, rustling in that supernatural breeze of his. When he opens his mouth to speak, smoke escapes and begins to dance in the air with fantastical shapes.

‘How doth the Alice prophesied

Improve her all-male harem,

She dates assassins, kings that bleed

princes, angels, dragons!

How cheerfully her kitty grins,

How neatly shifts her rabbit,

She welcomes winged seer men in

While dating thieves is habit!”

The Caterpillar fans his wings as he recites and then executes a very small bow from his seated position.

‘That’s about all I know,’ he replies cheekily, a saucy smile taking over his lips. ‘Make of it what you will.’

‘That’s not at all subtle,’ I drone, trying to push up from Chesh’s lap. I don’t believe in destiny or prophecy anyway; if these guys are interested in being one of my nine, they better show me their true colors and let me decide if they’re worthy of my time. ‘Is it time to drink and switches places again? I could very well use a clean cup.’ I try to grab a teacup half-filled with tea, but Dee extracts it from my wobbly grip.

‘Nah ah, Allison-who-isn’t-Alice, you must wait for the official pouring and the blood prick to drink.’

‘But I’m thirsty,’ I whine, throwing my arms around Dee’s neck. I end up tumbling out of Chesh’s lap and straight into his. He collects me in his arms and holds me close.

‘No more extra tea for you,’ he starts and then pauses suddenly, like he’s seen a ghost. Slowly, I crane my head around to see what he’s looking at.

It’s Lar, bent over his empty teacup with a severe frown in place on those perfect pink lips.

‘Oh, dear,’ he says, as the King glances into the cup alongside him. ‘Well, this certainly isn’t any good.’ Ah, he’s reading the tea leaves. I’m both fascinated and terrified to find out what it is that’s caught his interest—doubly so, considering my intoxicated state. ‘We need some whiting, and promptly.’

Rab scrambles up and out of his seat, moving to a cabinet in a dark corner. All I can see of him as he digs around in it are his white ears. When he returns to the table, he has a hookah, and he quickly readies it to be smoked.

‘What does it say?’ the King asks, gesturing at the chipped tea cup in the Caterpillar’s hands. ‘Don’t be coy, Lar, spill the tea, please.’

The Caterpillar sighs and tugs on one of his earrings.

‘The cup spells danger, clear and immediate danger.’ Lar snaps his fingers and the White Rabbit passes over the hookah. He takes a drag, exhaling blue-gray smoke, and then passes it around the table, starting with the King.

We all take turns breathing in the sweet scents of tobacco and blueberries. The high hits me like a ton of bricks, compounding on the two cups of boosted fucking tea that I drank.

I hope I’m awake long enough to see Lar’s premonition, let alone act on it.

He stands up and pushes his chair to the side, spreading his wings wide behind him. They’re bigger than the fireplace, blocking out the flicker of flames, and turning into this hazy dreamland that I can’t seem to look away from.

Images flicker to life within the black-gold edges, sucking me into the dark gardens of the castle and beyond the wall. It’s like I’m inside the head of whatever’s watching us, staring up at the tower from the safety of the woods.

There’s a long moment of silence, broken only by the melodic sound of an insect that vaguely—and only vaguely—reminds me of a cricket. Vultures in every color of the rainbow sit perched on a heavy tree limb, watching and waiting.

‘Oh, I do believe we’re being spied on, old chap,’ the Gryphon says, lounging next to the vultures like he’s one of them. Now that I think about it, his face does vaguely remind me of one of the ugly scavenger birds. His wings, too.

‘I believe you’re right,’ the Mocking Turtle says, smacking his pointed and deadly mouth with a grotesque, wet smack. ‘But no prophecies will be held here today. This is a warning to hand over the Alice, not a chance at espionage.’

The Mocking Turtle glances up from his position at the base of the tree and waves his hand, cracking the vision in the Caterpillar’s wings and making Lar cry out. Blue, gold, and black dust explodes outward, coating everything.

Lar collapses, but the King is there to catch him, hoisting the other man up and then laying him on the tabletop with the Duke’s help. Cups and teapots scatter everywhere, rolling to the floor and cracking into pieces.

‘We need to get out there,’ Rab snarls, and he doesn’t wait for the King to give him an order of any kind. Instead, he shifts into the massive, hulking form of the bandersnatch, his thick white coat spotted with black, his tail fluffed, the hair along his spine raised. He noses open a set of black shutters I hadn’t noticed before, so buried in the shadows were they.

Silver light from the double moons shines into the room in thick beams, ruining the Torrid Tea Party’s ambiance. Tee moves up beside Rab and opens the massive windows for him, throwing them out and into the night air before he makes room for the angry bandersnatch.

I try to head for the window, too, but Dee holds me back.

‘Oh hell no,’ he says, shaking his head and wrapping me up in his wings. ‘They’re here because they want to see you—if not snatch you. You’re not going out there.’

‘But I’m the Alice,’ I slur, drunk as fuck on boosted tea. I manage to somehow get the Queenmaker off my belt and into my hands, but Dee curls his fingers around my grip and shakes his head. ‘I’m the …’ I stop and sit down heavily in Tee’s vacated chair.

My head is swimming.

The King and North manage to tie Lar down by borrowing both the Hatter’s and the Hare’s belts, stuffing a cloth napkin between his lips to keep him from biting his own tongue. The fit he’s having looks awfully similar to the one I had.

Magic is afoot again.

I stand up and put the palm of my hand against Lar’s forehead, glancing over my shoulder to find that Tee has also disappeared from the room. The Mad Hatter and the March Hare are conferring in the corner, and the Duke is already on his way out.

‘Kisses, love,’ he says, putting his mouth to my cheek. ‘I won’t shift unless I have to, but if I do …’ He winks at me as I blink big, stupid eyes up at him. ‘I’ll be quite savage, and I’ll need my mate.’ He tousles my hair and then heads for the window, climbing out onto the roof before shifting his jabberwock wings.

‘Well, you wanted a part of my kingdom. Are you planning on defending it?’ Brennin growls at the pair of mercenaries. Chesh simply shifts into cat form and hops onto my shoulders. I’m not sure how useful he is in a fight. I mean, he could very well throw up his hand, shout ‘Moon prism power!’ and change into a magical girl for all I know. Anyway, he takes up residence on my shoulders, prepared to watch the power exchange taking place in front of us.

‘That depends,’ Raiden says as March balances a butter knife on his fingertip. ‘I want the Alice to tell me how she plans on weaseling out of our little marriage deal—while she’s high on herbs. In fact, have her drink the second round cup and tell me.’

‘If she drinks another cup, she’ll pass out,’ Dee snaps, losing his cheerful attitude to defend me. ‘Fuck you, vampire dick.’

Raiden raises an eyebrow and shrugs his shoulders. I can hear shouting outside, the crash of stone, the crack of a tree limb. I race over to the window with Dee on my heels and peer out, finding Rab scrambling to his feet in a tangle of broken branches, blood dripping from his wolf-y jaws.

He flattens his rabbit ears against his skull and circles the pair of disturbingly calm men.

As if they can sense me, they both look up in unison and meet my eyes. A shock travels through me, and I stumble back and away from the open window again.

‘Those are not Recitations,’ I whisper, feeling my body start to shake. It’s involuntary, that shaking. I can’t control my emotions right now; I can barely control my own feet. ‘They’re really here.’

‘If they’re willing to approach Castle Heart, they’re not afraid,’ the King says, moving to stand beside me. ‘That’s not good at all.’ I have the Queenmaker still clutched in my hand, but as I stand there, I find my fingers inching toward the Vorpal Blade. ‘Don’t touch it,’ Red snaps, grabbing my wrist. The cat hisses at him and scratches out with a paw, but it’s all for show. He knows better than to make the King bleed. ‘They’re trying to get a read on your magic, so they can summon the Anti-Alice. The Vorpal Blade is power incarnate; activate it, and the Anti-Alice will come running. I can smell her out there in the woods, like dusty coffins and death.’

My eyes widen, and I choke back a small sound of terror. This tea is making me paranoid as fuck.

‘Can they get in?’ I whisper, watching North stalk along the top of the wall. There’s a huge fucking hole in it, but neither the Gryphon nor the Mocking Turtle seem inclined to cross that invisible barrier.

‘They shall not touch, with hands of hate, the pleasance of our Heart’d gate,’ the King says, and clearly he’s reciting some poem or prophecy or something. He turns ebon eyes to me, the silver moonlight turning his red hair into fire. ‘They can’t get in, but the Anti-Alice can … if you fuck with the Vorpal Blade while the wall is down. And anyway, even if those two can’t get in, it doesn’t mean they can’t hurt you, Allison Liddell. If I were you, I’d leave. Now.’

‘If you’d fucked Liam and his friends, your brother would still be alive,’ the Mocking Turtle calls out, and my entire body goes cold. I turn my head slowly to look at him and find those cold, dead eyes watching me with interest. I have a feeling he’s not the only audience in that macabre stare; someone else is looking at me through his face.

And, if possible, they’re even more terrifying than the Mocking Turtle himself.

‘If you’d just relaxed and let it happen, your family would be whole. How does that make you feel?’ I just stare at him because there’s bile in my throat and a horrid, righteous anger clawing its way through my heart. If I lose my temper now, while drunk and confused, I’ll regret it later.

So I say nothing.

Because there’s nothing bullies hate more than being ignored.

I back up and leave the raucous outside to the men … for now.

One day, I’ll kill those bastards.

Tonight is not that night.

‘Here,’ Raiden says, handing me a teacup and a needle when I turn around. ‘Do me a favor, and I’ll end the chaos outside.’ I look down at the tea and then up at his face. He really is gorgeous, like a movie star or something. His eyeliner is flawless, his lips full, his smirk just arrogant enough to be attractive.

But I don’t need magic tea to deal with him.

‘I won’t fuck someone I don’t love—not ever again. If you want to try to win my heart, go for it. Otherwise, I’ll marry you as a political move and nothing more. You can have your slice of the kingdom I’m going to turn around.’ I push the teacup aside and lift my chin while Chesh nibbles my ear and lets out a wild purr. ‘So, help those men outside or don’t. Your choice.’

The Mad Hatter lets the teacup go, letting it crash to the floor in a sea of boiling liquid and shattered China. He looks at me for a long moment, smirks, and then reaches out to tap the brim of my new top hat.

‘I knew I liked you, little Alice.’ With a jerk of his head, the Hatter moves toward the window with March trailing behind him. As his boss jumps out the window and into the garden, March turns back to look at me with eyes like wet earth, brown and endless and deep.

‘Good choice, Alice-Doll. You make smart moves with your pieces.’ He wiggles his ringed-fingers, and then starts to shift into a bandersnatch, brown fur sprouting up through his clothes, the sides of his muscular body marbled like a Bengal cat.

The March Hare shakes out his coat, and then hops down next to the Mad Hatter.

‘Party’s over, my friends,’ Raiden says, slow-clapping as he approaches the wall. ‘Nothing to see here, move on.’

‘You, sir, are a right bloody traitor,’ the Gryphon replies, shifting his ragged, ugly wings as Rab pants and watches M.T. and the Gryphon like he’d rather enjoy biting their heads off. Tee is standing on the wall opposite North, flanking the giant hole in the stone.

In the distance, I hear the scream of a jabberwock and blood begins to trickle down my ears. North stiffens up, so I figure it’s a female, but he’s safe inside the castle walls, right? The King seemed to think the Anti-Alice’s ability to get in was unique.

‘What can I say?’ the Hatter asks with a shrug as Dor makes his way out of the castle to stand beside his boss, on the side opposite the March Hare. The Dormouse crosses his arms like a Hollywood bodyguard, holding his wrists in front of his junk. ‘I received an offer I couldn’t refuse. Send the King of Clubs my apologies. Oh, and let him know my army will be joining the King of Hearts’ on the borders of this illustrious kingdom.’

The Gryphon visibly bristles, but the Mocking Turtle does not take his eyes off of me.

‘Untie me, please,’ Lar chokes out, and I whip my head around to find him lying there with his wings curled inward, like he’s in a serious amount of pain. ‘You and me, Sunshine, we need to get out of here. You don’t want to be on the end of the Mocking Turtle’s stare.’

‘Why not?’ I ask as Dee helps me stumble over to the table. He very gently pushes me into a chair while Chesh shifts back into human form and helps untie Lar. The Caterpillar sits up, chucking aside the saliva soaked red napkin he’s just spit out.

‘He can sense your mettle. That’s something we want to keep as secret as possible.’ Lar stands up on shaky legs and holds his hand out for me.

‘Let’s get you back to your room,’ Dee says, peering into my eyes and brushing some hair from my forehead. ‘They’ve got this, I promise you. Nobody can cross onto the castle grounds without permission from the King.” He pauses and grits his teeth. “Well, nobody but the Anti-Alice.”

‘Or the Knave?’ I ask, but Dee shakes his head, and I let out a sigh of relief.

‘Just the King,’ he says, and then pauses. ‘Or the Queen.’

The way he looks at me, I know there’s no doubt in his mind that one day, I will be the Queen of Hearts.

Dee tucks me into bed next to Lar when we get back, but try as I might, I cannot stay awake.

Guess I’m a boosted tea lightweight, huh?

The only time I wake up that night is to check on my men.

‘Everyone’s okay,’ Tee whispers, kneeling next to my bed and stroking hair from my forehead when I wake up in a blind panic, thrashing around and tangling the sheets up in the process. I have a full bed tonight, too, with the Caterpillar, the Cheshire Cat, the White Rabbit, Dee, and North.

The bed is plenty big, at least.

‘You’re sure?’ I ask, panting and trying not to think about finding Fred in that dark alley, dead and bloody and alone. I’m not sure I’d survive that a second time.

‘Positive,’ he says, bathed in yellow and orange from the dying fire. His journal is open on the desk, so I figure he probably came back, showered, and starting writing—all without waking me up. ‘They left; it’s over.’

‘For now,’ I say, trying to figure out why those pieces of trash showed up in the first place. But my head is too full of sleep, and my hands are still shaky from my boosted tea. ‘But they must’ve come for a reason; they weren’t just stopping in for tea.’

‘Definitely not.’ Tee smiles at me and then moves to close the gap between us, kissing me with this soft, gentle sweetness that curls my toes. His wings unfold from his back in glorious folds, the dark feathers catching the moonlight, the chains falling to the floor. Waking my prince at midnight. It’d be like a fairy tale, if everything weren’t drenched in blood. ‘A distraction, maybe?’

He sighs as I lean back in the pillows and scoot to make some room on the edge of the bed, patting the mattress to invite him to lie next to me.

After a second’s hesitation, he climbs up, dressed in pajama pants and nothing else.

I’m still wearing my bat dress, but it’s ridden up to my hips, and it only takes a minute to kick my panties off.

‘What are you doing?’ Tee whispers, but I just smile and roll onto my back, encouraging him to follow after me, so that he’s on top.

Before you can say o frabjous day!, he’s sliding into me and we’re making love by moonlight.