Kings of Underland: A Bride for Beasts Read online

  Table of Contents Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Join My Group

  Character List

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  First Interlude

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Second Interlude

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Third Interlude

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Author's Note

  Kings Of Underland:A Marriage of Monsters Cover

  Allison's Adventures in Underland Cover

  The Heart Cantrip Cover

  Spirited Cover

  Keep Up With The Fun

  More Books By C.M. Stunich

  About the Author

  Kings of Underland: A Bride for Beasts

  Kings of Underland: A Bride For Beasts © C.M. Stunich 2022

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  For information address Sarian Royal Indie Publishing, 89365 Old Mohawk Rd, Springfield, OR 97478.

  www.cmstunich.com

  Cover art and design © Amanda Carroll and Sarian Royal

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, businesses, or locales is coincidental and is not intended by the author.

  this book is dedicated to

  all the fans of the original ‘Harem of Hearts’ trilogy.

  your enthusiastic and enthusiastic-er hearts made this series happen!

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  CHARACTER LIST

  (Allison’s husbands, in no particular order)

  1. The Mad Hatter – Raiden Walker

  2. The March Hare – March

  3. The King of Hearts – Brennin Red

  4. The Cheshire Cat – Chesh

  5. Tweedledee – Dee

  6. Tweedledum – Tee

  7. The Caterpillar – Lar

  8. The Duke of Northumbria – North

  9. The White Rabbit – Rab

  Once upon a time, there was a girl like any other, one with flaxen hair and an acerbic wit. By either design or mistake, she fell down a rabbit-hole and found herself in a new world, as fantastical as it was dark. As wondrous as it was war-torn and blood-drenched.

  A magic storm known as the Riving once tore this land asunder, leaving a ratio of ten men to every one woman. Thus, it became commonplace for one woman to marry many men.

  There, in that strange place known as Underland, Allison Pleasance Liddell found herself at the center of a prophecy. Her hair turned red; her smile turned sharp; a crown was placed atop her head.

  She was destined to be queen.

  And by her side, nine men were destined to rule as her kings.

  For there are many kings in Underland …

  But there is room for only one Queen.

  A Feast of Beasts

  To the Looking-Glass nightmare ‘twas Alice that said,

  “I’ve a sword in my hand, I’ve nine men in my bed;

  Let the Underland beasties, as fierce as they seethe,

  Come and dine on the White Queen, so Red Queen can lead!”

  Ghosts fill up the goblets as quick as they must,

  And sprinkle the table with bones and grave dust:

  They stuff bats in coffins, slip slivers in tea—

  And threaten Queen Alice to free the Between!

  “O Wonderland monsters,” cursed Ina, “come here!

  ‘Tis an honor to see this, sick pleasure to hear:

  ‘Tis a privilege high to have murder with tea

  ‘Down with the Red Queen,’ said White Queen (that’s me)!”

  Ghosts fill up the goblets with poison, squid ink,

  And anything else so unpleasant to drink:

  Mix blood with the cider, and pain with the wine—

  Farewell to Queen Alice and husbands divine!

  Allison – the Queen of Hearts

  My life is a dark and twisted fairy tale, a story that begins where others find their end …

  The wedding night.

  The King’s hand is sure and steady as he runs his fingers through the bloodred strands of my hair, curving the unruly bed-tangled mess away from my face. That severe mouth of his, as dangerous and sharp as the blade I wore beneath yesterday’s wedding dress, descends on mine.

  His tongue is a punishing thing, sweeping into my mouth and claiming me.

  I’m sitting on his lap, my bare skin glowing in the early morning light. The sun breaks across a storm-tempted sky, cutting apart gray clouds and forcing its way into the world in bars of bright gold. It’s warm, too, but its heat pales in comparison to the King’s hot palms as they skim my curves.

  I’m naked, but he’s fully dressed in the robes of state, a voluminous furred cloak hung over his broad shoulders. My fingers play with the clasp at his throat as he kisses me like he owns me. If he does, then at the very least, I own him, too.

  Yesterday, we were married.

  I walked down the aisle in a red gown with a sword and a flintlock pistol tucked beneath it; I let this man place a crown atop my head; I became a queen.

  “I should go,” he tells me, drawing back slightly.

  I stare at him, his eyes like onyx, his hair as vibrant as freshly spilled blood. The way he usually holds his face, so impossibly severe, is marred in this moment. Having his naked queen on his lap seems to have cracked the ice of his personality—for now.

  Already, I can see his usual sternness creeping in.

  My gaze shifts to the other men occupying our marital bed.

  I could crawl back in with them and sleep away half the day.

  Or I could see what it’s really like to be queen.

  “I’ll come with you.” I stand up, but the King’s hands find my hips, locking me in place in front of him. He releases me as he rises up to his full height, looking down at me with a scar tugging at the right corner of his lip.

  “Rest.” It’s said like a command. The King—a man named Brennin Red—leans down and looks me dead in the eye, reminding me that despite the wedding, despite our obvious attraction to one another, we’re virtually strangers.

  A blush comes over my face—irrelevant considering we had our wedding night—and I find myself cupping one hand between my legs and the other across my breasts.

  “I’d rather go with you.” I turn to head for the closet when the King grabs me yet again, one strong arm banded around my waist. His glorious mouth moves against my ear, and I close my eyes against the coil of heat in my lower belly.

  “No.” Brennin kisses the side of my neck, and then bites down, hard enough to leave a mark. Not that it’ll matter: I’m covered in them. His … and the others’, too. He takes off for the door, pausing just once to look back at me, and then he turns to open it.

  Something inside of me feels … o
ff.

  I can’t explain it, but there’s a sense of unease that sparks in me, setting fire to my nerves. Danger. I snatch the sword that he gifted me from the top of a nearby dresser, and I shove the surprised King of Hearts to the side with a body slam that he doesn’t expect.

  If he’d expected it, I never could’ve jostled him: my new husband is as solid and immovable as granite.

  The bedroom door opens, and there’s a strange man looking back at me with eyes like shadows and skin as white as a sun-starved ghost. He seems as surprised to see me as I am to see him.

  He has a knife in one hand, the other tucked into the pocket of his oversized black coat. He yanks his hand from his pocket, as if he’s tossing something at me and yet, I don’t see or hear anything hit the floor. But that’s irrelevant. Even his name is irrelevant.

  I don’t need to know who this is to know that he came here with nefarious purpose.

  Without offering up a single word, I drive my blade up and into the sunken hollow of his throat. Blood spatters my naked flesh, dripping down my breasts, my belly, across the pocket watch tattooed on my right leg.

  I yank the weapon back as the King pushes past me, snatching a second man by the collar and slamming him into the wall beside our bedroom door. The man I just stabbed collapses to the floor at my feet as the other …

  His screams echo down the dark stone hall as the other men involved in our marriage tumble through the double doors in a rush, until they’re crowded around me and staring at the two corpses. Somebody knocks into a side table, sending a teapot to the floor and shattering it.

  My breath frosts in the oddly cool air of the hallway, and I drop the sword to my side. The blood drips from the end of it in a rhythmic echo that carries down the length of the hall. Already, I can hear the metal clanking of armored guards making their way in this direction.

  The body on the ground in front me twitches a few times and then goes still. The other is missing its head.

  As the old adage goes here in the Kingdom of Hearts: off with their fucking heads.

  “The King of Hearts strikes again,” one of the men murmurs, but I’m too distracted to say which one it is.

  That is, which of the nine men I married yesterday is speaking.

  Where some stories find their end, mine is only just beginning.

  In the early morning half-light, dripping blood and holding a sword, I stare down at the pair of assassins brave enough to enter the King’s castle.

  They couldn’t have expected to make it out alive.

  So … why are they here and who sent them?

  And how can my first day as a queen be off to such a rocky start?

  #

  “Allison Liddell.” My mother’s words are clipped, but not out of anger—out of fear. She rushes into the room to find me wrapped in a red silk robe, cradling a cat and sitting on the edge of the gargantuan bed that’s only overshadowed by the sheer size of the room itself.

  The windows on either side of the heart-shaped headboard are thrown wide, letting in a warm breeze charged with the hint of a future thunderstorm. The breeze itself is laced with an otherworldly humidity, making me question whether or not I actually saw my breath frost in the air this morning.

  “I’m okay,” I promise, but I notice Mom’s eyeing the sword on the bed next to me. It’s as long as my arm, cloaked in a red sheath that’s decorated with the King’s symbol—a broken heart pierced through with a blade. The blood’s been cleaned off of it, but not off of me. Not the assassin’s blood, and not the fresh crimson oozing from my foot.

  I stepped on a shard of porcelain from the broken teapot, and it’s now embedded very firmly in the sole of my foot. I called for a healer—or more preferably my husband, Raiden—but Mom showed up instead.

  I’m not surprised.

  I grit my teeth as Hannah Liddell kneels on the rug before me, a pair of tweezers in hand, and attempts to extract the shard from my aching flesh.

  A queen should remain dignified; screaming isn’t a regal quality.

  Breathe deep, Allison, and relax. When have you ever been dignified? The thought’s almost laughable.

  What’s regal about any part of this situation? There are servants mopping up blood, two dead assassins lying on the floor outside my bedroom door, and a rumple of blankets that my mom keeps staring at with a dramatic pursing of her lips.

  I stroke my fingers down the curved spine of the black and white striped cat lying in my lap and force myself to bite my tongue.

  “If it hurts, you shouldn’t hold back,” the cat purrs, his voice a warm baritone that helps soothe some of my newfound anxiety. He rolls onto his back and paws at my hand with black claws. Seeing a cat speak is by far one of the least weird things I’ve seen since I crossed from my world into this one, a place known by a name as telling as it is descriptive: Underland. “One might think a cat has got your tongue.”

  My mother pulls the jagged bit of porcelain from my foot and places it into a metal tray on the floor beside her. She doesn’t look up, not even when the King strides into the room, wearing his red and white robes along with a frown. It pulls at the scar edging the right corner of his lip, the one that cuts through the handsome jut of his chin and slices across the delicate white skin at the front of his throat.

  He eyes the blood dripping from the wound on my foot before glancing back at the mess in our bedroom doorway. The assassins’ blood is much darker in color, an oil-slicked black that marks them both as something other. As in, most definitely not human.

  I don’t look at the bodies, focusing my attention on Brennin and the way his eyes flick from the corpses to my face. We stare at each other, and I’m reminded all over again about what happened last night. Not the murders: the sex.

  There was a lot of sex that happened in this room last night. When I think about it, I start to squirm.

  “Explain to me how this man was able to enter Castle Heart.” Brennin Red turns and gestures with a gloved hand in the general direction of the first body. The way he grits his teeth and narrows those dark eyes to slits has goose bumps breaking out across my skin.

  He’s not talking to me or my mother, so she does her best to ignore him as the room fills with guards—all of whom are female and wearing armor in white with heart-kissed livery over the top. Underneath their long sleeves, they’re all tattooed in similar fashion. In Underland, there are four major kingdoms based after the card suits: hearts, diamonds, spades, and clubs.

  The branding is never subtle.

  “What happened?” Mom whispers, bandaging my foot and looking pleadingly at my face. We have a strange and twisted history, my mother and me. I suppose that’s why she doesn’t look twice at the two dead men and seems more concerned with my mussy marital bed.

  I’m eighteen years old and married, not a position I ever expected to find myself in. I don’t think my mother expected (or hoped for) such a thing either. But here we are, living in a world that’s not the one either of us grew up in.

  Like anyone else, I grew up in the only world I ever thought existed.

  I should’ve known that life is never quite as simple as it first appears.

  “Allison took out an assassin all by her lonesome.” The cat in my lap shapeshifts into a man with a bright grin, a collar around his neck, and eyes like cool fog over the bay. He’s straddling me now, black and white striped ears poking through his dark, feathered hair, those sharp kitty canines of his peeking over the edge of his lip. “Which is why a cat should have your tongue—only not in the simple adage.”

  The man straddling my lap grabs my face between two warm palms and leans in to kiss me, claws digging just slightly into my skin. He nips my lower lip, but I don’t let him go any further: not with my mother kneeling like a knight beside our bed.

  “Chesh.” I shove my new husband onto the mattress beside me, ignoring the slip and slide of his leather pants against my silk robe, or the memory of his naked body pressed to mine just last night. Mom is
staring at the pair of us with a less than thrilled expression on her tired face, forcing herself up to her feet with a groan and the swipe of her arm across her brow.

  As if he senses the need to repair the relationship with his new mother-in-law, Chesh slides off the bed and repositions himself against the stone wall beside the closet door. Inside, there are an untold number of dresses, shiny as jewels, fit to size and waiting for me to select one.

  “An assassin?” My mother nearly chokes on the word, and then she mumbles something about how it’s a good thing that my father isn’t here. At least, not right now he isn’t. “What do you mean by that exactly?”

  “Somebody isn’t happy that the Kingdom of Hearts has a new queen,” Chesh murmurs. Hannah glances over her shoulder at him. Barefoot, silver earrings glinting in his ear, he may as well be naked for all the pants do to cover him. They sit too low, show too much.

  Hannah is not impressed.

  “I’ll run a bath …” she starts, pushing up to her feet, but the cat-eared man curls his long fingers around her wrist and leans in. His lips are near her ear, a sharp grin on his face that explains without words how he came into his name—the Cheshire Cat.

  “No worries, Mother. I’ve got this.” Chesh releases my mom’s arm, padding past her on silent feet and ignoring the King and his cadre of guards clustered near the bedroom door.

  I stand up, wincing at the pain in my foot, and meet Mom’s eyes.

  “I’m a married woman now, remember?” I joke, but she very clearly doesn’t find any humor in that statement. Not that she’s entirely displeased about our current living situation—if my mom wasn’t able to live here in Underland with me, then she’d be serving a life sentence in prison.

  “Allison …” Her voice trails off as I move away, keeping the robe tucked tightly around my body until I’ve slipped past the frosted glass doors that cordon off the bathroom. Already, Chesh is seated on the edge of the tub, hot water gurgling from a brass faucet.