Sunset had drawn in as we arrived in El Paso. Dolly was asleep, her head resting on her arm on the Mustang’s door. My hands tightened on the wheel as her confession about Ellis, about the scar I hadn’t even seen on her lower stomach, played in my mind. My stupid fucking eyes had been blind, enraptured by bloodlust, enraptured by at last having my little Dolly in the way I had always wanted her. I hadn’t noticed the fucking faint white scar that marred her perfect skin. Hadn’t picked up the evidence of what those dicks had done to her. It had been so much worse than what they’d inflicted on me.

Those cunts had knocked her up as a kid.

Those cunts had aborted a baby . . .

Those cunts had ripped Dolly’s womb from her immature body. They had made it so she could never have kids again. All so they could keep fucking her, against her will, coming inside her as much as they wanted without ever having the worry of impregnating her. Stealing from her every piece of her rational mind, until it had shattered and she retreated into her shell. The vegetative state in which I had found her, sealed off from the real world.

Their crimes, of which I was finally aware, loosed the volcano of rage they had planted inside me; it erupted into a molten sea of lava intent on destroying everything in its path. The people who tied her down on the operating table. The twin “uncles” we were en route to see. Add to the list the pricks most responsible for abusing her body and her mind: Uncle John and her papa. Her papa, the very person who was meant to protect her. Instead, he had pimped her pussy to his “colleagues” on a silver platter, poisoned teacup in hand.

El Paso’s country roads gave way to town lights as I drove toward our destination. A property on the farthest edge of town, a nice little hacienda. Secluded. Private . . . perfect for a spot of light massacre by Wonderland’s finest.

“Fancy fucking dinner parties,” Hyde had said as he came up beside me in Chapel’s secret Louisiana home. Hyde was looking at the photographs in my hand, the usual snarl on his lips. Henry was currently “asleep.”

Chapel walked to where I stood reading the research on Uncles Jeffrey and Samuel. He whistled as he looked at one of the photographs the PI had taken at one such party. Strings of lights hung across the outside terrace. A number of people sat around a long table. All interesting characters in themselves; more kid abusers, no doubt. A couple of rapists, and some stupid whores who got turned on by the twisted tastes of the abusers—pieces of pussy that got high watching their men force themselves on others . . . age not a problem. “Oh, what fun one could have wreaking havoc on that little crowd.” Chapel sat beside me and ran his hand over the photo of the women sitting beside the built middle-aged men. “Paid whores?” he inquired, firelight in his eyes.

I checked the PI’s information. “Yes. But ones that like the darker side of fucking.”

Chapel sucked in a hungry breath. “Oh . . . what possibilities they could offer . . . what relations we all could have,” he murmured, his pupils dilated.

“Make them all fucking hurt,” Hyde growled. “Tear out their fucking throats.” He left the table and made his way back to his rooms. No doubt Henry would be back soon.

Chapel stood too and brushed the long blond hair from his face. “Yes, young Dapper Dan. I can only imagine the beautiful, poetic deaths our local blood enthusiast will conjure up.” He pointed his finger in the air and smiled. “You must write down these adventures for the sake of your friends.” He placed his hand over his chest. “I do quite enjoy a good murderous novel, my fine young sir. One such as this violent tea party would be quite the spectacle.”

He walked away, leaving me to stare at the photographs, imagining Dolly’s face lighting up at the fare of cakes and tea.

Imagining her bathing in their blood, a lightly toasted buttered crumpet in her delicate little hand . . .

Dolly stirred, pulling me from my reverie. I glanced over just as her eyes opened. Her makeup was perfectly in place. I got hard just seeing the clock drawn around her left eye. But not as hard as I got seeing the vial of my blood dangle from the ribbon around her neck. The label “Drink Me” had never been so apt.

Dolly gasped and sat up. I turned my head to see what she was looking at. Bright lights lay ahead. Parked limousines lined a road that led to a large building, from which music was blaring. Kids, no older than seventeen or eighteen, were scattered around the grounds.

“What’s happening, Rabbit?” she asked as I slowed to a stop, allowing her to see more. Kids stared in at Dolly as they passed the Mustang. “Wow,” she murmured as she watched girls dressed in big poufy dresses and thick makeup to rival her own—except for the clock around her eye—linking arms with boys in tuxes.

I couldn’t take my eyes off Dolly as she watched them, wide eyed. Her leg bounced up and down in excitement. She turned to me and asked, “What is it, Rabbit? Why are all the girls dressed so prettily? Why are the boys dressed so handsomely?”

I looked at the banner above the building: “Senior Prom.” Dolly was gazing at the kids entering the school grounds. But I only watched her. I watched as she was mesmerized by the girls in dresses. Long, fancy dresses.

As if reading my mind, she said, “Their dresses, Rabbit . . .” Her voice was laced with awe. She glanced down at her own bare thighs. “Mine is nothing like theirs.” She gave me the saddest fucking smile I had ever seen. “But where would I wear one so pretty? Surely not to destroy the bad men. I wouldn’t waste something so beautiful on people so ugly.”

My heart—if I even had one—cracked right down the fucking middle. She was right. She never did anything. Even as a kid she lived most of her life in her head, imagination fueling her tea parties, her adventures around the property. She danced every minute she got. Imagined a life outside the walls of the estate. I never danced, much to her chagrin. I was happy to watch. But fuck . . . Dolly deserved something fucking better in her life.

“It’s a prom,” I said. Dolly’s brow creased in confusion. I knew she wouldn’t have been able to read the banner above the doors. “The kids of . . . Wonderland go to one when they finish school.” I shrugged. “They dance or some shit. Dress like this and dance.”

“They dance . . . ?” she whispered as more limos pulled into the drive. “What fun they must have.” She smiled at two more girls walking past. They looked inside the car, and their eyes fell on Dolly. They paused, then laughed. Right in her fucking face.

My lip curled. As if hearing the growl that rumbled under my breath, they snapped their eyes my way. I causally lifted the throat-slitting thimble on my finger and motioned across my neck. By the paling of their faces, I knew they had gotten the message to shut their fucking slut mouths. If not, I’d slit their fucking slut throats right here, right now.

No one slighted my Dolly.

“You both look so pretty!” Dolly said to the ungrateful bitches, oblivious to the fact that they had dared to sneer at her. Laugh at her clothes and makeup. They had no idea she could end their pathetic lives with one graceful sweep of her knife.

I wished she would teach these stuck-up whores a lesson.

I narrowed my eyes, staring at them, daring the sluts to ignore her. “Th-thank you,” one of them eventually blurted out, and they scurried across the road.

Dolly turned to me, a huge smile upon her face. “They spoke to me, Rabbit! The pretty princesses spoke to me!”

I nodded, but Dolly was already lost to the music coming from the school. “I do not know these songs. They are not on my tape.” Dolly frowned. “What else happens at proms, Rabbit?”

I racked my brain, trying to remember. I’d never been to one before I went to the Earnshaw estate, but I obviously knew what one was. I seethed at the stark reality that it wasn’t obvious to her. Her papa had never even taught her how to read, let alone allowed her go to a school where she could have made friends, gone to proms and whatever the fuck preppy girls would have done. For a second I was almost glad her papa didn’t; Dolly would have never been friends with a freak like me. A freak who thought about death and murder twenty-four-seven, not football games and baseball.

“Rabbit?”

“They dance, drink punch, then they crown a king and queen.”

Her eyes widened. “They do?” Her mouth dropped open. “Do they get to wear a crown?” I nodded. Dolly sighed. “I should very much like to wear a crown,” she said. “To be crowned a queen . . .”

My gut clenched at the fucking sad smile on her face.

What she didn’t realize was that she was a fucking queen.

My blood-soaked queen.

Checking my watch, I saw it was time to go if we wanted to crash the party. I put the car in gear and pulled away from the prom. Dolly’s neck stretched as she watched the school until it was completely out of sight. When she sat back in her seat, she flicked the card of Tweedledee and Tweedledum back and forth in her hands. Her face fell from happy to furious in an instant.

I smirked, seeing my little Dolly mentally preparing for what came next. Each of these cunt’s deaths was such a treat. The Cheshire Cat’s death ended the vendetta I had held closest to my chest. The next four kills meant so much more after the revelations about her scar.

I couldn’t wait for Dolly to unleash her rage on the fucks who had tied her down when they took her womb away. I was counting the seconds until she appeared like a fucking demon from their past.

We arrived at the hacienda, miles from anyone and anything, just like the rest. The news outlets still hadn’t released the names of those we had killed. Months ago, Chapel’s PI had told us that the uncles hadn’t communicated in years. I shook my head, loving the fact that none of these fuckers knew we were coming. Surprise kills always felt that much more gratifying.

Off the radar, and oblivious to the specters coming to haunt them from the past . . . It made their blood taste all the sweeter.

Dolly stood and placed her hand on the frame of the windshield. “Rabbit! They are having a party!” Before I could stop her, Dolly jumped from the car, Alice doll-head in one hand and her knife in the other. Her gun was in the belt around her waist. I pounded over the driveway to catch up with her.

Dolly rushed through the door of the hacienda. I followed behind, searching the house for anyone near. The sound of clattering dishes rang out from the backyard.

Dolly turned to me, a smile on her face. “No . . .” She let out a high-pitched giggle, covering her mouth with the hand holding the doll-head. “Rabbit, are they having a tea party?” Without waiting for a reply, Dolly ran forward, then stopped in the center of the doorway that led to the veranda. I strolled up behind her, and my eyes fell to the table before us. Just like the PI’s pictures, the table was long and filled with that odd mix of unsavory characters. Kid abusers. Rapists . . . and whores who got turned on by watching these fucks carry out their depraved acts.

Dolly gasped and clapped her hands. A loud, shrill giggle soared from her mouth, cutting through the loud music. Eight heads turned, and eight pairs of inquiring eyes landed on us. Dolly dropped her hands from her mouth. A maid had laid teapot after teapot on the table, and a cake tray boasting a wide selection of treats.

We’d interrupted dessert.

“You’re having a tea party!” Dolly sang and rushed forward to the table. I casually swung my cane in my hand, eyes scouring the guests at the table. They all stared at us in confusion. But there were only two guests I gave a fuck about. The two identical fat shits at the end of the table. Matching suits. Matching swept-over balding hairstyles . . . matching death countdowns branded on their heads.

Dolly pulled a chair from the side of the terrace and pushed it between a rapist and a whore. She placed her doll’s head on the table. The whore screeched and leaned away.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the maid try to escape. Just as she tried to run past me, I slammed my cane against the wall and created a barrier that she could not cross. Her startled blue eyes landed on me. I shook my head, tutting. “No leaving, dearie.” I flicked my head at a bench at the side of the terrace. “Why don’t you take a nice little seat over there?” I pointed. The maid had frozen, eyes deer-like, caught in the headlights, but I cracked the bones in my neck as my head rolled from side to side. “I wasn’t asking . . . I was insisting.”

She scurried to the bench, just as one of twins—Tweedledum, I decided to name him—stood up. “Who the fuck are you two? What the hell are you doing in my house?”

My eyes snapped to his flushed face, and an insatiable rage built up inside. I opened my mouth, ready to speak, when Dolly slammed her hand on the table. Her furious eyes latched onto Tweedledum’s bloated face. “Where are your manners?” she hissed, her English accent more pronounced than ever before. Dolly shook her head, displeased, and pulled the gun from her waist belt. Tweedledum’s eyes fell on the blue-and-white Glock. Dolly ran her finger over the inscription. Her head tilted to the side as she looked at the “uncles.” “Time for tea.” She spun the pistol in her hand and held it like the proficient gun handler she had become. She pointed the gun around the table, aiming its barrel at each of the guests in turn. They were staring at her, their faces rapidly draining of color. When her gaze landed on Tweedledum, he froze.

“We are guests here.” She glanced at the woman next to her and ordered, “Rabbit needs a chair.” The woman hesitated, only for Dolly to spin around and aim the gun at her head. “Don’t tell me your mummy never taught you manners?”

The woman scrambled off her seat and retrieved a chair for me. She brought it back, hesitating when she clearly didn’t know where to place it. Dolly gave me a stunning smile and lifted one shoulder.

My pretty, fucked-up doll.

“Opposite me, I think,” Dolly said, and the woman placed the chair where Dolly indicated. I moved slowly, assessing them all as they flicked their gaze between me and my girl. When I sat down, Dolly looked at me. “A tea party, Rabbit! Can you believe it?”

I leaned casually back in my seat. “I can’t believe it, my little Dolly.” My right hand rested on my cane, and I ran my left index finger around my lips. With my sharp thimble, I pierced the flesh, and I felt the blood gather in my mouth and run down my chin.

I let it pour.

I let them all stare.

“You know, Rabbit? You know what really ticks me off?” Dolly asked as she sat down.

“What, darlin’?”

She lifted her knife and began sticking the tip into the wood of the linen-covered table. Her gun remained in her other hand, finger braced on the trigger. Her shoulders sagged, and a disappointed expression engulfed her pretty face. “I really don’t like rude people.”

I nodded in agreement, spreading the blood over my teeth with the tip of my tongue. I felt the tension radiating from the guests. The heavenly smell of fear permeated the humid air. Dolly sighed and shook her head. Her eyes flicked to the side, staring at nothing. Her head tilted like she was listening to someone. “Ellis doesn’t like it either. She says it really makes her mad.”

I smiled.

My little Ellis never had liked ill manners.

Sitting forward, I let the blood from my lips drop onto the tablecloth. Then I smiled. Rubbing the rabbit head of my cane, I shrugged and quoted, “Manners maketh man.”

Dolly turned on the twins, who had turned a rather fetching whiter shade of pale. Their deathly pallor did nothing but excite me. I knew they had heard Dolly mention Ellis.

It teased them, foreshadowed what was to come. Pain. Lots of lovely, addictive pain.

“You invite us here, to your hacienda, and then treat us with such blatant disrespect?” Dolly’s eyes saddened, and her dimples popped out as her pink lips pouted in disappointment. “We have traveled so very far to be here tonight.” She paused, darkness flickering in her gaze. “To see you both . . . In fact, we could scarcely contain our excitement.” A sinister smile tugged on her lips, and then it returned to a pout. “You put on this beautiful spread, and then make us feel so very unwelcome.” She sniffed. “It is most upsetting.”

The man on Dolly’s left whispered something to the whore beside him. I studied his face. My blood boiled when I remembered he was a child abuser. She was the bitch that liked to watch him fuck kids.

He dared fucking speak when my Dolly had the floor? Dolly quieted, spun, knife in hand, and plunged its blade directly into the side of his skull. The whore, his fellow sick and twisted fuckpiece, screamed as his blood spurted over her. His hands scrunched the white table linen as he began a slow descent to death and the waiting hands of the devil himself. “I told you I hated bad manners!” Dolly said in her loudest, most commanding voice.

Dolly took a deep breath and closed her eyes. I heard her count to ten under her breath. I had to shift in my seat; my dick was so hard it was painful.

She was glorious.

When she opened her eyes, she smiled in relief, put her hand over her chest, and said quietly, “I am calm now.” Her smile fell as she swept her gaze around the table. Our hosts were all staring at her in abject fear. Pissing themselves at the titan of darkness she had become. She brushed her hair back from her face and fixed her headband.

Suddenly, the whore who had just been covered in blood leaped to her feet. She fled for the door. She had only made it three steps before Dolly pulled her gun from the belt around her waist and fired a bullet straight into the back of the slut’s skull. The slut’s body slumped to the floor. The hooker beside me screamed in horror. I looked around the table. The rest of the fuckers were clearly too terrified to move.

“Anyone else?” Dolly asked, facing the rest of the guests, arms spread wide. She shook her head in disappointment. “You are all trying my patience!”

When no one uttered a single word, she placed her gun back into her waist belt. Turning to the prick she had murdered, now slumped on the tabletop, she grabbed the knife handle and unceremoniously yanked it from his skull. Blood spattered her dress; she tittered in embarrassment and reached for the napkin he had around his neck. She took it and dusted at the bloody spots on her clothes. Unfortunately, that only made it worse; blood oozed from his broken head and onto the napkin, spreading even more crimson stains onto Dolly’s dress.

“There we go!” She looked at her knife. “Ugh,” she said, grimacing at the blood and brain residue clinging to the filigree steel. Shrugging, she looked around for something to wipe it on, before turning to the prostitute to her right. “Excuse me,” Dolly said politely, and wiped the blood on the silk scarf around the whore’s neck. Dolly cast her a grateful smile. “Thank you so much, lovely lady.”

Dolly shook her head in response to something. “What?” she said as she sat down, staring off to the side again. The people around the table looked at one another, fear and confusion haunting their expressions. “Who?” Her gaze wandered to Tweedledee and Tweedledum, who were sitting motionless, casting frequent, worried glances at one another. Their hands twitched in unison on the table’s edge.

I smirked. They were piss-scared of my little Dolly darlin’.

“These two?” Dolly pointed to Tweedledee and then Tweedledum. She shook her head, an incredulous look on her face. “They wouldn’t do that to you, Ellis. I am sure of it . . . they are our hosts. Hosts could never offend in such a manner.” Dolly sighed, and then shook her head again, slowly, sadly. “They wouldn’t hold you down while you were cut open and your insides removed. Surely they could not have taken your baby from your belly, and slapped you around your face when you tried to cry and fight them off.” The twins choked on a shocked breath. Tweedledee’s mouth dropped open. “They look too nice for that.”

She sat down and got comfortable back on her seat. Tweedledum and Tweedledee couldn’t tear their eyes from her.

Because they knew her.

Remembered her.

Feared her.

Then they looked at me.

They looked at the blood coating my mouth . . . and I saw it. I saw it in their frightened eyes the moment they realized who also sat before them . . .

“Heathan,” they mouthed to each other and shifted their chairs back. I shook my head, slowly, warning them without words to stay the fuck down.

And I saw the moment they realized that they wouldn’t be leaving this here tea party alive.

Dolly gasped suddenly, her inhale of air drawing all eyes back to her. “Are we celebrating my unbirthday?” She giggled. Her eyes landed on the cakes and tea before her. On the china teacups and the teapot that steamed with freshly brewed tea.

She looked to Tweedledum and Tweedledee. “Well . . . is it?”

They looked at each other. Tweedledee cleared his throat. “Wh-what is an unbirthday?”

Dolly batted her hand and rested her elbow on the table. “Just a bit of nonsense, really. Yet sooo much fun!” She surveyed the contents of the table and picked up a small plate. She stood and leaned over to the three-tiered cake stand. “So much choice!” Dolly began picking cakes and placing them on her plate. “Carrot cake,” she said excitedly, licking a smear of cream-cheese frosting that had fallen onto her hand. “Fondant fancies . . . and . . . Rabbit!” she squealed. “Scones with strawberry jam and clotted cream!” She veritably hummed with excited happiness as she sat down. She danced in her seat as she put the “scone” into her mouth. It wasn’t a scone, of course. The cakes were none of the ones she had said. This was America. Dolly lived in England in her head.

Dolly wiped a crumb of cake from her mouth as I observed the people watching her. Looking at her as if she was mad. She was, of course. But so was I.

It was what I loved most about us.

“Rabbit?” Dolly asked. I turned my attention to her. “Would you be a sweetie and pour the tea?”

“My pleasure, darlin’.” I rose from my seat, picked up the teapot nearest to her and poured some into her cup. Dolly waited with a huge smile on her face. She pulled the cup close to her and lifted the milk jug beside her. She froze. When she looked up, everyone became a statue, all eyes fixed on her. “Drink your tea, please,” she said kindly. She poured the milk into her tea. The walking corpses did nothing. “I said, drink your tea!”

The pricks scrambled for the teapots in front of them. I poured a cup for myself. Dolly reached for the sugar lumps in the center of the table. “One lump or two, Rabbit?”

“Two, darlin’.”

Dolly plopped two sugar lumps into my tea, then did the same to her own. She lifted her cup, and then she looked at me. I mimicked her movement, but I saw her eyes narrow. Winking at her, I stuck out my little finger. She giggled. Without looking around, she said, “You had all better have your pinkies in the air. I do not drink tea with people who do not. It’s so uncouth!”

Dolly flicked her eyes up, and everyone, in unison, lifted up their pinky fingers. Dolly sighed in relief and brought her cup to her lips. What happened next seemed to flow in slow motion. Dolly, eyes closed, took a sip of tea. The instant the tea touched her lips, her eyes snapped open and she spat the tea onto the table.

Everyone froze, backs bunched in fear, as Dolly dropped the teacup, the fine china smashing on the tiled floor. Dolly’s head remained down, her thick blanket of blond hair hiding her face. Her hands were flat on the table, but I could see them shaking. Her fingers scrunched into tight fists.

She made a noise under her breath. A snarl. A grumble . . . a fucking ascending roar. Suddenly, Dolly reached for the gun at her waist and fixed her eyes on the whore to my right. Without hesitation, she pulled the trigger and, with a deafening bellow, sent a fucking metal slug straight between the bitch’s eyes. Her blood splattered across my face. Our hosts screamed. Dolly seethed, her eyes wide with rage, shoulders tight with the need to kill. I wiped a drop of blood from my face and brought it to my mouth. My lips curled in disgust.

The whore tasted as fucked-up as her choice in men.

“Darjeeling . . .” Dolly said under her breath. The screams around us began to fade. “Darjeeling . . .” she repeated, louder this time. Dolly’s eyes shut tight as her body began to shake. She grabbed her knife off the table. Not a sound could be heard. Dolly snapped her head up, her face bright red. “Darjeeling . . .” The word cracked from the rage lacing her voice. “I don’t drink Darjeeling.” Her pursed lips pulled back and she screamed, “I ONLY DRINK FUCKING EARL GREY!”

Dolly spun to the whore to her right and swiped her knife clean across her throat, slicing apart her silk scarf in the process. But she wasn’t finished. As the whore grabbed her throat, spluttering as she choked on her blood, Dolly’s eyes collided with Tweedledum and Tweedledee. “Who was responsible for this?” she asked, picking up the teapot in front of her. She tipped the teapot and poured the now lukewarm tea on the tabletop. She released the teapot from a height, the china smashing when it hit the table.

Tweedledee, panicked, pointed to a man two seats down to my right. I rolled my attention his way and watched as the blood visibly drained from his face. I recognized him from the pictures—another child abuser. I focused on the pulse in his neck. It was beating so fast. I wanted to take my thimble and pluck it from his throat. “I . . .I . . .I . . .” he stuttered. His hands flew into the air. Dolly glared, positively vibrating with anger. “I . . . I have shares in a tea company . . . it’s my favorite. I brought it as a gift to the hosts.”

Dolly stilled, and her head slowly tipped to the side. She never took her eyes off him. “It’s your favorite,” she repeated his words quietly, without emotion. The kid-rapist searched the table. All his friends on the opoosite side were dead. He nodded, answering her question. “It’s your favorite . . .” Dolly continued, her tone lifting slightly at the end. She closed her eyes and brought the heel of her hand to her forehead. “It’s his favorite, he says,” she said to herself. “Darjeeling is his favorite tea. He has shares in a tea company.” Her eyes opened, but they were glazed. Her head dipped again.

She was listening to Ellis.

“I know,” she agreed and began turning her head slowly. Her eyes returned to the kid-rapist. I pushed the dead whore beside me to the floor, then turned in my seat to better see him too. I didn’t want to miss whatever my Dolly was about to do. “We like Earl Grey.” She nodded in response to something Ellis had said. “Its light tone. Its flavor, bergamot. It is the superior blend.” She nodded again and raised her top lip in disgust. “And he had the audacity, the gall, to serve Darjeeling to us. Because it was his favorite . . .” I held my breath as Dolly stopped speaking. Then she moved. In a flash, Dolly had scrambled onto the table, smashing the food and cakes and tea under her feet. She rushed for the dick two seats down from me and slumped to her knees. Lifting her knife in both hands, she plunged it into his chest. She plunged and plunged, again and again and again. I groaned, my cock hardening to the point of agony as she sliced into his chest cavity until his ribs began to show. The dick’s body slumped in his chair. But Dolly only stopped stabbing him when she was out of breath.

Leaning forward, she took hold of his collar and brought his still-open eyes to meet hers. Hissing, breathless, she spat in his face, then said quietly, “Only Earl Grey will ever do.”

I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t not fucking touch her as she sat on the table, bathed in blood, eyes blazing with fury from her kills. I launched up, dropped my cane and wrapped my hands around her throat. I dragged her to me and slammed my mouth over hers. My tongue swirled in her mouth. Dolly moaned and pulled at my hair. I bent her backward on the table, eating at her mouth, before ripping myself away and staring down at her—blue-dressed, drenched in blood, eyes and hair wild.

“End them,” I demanded through gritted teeth. I felt their fear wrap around me, and it brought a smile to my face. I slammed my mouth on hers again, needing one more taste of her lips, before breaking away to suck the skin on her throat. “Fucking end them all,” I growled into her ear. I stepped back, taking hold of my cane and kicking my chair the fuck out of my way.

I palmed my cock under my pants as Dolly shifted to the end of the table, legs open, giving me a perfect view of her “frilly knickers,” as she called them. “Wanna have some fun, Rabbit?” she teased, a sparkle in her blue eyes.

“Always, darlin’.” I held out my hand and guided her off the table.

She dusted invisible lint off my coat and purred, “My Rabbit . . . such a gentleman.”

Dolly skipped toward Tweedledee and Tweedledum. She stopped behind them and threw her arms around their shoulders. “Now it’s your turn,” she announced. Looking to me, she said, “Would you be a dear and help me, Rabbit?”

I bowed and walked her way, twirling my cane. I met the eyes of the fucker left alive at the table and the maid. They were both shell-shocked, immobilized by fear. When I reached Dolly’s side, she ordered, “Pull out their chairs.” Smirking, I dragged the twins’ chairs out until they sat away from the table, further out on the veranda.

Dolly skipped around them until she faced them. She turned to the maid, who was still sitting on the bench. “I shall require two knives, of equal size.” The maid’s eyes widened. Dolly shooed her with her hand. “Chop-chop,” Dolly said, sounding so, so fucking English. The maid scurried into the house. I followed. As I filled the doorway, her eyes widened and she backed away to the kitchen drawers.

“Make sure they’re sharp,” I called. The maid took two knives from the drawer and held them out to me. “To her,” I said, pointing at Dolly, who was busy pressing kisses on her Alice doll’s lips. The maid crept past me, never taking her eyes off mine, and handed Dolly the knives. Dolly placed her doll’s head on the table and took the knives. She had tucked her blade and her gun in the waist belt of her dress.

I strolled over to where she stood. I held my cane close as she offered Tweedledum and Tweedledee the knives. They stared at her, not moving. Dolly sighed. “Okay. I can see you are confused, so I’ll explain.” She bent down, like she was speaking to recalcitrant children, and said, “Only one of you will survive tonight.” She brandished the knives in her hands. “You are going to have a fight. One of you will kill the other.” She shrugged. “Whosoever survives shall be freed.” A smile. Another shrug. “Simple.”

Tweedledee and Tweedledum shook their heads as Dolly offered them the knives again. Sick of their shit, I unsheathed my own blade and held it across both of their throats. Their bloodshot eyes landed on me. “The lady wasn’t giving you a choice.” I smiled a bloody smile. “She was insisting.” My smile disappeared. “Now get the fuck up.” Dolly clapped loudly from behind me. I used my blade to gently guide them to their feet. “Take the knives.” They looked at me, ready to refuse, but I pressed my blade harder against their throats. Panic on their faces, they grabbed the knives. I guided them backward. Suddenly, Dum broke away and lunged for Dolly. Before he could reach her, I sliced my blade through his side, and he bowled over in pain. The second of the twins, Dee, looked at me with shocked eyes. Shrugging, I awarded him the exact same injury. As he fell to the floor, I looked at Dolly. “Thought we had better make the fight even.”

She tapped her finger to her head. “Good thinking, Rabbit.”

Dolly turned to the lone man left at the table and the maid. “Get to your feet and come here.” They did. They stood around the twins on the floor. “Place your bets, people,” Dolly sang, circling the rapist and maid. “Who will win tonight? Will it be Tweedledee, the man who held Ellis down and fucked her while she cried? Or will it be Tweedledum, the man who slapped Ellis around the face as he pinned her down and robbed her of the place where babies grow?”

Dolly stopped at maid. “Place your bet. Tweedledum”—she pointed at one of the twins—“Or Tweedledee?”

The maid’s bottom lip quivered. “Tw-Tweedledee,” she whispered. Dolly nodded in acknowledgment. She turned to the man. “Tweedledee,” he echoed shakily.

Standing between the twins, she put her arms in the air. “Tweedledum will face the favorite, Tweedledee, in a death match. On my command, let battle commence!” She looked to me and smiled. “Ready, set . . . tick tock!” Dolly jumped aside, but neither of the twins moved. “Fight!” Dolly commanded, hands on her hips, but they stubbornly refused to move. She looked at me and sighed. “I suppose we will just have to do it ourselves.”

My cock throbbed as Dolly dropped to her knees behind Tweedledee and took hold of the hand holding his knife. Before he even had a chance to fight her off, Dolly guided the knife straight into the shoulder of Tweedledum. Dolly gasped. “The first strike goes to Tweedledee!” She looked over his shoulder at me, then asked, “Question is, will his opponent respond?”

“No!” Tweedledum shouted, holding his bleeding side. He tried to scurry away, but I held him by the hair and grabbed the hand holding his knife. I easily overpowered him, plunging his knife deep into his brother’s stomach. Both twins screamed, and Dolly laughed.

“You’re sick!” Tweedledum shouted.

“Yes!” Dolly replied excitedly. “The Sick Fux!”

Growing tired of these fuckers being alive, I drove the knife into Tweedledee’s heart. His eyes glanced up in shock, then slowly frosted with the glaze of imminent death.

“No!” Tweedledum shouted again as his brother slumped to the floor.

Dolly got to her feet and put her hands on her hips. “No fair!” She stuck out her bottom lip.

“Dolly,” I said, and she begrudgingly turned to me. I threw Tweedledum to the floor and pinned his wrists behind his head, leaving his stomach free. “Would I ever deprive you of anything so delicious, darlin’?”

Dolly scuffed her boot on the floor, but reluctantly shook her head. “No.”

“Now,” I said and nudged my head in the direction of Tweedledum’s stomach. “Wouldn’t you like to do to him what he did to Ellis? Wouldn’t little Ellis like that too?”

Dolly stared off, listening to the voice in her head, then she turned back to me and a slow grin sprouted on her lips. “Yes. We both agree we would.”

Dolly ran to Tweedledum’s feet and took out her knife. Tweedledum flailed around in my arms. “No!” he cried, trying to break free. “Get the fuck off!”

Dolly’s eyes clouded over. She sliced the back of her hand across his face. “Shut it!” she shouted and did it again. “You shut your mouth!”

Dolly lifted his shirt and slashed her knife across his stomach. But she didn’t stop. She did it again and again, and again. She scarred him like he had scarred her, but he got so much more. He got so many scars that his skin was no longer visible. Tweedledum slumped in my arms, and Dolly drew back, blade held in the air. She locked eyes with me. I could see the hunger in her gaze.

My cock twitched, and I knew her pussy would be flooding too.

Tossing the body to the floor, I stood up, turned on the remaining male guest and unsheathed my cane. “You lost the bet,” I said, before shooting the fucker in the head.

But just as I aimed at the maid, who had closed her eyes in readiness for the blow, Dolly yanked on my arm. “No, Rabbit!” she shouted and looked at the maid. She was blond with blue eyes. Dolly stood before her and got on her tiptoes to stroke the woman’s face. “She’s far too pretty to die.” Dolly stroked her hand down the maid’s face and over her lips. “She looks like a doll.” She smiled. “She looks like me.”

She didn’t. Not a fucking patch on my Dolly, but I didn’t burst her bubble by disagreeing.

“We can leave her alive,” Dolly said, and the maid’s eyes widened. I snarled, wanting to kill the bitch stone dead, but Dolly turned and presented me with a stern face. Reluctantly, I nodded and put my cane back together. Dolly turned back to the maid. “Put out your hand,” Dolly ordered sternly. The maid did. Dolly lifted her own hand and smacked it hard across the back of the maid’s. The maid cried out, but stayed still. She was too scared to move. “You worked for very bad men,” Dolly scolded and shook her head. “Next time,” Dolly said, pointing in the maid’s face, “make better choices!”

Dolly ran to the white wall of the veranda, a contrasting backdrop to the pile of bodies on the floor, and pulled out her lipstick. After scrawling a Chanel-pink “SICK FUX,” on the wall, she collected her doll’s head from the table. Just as she went to turn back, she grabbed two doughnuts from an untouched plate. “A doughnut each for the road?”

I nodded. Dolly took my hand. As we walked out of the hacienda, blood-soaked and needing to fuck, I knew it wouldn’t be long until I pulled over and took her body under mine.

Unclean.

Covered in their blood.

Hot.

Wet.

Fucking perfection.

* * *

My jaw clenched as Dolly’s hands ran up and down my thigh. Her tits were pushed up against my side, and her teeth played with my earlobe. I gripped the steering wheel so tightly I thought I might rip it clean off.

“Rabbit,” she whispered and stroked my arm. Her hand covered one of mine and she pulled it from the wheel, over the stick shift and across to her thigh. She sucked in a breath when I touched her bare skin.

“I need you to touch me,” Dolly whispered into my ear. “Only you. No one else. No one else can touch. Just my Rabbit. Because my Rabbit makes me feel sooo good.” I growled low in my throat. “And your Dolly is the only one who can touch you.” She guided my hand closer to her pussy. I could feel the heat of it under the hem of her skirt. “No bad men can hurt us anymore. Because Dolly and Rabbit take their touch away with each other’s hands and mouths and naughty parts.” She moaned and slipped my hand into her frilly knickers. The minute my fingers felt her pussy, hot and wet, I hissed and turned my head to ravage her mouth with my own.

Dolly moaned against my mouth, then bit down hard. Her teeth sank into my lip, piercing the flesh. She smashed her mouth against mine again, sipping at the blood from my lip. The car swerved, and I pulled my mouth away. I straightened the car before we plunged into a tree. But Dolly’s lips licked down my cheek and neck as she moved closer and closer to me.

I was about to pull the car over and fuck her on the side of the road, when spots of rain began pelting our skin. Dolly gasped as a raindrop hit her cheek, and she looked to the sky. She closed her eyes as a deep rumble of thunder sounded. The spots of rain gave way to a torrential downpour. Fork lightning struck the tree-lined pastures in the near distance. Dolly’s loud laughter drowned out the music from her cassette. When I looked over at her, her head was tipped back, eyes closed as slews of water ran down her skin, washing the blood onto my leather seats. Her hands shot into the air as the rain cleansed her of the fuckers’ blood.

I was so entranced, watching her mascara and the clock around her left eye track down her cheeks, that I almost missed the sirens blaring in the distance.

Police.

Growling under my breath, I took Dolly’s arm and yanked her down to the seat. She snapped her head my way, a scowl on her beautiful face. The makeup she had so perfectly applied before the hacienda was now smudged, black lining her eyes and pink smearing her lips.

She looked wild. Wild, and so fucking beautiful.

“Police,” I spat as I stamped my foot on the gas. The Mustang roared as I redlined her. I flicked off the lights and plunged us into darkness.

The maid, I thought as Dolly searched behind us for any sign of blue lights.

“No matter what you do, never leave any witnesses alive,” Hyde insisted before I left.

Chapel nodded in agreement. “No matter if they are innocent, kill them quick. Leave no eyes open that have seen your face.”

But I’d fucked up. Failed on the number-one rule of killing, all because my little Dolly thought the maid looked pretty. Like a fucking doll.

I checked the rearview mirror—no hint of blue lights. I raced down the deserted country roads as fast as I could. The sirens grew faint, but I knew there would be more coming. Rain pelted the windshield; I was driving blind.

“Run, run, Rabbit,” Dolly sang beside me. “Run, run as fast as you can!” I glanced at her from the side of my eye. She was bouncing on her seat in sheer excitement.

She had no fucking idea what would happen if they caught us.

I thought back to the state she was in when I found her. She would revert to that. Dolly ripped from Wonderland, plunged back into the room of doors. Too big to fit through any door that gave her back her life . . . her sane mind.

I didn’t want her sane mind. I wanted her like this: fucked up, and dark perfection.

I pushed the gas pedal so hard the car shook at the effort. I drove for hours and hours, until we arrived at a small town. We were both drenched, and I could no longer see through the raging storm. Spotting a building up ahead, set back from the road and surrounded by thick trees, I turned right and headed that way. The car skidded on the rough gravel as I turned in and parked us around back, under the cover of trees and darkness. We would wait out the cops before moving to our next destination.

I cut the engine, the rain lessening some due to the shelter of the thick leaves of the trees. Dolly leaned over the console and, looking up at the bright neon lights dancing on the building’s roof, asked, “What does it say, Rabbit?”

I looked over at her. With her clothes wet, she looked so young. All big blue eyes and pink lips. Her dress clung to her body, her tits wet and glistening. The blood now only stained her dress and socks. “Rabbit?” she said, stroking the rain-slick hair from my face.

I looked up at the sign, and my eyebrow rose in interest. “Girls,” I said, watching the neon woman dance on the roof.

“Girls . . .” Dolly said in awe. She sat forward in her seat and imitated the dancing woman. Even with the worry of the police and not knowing what the fuck this place really was, I couldn’t help but stare at my girl. My eyes were always fixed on her. I could never look away. Nothing else in the firmament—stars, sun or sea—was enough to pull my gaze from her.

Taking out my cell, I texted Chapel.

Me: Call the cops. Tell them you saw us heading east. Throw them off our track.

Chapel: Well, how lovely to hear from you, young squire. I am, as they say, “on it.”

Another reply followed almost immediately.

Chapel: How many to go?

I glanced at Dolly, who was still dancing as she listened to her cassette, staring at the neon dancer in rapt fascination.

Me: Two.

Chapel: Exciting times, Dapper Dan. Good luck. Hyde sends his regards . . . so does Henry, though he has not been around so much lately.

I frowned, wondering why Henry had been absent, when another crack of thunder sounded above us. It was getting closer. I got out of the car and opened Dolly’s side. “Let’s go, darlin’.” She took my proffered hand, and we walked to the entrance of the building. A muscled man stood in the doorway. His eyes narrowed as we approached. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“ID,” he said. I raised my eyebrow at him.

“Wow . . .” Dolly peeked around me. “You’re huge!” She reached out and pressed one of his arms. I ripped her hand away. She narrowed her eyes at me, pissed, but I didn’t care. She didn’t fucking touch anyone else but me.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out wads of hundred-dollar bills. I edged forward and stuffed them into the giant’s jacket pocket. His eyes were wide as he saw how much I had put in there. Cash, courtesy of Tweedledee and Tweedledum’s secret office stash, that I had taken, for safekeeping, before we left.

I stepped back and rested my hands on my cane. “No questions. No ID. A private room. And if the police come, you didn’t see us.”

The meathead stared at me. I smirked, waiting for him to challenge me. In fact, I invited it. But the meathead stepped out of our way and opened the door. Taking Dolly’s hand, I entered the building. The stench of smoke clogged the air. Music shook the walls as the meathead led us down a hallway. My feet stuck to the carpet. And I tightened my grip on Dolly as men walked past us, looking her up and down as she smiled wide at them and waved, dancing to the music as she walked.

Meathead led us through a red curtain . . . and my eyes widened at the scene before us. I yanked Dolly to my side. Her jaw dropped as she looked up at a stage. Women, naked women, and women divesting themselves of their clothes to music, drew our gaze. Men loitered around the side of the stage. One woman dropped to a crouch, a solitary string posing as panties on her oily body. A man slipped cash into the string, and then she got back up and danced away to the other side of the stage.

It wasn’t dancing like Dolly did for me. These whores fucked men with their eyes as they paraded around the stage in high heels. They rocked their bodies and touched themselves.

“Rabbit . . .” Dolly whispered, loud enough for me to hear. She was transfixed by the women. She never took her eyes off them. I didn’t take my eyes off her, so I didn’t feel a whore touch my back. I didn’t see the half-naked whore reach her hand around me and put her mouth at my ear. “Hello, handsome,” she said. “Come here to play?”

Unable to stand her fucking touch on me, I spun around and grabbed her by her throat. I slammed her back into the wall and braced my cane at the side of her head, gun side, ready to fire. “Don’t fucking touch me!” I thundered as her eyes widened in shock. I squeezed my hand tighter around her throat, watching her eyes turn red.

Bitch was going to die.

A hand on my shoulder wrenched me from her. I turned, teeth gritted, ready to fucking slit some throat. The meathead stood there. “Don’t touch the talent,” he said, then backed off, arms in the air, when he saw my murderous face.

I rolled my head back to the whore, just in time to see the bitch run away to a back room. Rage built inside me, until Dolly slid her arms around my waist. She flattened her breasts and body against my stomach. I quickly inhaled the scent of her hair. Of the perfume that she always wore—roses.

Roses, roses, roses.

Dolly looked up at me and smiled. I exhaled the long breath I held imprisoned in my chest. But I could still feel that bitch. I could still feel her, until . . .

Dolly threaded her arms around to my back and began to rub the spot the whore had dared to touch. I breathed. I breathed and breathed as Dolly’s touch started to replace that of the whore. But I needed more. As my anger lingered, as I watched the pulse in Dolly’s neck throb, and as her hands touched me, igniting my blood, I needed so much fucking more.

“Room,” I demanded, knowing the meathead remained standing behind me. “Private room. Now. Or consider the money I gave you your funeral costs.”

The meathead walked to the right and down another hallway. Moans and groans emerged from the under the doors. But we kept on walking, my hand braced at the back of Dolly’s neck. The meathead stopped at a door and handed me a key. “It locks. There’s a back entrance too, just in case.” I nodded. Clearly we weren’t the first people they’d harbored for cash.

Just as I was about to enter the room, a text came through on my cell.

Chapel: Done. Took the bait. Wait an hour before you leave. Godspeed.

I slid the cell back in my pocket and walked through the door. Dolly followed, pushing past me when she saw what was in the center. “A stage . . .” she whispered and edged closer. She reached up, stroking the metal pole in the center of the black stage.

“It’s what the women out there were using to dance.” I shut the door, locking us inside. The lights were dim, only a red glow coming from the ceiling light. Music pumped through the speakers. Facing the stage was a large couch.

I walked past Dolly, anger still ripping through me like a hurricane. My cock hardened as I felt my pulse pounding and my blood rushing through my veins. As I passed Dolly, I reached out and brushed my fingers over the back of her neck. My sharp thimble scraped at the wet skin. Dolly turned, eyes leaden, and curved her spine into me. I kept going to the couch. Without looking back, I shed my jacket and tossed it to the corner of the room. I sat down and rested my hands on the rabbit head on my cane.

I leaned against the back of the couch. Then I looked up. Looked up to see Dolly watching me from beside the stage. Her hair was wet. Her eyes were wide. Pupils dilated.

I knew she’d be wet too.

I knew she’d liked seeing me slam that whore up against that wall for touching what was hers. Her pussy leaked at the fact that it was only her touch I could ever stand.

Her tits pushed against the corset of her dress. Chapel would rip into me for calling them “tits.” Breasts, he had told me. Dapper Dan, one must never sound like an uneducated, classless heathen. Even if the shoe fits.

But right now, with the heat from the kill and the need to slaughter the whore who touched me, I was a fucking heathen. And I was staring at Dolly’s tits.

Red flushed over her pale skin and crawled like wildfire up her neck and to her cheeks. Dolly rocked from side to side, her tight thighs trying to stave off the pressure; I knew my stare was feeding her pussy.

She bit her lip. Her hands fell to her sides, and her fingers began to creep up the hem of her dress. I watched those fingers, gripping my cane with increasing force.

Then, “Dance.”

Dolly’s eyes snapped to mine as I stared at her through unyielding, commanding eyes.

I didn’t move a muscle as Dolly asked, “What?”

My eyes flicked to the stage, then back to her. “Dance.”

Dolly’s eyes grew hooded then wandered to the black stage lit by a flood of red light. The silver pole shone in the glow. The music filled the room with a heavy beat, so loud one could feel it through one’s chest.

“I always dance for you, Rabbit.” She turned back to me, a teasing smirk building on her pink lips. She knew exactly what she was doing. She knew she was the snake tamer, rousing my cock with her innocent act.

“Not like that,” I said, stroking my thimble over the back of the hand resting on my cane. I leaned forward. “Like the whores out there.” Dolly sucked in a sharp breath and squirmed some more. I tipped my head to the side, keeping her locked in my stare. “I saw you watching them, darlin’. I saw you wanting to climb on that stage. I saw you wanting to grind around the pole, coveting the attention they got, performing naked.” I smirked. “I saw you wanting to strip for me.” My eyes darkened. “Only me . . . And you want to dance. You want to use the adrenaline from tonight’s kills to dance.” I sat back, hands still resting on my cane. “I know you want to tease, then fuck away your pent-up energy. The victory of ridding the world of Tweedledee and Tweedledum.”

Dolly was breathless, her cheeks bright red. I raised an eyebrow and casually flicked my finger. “So dance . . . and this isn’t a request,” I emphasized, knowing she knew what I would say next. Dropping all niceties, I adopted the dark tone I knew she would obey. “I am insisting.”

Dolly exhaled, her body moving to the stage, honoring my command. My puppet, on my string.

Teeth clenched, I watched her as she climbed the stairs leading to the stage. My cock throbbed as she walked to the center and stroked the metal pole. Her blue dress was soaked through, ripped and stained with blood. Her blond hair was a mass of curls, wild, as if I’d just taken her up against the wall, ruining my perfect little dolly. Her eyes were rimmed with black, and her lips were pink-stained from her lipstick. Her socks were bloodstained but intact, the black and white stripes like a ladder, leading me to the spot where we both wanted me to go.

A new song drifted through the speakers, a deep bass shaking the walls of the room. The singer sang of a woman turning him into a savage. The song was apt. Around my little Dolly darlin’, I fucking lost my mind.

What little sanity remained.

I sat back, tried to relax, but that was shot to hell as Dolly began to move. Her hips swayed as she gripped the pole. Her gaze locked on mine as her fingers danced up and down the metal. They were slow and seductive. I knew how they felt tracking up and down my dick. She knew that too. Smiling, she stroked the pole like she stroked me.

“Faster,” I ordered, knowing she could hear me just fine over the music. Dolly walked around the pole until she stood with her back to it, facing me. She rocked against it, eyes closing as her ass hit the hard metal. She reached above her, holding the pole above her head. Then she began to descend, dropping slowly down the pole. Her thighs were squeezed together, until she reached the bottom, where they opened. Slowly.

Painfully . . . fucking . . . slowly.

I growled under my breath when her milky thighs spread to reveal her “knickers.” Dolly’s back arched, then she released one hand from the pole and stroked it up her thigh until she reached the edge of her knickers. My breath held in my throat and I stilled, motionless, as she pushed the white fabric aside . . . and her blond pussy came into view.

I snarled loudly, Dolly’s eyes snapping open at the sound. Then she let go, her knickers sliding back in place.

I glared at her, my cock desperate to be released, but then she climbed up the pole, spinning so her back was facing me. Her hands slid down the pole. My eyes remained glued to the long socks covering her slim legs. My gaze moved north until it reached her milky thighs. Dolly flicked her hair and slowly looked back toward me. My attention snapped to her face. To her eyes as they smiled, knowingly. My hand dropped to my crotch and I righted the rock-hard cock in my pants.

A loud, victorious giggle burst from Dolly’s throat. She spun, facing me, spine resting against the metal pole. Her wide smile dropped as her gaze landed on me. Her pupils dilated, and she circled her lips with her tongue. Her eyes scanned me from head to toe, tits pushing against her tight corset.

“Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit . . .” Her face changed in an instant. Gone was the innocent Dolly I knew. In her place was Dolly the whore. Dolly the pole dancer, thrusting her hips forward to the beat.

Dolly the woman, not the innocent little girl I grew up with.

With this version of Dolly, I was pretty sure we weren’t in Wonderland anymore.

Pushing off the pole, Dolly walked forward two steps, and then stopped. She lifted the ribbons on her corset. Looking up at me with hooded eyes, she began unthreading them, her hips rolling around and around in time with the heavy bass filling the room. My jaw clenched as the tight corset began to part. The scalding blood in my veins rushed south. Inch by inch, my cock grew so hard that I growled at the ache induced by Dolly’s seductive act.

My lips rolled over my teeth when the ribbon fell to the floor at Dolly’s heeled ankle boots. “Oops!” Doe-eyed, she covered her mouth with her hand. She looked down at the ribbon and then back up. A slow grin pulled on her lips, and her hand fell away. She walked forward again, and her slim fingers pulled the corset apart.

I groaned, the sound masked by the music as her tits were bared—a perfect handful, as if they’d been devil-designed solely for me. She rocked on her feet, hips swinging from side to side as her corset slipped slowly to her waist.

Dolly’s eyes closed as if she were overcome by the savage rhythm of the song. She ran her hands up her sides, over her bare skin. My focus stayed glued on her as her hands climbed and climbed until they cupped her tits. Her head rolled back, lips parting as she flicked her thumbs over her hard nipples.

I gripped my cane-head tighter. I tested the metal under my palm as I struggled to keep a leash on my need for my girl. In my mind, I threw the cane to the side and marched to the stage. In my mind, I took hold of her throat and slammed her back against the pole. I ducked my head and licked my way over her damp skin to her nipples, where I sucked one into my mouth. Dolly would fight against me, but I would hold her in place. Controlling her, making it impossible for her to do anything but submit to me.

Her lord, her king.

My hand would fall lower, pushing up the skirt of her dress and ripping off her panties. Her pussy would be slick and wet, and my fingers would slip inside. Dolly would scream as I held my hand on her throat, then moved it to her hair. I’d wrap the strands around it—three times—and I’d make her lock eyes with me. And I’d take from her. I’d take all her moans and screams and swallow them down deep. I’d snap open my pants and, lifting her thigh up, with the leverage of the pole, slam inside her. I’d make her scream louder and louder into my ear as I held her in place, a flush rising to her face. And she’d come. She’d come, shaking in my grasp as I refused to let her move. As I took every ounce of her pleasure until she couldn’t stand on her own.

Then I’d fill her with my cum. I’d fill her so deep that I’d feel it against my thighs. “My Dolly . . .” I’d whisper in her ear as she panted into mine. “All. Fucking. Mine.”

My eyes blinked away the fantasy and refocused on the stage. Dolly’s hands were on the waist of her dress. Thumbs hooking into the blue material, she pushed it down over her stomach, her hips, and then finally, her thighs. Dolly bit her lip as the material fell to the floor, leaving her in her frilly panties and thigh-high socks. I pushed the heel of my hand over my dick, trying to tame it for now. I forced my muscles to remain seated.

This was Dolly’s moment.

This was Dolly seducing me. After all of these years . . . she was coming for me.

As the next song began, Dolly dropped to her knees. Leaning forward, she flattened her palms on the stage surface. On all fours, and with a smirk on her lips, she moved toward me. I stayed completely still as she reached the edge of the stage. Close enough for me to touch her if I wanted. Close enough for me to reach up and force her mouth onto my lips . . . close enough for me to swipe my thimble across her throat and watch her blood drip as she danced.

As if reading my mind, Dolly tipped her head to the side, exposing the milky skin of her neck. Her hand tickled down her stomach and disappeared into her panties. Her eyes fluttered closed as she toyed with her clit. A deep red blush burst on her cheeks, and her throat bobbed as she swallowed in pleasure.

Licking my lips, hungry at the invitation, I shifted to the end of the seat. I lifted my hand and ran my thimble over her slender white neck and carefully pierced the skin. It took everything I had to sit back as the scarlet droplet descended over her paleness. Dolly moaned so loudly it rang out over the pounding music. Her hand lifted from her pussy, and her wet fingers rubbed over the blood on her neck, mixing the juices. My mouth watered, desperate for a taste. But I stayed still. Watched as she teased and brought me closer and closer to the edge of losing control.

She had no idea what would befall her if I did.

I could only be pushed so far . . . even by Dolly. Could I contain the darkness that always walked with me, beneath my skin, ever ready to be freed? The monster that they made me.

“Conditioning,” Henry said when I had asked him about it one night. The thoughts I had, the ones that only ever involved Dolly. “It is the way you gain the most pleasure.” He shrugged. “Typical with abuse cases.” He sat forward from the darkness of his corner of our cell. “She may be the same, when you find her. She may gain the most pleasure from the way you wish to deliver it.” Henry sighed. “You are both victims of circumstance, Rabbit. It does not make you wrong. Simply . . . different. It is known as edgeplay. Role-playing what in real life would be an unthinkable act. Between two consenting adults, who both gain gratification from the act. It is simply a form of sexual expression.”

“Taste.” Dolly’s voice sailed into my ear, dragging me from my thoughts. I stared at my girl, braced on the edge of the stage, her pussy’s wetness and throat’s blood waiting on her neck, offered like a feast for me to take. My lips parted in need.

“Taste,” Dolly said, sterner this time.

Placing her hand under my chin, she guided me forward. Her eyes never left mine as I approached. Her eyelids hooded as I snarled, and I wondered if Henry had been right. If she would be able to take it. If she would gain the utmost pleasure from me that way.

When she whimpered as I flicked out the tip of my tongue and swiped at the blood and juice, I thought maybe she would. Spurred on by that thought, I dove back in for more. Slamming my lips on her skin, I sucked hard, the intoxicating flavor of the blood cocktail bursting on my tongue. Then, losing the little control I had, I bit. I sank my teeth into her skin.

Dolly stiffened under me, then released a moan so loud that I almost came right there. Her hand slammed into my hair. Her nails raked over my scalp, ripping a snarl from my throat. She pushed me closer. I bit her harder. She screamed louder. Her nipples hardened further against my chest.

Then Dolly pushed me away. I fought. I overpowered her, pushing against her, refusing to go. But then she pushed back . . . and I fucking smiled wide. Her hands clawed at me, pushing me away.

I reared back, needing to look into her eyes. Needing to read her, to see if Henry was right. When I pulled back an inch, Dolly’s fierce gaze met mine. She shifted, then a hand came sailing across my face. My head snapped back, but I swung it back to see her. She was breathing heavily as my eyes dropped to the bite mark on her neck. I looked into her eyes again, and my heart thundered as I saw what was in them . . . need. Want.

Desperation.

In a second, Dolly had her arm around my neck, and she smashed her lips against mine. We were all teeth and tongues as we bit and lapped at each other’s mouths. The she pushed me backward. My elbows slipped from where they rested on the edge of the stage. The heel of Dolly’s boot was on my chest. She kicked out, warning me to get back on my seat. My lip curled into a smirk as I felt my blood spark from her challenge.

Our gazes locked, a battle of wills . . . until I sat down, legs spread, and unzipped my pants. Dolly’s eyes glazed as she watched. Watched as I reached inside my pants and pulled out my cock. The cock that was going to take her before we left this place.

The one I knew she craved just as much as I craved the pussy that was soon to be mine.

Dolly’s gaze narrowed, and she shifted to her knees. Her hands roamed her body, landing on the waistband of her panties. She rolled them down her hips, her blond pussy immediately on show. She sat down and kicked her legs into the air. She mimicked the whores she’d seen outside as she worked the panties slowly over her legs. Reaching into my vest pocket, I pulled out some cash, and as her eyes met mine, I threw the notes at her. Fire sparked in Dolly’s eyes as her panties hooked on the tip of her boot. With a quick flick, the panties flew my way and landed on my chest. I tucked them into my pocket.

And then I choked on a breath as Dolly stood and faced me. Naked, but for her socks and boots. Her wet hair was wild as it haloed her face. Her hands moved to rest on her hips. I drank in the view —tits and stomach and thighs and that blond pussy, all calling my name.

Dolly bit her lip as she crouched down and moved to take off her socks. I brought my cane onto her thigh. Dolly’s eyes snapped to mine. “They stay on.”

Dolly’s expression changed, like she was about to challenge me. My heart beat faster, knowing I would have to insist . . . but her lip hooked into a ghost of a smirk and she stood up. Black-and-white thigh-high socks and black leather ankle boots were all I could see.

Then Dolly began to move. She swayed and swung her hips to the music as she moved to the stairs of the stage. I stroked my cock harder as she began to walk toward me. Her eyes didn’t break from mine as she skirted around the stage, her white skin red in the soft lighting.

She stopped before me, her head tilting as she regarded me on the couch. As her blue eyes dropped to my busy hand. Her lips parted and she sucked in a sharp breath.

Dolly edged closer still. She placed her knees on either side of the couch, straddling me. She didn’t touch me. Instead she swayed over me. Her arms moved either side of my head, gripping the backrest of the couch. Her hips began to grind to the beat, her tits a mere inch from my face. My cheeks heated, my body boiling with the need to grab her by the wrists and slam her down on the couch. To ravage her mouth and slam my dick inside her.

But I stayed still as she sat over my thigh. I released my cock, and she stared at it with hunger. But she resisted, torturing me where I sat as she rolled her back, her tits coming toward my face, her hard nipple scraping past my lips. I groaned as they circled and came back again and again. Then Dolly dropped down, her naked pussy against my clothed thigh. The tip of my cock rested against her stomach as she rocked back and forth. Her cheek brushed past my cheek, and her mouth landed at my ear. I heard her breathing—fast and out of control. It hitched as her clit swelled against my lap.

My hands were fists at my sides. I stared up at Dolly’s face, lost in rapture. Then she looked down, and all her movement stopped. Her eyes flared, and a slow smile pulled on her mouth. Her tongue lapped around her moist lips, then it came. The whispered sentence that broke me.

That brought out the darkness I had fought to keep back . . .

“Rabbit belongs to Dolly now.”

I jumped forward, wrapping my hands around her neck. Dolly cried out as I swung her off my lap and slammed her down onto the couch. Dolly’s hands raked at my arms, her nails clawing at my skin. But I couldn’t feel it. Sitting up, moving my knee to Dolly’s chest to keep her pinned down, I ripped at the buttons of my vest and shirt. I threw them off my body and across the room. My chest was tight with anticipation. I closed my eyes and rolled my head, only to open them and see Dolly fighting for freedom beneath me. I smiled and lowered my head down until my mouth was at her ear. “There’s no getting away from me, little Dolly,” I whispered. Dolly thrashed under me. Her hands slapped onto my back, and I hissed with pleasure as I felt her nails slice into my skin. She clawed like a wildcat, but I kept her pinned down. I moved my body as I felt her draw blood. Shifted until my cock was braced between her legs. Her pussy was drenched as I held her down. As she fought to be free . . . as she tried to throw me off.

I drew back and met her eyes. They were ecstatic. Furied. Wide with violent bliss.

My heart fucking exploded in my chest.

My Dolly liked to play.

I gripped her shoulders, keeping her in place. “Get off me,” she cried. My mouth tightened when I saw her smile. When I felt her slap at my face, rake at the skin on my arms and chest and neck with her nails. “Don’t touch me!” Dolly was panting, her breath labored and thick.

So I gave it back.

Leaning down, I moved one of my hands to take hold of her face. “I’m gonna fuck you,” I told her. Heat rose to Dolly’s eyes as they fluttered closed. My blood rushed faster and faster as Dolly’s hips lifted off the couch, her pussy rubbing against the tip of my cock.

She worked her hips harder and harder until she was squirming under my tight hold. Until her eyes fixed on mine and she hissed through gritted teeth, “Get off!”

Smiling darkly, knowing what she really wanted, I forced her thighs apart with my knees and brought her wrists above her head. Dolly fought me the whole way, kicking and thrashing, all the time causing me to harden even more. I added more pressure until she was locked beneath me.

I ran the tip of my nose up her cheek and across to her lips. I caught her bottom lip in my teeth and nibbled. Dolly’s moans filled my ears, then she tried to buck me off.

I saw red.

Taking her wrists in one hand, I moved my free hand to her throat. Dolly’s eyes grew leaden, her lust feeding off my violent touch. I squeezed, watched her face redden and her cheeks fill with heat. Then, cock braced and ready, I slammed inside her. Dolly cried out as I filled her to the hilt.

And I didn’t stop. I didn’t give her time to adjust. Didn’t give her time to catch her breath. I unleashed my darkness on her, wrists locked and throat captured; I slammed inside her, relentless, harsh and hard, and so fucking good.

Her lips tried to work as I held her down. But her voice was unable to make a sound, my hand on her throat holding it in check. “No words,” I demanded and hovered my face just above hers. Her gaze lit with challenge as she tried to speak again. I lifted her wrists and smacked them back down off the couch. But Dolly’s lips kept working. My jaw tensed as her pussy clenched around my dick.

I growled on seeing the victory in Dolly’s eyes. She fought to get her wrists free, but I held them like a vise. “Don’t push me,” I warned and squeezed her throat as a reminder.

In response, Dolly thrust her hips against mine, drawing a groan from my throat. Sweat ran over our slick skin as I pounded into her. Her pussy clenched tighter and tighter in time with the choked sounds of her impending orgasm.

“Submit,” I ordered and increased my speed. Dolly struggled harder, one final attempt to fight me off. My balls tightened as she did, giving me the resistance I craved so fucking badly.

“Submit!” I bellowed with a final thrust. Dolly’s scream joined the music vibrating in the air. She arched into my chest, before her body went limp under my touch. Seeing her flop to the couch, wrists weak and throat vulnerable to my hand, heat swept through me and I came. I gritted my teeth together as a feeling I’d never felt before, a release so strong that I snarled and growled, took me over, incinerating me from the inside.

I thrust and thrust until Dolly’s tight pussy ceased gripping my cock. Her legs collapsed to the side, her body completely spent.

Breathless, I rested my forehead in the crook of her neck and shoulder. Her body shook and shivered under mine. Heat filled my chest when I knew who caused those jerky movements—me. My roughness. Her fight. Our perfect fucked-up-ness.

Needing to see her, I raised my head and looked down. Dolly’s eyes were closed as she took in deep breaths through her nose. Her hair was slicked to her face, her cheeks flushed red. The cut on her neck was red from my thimble’s stroke. Blood stained her flesh, and my fresh bite mark branded her skin.

I groaned, liking that most of all. It announced to everyone that Dolly belonged to me. She was branded with my mark.

Dolly’s tits rose and fell as she came down from her high. My cock twitched at the sight of one of my hands holding her wrists above her head. My balls ached at the sight of my hand over her throat.

As if feeling my stare, Dolly opened her eyes, long false lashes now the only bit of makeup that remained on her face. She blinked, clearing the fog from her sight. I held my breath, waiting for her to say something. To react.

Then she smiled.

Exhaling, I released her wrists and pulled my hand from her throat.

Dolly’s hands slowly slid from above her head. Her eyes never left mine as she pushed her hands behind my neck. I dropped my forehead to hers and just breathed.

She didn’t speak until I went to pull out from between her legs. “No,” she said, wrapping her thighs around my waist. I could have easily overpowered her and withdrawn, but I liked that she wanted me to stay inside her. My cock began to wake as I met her eyes and she shook her head. “I want to keep you there.”

I sat up, taking Dolly with me, and rested my back against the couch. Dolly was plastered to my front, her head tucked into my neck. I ran my hands down her back. Dolly practically purred into my ears as her hips rolled slightly at my touch.

I stared straight ahead, replaying her cries and moans in my head. I stared at the pole and stage, seeing again my Dolly strip for me. Seeing her offer me her vein. I dropped a kiss on her shoulder and wondered if anyone had ever done this before. Wondered if any fucker out there had this with his girl. A woman who was handcrafted for him.

Perfection, forged in hell.

Dolly sighed and slowly drew back her head. Her arms stayed loosely looped around my neck. “Darlin,” I greeted her, seeing her eyes dip and a flush set on her cheeks. She looked up at me from below her lashes and bit her lip.

What a beautiful sight.

Dolly stroked a piece of hair back from my forehead. Her finger dropped to the spade tattoo on the side of my face. Then she looked right at me. “Do you think other people in Wonderland, people like us, Rabbit and Dolly, find pleasure just like that?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Meaning?”

Dolly ran her hand down to my chest and over the welts that her clawing and scratching had brought to my tattooed skin. I fixed my attention on the bite mark on her neck.

Dolly held me tighter. “I was watching TV the other night. There was a film on.”

I waited for her to continue.

“The people . . . the people like us, they were doing what we do. What we just did.” She paused again. I placed my hand under her chin and lifted her head until she met my eyes. I raised my brow in question. Dolly sighed. “They didn’t do what we do. It was different.”

“Different . . .?” I trailed off, wondering how else people were when they fucked.

Dolly nodded her head. “They were on a blanket. In a field under the stars.” A whisper of a smile ghosted her lips. She shrugged. “There was no fighting. There was no blood being shared.” My eyebrows pulled down, imagining what that even looked like.

Dolly’s finger went down to my chest. She traced the Sick Fux tattoo. “The man was on top of the woman. She was holding him close. Soft . . .” Dolly’s voice seemed just as confused as I was. “It was slow. It was gentle.” She smiled and tipped her head up, reaching her arm into the air. “It was under the stars. The moon was so big. And . . . and he told her she had his heart. He told her he loved her.”

She shook her head and brought her hand back to my chest. “The people of Wonderland lead strange lives. They go to balls, wear princess dresses and crowns to celebrate leaving school. They join their bodies under the stars, quiet and soft, only a blanket beneath them.” She shook her head and then, smiling at me, said, “They are all entirely bonkers, Rabbit! Completely off their rockers! What strange creatures they all are!”

I nodded in agreement, but inside my head was thick with a heavy fog. Dolly’s smile fell, and I saw straight through her charade. She was sad about the way the other people were. How they were different to us.

Placing my hands on her cheeks, I pulled her to my mouth. Before our lips touched, I met her eyes. She blinked, but I saw the tears building regardless. Tears for something she had never had. The dresses. The stars. The declaration of . . . love? That perplexed me most of all.

Clearing my mind, I pressed my lips against hers. But this time I did it softly. Gently . . .

When I pulled back, Dolly sighed and her eyes flickered open. She stared at me, wordlessly, regarding me strangely.

“We must go,” I said.

“Okay.” Dolly climbed from my lap. I put on my shirt and vest, and zipped up my pants. I stared at Dolly as she dressed, her ruined, blood-soiled blue dress back on her body. When she turned to me, my breath was swept from within me.

She was mine.

She was all fucking mine.

I held out my hand. Dolly walked to me and slipped her hand into mine. I led her through the back door the guard had told us about. The skies were clear, save for a sea of stars, as we got into the car and pulled back out onto the country roads. I had placed my jacket over Dolly to keep her warm. Her responding smile seared my black heart. Another brand on the tally of how many times she made my chest ache.

I left the lights off as I drove. A ballad came through the speakers as we sailed through the silent night. Dolly’s words spun in my head. About the man and woman in the movie. About the stars and the blanket. The lack of blood and roughness . . .

Glancing across at Dolly, I saw she was fast asleep. A small smile was on her lips as she dreamed, wrapped up in my coat. Black covering color. Exactly how we were. My darkness polluting her light.

But there was no other way. I couldn’t be without her. I would never let that happen. It was just the way it now was.

Taking my cell from the console, I brought up Chapel’s number. He answered on the third ring.

“Young Dapper Dan,” he said. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

“How do people fuck?” I asked, careful not to wake Dolly from her sleep.

Silence greeted me. Then, “Mostly not as you do, I would hazard a guess.” I frowned. Chapel sighed. “Romantic gestures, young squire. Most intimacies are born from romance. Soft touches. Kisses. Gentle strokes of hair.” I listened in silence. “One would start by gifting the lady with a present, something that will make her happy. Bring out a smile. Then romance—a meal, a night out . . . a slow dance.” I looked at Dolly again as I turned right onto another road. Onto the path of the man who hurt my girl most of all. “Clothes would be removed by the other, savoring each touch from their lover. They would take it to their bed, or some other place that was comfortable for what was to come.” I swallowed as Chapel continued. “Then they would make love, Dapper Dan. Not fuck. No aggression. Nothing untoward, just him and her. Joined. Intimate. Slow. Sweet kisses and sensuous strokes until they are brought to climax.” My hand tightened on the wheel as I tried to imagine how that could be. I couldn’t even conjure up the image.

“Then the man, being the gentleman that he is, would hold her close in the aftermath. And if his heart so felt it, tell her that he loves her.”

I froze, completely froze.

“Dapper Dan?” Chapel said. When I didn’t speak, he asked, “You do love your little Dolly darlin’, do you not?”

“Love?” I questioned.

“Cannot imagine your life without her in it? Would kill if anyone hurt her? Would die if you ever lost her? Can’t breathe or sleep without seeing her face?”

My pulse thundered in my neck as I looked at her again. All of them. I had all of those. What was Rabbit without his Dolly?

Chapel spoke. “You should tell her, young squire. That is something young women tend to enjoy hearing.” A pause. “You are on your way to the penultimate kill?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“The ace in the pack, if I remember correctly?”

My lip lifted in disgust. “Yes.”

“Then, if memory serves, a declaration of love may be welcomed after Dolly darlin’ takes him on. Meeting the ghosts of the past, especially one that was more than instrumental in your demise, can play havoc with one’s emotions.” He exhaled heavily. “Just a thought.”

I hung up without saying goodbye. Chapel’s explanation of fucking throbbed in my brain. I looked up at the stars above. It was under the stars. The moon was so big. And . . . and he told her she had his heart. He told her he loved her . . .

Fuck the stars, I thought when my eyes fell back to the girl beside me. The only one worthy of my attention. Of my eyes.

They are all entirely bonkers! she had said on a strained laugh. But I knew my little Dolly. If they were “bonkers,” she wanted to be bonkers too.

The ballad ended, so I rewound the cassette and played it again. Romance. The slow, soft song playing seemed appropriate to Dolly’s wants. To how I felt about her.

I drove until the sun began to rise, cresting over the horizon, the word “love” still playing havoc with my mind.

Cannot imagine your life without her in it? Would kill if anyone hurt her? Would die if you ever lost her? Can’t breathe or sleep without seeing her face?

Love, I thought. A word so alien to my vocabulary, yet it seemed I had lived with it in me since the age of nine. Love. Not deep enough to describe my feelings for Dolly.

But it would have to do.

I had no other word as mighty or as strong.