Chapter 36: To The Gallows

Jasper was quick and proud, putting herself together. She donned a blush-pink short set and iridescent body powder. The combo highlighted her best assets and made certain her glowing, cherry-ember complexion popped. After capping horns with glittering emerald gems, she hurried out the door. Well-worn flip-flops echoed her swift departure.
Late August heat clung to her skin and exposed thighs. She loved the warmth and cozy, tepid breeze. It reminded her of home. Not that she ever wanted to go back, but Jasper missed some things. Like the weather, coal fields, and fully blossomed pyre mounds.
Scorching flames of the Great Undervell delta paled in comparison to the fire in Buck’s eyes. His attention held fast and dared not stray. He was always much to behold and sense. Heavy, rich, and dense. She battled an intense urge to take him on the porch. Buck didn’t make it easy as he assessed every inch of her. From painted toes to capped horns, Buck ate her up.
“Shameless wretch,” Jasper snapped, pushing past the unabashed king.
“What I need shame for? It would mean I feel guilty about something. And I don’t.”
She giggled and cleared the steps in a single bound. Twisting about, Jasper smacked her lips at the old fool’s messy tongue.
“You could at least be a gentleman about it.”
Buck grinned, heading their journey. “I ain’t never been no gentleman. Why beat bushes when we both know what time it is?”
She snickered, big-headed as fuck in the moment. It wasn’t so much that a man wanted her; no, it was that he did. Jasper was used to and familiar with advances, propositions, and the like. They were dime a dozen, but she’d declined every one…until him.
Buck wasn’t normal; nothing about him screamed average or innocent, and yeah, she found him enthralling. Her infatuation had everything to do with his abysmal soul, the dark, mysterious fae underneath the brawn. Beneath his ruggedly beautiful features lay a soul Jasper wanted to dine upon for hours. The inky spirit of him piqued curiosities and made her drip with intense anticipation.
As they aimed for the woods, Jasper stared at his upturned full lips.
“You’d be one of many,” Jasper announced, afraid of where their candor might lead. She needed something, anything to stave off her hunger for this man. “I’ve lain with more than most. I take what I need and leave nothing to question.”
“Including my wife.”
At this, Jasper turned coy. The thought of Nieema set her heart aflutter and aflame. She ignored the smitten succubus within and smiled. Nothing good would come from admitting it, so she stayed quiet on the matter.
“It’s alright,” Buck said, grinning like a shameless wolf intent on devouring their prey whole. “She does that to me too.”
“She is a goddess,” Jasper happily replied.
“You ain’t lying.”
“And you are her devotee.”
“Every damn day of my life.”
“I love this most about you, Buck. The love and respect you show Nieema have worked in your favor.”
Their stroll continued for a spell, following a serpentine footpath toward a darkened wood.
The night was calm and quiet, as Indigo Plains always seemed to be. This peace and place eased more than her stress. The ranch, their home, and the land it resided on brought about freedom.
Jasper was free to breathe without worry and burden. There was something here that spoke to her. Soothed her. She loved the sweet air and sky blanketed with stars. The city didn’t offer this, and Jasper, though broke and strapped with a cursed house, was happier here.
During their walk and light conversation about local fauna, it took more than natural strength to fight her inner demon.
“My brother is terrified of the woods,” said Jasper, breaching the tree line. “And he is misguided.”
From stone to moss and fat canopies. The trail wound through an enchanted thicket. Most woods, even in Undervell, were dark, moldy, and riddled with felled, rotten trees.
“What do you call this place?” Jasper asked, stricken with wonderment.
“Gallow Forest.”
Jasper grimaced and wanted to spit. “The word doesn’t fit what you have here at all. The hell do you mean Gallow?! Nothing is frightening about it.”
Jasper admired what they called Gallow Forest and scoffed at the lunacy. It had to be a joke. Starting along the buoyant moss trail, she focused on its beauty.
Trees, wise giants of old, kitted with lanterns, towered. Their fragrant perfume and warmed honey wax calmed her disquieted essence.
“We don’t have anything like this in Undervell. Trees, or their equivalent, are made of volcanic rock. Ropes of ash and dragon scale shed hang from spindly limbs. This, this is majestic, overwhelming even. Arresting, to say the least.”
“They’re older than me, older than Nieema and her coven. The soil is powerful, too. There ain’t much it can’t cure. Even the common cold. Folks come running during them winter months.”
Russet bark streaked with gold drew her attention first. Jasper marched to the closest tree and examined it by touch. She pinched, poked, and sniffed.
“Is this—“
“Gold? Yeah. Sap infused with gold, that is.”
“What in the name of—how is it possible?”
“You gotta ask the soil. I have no idea.”
Jasper squinted and observed tittering insects that called the tree home. They were strange yet pretty. A fluffy avian sort with four legs and numerous eyes.
“I wanna bring my camera out here. Do you mind? I’d love to get a few pictures.”
“Be my guest,” Buck said, checking on some manner of berry bush. “Photographers from all over have been through here. They got some good shots but ain’t explored much. Too scary, I ‘spose.”
She wanted to hold the cute bug and sought to. Seconds from picking it up, Buck tutted.
“Aht. Don’t even think about it. Them critters got a poison that’ll eat through your skin.”
Jasper flinched and slid backward. She giggled and said, “Good call. I heal fast, but I’m sure the process isn’t fun.”
“I ain’t never tried to find out.” Buck nodded for company, and she skipped right over. “C’mon, don’t wanna keep Torti waiting. I’m sure he’s ready for his stories.”
“Torti?”
Buck gleamed beneath slices of moonlight and dim wicks. Lanterns dangled and bobbed from boughs, lighting their path.
They moved onward, inching deeper into the forest. Surrounded by brush, berry bushes, and shy mammals, Jasper wanted to inspect it all.
Especially the luminescent mushrooms. The glowing clusters varied in sizes and colors. Magical was the only descriptor she’d ever attach to Gallow Forest. Even the deer seemed regal and otherworldly.
She expected them to scatter and flee, not to follow.
“Should I be worried about the rabbits? They’re big as hell, and I swear to the Undervell gods that portly one has been eying me.”
Buck cackled, ruining her serenity. The sound was intolerable, as it only proved to worsen her cravings.
“Woman, that’s just Jimmy.”
Jasper arched a brow but didn’t speak on his wild claim thanks to the multi-level tree house.
Built around an ancient trunk and within its thick canopy was an impressive home. She’d never seen anything like it.
“This you?” Jasper asked.
“Yup.”
“Oooof course it is.” She laughed, taking in the natural opulence. Butter-soft lighting shone through windows on both levels. “You sure don’t do anything half ass.”
“Never. Come on up, I wanna show you how to make the perfect cup.”
“After you, King Sunside.”
“Don’t get cute, na’.”
They shared a smile as Buck jogged up the spiraling staircase. It was a quick climb, despite how high they were.
“That’s quite a drop,” Jasper muttered, hands gripping the smooth railing. “Damn.”
She looked down, knowing damn well how heights sometimes got to her.
“You ‘fraid of heights?”
“Depends.”
“Ladies first,” Buck piped, holding the door open.
“I’m hardly a lady.”
“Who told you that?”
“You’re insufferable.”
“So they say.”
She entered his domain and lost every syllable on her tongue. It was cozy and homey, but without being small.
Buck was a walking void, a darkness she couldn’t name, and yet, he surrounded himself with comfort. Worn linens, lived-in furnishings, and adorable knick-knacks.
The tree house was peaceful and packed with plant life. No corner or counter was left untouched. Potted, hanging, and creeping overhead. Ivy snaked around beams and columns while dried herbs swayed from an unusually high ceiling.
Spices percolated, making her feel at home, happy, and safe.
It smelled like him.
“You are a great wonder.”
“What a thing to say.”
His timbre and proximity turned her around. Jasper gasped, facing the sneaky man. He’d crept in close but kept his hands to himself. She wanted to bite him for having the gall to extend both patience and respect.
He hadn’t tried anything since their kiss and dared not to move, even as their desires twisted and coiled within the slip of space between them.

The luxurious notes of her scent made him want to hoot and holler. Sing her praises from the peaks of Mount Keyholde. This was beyond her smooth, sanguine complexion and goldenrod freckles. It wasn’t just about her sexy horns, cute white hair-do, or the way she put that shit on. Nah.
There was more to this woman than her fine features. Though, he’d be a god damn lie to say Jasper wasn’t a feast for the eyes.
With each and every instinct tackling him, Buck stood before the succubus in a state of yearning. A desire so deep it surpassed sex. He wanted nothing more than to comfort and console her. To dig up them rotted roots and tend to what Trevor had long neglected; poisoned.
Loving the mischief in them sunflower yellow eyes, Buck smiled. “Talkin’ nice ain’t gon’ take you too far, darlin’.”
“What are you?” Jasper whispered, her sharp claws tapping on his belt buckle. “There’s something inside your soul I can’t describe.”
“Wanna find out what it is?”
“Yes.”
A shimmering puff of pollen exploded between them, and Jasper sneezed while Buck laughed.
“Where is my new mattress, mother fucker?!”
“Evenin’, Torti’. How you doing tonight?”
The teeny, tiny phoenix poked Buck in the nose with his trusty thorn blade. The small man was dressed for battle. He wasn’t fucking around.
“What am I looking at?” Jasper shook with mirth, staring at Torti’s hovering form. The wee sprite huffed and rolled his big ol’ pink eyes over to her. “Hello, there.”
Buck’s best friend shrugged. “You must be the demon he won’t shut up about.”
“Is that so?”
Buck glared at Torti and swatted them with a limp wrist. “Hush, now. And don’t come up in here starting with me. I ain’t in the mood. I told you, when I get the time.”
“You always say that!” Torti pouted, stashing his ancient dagger. “Lying bastard. It’ll be months before I get another one. Stop staring at me, lady! Are you a creep? Buck, is she a funky old pervert? Because—“
A second blast of pollen sent Torti flailing through the air. Totti appeared, making Buck smile. She was a sight in a frilly pastel gown fit with flowers and beads. The woman landed on his shoulder and giggled.
“Please excuse my brother, he can be quite the spirited sprite. My name is Toti; it’s nice to finally meet you, Jasper.”
The succubus had the nerve to blush. And whew, did purple look good on her. She smiled, though uncertain.
“Uh, yeah. Hi. Seems like I’ve been the topic of conversation lately.”
“Sometimes,” Totti said. “Buck gets into his work and forgets to eat, though. So I haven’t heard much. Or nearly enough.”
“Are y’all, like, fairies?”
“Ew! Fuck no,” Torti shouted as the TV blared to life. “It’s a common misconception, I assure you. Sprites and fairies aren’t the same thing.”
Torti had long ago learned how to turn the damned thing on. He stepped on buttons to change channels and choose which service to use. He was a pain in the ass about his tube time.
“He’s right,” Buck said, turning into his kitchen and workstation. “Fairies vary in sizes, species, and creeds. From benevolent to wicked.”
Buck grabbed a few items from the cupboard and fridge. After locating his favorite sun tea, he poured a cup for them both.
“They have a hierarchy and classes,” Buck continued. On the turn around, he noted Jasper, perusing one of many shelves. “You can find fairies on every continent, in every climate, and even leagues below the sea. They reside in cave systems, on mountain ranges, and even in the sky.”
He trekked across his home apothecary and offered Jasper the tea. She accepted it and nodded her thanks.
Buck leaned against a column and swigged the cooling summer blend as Totti took her leave. She flitted about and landed on the tippy top shelf, where a row of tiny birdhouses awaited her arrival.
“Though sprites are diverse in culture and species,” he went on to say, “They are always small, and you can only find them in the forest. Not a wood, but a forest. Namely where there’s a strong magical presence. Also, they’re not to be confused with pixies.”
“Sluts!” Torti barked from the couch. “All they do is hump each other and make babies. Bleh!”
Jasper lifted her cup and said, “I like him.”
“He’s a brat,” Totti amended from her perch. “Never content or happy unless there’s a cock—“
“Don’t be a nettle wod, Totti. My god.”
Jasper pointed at the sprite’s kin. “She’s a delight as well. I take it y’all are friends with His Grace?”
“Since he was sapling,” Totti admitted. “Found this babe of a monster waddling in the forest buck naked. Frolicking without a jacket or care in the world. Talking to himself and singing.”
Toti recalled them dusty old days, and he wanted to interrupt, but couldn’t find the nerve.
Her warm smile made Buck busy himself with tea matters.
“He was the first giant child I had ever encountered.” Totti laughed and sat in her tiny rocking chair, twiddling with a mini stuffy Nieema had made for her. “Not many would go galloping through our forest. Back then, word spread about Gallow. Regaled, honorable knights and kings avoided it. Opting to go around. But this wee one, he was brave and adorable. I was but a child myself, so we got along quickly. Our brood didn’t much care for his sort, being fae and all. But me and Torti have never been the sort to listen to our mothers.”
Torti laughed, and Jasper glanced at the sprite man. “So you’re childhood friends?”
“Unfortunately,” Torti grumbled.
“You old bitch,” Buck snapped. “You can get the hell out.”
“Don’t worry me while my stories are on Buckley; I’ll bring you hive dick.”
Jasper dribbled tea and giggled as Buck tried his damnedest not to. Totti went on about their fleeting, adolescent years and Buck nabbed his apron.
He continued to sort and pack the seasonal blends. About two hundred more and he’d be done. To get in the flow of things, he cracked kitchen windows and reveled in the gust of fresh forest air. It swirled in a rush and tussled with the wind chimes.
The soothing, hollowed oak and crystal melody eased his rowdy soul. It was Jasper who riled him and called for more than a decent conversation. But this was her show, her game, and her life.
Buck wanted Jasper in his dungeon, that much was certain, but he wanted her consent first.
He needed Jasper loose and ready to dominate if need be. She was the one for it; most succubi were. And after paying witness to how she handled Nieema, Buck was sure. There wasn’t anything her plush, pliant body couldn’t handle.
Buck caught himself gawking at the curve of her ass, wishing to see her tail. The imprint was enough. He grunted at the obscenity, packing sachets without proper attention. She’d tucked it, just there, under the cuff of her generous behind.
“You’re wasting it, old buck,” Torti whispered in his ear. “You know, when I want to fuck, I ask for it.”
“Would you shut your mouth? Always talkin’ crazy.”
“Well, you’ve never brought anyone up here except for Nimmy. This gotta be serious.”
“Shush,” Buck demanded, hoping Jasper hadn’t heard the sprite.
Totti started the grand tour, but they hadn’t made it on upstairs yet. She followed his best friend, who bragged about how Buck crafted their birdhouses and how Nimmy made their clothes.
Jasper had stolen his will to breathe with her soft-hearted gaze. They shared a smile and a brief, quiet moment. Sadness was still trapped in there, but she beamed nonetheless. As if shy, Jasper turned away and took the stairs two at a time.
“May the soil save me, I’m hooked, Torti. She got me bad.”
“Yeah, well, you should do something about it.” Torti chose to sit on top of Buck’s head. It was his favorite spot aside from his antlers. Tiny, bare feet dangled and tapped his forehead. “You smell like you’re about to go into a rut, man.”
“Shit, I might. The woman is so close to triggering me. It’s gon’ be me and the wife hole up for five business days. I ain’t got time for that right now!”
“If you don’t handle this, nature will.”
“Who you tellin’?” Buck shrugged and laughed. He poured loose leaf and cinched pouches. “There ain’t a damn thing Nimmy can’t solve. That one’ll calm the beast howling for trouble. She gon’ get me right every single time.” Buck distracted himself and fought like hell not to follow Jasper. After regrounding with a second cup of sun tea, he threw on some music and got to work.

Chapter 35: Haunting Magics

Buck pruned, misted, and transplanted for hours on end. He shoveled and raked soil with his bare hands. No garden gloves required. His blood, sweat, and magic were more than enough. Whatever he touched thrived.
It was indescribable. Not something he could explain or teach, really.
Green witches were great at learning how to grow. They’d take a seed and speak life into it.
For Buck, the process was different. Since a wee sapling, he’d known how to give life. He would take that same seed and make it sprout. His connection with nature and soil wasn’t to be taught or read, but inherited.
“Come on, now. Don’t be stubborn.” Buck let his soul whisper to the young root. Holding a clump of rich soil, he forced his will. The tiny seedling branched and stretched. “There you go, don’t that feel better? You gon’ be a pretty cockle pepper before fall.”
Proud of yet another creation, he lowered the growing plant into a gorgeous pot. Iyanna was a beast with the kiln and glaze. He loved the strawberry planter and had ordered four more just like it.
:” Don’t you be shy now, neither. I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you.”
Buck situated the baby pepper plant on one of many shelves near the door. Happier than hell to harvest, he grabbed the shears and got to clipping. Music and his pipe were all he needed when in gardening mode.
He’d easily spend close to five hours in his greenhouse.
In the middle of snipping basil, he sniffed and said, “What you want, boy?”
Jo walked right on in, disturbing the peace with his loud ass crunching. He was never to be seen without vittles.
“Them lemon trees looking nice,” Jo mumbled with a mouth full. “I love GG’s lemon cream cake. Mm. When you gonna harvest, Pa?”
“When I’m good and ready.”
“Grump.”
Buck snickered, smoke curling and scenting the fresh air. His greenhouse was tall and wide, needing a bit more space than the average gardener. Year-round harvests were a must as a brewing master.
He stood, dusting hands off on his working jeans. “You good, Jo?”
“Nah, yeah. I’m straight.”
Jo meandered with a loaded freezer bag bulging with his famous homemade trail mix. Hot chips, spicy roasted pecans, ghost pepper corn nuts, and dried jalapeños were unhealthy for anybody.
Though many dark fae loved spicy food. Buck wasn’t the exception.
“Sumn’ got you bothered,” Buck stressed.
Jo shrugged, admiring the overgrown peach trees. It took years and constant magical might to keep them in season. Nieema loved her some crimson peach cobbler.
“Remember how a few days ago you told me to do some detective work?”
“Mmmhm.”
Buck ambled over to a finicky, saditty, stuck-up ass bitch. Cauliflower was the bane of his existence. Even for a magical being with an emerald green thumb, cauliflower proved difficult.
Not only was Buck the town’s main tea distributor, but he was also the covens’ farmers market. He often supplied the underground kingdom with produce and dried spices.
“I hate your ass,” Buck muttered, commanding fresh heads of cauliflower to loosen from thick stalks. “What you find, grandson?”
“Chessie wasn’t lying. That house is cursed as hell.”
“Figured it much.”
“Nahhh, nah. You ain’t heard the half.”
Buck tossed the terrible heads into aged oak barrels and grunted. “I’m not gonna like this.”
“You might wanna have a sip.”
“Shit.”
Buck grumbled and washed his hands before turning on the electric kettle. “Go on, start talking.”
“So, me and Kit went over there to meet up with Powell. The old wolf said he got something.”
“What was it?”
“More than cult shit,” Jo said, shoving food into his mouth.
Buck plucked jars and scooped. He dumped blends into his favorite gnarled wood steeper and nodded for Jo to continue.
“Anyway, we join Powell on a walk, and things get weird. I mean, we hadn’t been there for five minutes before my wings started itching.”
“Void magic.” Buck shook his head and poured piping hot water into his mug. Lavender, chamomile, and fig mushrooms to ease his rising anxiety. “Why you just now coming to me with this? You tell Jasper yet?”
“Nah. Me and Kit been going up over there every night. We wanted to be sure. Drive by only.”
“Smart man.”
“Nothing changed. It’s still creepy as hell and tainted by void magic. Something ain’t right with that street.”
“Hm.” Buck agreed, but focused on his tea. He dropped the steeper into a steaming pool and took to stirring. “Damn shame. I think I’m gonna head up there in a few days and feel it out.”
“Be careful, Papa, for real. Whoever lives on Great Oaks is either trippin off void arcane magic or they’re being manipulated.”
“Yeah, yeah. Maybe I should talk to Maggie before we go and get some protection.”
Jo tipped his bag and nodded, copping a squat on the crusty old bench. “Good plan.”
“We gotta start on her house, anyway. Might as well do something about the curse too.”
“You want me to put Powell on it with you?”
“Sure, more help the better.” Buck plucked his mug and sipped. The house blend calmed his worries and soothed the knot in his belly. “I think it’s time we talk to Jasper. You gotta tell her what’s going down in her place. Ain’t right keeping it from her.”
“We were gonna tell her, Pa. But Kit said something about not wanting to stress her out even more.”
Buck grunted and gulped. He leaned against the workbench and got to thinking. That woman had been on his brain for several days. She ain’t wanna leave him be. And Fates help him, he wished to bother the demon. Wanted to become one of them things which stressed and stretched her.
The vision of his beloved and that woman had been branded onto his gray matter.
“If it ain’t one thing its something else. It’s been a long while since Indigo has been this busy. Curses, mutant pumpkins, and hunters. God damn. From nothing to everything all at once.”
“Tell me about it.” Jo laughed and crunched. “The Platter boys thing was wild. And to think, we still got this mall business and the town hall meeting next Monday.”
“I’mma have my tea in hand.” Buck swigged and said, “Something ain’t right about them Voremonts neither. Nimmy’s meeting didn’t go well, and now, we gotta have some kinda sit-down with them.”
Buck growled and set his mug on the desk.
“Thing is, I’m liable to skin that motha fucka. Down to the quick.”
“Damn, like that?”
“Folks can’t be putting hands on people and think shit sweet. Cause it ain’t. What Trevor did to Jasper…”
It wasn’t his place to speak her business, and she deserved to tell Kit when she was ready. Buck grumbled and got back to work. He grabbed a brand new planter and a fresh bag of soil.
“Anyway, Trevor gotta go. Ima pack him up real good. I’ll be damned. Not on my watch. Not in my town, on my land. Jasper is a sweetheart. She got a light about her and god damn it, I wanna protect it.”
“Papa, you acting like you’ve known Jasper for twenty years and she’s part of the family.”
“Well, maybe she is,” Buck stated, tearing open the hefty bag of soil he’d collected and enriched by hand. “Your GG got a thing for her, and it’s bad. I don’t know.”
“How do you feel about her?” Jo asked, not minding his own damn business.
“Like I been around her my whole damn life.” Buck set the bag down and got to loosening the soil. Ten fingers and ten claws. He scooped and raked. “I haven’t even touched the woman, and I’m falling like sideways rain. It’s foolish, but I think about her too much. The last time somebody captured my attention like this I married them.”
“Daaaamn, Pa. This sounds serious.”
“Shouldn’t be.” Buck shook his head and scoffed at the mess he was in. “Only known her for a handful of days. I couldn’t tell you what the fuck is happening, but she got me all twisted up. My roots are tangled and mind stuffed with things I’d like to—“
“Okay, I’ve heard enough. Don’t nobody wanna hear allat, Papa! Shit.”
They laughed, and Buck dusted his hands off. After washing, drying, and drinking the last of his tea, he groaned.
“Alright, grandson, let’s get to it.”
Jo popped to his feet with the help of his wings, and they headed out.

With nothing much to do and no commissions, Jasper was free to do whatever she wanted. No work meant she had all the time in the world to game. And she spent the entirety of her day doing just that. Tucked away in her room with a controller in her hand. Three hours on Cyber Era 2077, two on Red Dead Salvation, and five on SkyEdge.
She put in that work, grinding for progress. Was Jasper the best at it? Hell nah. She’d never win challenges and hated side quests. More often than not, she’d get stuck and move on to another game.
It wasn’t about winning for her, no. It was the love of gaming and entering new worlds.
After shoving another cookie into her mouth, she cussed and tossed a virtual frag.
“Oh fuck me.” She noshed and focused. “I’m not camping! Can’t you see me getting shot?!”
The blithering idiots in her ear yapped and ran off at the mouth. Online gaming wasn’t for the weak or soft of mind. People were mean. Humans who say demons are the worst have never tried gaming in a ranked match with strangers.
Humans were violent and said the most vile things to her. Especially the men.
Smashing keys, with eyes on the screen, Jasper growled. “You mother fuckers!”
“You’re trash. You don’t game, bro.”
“Typical woman.”
“You belong in the kitchen or on this dick!”
Jasper laughed in earnest and tried not to get distracted. “You are terribly mistaken, sir. You don’t want no parts of this. If you were here right now, I’d take your soul.”
That really got the assholes going. One after the other, they balked and refuted her claims. Little did they know. In Undervell, the Mothers used bones to pick their teeth and pin their hair.
“Y’all are so lucky I’m not like the Mothers.”
“Shut the fuc—damn it, man! They sniped me. This shit is rigged! Hackers and…”
A knock grabbed her attention. Jasper removed her headset and waited.
“What?!”
“We have company,” Kit muttered.
“Okay? I don’t care. I’m busy!” Jasper snagged cookies and tossed them back.
“It’s Buck.”
“Oh shit.” She flicked off her headset, threw it on her desk, and jumped to. Before hitting the door, Jasper donned her bonnet and situated it around her horns.
House shoes on, she hustled from her room and slowed, entering the kitchen.
Jasper tasted his lecherous desires before she saw him. Sugar-soaked cherries, heavy cream, sweet tobacco, and lust coiled around the big-bodied man. He was an impossible sight. Dark and stunning, he filled the largest chair in the house.
Jasper bit her tongue, keeping comments to herself. “Look who it is, the queen’s consort.”
“Hello to you too, ma’am.”
“Don’t ma’am me, Buck.”
Jasper grabbed a water from the fridge and kicked the door shut. She shuffled around Kit, who’d been trying to perfect his cinnamon loaf cake.
His buddy, Jo, pestered the general about it cooling. Jasper was ready for a piece or tw,o her damn self.
Cracking the top, she sauntered into the living room. “What brings you to my door, Moss Balls?”
“You think you so cute,” Buck said, a smile playing on his smooth, brown lips. “Keep it up, and I’ll show you why my wife is so happy.”’
“Mm.” Jasper sat on the arm of the couch, closest to Buck. She was born to torture and haunt men. Edge and play with their self-control until boredom struck. “You’re spicy tonight. I like it. So, what’s on your mind?”
“Jo, Kit. I do believe y’all got something to say.”
Jasper guzzled eight ounces and frowned as her brother ducked. He plopped on the couch while Jo remained standing.
“Kit?”
Her kin swallowed and scratched his growing horns. He fidgeted and mumbled. It was so odd of him to be two vastly different souls at once. On any given night he’d flay dozens and defend their kingdom only to become an unsure fledging hours later.
“Kit…what is it?”
“Well, if you must know—let me begin by saying I didn’t want to worry you. Jo and I believe that waiting was the best course of action—“
“Buck, what the fuck is going on?”
He sighed and started in on something she damn near already knew. Jo added to the story with unsettling details. Haunted streets, cursed homes, and something called void magic.
“So you’re saying, my house is only part of the problem?”
“Yup.” Jojo bit into a piece of loaf cake and nodded.
“This magic is technically forbidden,” Buck supplied. “Dreardian void magic is dark and takes a hell of a lot of resources and nefarious dealings. We talking blood and bone. Deep shit most folks ain’t got no business fooling with.”
Jasper cussed and stood. She headed for the cake and plated three slices before sagging into the couch once again.
“Haunted and cursed. This fucked up.”
“Who you telling,” Jo said. “Y’all got some milk?”
“Joseth,” Buck warned, giving his grandson a mean grandfatherly eye. “Don’t embarrass me up in these people house. Sit down somewhere and act like you got some home training. Get a napkin, too. Make no damn sense. I’m sorry, Jasper.”
Jo giggled and heeded Buck’s instruction. Kit fetched the beverage while Jasper mulled. If the entire house was haunted, then what did that mean for her weird neighbor?.
“What about Sissy and the others? They seemed pretty normal. Weird and catty, but normal.”
Buck shrugged, stroking his chin. He dragged attention up and over, caressing her with a single glance. It was ridiculous how her essence unfurled. He hadn’t even touched her yet, but she overheated nonetheless.
Low in her belly, the pyre burned for a taste. For a crumb of his sordid threads. The ties that bound his soul, she wanted them knotted around her throat.
“One of two things is happening here,” Buck continued, “either they’re the ones using void magic or the magic itself has become sentient. It may be manipulating them. As it has the tendency to do. We have no idea. But I think we should handle it before you move in.”
“Hell yeah we should. I’m not living in a haunted house.”
“We still gotta work on it, regardless.”
Jasper agreed. “Nah, yeah, of course. I’m not gonna let a few ghosts and mean fairies get in my way. But, I will leave the void magic stuff to y’all.”
Buck grinned and said, “I’d prefer that.” He looked to Kit and Jo before staring again. “Did uh, did Nimmy text you about the other thing?”
“Mhm. Yeah.”
Jasper dropped his eyes to her empty plate. “It’s a mess, but I’m glad we’re getting somewhere.”
“Don’t worry, Darlin’. We gotchu.”
She couldn’t fight the smile on her face or the warmth in her chest. It was nice, and she adored his protectiveness.
“And I believe you,” Jasper said, under Buck’s intense observation.
Jo and Kit returned, stealing the floor. Jo started on another serving of cake as he spoke.
“The way I figure it, one of these nights, them ghosts might get pissed. Or, one of the neighbors will get irritated with our nosy asses. Asking them about it won’t do shit, I’m sure. But, I’m gonna have Powell on duty every night.”
Buck interjected and tapped claws against the hat resting on his thigh. “And we’re gonna have Maggie walk the street to get a real feel of what’s going down.”
“Also,” Kit started, “Julep has agreed to do a bit of recon.”
“The cat?” Jo asked, in utter disbelief.
“Yes, he was my second in command for quite some time. He can get in and out of places without being noticed. His services have cost me one hundred dollars worth of catnip.”
Jasper winced and snarled. “One hundred dollars?! Kit, you don’t have any damn money!”
Her brother flapped a hand and lifted his chin. “Thanks to the Sunside and their generosity, you are gainfully employed now. Earning more coin will be easy.”
“What the—how about you get a job and make your own coin?”
“No thank you.” Kit sliced into his cake and stabbed chunks without a care in the world. “You know common labor doesn’t suit me, sister mine.”
Jasper didn’t want to laugh. But was given no choice. Kit’s antics amused her.
“Anyway, I’m glad we have a plan.” Jasper dropped her plate on the coffee table and matched Buck’s unwavering study. “What are you doing for the rest of the night?”
“Tea business.”
“Would you like company? I’m kinda curious about your process.”
Buck canted his head and smirked. “I ain’t gon’ turn it down.”
“I’ll meet you out front in ten minutes.”
“Don’t keep me waiting, demon. I ain’t known for my patience.”
Buck rose and donned his hat. The man was high and mighty, arrogant. Everything about him spoke to her Succubus nature, and the mysterious fae male knew it, too.

And just like that, we are BAAAAACK. Hello there, I hope y’all are well. I’m doing alllll the adult things right now. Packing, moving, and unpacking. Things are a mess at the moment, but it’s coming together. The last month was ROUGH. I had so much going on, I couldn’t even announce the release of my book. It was that chaotic. But, taking that much-needed break helped. Thing is, I didn’t know I was moving until I had to. This was very a spur-of-the-moment, ‘I’m sick of this living situation, I’m done’, kinda thing. Most of us have been there, but if you haven’t, it’s a lot. I’m glad it’s over and done! Fresh start in a new place has done wonders for my mental state, and ya girl is WRITING! My pen is on fire once again, and I’m ready to get back to it.
So, here we are. With Jasper and Buck! We are going to spend some time with them; I hope y’all are ready for it. It’s happening as it should. Jasper wants to take her time with him. She’s still got to unpack her trauma and what Trevor has done. Though she has gone to therapy for it,, actually leaning into what she’s learned has been tough, but Buck is unique and honest. This might work for him. These two are more alike than I thought, and I can’t wait to see how that plays out moving forward. Nieema will be in for it, I think. But we are on this journey together. I’m roughly three chapters ahead of you. Sooooo, there’s not much more I know.
With that, I hope yall have a lovely night and as always, thank you, thank you, thank you. Stay amazing and true to yourself. And don’t worry bookie summer is almost done. We’re almost there!

Wings & Willows

Two days until Valentine’s Day…
Whima is content with her cottage, cauldron, and bubbling waxes. There isn’t much an exhausted old woman needs or wants. She has music and the promise of infinite rest…until a handsome fairy breaks in, disturbing her peace and cozy solitude.
Two days until Valentine’s Day, and all Shade, Prince of Mothend, wants is a way out. He’s unhappy with his sudden arranged nuptials and has devised a plan to stop it. Find the witch of Bane Woods and procure her services…not her heart.
It’s two days until Valentine’s Day.
Will Fate have the last say, or will a centuries-old curse keep Whima and Shade from what they desire most?

Wings & Willows is a Romantasty novella about true love, loss, and family curses. I wrote this as a love letter to everyone 35+! You can find love with a handsome prince at any age!

Wings & Willows will be available on KU this Saturday!! In two days!!

Neon Red: Chapter 19

Low cruised on the 826 heading East. And didn’t this drive ring some bells. He just did the shit, which wasn’t helping him at the moment. His mind whirred with images from that night with Max. He missed her already, per usual. Low often counted down the hours to when they were allowed privacy again.
But another face appeared between sleep cycles, giving Low a bad case of blue balls. He caught an urge to hit himself over the head with a crowbar. Them type of problems needed to be avoided at all cost.
“Are you okay, Elliot?”
He nodded. “Straight as a fresh line up, brotha.”
“I’m inclined to think otherwise. You’ve said two words since I got in the car.”
“I’m good, Tracy. I got a lot on my mind but nothing deep.”
Shooting him a quick glance, Low shrugged at Tracy’s high chin. “I gather Maxine has told you what happened?”
That wasn’t what had him twisted, but nowwww, thanks to Tracy, he was ’bouta be in a bad mood. “Yeah, but it ain’t my business.”
“It isn’t, but I assure you, I’d avoid this if I could. Alas, my hands are tied.” Low stabbed Tracy with a side-eye while he peered out the window. “I don’t wish for my daughter to hate me. I…”
“It’s hella barbaric,” Low added, like a dumb ass. “Invasive and it reduces Max to nothing more than a bargaining chip. You don’t see how fucked up that is?”
“Oh, but I do. More than anyone. I haven’t had the opportunity to give her away, and I never wanted to under these circumstances. I don’t know what these men will—I can’t fathom such things. I don’t trust Matthias or his son. No matter how well meaning the boy is.”
“Boy?” Low croaked.
“Uh, no no. Nothing like that. He’s fifty.”
“Ghat damn.”
“Yes, quite young. Maxine will be a handful. He’s not prepared for a woman like her. My daughter is like a raging brush fire, wild and zero percent contained.”
Low stopped a big smile from breaking free. Tracy told no lies. Maxi was a lively woman with a good heart and an even better mind.
“She’s just like her mother,” Tracy whispered, head hanging. “In so many ways. Happy and shining, in spite of tremendous adversity.”
Keeping eyes on the road, Low let him have some peace to sort through this moment. Tracy didn’t know he knew about Bernice, and how she died during childbirth. He wanted to throw comforting words out there, but it wasn’t his place. Instead, they finished the drive without discourse. Low let Miles Davis play uninterrupted until reaching the Brickell condos.
After finding a parking space, he deaded the four cylinder, and waited for the boss man to move.
“Alright, let’s go.”
“Go where, exactly?” Low asked as they hopped out the Avalon. “Are you buying a place here?”
Tracy nodded. “In a sense. I guess I am.”
“Daaaamn, look at you, coming up in the world.”
Starting toward the elevator, Tracy strutted with swagger and confidence. He had money and a tiny piece of power, he was in fact on the come up.
“Please, it’s no big deal. Although, this is a prestigious residence. Prime property for the elite. Can’t say I haven’t put in my time. I deserve this, to be frank.”
Low slapped the call button and scoffed. “Damn right you do. Claim it, own your future.”
“Christ, Elliot. You sound like my daughter, don’t tell me you believe in all that spiritual rigamarole. I know you were raised in a religious household, but Maxine’s beliefs are strange.”
When allowed, Low stepped in the box and chuckled. “What number?”
“Four.”
He stabbed the circle and listed against a mirrored panel. “Nah, I don’t get down with all that light and love or whatever. But some of the stuff seems okay.”
Tracy frowned, harder than normal. “Rocks and energy, it’s beyond me.”
“Don’t let her hear you call them rocks.”
“Ohhh yesss,” Tracy groaned. “Crystaaaals. Excuse the fuck out of me.”
They got a good giggle outta that before their ascent stopped. Low gestured for Tracy to make an exit. He always went first, so if anything got rowdy he saw who was coming but had his back too.
It was a service night, so Low carried them dual rails like the military. And thanks to his forged open carry license, he wore the holster with confidence. Cargoes and boots. He was on the battlefield, so why not?
The corridor ended when Tracy yanked a door open and walked right on in.
Low stayed on his ass, but calmed once inside the office. “Damn.” Shorty sitting behind a desk caught his eye first. A dime and some change, she fit the establishment. It was sleek and serene, with
Cream and pine threaded throughout. Low liked lavish shit, just not in his house.
Stopping in front of the receptionist, she did a double take. He nodded and she blushed. Low was fa sho finna get that number upon departure.
“Hello again, Mr. Bissette. He’s almost finished with a consultation, you can have a seat.”
“Terrific.”
Tracy led him across the airy, open space and into a waiting area kitted with leather and glass tables.
“This is nice, but what are we doing here exactly?”
His employer snapped up a magazine and flipped pages. “Knitting, who knits anymore? Uhm, well, I’ll be working here, as a matter of fact.”
“Doing what?”
“Same as I do now, but on a much larger scale. I’ve taken on a partner.”
Low recoiled and blinked. “You have?”
“Yes, an—”
“Oh well, Mr. Aubrey I hope so.”
The surname made Low flinch, and he hadn’t the balls to take a look. This can’t be happening, no no no…absolutely not. Ain’t no way in hell.
“Ah, Tracy.”
Fuuuuuck no.
Low peered at a stack of magazines as Tracy stood and greeted the personal nightmare. It was bad enough that this male didn’t want to leave his brain in peace. The world shitted on ‘em.
Partner? He was the partner?!
This was so fuckin’ awkward and now, Low had to see him all the tim—
“Elliot.”
Low returned to the present and grinned. “Yes?”
“I said you can come with me.”
“I’ll wait.”
Tracy’s brow twitched. “That’s ludicrous, you never leave my side. Get up.”
“Okay.” If the pay wasn’t so good Low would have hauled his ass right out the door.
Jacking to his feet, he cussed. Low followed Tracy, winked at the secretary and stopped right quick.
“What’s your name?” he asked, smirking.
“Britney.”
“So, how long you been working here?”
“Britney.”
Low stiffened as the girl spun around in her chair.
“Yes, sir?”
“Make sure to fax Mr. Palmer  the itinerary.”
Red might as well be a walking biohazard. Dangerous and toxic as fuck, he smelled amazing. Why…why…one haunting word. Just one, and it had every intention of bugging the shit out of Low all night.
“Yes, sir.”
Low turned his attention in the opposite direction, and zipped past, stumbling into the office.
“Holy hell. This like an apartment.”
Expansive, with panoramic views. He hung back while Tracy sat in front of a long, executive desk. Low faced the window ‘til their conversation about numbers and percentages started. They used fancy verbiage he didn’t understand.
The back half of Jaxon’s office had everything. A wet bar, TV, conference table, and couches. One of which, Low chose to fall into. Again with the knitting mags. Not for nothing, but Red had greeeeat taste in a lot of things.
Including secretaries.
Britney sashayed with libations and such. She wore the hell out of a silk blouse and skirt number, too.
Business sexy.
“Would you like some water or blood?”
“Water is fine.” He smiled, flashing fangs. “Thank you.”
“Britney.” Jaxon called her and the girl almost ran for it. They fucked before. Yeah, of course. She was pretty and young. But so was Low, shit. They had centuries between them. Five hundred years give or take.
Like an idiot, Low dragged eyes up and over to the boss. Annnnd it only got worse. Red sported a poplin top like a grown ass man. What was it? Tom Browne? Probably, rich ass. Red laughed at nothing because Tracy wasn’t witty.
Fake, fake, fake ass bitch.
His mouth was disgusting.
Low ain’t never met a man who sucked dick like he’d mastered it. Work of the devil. Straight like that, red hair and all. Staring wasn’t a good idea and when their eyes clashed, Low stopped breathing.
Play it coo, bruh. You ain’t no punk, don’t you dare cower.
Low held his own and like a G, didn’t even blink.
Shiiiid. He wanted to fuck the old vampire right on this couch. His dick liked the proposition, but Red severed their moment and Low inhaled.
“—your shipments are yours, I don’t want anything to do with it.”
“That’s fine, and understandable.”
“But there may be times when our people co-mingle. Uh, Elliot, come here.”
This is stupid, Low thought.
With another groan, he rose on wobbly legs and stalked over to the new partners.
“So,” Tracy started, “you’ll meet with his team and get to know them. You, Hollister, and Russell.”
“The new cat you texted me about?”
“Yes, but I want you all to get acquainted. I think it would alleviate any mix-ups, and awkwardness.”
Too late for that.
“Uhm I’m sorry, whose team and for what?” Low crossed arms over his chest and waited for an answer. Tracy glanced at Jaxon who shrugged.
“My team of bodyguards, henchman, and runners.”
Low’s head cranked on his spine, he stared at Red and frowned. “Your what? You trafficking humans too?”
The male sighed aloud. “No, Elliot. I am into other things. Like weed, ice, coke, black rock, H, benzos, bars, perc, beans, Fentynol, lean or shit, VB… whatever the itch may be, I can scratch it.”
Low erupted in ill-timed laughter and kept at it. Turning away from the pair, he tried to quiet down and snorted.
“Elliot, what is so funny?”
“I…I—” He choked on a giggle. “I’m sorry, Tracy. Okay.”
Low bit his bottom lip to stifle another dose of chuckles and returned to the conversation. It made sense now, why he was overcome with desire.
He sniffed it out, sensed it, and was drawn to it.
Low had a problem, he was strongly attracted to criminals. Always had been, and he had terrible taste in men. Women, too.
Better yet, Low looooooved self inflicted wounds. He smashed at least three drug dealers in his day, all were on the DL but none so pretty or…
“I kinda figured something was off about you,” Low said, squinting and scrutinizing. “What’s your radius?” he asked.
Red rocked in the big boy chair like a goon.
Low wanted to swallow his tongue. Before his confession, this was bad, but now shit went from schweatin ol’ boy to thirsting for a muh’fucka.
Fast.
“Miami.”
He cocked his head. “Nah, I said how many blocks you got?”
Jaxon Aubrey’s face was made for sex. This was not the venue.
“And I said Miami, Baton Rouge, Augusta, and Wilmington North Carolina. Wells and Scotland.”
“Ooooohhhhh.” Low nodded sloooow. “Ohhh. You like up there. Oh shiiiiit, so you like top dog.” Pulling on his collar, Low smiled at Tracy. “Are you sure you wanna get involved with a kingpin?”
Low swallowed hard at them words. In truth, they were aimed at himself. Personally, he was finna turn into a bird. A cluckin’ ass groupie, but Tracy needed to know what he was getting into.
“I’m serious, Tracy. I’ve been here more than once. You fuck up, somebody like him won’t think twice about killing you.”
“We’ve come to an agreement.”
Low threw up his hands. “Okay. Fine. I tried to help…”
He pointed at the couch. “I’m gonna wait over here, but uh yeah. The comment I made about the dro? It was ass. You need to do something about that, and your supply. I’m running on empty.”
“I’m working on it as we speak.”
“Good,” Low snapped. “Hope so. This is bad customer service.”
He turned on his boot heels, power walked back to the sofa, and plopped. This was worse than he thought, and wasn’t gon’ get no better. Why…why…a male like Red was bad news. How was Low supposed to forget about their one night sneak now?
How was he supposed to move along and pretend like Jaxon never existed now?
Guess he had to, though, huh? Since the baller ass drug dealer used Low up already. He ain’t want no more. Fine, whatever, fuck him. Just his luck. A man can never have impeccable pussy and dizzy dick on deck at once. It was impossible. He had the cat, but that there redhead was being stingy with his bone.
Bitch.
Low glared at Jaxon and vowed to leave him be. Even if he was a dope boy.
Ohhhh don’t do it, bruh, you stronger than this!
Letting the BS go, he swiped a bottle of Evian off the coffee table and cracked it open. He wasn’t desperate, nah. Low had no shortage of ass.
After guzzling sixteen ounces in one shot, he stared at the empty container and scoffed. A nigga was thirsty. He chuckled at the inner commentary.
“I’ll take that.” Britney came through with a white smile and brown eyes.
“Thanks.”
She grabbed the plastic and replaced it with a card. He acknowledged her gift and nodded. “I gotchu.”
She blushed again, and switched in them heels. He watched her go, and had the nerve to stare, too.

Wings and Willows: Sneak Peek

A dark figure barreled through her front door and slammed it shut. They dropped to the floor and heaved. Their damp, tattered cloak and muddy boots told a quick tale. “I can hide you,” Whima said, clutching the jar. She was set to beat this person to death with it if need be. “But if you wanna stay up in my place, you gotta pay.” Gloved hands reached. Whima shuffled backwards, eyes on their busy digits. “What you got there?” They chucked a heavy sack at her feet. Coin clattered and spilled upon hardwood.

She told them to pay and figured they wouldn’t. It was a sure fire way to get this stranger out of her house. Whima didn’t have a phone, a tablet, or a TV. She’d left all manner of technology in the city. The only thing worth a damn in her home was a record player and an ancient stock pot she called a cauldron.

“Well, shit.” Whima scowled at the hooded stranger. “I got a couch and cellar, if you need hiding. Stay out my kitchen and my ice box. Understood?”

They sat there, silently, blocking the only exit.

“Hello?”

After clearing their throat, the runaway spoke. “Yes.”

Their timbre was smooth as whipped shea and deeper than a well. Whima set the jar on her kitchen table and squatted. She scooped up payment but kept eyes on them.

“Twenty-four hours,” they rasped. “That’s all I need.” Whima stood, securing the weighty pouch. She knotted leather and stored funds in a cookie tin with the rest of her money.

“One day is all I’m willing to give.”

“Thank you.”

“Hm.” She swung them a side eye and checked on her wax. “I don’t care what you’ve done, but if you try me, I’ll make it hurt.”

“I am a man of honor, madam. I’m not in the business of hurting people.”

“Good. Keep it that way.” “What’s your name?” he asked. “You first.”

“Shade.”

Whima grimaced, staring into her steaming blend. “What kind of name is that?”

“I do believe this was supposed to be an exchange.”

Whima scoffed, hand on her hip. She pursed her lips and snatched up a towel.

“Whima.”

“Whima,” Shade drawled, trying it on. She winced as they repeated her name like an incantation. As if it were a spell, something divine. Whima almost dropped her pot.

“What an interesting name.”

“It was my Mother’s.”

“Nice to meet you, Whima.”

“I’d say the same only you haven’t removed that hood yet.” She placed her stock pot on a warming plate and dipped the ladle into a steaming goldenrod pool. “And if I’m gonna meet somebody, I like to look them in the eye.”

Shade chuckled, resting arms on his knees. He was a large fellow with big hands. She was certain he’d break her in half but the moment Shade removed the hood, his stature no longer mattered.

A Black fantasy romance with open door spice and a smitten fairy prince.

Summer Update

Good afternoon, y’all. I hope everyone is doing well. I know this heat is cooking our ass! I’m miserable with this broken AC situation. There’s no relief! Indoor or out, it doesn’t matter to me. Unless I’m at my full-time gig. Tomorrow is the day our air is going to be fixed, so fingers and toes crossed.
Everything is going well, but this is my summer update!

With another novella due in a little over two weeks, I will be taking a short break on Patchwork and Neon Red. Think of it as my summer break.
Juggling too many things at once is no good for anyone. And as it stands now, I want to get ahead of burnout. I keep that motha fucka at bay by knowing my limits as an author.
I know when I am approaching them, and when it is time to chill for a minute.
If I don’t, my stories will suffer greatly. And I don’t want that to happen with Patchwork. Neon Red is a completed series, but I do edit it each week, along with Patchwork. So, what does this mean? It means I’m taking a break starting tomorrow. I will drop one more chapter for Neon Red, then I’ll be gone until August 9th.
On that lovely day, you can expect both Patchwork and Neon Red to return!
I can’t wait to bring y’all new chapters and a fresh brain! With Neon Red and Patchwork, we are at the midpoint.
Remember, this is serialized fiction. It can run long or short depending on the series. Patchwork is brand ne;, Neon Red is not. I have a lot planned for Patchwork, so there’s no end date quite yet. Some will love this, others won’t. And that’s okay!
As always, I wanna say thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading these stories. It means the world to me that you are an amazing human for staying this long. Thaaankkkkk you so much! You are valued here.
With that said, I wanna wish y’all a happy few weeks, and I’ll talk to you soon. Byyyyye, bookies!✨🫶🏾✨

Neon Red: Chapter 18

“But I caaaaan’t move Maxi, I swear to you I can’t.” Max stood over Chrissy and laughed at her theatrics. The cute, bubbly blonde was flat on her back and ready to cry again. She threw out a hand, and Max tried to help her up. “My body doesn’t work anymore. Just throw me in the ocean.”
“See, this is why I don’t date Scorpios.” Jordan’s input made Max laugh, but Chrissy glared at the man.
“Not funny, you bitch.”
“I may be a slut, but at least I’ll sleep without a broken heart. Ah! Ndari!”
“Leave her alone, Jordan, she’s in enough pain.”
“Come on, baby.” Max pulled Chrissy up, and the girl whined, but got to her feet that were tucked in strappy heels. She never wore sneakers or boots; she’d rather saw her feet off than wear anything below six inches.
“We only have two hours left.” Chrissy slumped over the counter. “You can do iiiit.”
“We’re not gonna get customers anyway,” Jordan said, with a massive dose of irritation. They had two walk-ins and no appointments. Which, given her father’s financial matters, wasn’t good. Business needed to pick up, and like now. Either that or accept Jaxon’s offer.
“I shoulda’ called out. It’s shit, niiiight, Maxi. I canceled a dick appointment for this.”
Rounding behind the counter, she smiled at Ndari and shrugged. “Sorry, can’t relate.”
“That’s because you have Low slinging his tally whacker in your face all day.”
Max giggled and opened her sketch book. Grabbing a pencil, she sighed at the eyes staring back. She’d added color two days ago.
“Low was only a participant last night.”
“Uuuuugghhh.” Jordan stomped his big foot and groaned. “Here we go. Another threesome, I take it? I hate you. You get laid more than anyone I know.”
Ndari nudged her. “Who was it this time? A construction worker from your dad’s job. A model who wanted to kiss you, or a girl who had cute hair. Oooo, what about—oh, dear lor,d this is beautif, ul Maxi. Who is this?”
She sighed again. “Jaxon Aubrey.”
“Who?”
“Jaxon, the redhead.”
Chrissy popped up from what may have turned into a power nap. “The snazzy fella that came in here the other night? Oh my god!”
“I knew he liked women!” Jordan stopped sweeping and deflated. “He looks like a pussy beater.”
Max clicked her tongue ring, “Naaahhhh. He loves himself some dick too,”
The lumberjack dropped the Libman and gasped. “No way, bitch. Please, do tell.”
“I am gonna kill you.” Ndari barked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It just happened last night. And it is not happening again.”
Chrissy grimaced. “Cause of your weirdo rule about second dates? Live it up, sweet cheeks! I do, and I’m one hundred and forty-five.”
“Old skank,” Jordan blurted.
“Troglodyte. Go wash that hobo beard, it smells like gym socks.”
Jordan flipped Chrissy off as the bell rang. Their group scattered, revealing the last person Max wanted to see. Despite how nice he was, she didn’t want to deal with him.
“I hope you don’t mind. Tracy told me where to find you.”
Ndari was perplexed, glancing at Max. “Uhm, I’ll go restock your room.”
Raymond stepped to the counter, and Max wanted to scream. Maybe curse and knock this man in the head with the cash register. If he died, their problems were over.
Slamming her book closed, she battened down the hatches on her attitude. This wasn’t his fault; they were both stuck in the middle. Although he probably wasn’t involved in his father’s affairs. Max had her reasons. The allowance was barely enough to care for everyone.
“Uh, no. It’s fine. You might as well see where I work and what it is I do.”
Raymond meandered and stared at the cluttered wall of art.
“I don’t have any tattoos, never thought to get one. Looks painful.”
“It’s not so bad once you get used to the needle. It can actually become quite addicting.”
He smiled and dragged kind eyes over to her. “I can tell. Not a single person I know with tattoos has only one.”
“Nope, can’t say I met anybody with one tat. They’re like unicorns or—”
“Mermaids.”
She blushed and gestured to the one on her neck. “Yes, exactly.”
Raymond sighed and looked out the window, then returned to Max. “I was wondering if we could go somewhere and talk, if you’re able.”
“You know what? I can’t.”
Chrissy appeared with a pristine smile and golden ringlets. “I got ya, girly, go on. I’ll lock up. Might leave earl,y though. It’s dry as my mother’s apple pie.”
“You sure?” Max grimaced.”
“Yes, hun, go.”
Ndari squeezed her arm and smirked. “I want you to text me when you get home.” She made eye contact with the mal,e and Max snickered. “The moment you get in.”
“I will, Mom. Don’t worry. Can you open tomorrow?”
“Like I did tonight?” Ndari cocked a brow. “Yeah, sure. For the tenth time this week.”
“I lovvve you.” Shouldering her purse, Max pointed at Jordan. “I want you booked by next Friday, and I mean it. All of you. Tilt will be back from vacation in a week, I don’t wanna hear his mouth about how he’s the goat or some shit.”
“It’s so quiet without him.” Jordan’s disdain for Tilt was due to his crushing…and bad.
“Okay, I’ll see y’all. Be good!”
Max let Raymond lead, and the gentleman opened the door.
“Thank you kindly.”
“No problem.”
Miami heat, brine,e and moisture stuck to her skin. A shower was next in line after a meal. She followed her escort, and he stopped in front of the Mercedes E-class. Damn, talk about saucy. Raymond remained helpful and allowed her to get in first.
“Thanks.”
Once safely buckled, he ran to the driver’s side. The interior was lavish and smelled of men’s Cologne. He started the engine,e and Ronald Isley came on just in time.
“Oh my god, I love the Isley Brothers.”
“What?” Raymond grinned as he started off to wherever they were going. “Me too, and this one? That Lady is my jam.”
“You got good taste, my man.”
“So, it’s Friday and 1am. Where would you like to go? There are a few 24-hour spots around here.”
“The Tavern,” Max prompted. “I go there a lot, especially this time of night. It’s close, and they have great fish and chips.”
“Ohh yeah, I know the place, Hotel Croyen, right?”
“Exactly. It’s legit, six minutes away. Right on Collins.”
Raymond smiled. “The Tavern it is.”
There wasn’t much of a trip at one in the morning, but they filled the time talking about music. He had a love for golden oldies, that was it.
“Must be fate, look at this. Right in front, gosh.”
Gosh, she thought. Did the male even cuss? To be fair, not everyone did, but Max needed to say ‘shit’ at least once a da,y or she’d explode somehow. After Raymond paralleled like a master, he got out and beat her to the door.
“Are you gonna do that every time?” Max asked.
“If left up to me, yes.”
She snickered and paced to The Tavern. Sensing him on her heels, Max looked back. “They have wonderful apps, and the Nutella waffle? Holy shit.” Being a woman on her own, she didn’t like to be waited on hand and foot, so she ran for the door. “Ha! Too slow, honey! You gotta be quicker than that if you rolling with me, now.”
Raymond chuckled as she made way inside. Fried food and coffee tickled her nose as cool jazz played at a hushed volume. The all-hour diner was packed and bustling. Waiters whipped to and fro carrying trays, while others jotted orders with a smile.
“I did not think it would be this busy,” Raymond said.
“Mhm. Kids are starting to come in from everywhere. This time next week, we’d have to wait an hour to get a seat.”
“How many?” the cute hostess asked.
“Just two,” Raymond replied.
Raymond handled formalities while Max headed for the exit. A fifteen-minute wait wasn’t much, but she didn’t want to pass it by standing around.
“Uh, outside?” Max pointed to the door and strolled back out. The heat be damned, it was stuffy in the waiting area with nowhere to sit. At least they had a bench to kill time on. Dropping her ass on down, Max rifled through her bag. “Where is…god dam—oh, found it.”
With her hooka—instead of vape—in hand, she turned the thing on and inhaled all that cherry goodness.
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. Do you mind?”
Raymond shook his head. “Nope. Have at it. I smoked a joint once, back in college.”
She giggled at such an innocent answer. His admittance didn’t surprise her. This male came from money. He was well educated and straight as a fresh line.
They’d been given the same opportunities, but Max hated the square, trad wife bull shit. Pressed, prim, and proper had turned wicked within.
Raymond was nice. The Black hipster, aci berry, and oat milk smoothie quality worked for him.
His locs were tight, neat, and in a masculine updo. Something most men would appreciate. Ripped jeans and a plaid button-up screamed Ambicrombie, though. Other than his whack ass attire, he seemed affable with a non-threatening, soft coral stare.
“It’s not weed,” Max stressed. “I don’t smoke Mary Jane. It’s hookah.”
“What’s that?”
Max pulled the metal tip from her lips and examined it. She smiled and said, “I don’t really know.”
“You’re smoking a mysterious substance?”
“I mean…” She looked at it again. “Well, shit, yeah. It tastes nice. I think it’s tobacco of some sort.”
Raymond grinned, his pearly whites making a brief appearance. “You live on the edge, I see.”
“This ain’t even close to the edge, Raymond.”
“Call me Ray.”
“Okay, Ray. You can call me Max.” Before inhaling, she sighed. “Sorry about running out on you the other night.”
“Don’t apologize, I understand. This is… I don’t even have the words for it. I hadn’t planned for this. My Father barged into my house yelling commands. Stating how I had get married.” His shoulders sagged, and his expression darkened. “I never wanted to get married. I don’t want to. You seem like a decent woman…I just, I’m not ready for any of this.”
Max gave him a second to fume; hell, they both needed it. She didn’t want this either, nor was she ready, or fit to be anyone’s wife.
Pushing smoke through her nose, she shrugged. “If I didn’t need my Dad’s money, I’d be gone.”
Ray scoffed. “I wish it were monetary for me. I’ve been doing what Matthias wants my whole life. Became a Lawyer for him. I’m the Viscount’s personal attorney. Just like he wanted. Now, I’m getting married. With little hope of him acknowledging any of it… Oh, Max, forgive me. I don’t mean to trauma dump.”
“Don’t say sorry for shit. We’re in a fucked up predicament, and if you ever need to vent, I’m here. I’d rant, but it is what it is. Can’t blame anyone but myself, really.”
Raymond rested his elbows on his knees and looked back at her. “Thank you for not telling me to go shove it.”
“I know how an overbearing and controlling parent can be. Lived my entire life with one. I know your pain, bruh. Not to change the subject or anything, but uh, how old are you?”
“Fifty-one.”
Max high whistled at such a low ass number. “Whew, baby, you fresh meat. Hey now, you better be careful, I might let you get to know me.”
The male blushed hard and straightened. “How about you? I don’t want to ask a lady overtly. That’s highly inappropriate.”
Max took another hit and wrinkled her nose. “I’ll be a centennial next year.”
Ray’s eyes popped. “Wow, gosh.”
“I know, I know. I’m an old lady, but I got style and sass. I can teach you a few thangs, don’t you know?”
He beamed and said, “I believe that, but no. I was going to say you don’t look a day over twenty-one…as expected. But you fit in with this time so well. Not many of us do. You obviously shop at Hot Topic.
Max exploded in genuine laughter. She crackled and tapped his arm. “Was that your attempt at a joke?”
“Maybe, was it bad?”
“No, I liked it.” She snorted and stashed her hookah in the bag. “I love expression. In all forms, Body art and modification is an excellent outlet for someone like me. I love piercings, and I definitely want more. I forget how many I have.”
“I counted two in your nose and one in your lip there.” She was impressed by how fast he noted everything. “Nine on your left ear, annnnd four on your right.”
“You, sir, are correct. But you’re missing some.”
He frowned. “I am, where? I don’t—”
Max extended her tongue, shutting him right the fuck up. The male recoiled and blushed again. He looked elsewhere and cleared his throat. “You have one just there… in—yeah, there it is.”
She buckled down on a bout of giggles. “I’m gonna get a cross bar real fuckin’ soon though.”
“Whatever that is.” He nodded and glanced her way.
“It’s a horizontal piercing.”
“Ohhhh, okay. That looks like it hurts really bad.” Raymond grimaced.
“Nope, a quick stab and it’s all done. Plus, we heal quick. An hour or two and donezo.”
“Hm. Well, if it’s any consolation, they suit you.”
Now she diverted attention. To the ground, her shoes, and various couples enjoying a late night out. God, Max didn’t want to do this.
Raymond wasn’t who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. More to the point, she didn’t want to get married. But her luck was shit, and there was no going back.
“Thank you,” Max said. “I do it for me, not for acceptance.”
“Good for you.” Raymond’s reply held zero snark. He spoke genuinely, but the slice of sadness gave her pause. Max wanted to find out why, but his name came through the speakers.
“That’s us.” Max chimed.
Bouncing up, Ray showcased a palm. “Oh my god, what is that?” He pointed, and Max jumped, prepared to wield her taser. Spinning around, she saw nothing.
“Made you look.” The male’s voice got her attention. She laughed at the corny shit as he stood there with the door open.
“After you, m’lady.”
Max snapped her fingers. “You got me, Ray. I’m gonna have to keep my eye on you.”
“That you will.”

Ooooop, I bet y’all thought I was going to forget, huh? Nahhh. I gotchu! As long as y’all read it, I will publish new chapters. I want to finish this book so y’all can hate me for the second! No, because I’m serious, you’re probably gonna hop into my inbox afterward. Buuuuut, don’t fret, it’s all gonna be okay. But not for Max. (insert crying emoji) She and Raymond are being put through helllll. When I wrote this book, I was so into torturing these poor souls. I was all about putting my characters through the absolute worst. And I think that speaks to how dark my own life was at the time. I was trapped with a violent, abusive man. I felt as though I had nowhere to go. Like I’d lost all autonomy. I wrote this series to give myself hope and to vent, kind of. Yes, the road to our HEA is rough, but it’ll be worth it. This was the story both Max and I wanted to tell. And you know what? I’m happy I wrote it, but I’m even happier that y’all are reading it. Thank you so much for stopping by, and please stay cool. It’s hotter than hell, and Y’ALL, my AC is broken. I live in Vegas. Send me SNOWWWWW! Anyway, y’all have a beautiful night and see you next week, bookie.

Chapter 34: A Ghoulish Meeting

Across town and underground, Nieema admired lofty stacks. She’d been in the castle’s library for a minute, reading shorts to kill time before her guests’ arrival. Not in a particularly romantic mood, she went for comedy. Slapstick, irreverent, or absurd. She wanted to laugh without thinking much.
Nieema didn’t like staying in the subterranean castle for long. It trudge up an unsavory batch of memories. Those darkened by the past and present. Nah, she would rather not dwell within these stone walls.
Though it wasn’t an ideal meeting place, she loved the grand, three-story library. It’d been her haven as a child and a stressed adult. She’d called it home once and had even fallen asleep on the same sofa she lounged upon now. Lemon wax, citrus oils, and parchment made her feel safe. It provided a hefty dose of nostalgia as well. Nieema smiled, recalling the early, adolescent years.
Her mother would read to her for hours. It was a fleeting time she remembered fondly.
Nieema settled with another book and relaxed on tufted velvet. She cracked the spine the moment her brother spoke.
“Come on down here, Your Grace.” Monroe beckoned, and she slapped the hardback shut. “I know you up there.”
“Don’t rush me, boy.”
Tossing the book, Nieema took her favorite form. She exploded into a chattering, squealing colony of bats. Her magic hummed, and psyche split. Twenty sets of eyes and ears. She saw all and heard every motha fucking thing going on in the castle.
The keep, kitchens, and chambers. To the dining hall and courtyard. Nothing was a secret when she grew wings and clawed feet.
Not only was this the quickest way to travel, but it tended to scare the shit out of everyone. Including the beady-eyed mayor who shrank and yelped.
Nieema circled him and swelled; she undulated. Swirling around the man until he cowered in his seat.
“Stop playing with the poor soul, Queen.”
She snickered and dropped into her full form. “Mayor Gloomfhut. It’s so nice you could be with us today.”
Preston Gloomfhut was a fifth-generation ghoul. Which meant he liked raw meat and looked like a god damn dead fish. He was the type who lived up to his name. A thin-lipped, sharp smile was enough. Nieema noted them shiny shoes and the gold signet ring on his sixth finger.
“I am sorry about that,” he said, crossing his legs. “The mayor’s job is never done, Your Majesty.”
Nieema unbuttoned her suit jacket and sat, adjacent to the uptight, sneaky ghoul.
“I know, but we needed to talk.” She gestured to the waiting fixin’s. “I had a little something prepared for you. Some raw cubes, aged cheeses, and dipping sauces. There’s also spiced blood. I know y’all can live without it, but I think it’s a fine treat.”
“No, no. I will not turn down a chance to have some premium blood.”
Monroe was more of a listener than a talker. Especially during times of political strain. This talk wasn’t a big hoopla, but he remained stoic, swirling his full glass.
He stood near the wet bar and sipped.
“Good god,” Gloomfhut rasped. “This is divine, Your Majesty. I can’t say I’ve ever had Moores Wind port. Can I uh, well, may I take a picture of the bottle?”
“Be my guest.”
Preston grinned, fishing his phone from his breast pocket. Those fingernails had seen better days. Blackened and chipped, Nieema grimaced at the filth. He was put together, but his complexion was off, and he hadn’t bathed in some time. Whatever the Mayor was into had him cracking and peeling on the surface.
Ghouls had come a ways thanks to human intervention. Yeah, they fucked humans, and so what? That wasn’t the problem at hand. And while his shook while taking the photo, Nieema clocked the threadbare scent of decay.
“Splendid,” Mayor Gloomfhut drawled, stashing his device. “Now, what is this about? I asked Monroe, but he was light on the details.”
“How well do you know the Voaremont’s?”
The ghoul canted his head and glanced at her brother. He crossed his legs once more and tugged cuffs. The question unsettled him. Nieema was shit outta luck reading his pulse, ghouls didn’t have a heartbeat.
They had working parts and a magic in their veins, but lacked a fully functioning heart.
“Of course, everyone knows them. They’re one of the wealthiest families on the planet.”
Nieema wasn’t about to play in this man’s face. She snapped up a glass of blood and swigged.
“Glad to see you think so highly of them,” Monroe added.
“What is this about?” Mayor Gloomfhut asked.
Nieema slammed her glass onto a rose gold platter. “What does my decree say about hunting?”
“It’s forbidden.”
“No.”
“It’s against the law.”
“Continue.”
“If anyone is caught hunting or conspiring with hunters, then the punishment is death.”
“Public execution,” Monroe corrected.
Nieema exhaled and smirked, but she was unamused. “Someone is hunting in my fucking city. Misthill. The one you are in charge of protecting and providing for. So, tell me, Mayor, how has this slipped by you?”
Bloodfhut stammered and hiked up. He shook his head vehemently. “Your Majesty, I would never—“
“Don’t fix yourself to lie up in here.” Nieema scooted forward, resting elbows on her knees. She peered into the man’s unnatural, averting gaze.
“I’m gonna need you to speak your next words with care. We brought you here, to this library because it is charmed. If you twist your tongue to lie to me, it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”
Mayor Gloomfhut screwed his eyes shut and coughed. His knuckles turned white as he gripped dark, Chellian wood.
“I can’t.”
“You can’t what?”
“You don’t understand.”
“Make me.”
“Your Majesty, the Voaremonts will kill me. I can’t—I can’t. You must know that it was never my intention. I trieeeed to stop them. I swear to the Greats, I did. But—but their father, the patriarch.”
Mayor Bloodfhut snapped his head up and stuttered. “He’s—he’s—honestly, I don’t know what he is, but I don’t think he’s human. And—AND—they’d kill me if—I ain’t saying they’re doing it. But I am not saying they aren’t.”
“You know why they’re doing it?”
“I have no idea.”
Nieema huffed. He hadn’t melted yet. This told her one thing: the mayor wasn’t lying yet. Though he’d chosen to omit.
“You not talking?” Nieema whispered, anger flaring.
“I can’t rat!”
“Okay, but you’ll be staying with us until you sing, Preston.”
“Your Majesty, if I could do any—“
“Speak.”
His head dropped, and his spine loosened. Gloomfhut sagged and blubbered.
“He’s got eyes on my whole family and me. If he finds out—maybe he already knows I’m here.” Preston coughed and wiped his mouth with a trembling hand. “Do whatever you want, but I can’t risk it.”
“Hank.”
Her knight appeared as a swirling mist and solidified behind Gloomfhut. “Let’s go, son.”
“How long have you been digging?” Nieema asked.
The mayor lacked a proper nose, but he scrunched it nonetheless. After threading waxy, four-knuckled fingers through his greasy hair, he sighed. “Four months.”
“You’ll get a year for grave robbing.”
“Fine. It was only for a while anyway. I’m so god damneed stressed. The Crack Mage Gang is fucking up the city and the Voaremont’s—whatever.”
“Take him,” Nieema demanded.
Hank was gentle with the slouched ghoul. Their limbs were prone to pop off like a scared gheko. After the duo vacated the library, Monroe cussed and jacked to his feet.
“This some buuuuullll shit I wasn’t prepared for, sis. You gotta give a god damn minute. Shit.”
Her brother headed for the bar and chuckled. “He don’t wanna rat, but he is one.”
“That’s fucked up, Roe. Come on now, they hate being called rats.”
“Well…”
Nieema plucked a few cubes of aged Gouda and smoked goat. Chewing and thinking, she only grew frustrated.
“I figured him involved, but not like this. The Voaremont’s aren’t taking authority seriously, even going so far as to threaten them. Hunting in my kingdom will not be tolerated!”
Nieema kicked the coffee table, knocking allat shit over. She wasn’t about to let this slide. Trevor had hurt Jasper. In ways Nieema couldn’t fix, and his entire family was running amok, hunting in Ravensguard.
“I don’t need Preston to tell me shit.” Nieema stared at stained glass panes and snarled. Blood-boiling rage caused her fangs to lengthen. “I know what they doing cause I believe Jasper. And if Trevor is at it, then I know his brothers are too; the only question is, who are they giving these parts to?”
“If they not keeping them as trophies.”
“Motha fucka,” Nieema muttered. On her feet, she adjusted her jacket and buttoned it. “I think it might be time to meet with the wealthy Voaremont brothers. And Roe, I want Peaches and Mookie on deck when we do it.”
“Understood.”
“Ain’t this a bitch.” Nieema headed for the exit and grumbled. “There are hunters living and breathing in my town. Never thought I’d see the night.”

Happyyyyy Monday, and good evening, y’all. I hope everyone had a great weekend! You’re in recovery mode now, I know. Fourteen hot dogs and a barrel’s worth of soda’ll fuck you up good in your late thirties. Annnyhoo, here we are! Nieema has confronted the mayor, and I tell you what, she ain’t happy. The Voaremonts’ are a hunting family, and she knows this. Most of the world knows this, but they have their hands in everything. She didn’t need a gravedigging ghoul to tell her, but his omission was enough. So! We shall see where this takes us in the coming chapters. Remider, you and me find shit out TOGETHER! I am a proud panster and love a challenge.
I have been struggling, though, y’all. Keeping this light and easy
has been rough. I’m trying not to be heavyhanded with darker themes (I LOVE DARKNESS). That’s not what Patchwork is about, and I will keep it as such until the very end of season one. I do have an ending in mind, but who knows if it’ll go my way. HEAs are a vow, but how do we get there? Who knows.
Soooo, with this week done, I want to bid you farewell, bookie. Until next time, stay hydrated, stay cool, and stay outta folks’ business. Thank you so much for stopping by. You’re a grand human. Byyyyyeee.

Chapter 33: Potent Magics

Five business days and Jasper was back to the basics. Work and commissions. From five to twelve, she held the store down with Cherry. Her one and only co-worker was a delightful woman with two kids and a school schedule. She was busy and about her money. Her name was apt, considering her favorite color was red. She said folks thought it was corny most days, but Jasper was biased. Being into red and a beautiful shade of carmine, she saw no issue with it.
Cherry left her to the norm. Customers who never needed help and window shoppers. The job was easy as hell and a quick way to make some doe. With next to nothing in her account, Jasper was giddy when Buck texted her about direct deposit things. She’d get a few dollars by next Friday.
Settling into a routine, Jasper was happier than she’d been in a while. After spending time with Nieema, she needed a minute alone. It’d been too long, and her body was out of practice. Her power and will wanted to suck down every drop of Nieema’s soul.
The urge to devour her bit by delicious bit was terrifying. Jasper could’ve killed the poor woman. With her succubus nature showing out, she decided on space and time. Distance made her grow fonder. It had an old demon yearning at six in the morning with a hand between her thighs.
Jasper had texted the Queen. To say hello, to remind her that yes, she was still here. Jasper was available and uncomplicated; desperate.
Her smile above and below was sweeter than honeydew.
With nothing much to do, she drifted. Daydreams consumed minutes and hours. Soaked in pomegranate red and plum purple. The vision of taking her once again was all-consuming.
And to think, Jasper hadn’t even touched Buck.
“Fuck.”
“My bananana pudding will fix whatever has you cussing like that.”
Jasper popped forward in her chair and dropped her boots to the floor. She stood as a gorgeous woman with pastel pink hair sashayed forward.
She was light on her feet and suffocating. Her sugar-coated soul was cloying, tacky. Jasper loved her already and became enamored as she placed a dish of banana pudding on the counter.
“You must be Maggie,” Jasper met the woman halfway and extended a palm. “It’s a pleasure.”
“Silly woman. We hug here.”
Jasper beamed, welcoming a comforting embrace. She smelled of coco butter, mangos, clementines, and brown sugar. She was a goddess and her soft pats were lovely. Jasper didn’t want to let go as goodness and warmth surrounded her.
“There we are,” Maggie held Jasper at arm’s length. “You’re precious, honey.”
“You are about to make me cry.”
“Sometimes a shedding is what we need.”
The woman shrugged and wagged a finger. “Youuuu, are in for a treat. I added more cookies than bananas.”
“How could you possibly—“
“There ain’t much I don’t know. How’s that charm working?”
Jasper cleared her throat and checked the strange, glowing rock hanging above the door. It pulsed with potent abilities. Metallic and sour, it left a bad taste in her mouth.
“Good, I’m guessing. I haven’t seen him.”
“That means it’s working. But—“
“I know, Buck said I can’t leave the store until my ride is here.”
“You don’t have a car?”
“It’s busted at the moment.”
Maggie twirled, her colorful corset dress fluttering. She was a splash of whimsy and delicate on the eyes. An older woman, perhaps, but her spirit and soul were youthful.
Two French braids framed her heart-shaped face and full cheeks. Beads studded her pink and silver tresses while rose gold glittered.
“I know who can help you with that.” Maggie stared out the window and tapped the glass with a long, painted nail. Sparks pinged on the glass as she hummed. “Tre. My nephew can handle anything under the hood of a car. Leave it to him, he’ll have your lemon up and running in two hours.”
Jasper shook her head and checked on the banana pudding. The plastic lid did nothing to hide all that sexy. Whipped cream, nilla wafers, and thick pudding.
She grunted, stroking her chin. “I might have to get his card or something.”
“I’ll give you his phone number.” Maggie pivoted and wriggled fingers festooned with gemstones. “Anyway, I came by cause I wanted to give you this.”
She snapped fingers and a bracelet dropped from the ceiling. Jasper winced and squinted, shocked and in awe.
“What in the Undervell?”
“Don’t overthink it. Huh.” Maggie offered a gold Cuban link. “And never you mind about the price. This piece has been in the back of my sock drawer for years. Can’t remember where I got it. Brasshorne maybe. No. Foster Pier? No. Well, anyway, it’s yours now.”
Jasper accepted the gift and shuddered as power weaved through vein and bone.
“What is this? I can feel its strength.” Jasper studied the links, searching for proof. “This is another magical piece.”
Maggie giggled and nodded. “Yes, honey. Pure, untouched magic. My own spell and charm. I want you to wear this, and don’t you dare remove it.”
As told, Jasper unlatched and slapped the cool gold onto her wrist and clasped it. The gold number complemented her other jewels.
“Thank you, Maggie.” Jasper cleared her throat, unsure of what to say. “Your whole family is an enigma. I’ve never met anyone so kind or giving. After living in Misthill, I assumed most earth dwellers were no better than nightmare demons.”
“It can seem that way when you’re over there in the big ol’ city. They got too much going on for me. Even Carver. Shit, my late husband looooved to travel, and because I loved him, I followed on behind his busy self. I wasn’t flying in no airbus, though.”
Maggie was a jubilant woman, but she carried sorrow on her back. Whomever her husband was, she missed him dearly.
“Well, if you need anything from me, you come running. My place is only a hop and skip from yours. I live on the ranch.”
“Buck said something about that.”
“Papa Buck say a lot. Old rooster.”
Jasper laughed as the bell tinkled. Palison, the pretty half-brother, entered and stalled. He sniffed the air and scowled.
“Witch!”
Maggie turned her nose up and whipped a braid over her shoulder. “And who the fuck is you?! Don’t catch an ass whippin’, boy. You don’t greet people like that. Much more, you don’t piss off a powerful mage. I’ll slap the taste outcha’ mouth, swamp crawler.”
Maggie rolled her eyes and grinned at Jasper. “Don’t you waste a bite of that pudding, now. And remember, never take that off. It’ll keep your past at bay and keep your foes from finding you.”
“Thank you, again, Maggie.”
“Nonsense. I’ll see you soon.”
Her aura and soul had solidified in real time. The exchange was magnificent, and Palison was a man scandalized. Uncertain, furious, curious, and aroused. He watched her grumble out of the door and sneered.
Jasper glowered and knocked on the counter. “Hello?”
Palison inhaled and snapped to  attention. “Is Buck around?”
“Nah.”
“Shit.”
“Why didn’t you call him?”
“What makes you think I have his number?”
“Good point.”
He spun and high-tailed it out of the store without so much as a thank you.
“What an asshole.” Jasper hit a double-take and nodded. “Im’a need some privacy for this.”
She rubbed her hands together and hustled for the break room in search of the biggest spoon she could find.

Neon Red Update

Y’all, I am a one woman show, and with that said, things happen. I am sorry for that. Sometimes, when I’m doing one thousand things at once, I fk up. And for chapter fifteen, I forgot to add ABs POV! But, I fixed it! He’s there, getting cracked open like a can of biscuits! If you’d like to go back and read it, by all means, please do. It is kinda important for y’all to see just how far gone he is for Low and Max. Their first moment was explosive and fleeting for a reason. 😏😌 As always, thank you so much for being patient with me, I be trying y’all. 🫶🏾✨Anyway, I hope you have a good weekend, and I’ll see you next week! Drink more water, and stay hydrated, bookie. It’s hotter than the devils nutsac out there.