Category: fiction

Neon Red: Chapter One

“Okay, but caffeine is a controlled substance at this point, teetering on the edge. Let’s be for real. It should be just as, if not harder to get, ‘cause it’s strong as hell, I ain’t lying now, and you know this chile.”
Max stared at the sketch she’d been working on for two days and hated it. She hated a lot of her work. It was never bright enough, perfect enough, or even slightly artistic. At least, in her humble opinion.
“I love it when you talk like a grandma.”
Max smiled and put pencil to paper once more. It was tough to concentrate on the mermaid slash steampunk piece with Can’t Stop by After 7 blasting.
“That’s ‘cause I am, a grandma, Ndari.”
“No the hell you are not.” She chuckled and said, “You’d have to be a grandmother for that. And you don’t even have kids.”
“Annnnd I never will,” Max sang, meaning every word. Kids were a scary, sticky fingered bunch, plus the idea of growing another body inside of her own was revolting. She shivered, blew a huge Bubblicious sphere, popped it, and examined the girl’s face etched on white parchment.
“She looks like Gary Busey.”
“You always think they look like Gary Busey.”
“’Cause they do, bruh. Like, swear to god. Look!” Spinning the heavy book around on the glass counter, she shoved it at Ndari. The girl stopped with her broom work and glanced at the buxom mermaid.
“Nothing like him.”
“Lyin’ ass,” Max muttered.
Ndari giggled and returned to sweeping the two- hundred-square-foot waiting area. A high-gloss black floor meant everything was visible, and Ndari never missed a speck. Little miss was a bona fide neat freak. She peeped allllll dust, dirt, and debris.
The girl swept about twenty times a night, and the entire shop smelled like Lysol. Which, was actually a good thing considering their specialty.
Snagging her three-hundred-page drawing book, Max got back to business and shaded in her tail. The fins were adorned with bolts and wires. She loved mermaids, sirens, and the ocean. The mermaid thing was borderline obsessive.
“I have no appointments!”
“And here he goes…”
Max slammed her book closed, threw the pencil, and watched as Jordan stomped from the back and fell onto a fancy sectional.
“And whose fault is that?” Ndari barked.
His enormous frame filled a five-seater without issue. The six-foot-eight, two hundred and ninety-pound mountains Doc Martens stretched well past the arm.
“Shut up bitch, I am boooored, okay,” Jordan cried, while Max cocked a brow.
“Seeing as it’s June 3rd,” Max said, “you are ‘bouta be crying in two weeks. ‘Cause our shop will be booked to hell. So look here heffa, don’t come hooping and hollering now. Take this time, ‘cause yo lazy behind will be the first one moaning about how you’re tired and overworked.”
The man bolted upright and gasped, full on drama with a hand on his broad chest. “Why do you have to drag me like that, honey?”
“’Cause I love you,” Max chimed.
Jordan blushed and waved a hand. “And I love you, boss lady.”
“Move!” Ndari yelled, shoving at his foot with the broom.
“You know what? You can stop yelling at me, Cinderella.”
They both giggled while Jordan lifted his feet. Big mister had a voice like Barry White, a beard he kept braided Thor style, and perfectly tailored. Folks often assumed he was in a biker gang or a motorcycle club, whatever they was calling it these days.
“Can we play something newer?” Ndari groaned as she sprayed large, spotless windows with stank glass cleaner. “Like, Nsync.”
“Nsync?!” Max balked, recoiling at the audacity. “You know better Ndari, this ain’t an Nsync safe zone. It’s New Kids on the Block, or Backstreet Boys. Mint Condition and shit. Nsync is not welcome, and that ain’t news. You showing your age, now.”
Ndari cackled as she swiped and polished. “I am only forty-nine.”
“Girl, we got cougars up in here.”
Max ignored Jordan and his eighty-two-year-old ass. Pointing at her best friend, Max snorted. “Honey, forty-nine is edging fifty; you are almost a senior citizen.”
“Shhhh, don’t.” Ndari snickered and threw a paper towel across the room. It landed on the floor, she ran for the thing, and snatched it quick. “If any of you drop even a crumb my floor, you’ll have to see me in a duel.”
Of course, there was a clatter of metal on granite. Jordan emptied his pockets. He threw a handful of change and mints at the girl’s feet. Ndari screamed, jumped on his dumb self, and put him in a choke hold. She’d taken four years of Jujitsu and was not to be trifled with. Jordan, on the other hand, ain’t never been in a fight.
Standing behind the counter, Max booted the POS and clicked until finding their ordering database. She checked what was low and restocked, two of everything.
“Incoming!” Jordan shouted and hopped to it. Ndari went with him and hung from his neck like a pendant. “I’m ready! Move girl. I need to make some money.”
“Yes, you do.” Max peered through tinted double panes as two men approached in a hurry. They looked stacked from afar. “Damn.”
Ndari dropped the broom and ran behind the counter. She tended to her job, as a receptionist. Max slid in and leaned beside the woman who readied her tits and fluffed a cute pixie cut. It shooolll was a setup.
Heavy spice and blood wafted at the exact moment two fine men entered her tattoo shop. Ohhhh, yeah, those two would turn a girl out and into something nasty.
“Hay, you takin’ walk-ins?” The brunette asked, in a Goodfellas accent.
Ndari nodded. “Indeed, you lucked out. We don’t close ‘til four.”
The testosterone-heavy boys admired their high wall covered in art and drawings Max personally sketched. People liked her shit… ‘shit’ being the main word there.
“Cool, ‘cause we stopped on South Beach, at The Tatt-”
Max snapped her fingers, cutting off the insult. “We don’t say that name around here.” She smiled, showed and teeth ‘cause them was vampires staring at her.
“Oh, my fault.” That one was naughty as eyes found both sets of cleavage. Sex sells, okay. They’d booked so many clients after a glimpse of tiddie meat. “Anyway, they were closed, so we asked around. We were told, Ink In Hell was the next best thing.”
“I should turn you away for that, Paulie.” Max tsked playfully as the big ol’ hunk of muscle smirked. Those baby blues sparkled as she swung attention to his buddy. A spicy red he was. Taller too, six-five, maybe six. Wide, thick, and tatttted.
She clocked a couple of clovers weaved into ornate markings on his forearms. He was obviously Irish. As if his brazen, long mane wasn’t enough evidence.
Red nudged Gotti and whispered in his ear. They cracked in heavy masculine laughter. “Alright, alright. I don’t know what I want. Fuck outta he’.”
Jesus, he was a bold cliché.
“So, what do you two have in mind?” Ndari asked, in her ‘tryna fuck’ voice. “We have plenty of options.”
“I don’t know.” The Italian Job shrugged and went on. “I never even had a tattoo before. I’m old school, body is a temple, and all that. You know. I was raised Catholic. My Gma is gonna have a stroke if she finds out.”
Big Red turned and pinned eyes on Max. She wiggled a little. He was fine. Like, handsome in the extreme. A full-grown ass male like that was not going to bark up her tree.
Then he spoke.
“I’m hoping to pop his ink cherry.” Sex, his voice was a lengthy four rounds of deep and sweaty.
Max laughed and slapped the counter. “’Nough said, come here, church boy.” She gestured for their company and snagged another full sketchbook. Good lawd, they smelled nice. Cologne, aftershave, weed, and soap…male vampire. The latter got her carpet wet, honey.
“Okay, so you’re Catholic and Italian.”
“How’d you know, I—”
“Lucky guess, it’s your sense of humor.”
He grinned and tapped his buddy’s chest. “Look at this youngsta here. She got a mouth, don’t she?”
“I am ninety-eight years old, Frankie.”
“Aye, Frankie is my cousin, I’m Ines.”
Her brows popped. “Wow, not what I assumed at all.”
“Yeah,” Ndari hummed, considering Ines. “Thought you more of a… Giraldo, maybe.”
“That’s terrible, I’d slit my own jugular.”
Their quad chuckled as Jordan appeared and cleared his throat. “I’m ready when… ever. Hi…” He waved at Ines and…
“What about you? What’s your handle?” Max asked the handsome fellow. He dragged a low-lidded gaze over and smirked. Like a nasty Sphinx.
“Jaxon.”
“Ohhhh, kaaaayyy.” Jordan chimed in from behind and did everything to shove his big ass between them. Max brushed the wall and giggled. “That’s rustic and rugged.”
“I think it’s classy, my mom has good taste.”
“She does.” Jordan nodded and twiddled his braid.
“Okay, back to you, Ines.” Max pushed at her cock blocker… that was funny. No way in hell. “You’re Italian, catholic, and have a grandmother. So, I’d say, medium-sized, and nothing too flashy.”
“Yeah, yeah, exactly.”
Max chewed quickly and blew a bubble. She flipped plastic pages with vamp speed and stopped on an Italian flag number. The words, ‘Chaoi bella’ in cursive, were etched under it.
“Dai nemici mi guardo io, dagli amici mi guardi Iddio! I will protect myself from my enemies, may God protect me, from my friends.”
Max recited the words, and Ines tapped Jaxon again.
“You know Italian?”
“I do.”
“Il tuo un breve asno intelligente.”
“You are right on both accounts, I am short, and I am a smart ass.” Max shrugged and sighed. “Thanks for noticing.”
Another bubble emerged and exploded while he cackled.
“I like it, I wanna get that one. My Gma will approve, and it’s not so big.”
“Perfect,” Ndari said. She started the formalities of payment and such. “Have you fed within eight hours?”
“No.”
“Okay, great.”
“Alllrighty.” Jordan had to say something. “When you are done, Ndari will bring you into my office.”
The male spun on his heels, happy as hell. And so was Max, this guy was their third customer of the night. Summer was a pain in the ass. They had roughly five hours to work with, and humans weren’t allowed…sort of, so they were short on time.
Max watched them exchange money for services, and hot damn. They were a duo made for GQ or Vogue. Ines had a rough quality, handsome and dark, tanned. His other half was pretty, runway-ready, and fuckin’ seductive.
Being escorted, neither took a second look, and yeah… story of her life. Males like that never gave Max the time of day.
Ndari shuffled back in her Crocs and met Max face to face. “I am sweating… everywhere.”
“Shhhhh.” Max grabbed the girl’s hand, her vape, and ran out the door. They giggled into the night and flopped down at one of the small bistro tables. “I cannnot,” She blurted. “Honey, I—two?”
As Max turned on her pen, Ndari squealed. “Two purebloods at once. My god, did you see Ines and those shoulders? I swoon.”
“Okay, but that ginger boy?”
“Makes you think, does everything match the drapes. You should shoot.”
Max chuckled, expelling a light mist of smoke. “I know you fukin’ lyin’. Big boys like him do not fool with women like me, a lowly halfbreed. I know my lane, ‘aight. And I stay in it.”
Her best friend knew nothing about living as a six, seven on a good night. Ndari was fabulous, a classic beauty queen from Indonesia. Lithe and athletic. By no means did Max hate herself, but she preferred to call a spade, a spade.
“Not this again,” Ndari mumbled. “You’re always so humble… and self-deprecating.”
“I am not self-deprecating.” Max paused to suck down cherry-scented smoke and spoke on exhale. “I’m a realist, I ain’t ‘bouta set myself up for humiliation.”
She wasn’t no dummy and wouldn’t play the town fool either.
“Tuhuh, not I. Aye, did you see how high he was?”
“Yeesss.” Ndari slouched in her chair. “Mr. Jaxon was baked. Flying.”
“Must be nice. Weed makes me nervous.” Hitting the pen one mo’ gain, Max nodded. “Give me a bottle of brandy, and I’m straight.”
“Old ass. You sound like my aunt.”
“I am an auntie, hell. Got on cotton briefs to prove it.”
Her girl cut up, and they cackled at the self-burning. But hey, at least she wasn’t delusional about her geriatric status.

Annnd we made it to publishing day! I know it’s late, but I didn’t give a set time for a reason, because I know me. Also, I wanna let y’all know that this almost didn’t happen. I almost made a post stating how I was too sick to edit it. But you know what? I pushed through this flu I got. It’s bad y’all. About six days of hellll on earth, you hear me? Anyway, I said fuck it. No excuses. So I got my lap desk and did what needed to be done. I figured I’d have days to do all this, but I was extremely unwell there for a spell and couldn’t even sit upright. I am now on the mend and felt good enough to get it done FOR Y’ALL. I set a date and I wanted to stick to that. I wanted to prove it to myself that I could do it, no matter what. I’m proud of myself and I’m excited that y’all get meet the Chaotic Trio, as I have called them for a few years. With that said, happy reading, and as always, thank you so very much for stopping by!

Chapter 17: Blushing and Brews

Nieema

Mead, bards, and a lovely maiden by the name of Junis. This moment mimicked theirs. It was strange to witness, and Nieema sat in awe. Four hundred years prior, she’d met a mischievous dark fairy boy in a tavern much like Mio’s. They had talked for hours about nothing, and everything then shared a bed with Junis, of course.
Nieema hadn’t believed in love at first sight. She’d never been one to dream of white dresses and children.
It wasn’t for her…until he laughed at a silly joke. The beautiful dishwasher with his black pine hair and sun-soaked sepia skin warmed her from the inside. But Nieema was off to war. She’d come in, broody and anxious, set to drown her sorrows in honey wine. He, changed her plans with a single quip. Though it’d be some years, centuries before she’d see him again, Nieema knew then she’d marry a humble dishwasher.
Buck had left Jasper stunned as well. His quick tongue and devilish smile had yanked her right on up. Nieema was sure she shared the same slack-jawed expression after Buck had kissed her that first night.
Jasper was cooked, done for, and she didn’t even know it.
“You, punched Trevor Voaremont?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t approve,” Nieema added as the fries arrived. “Thank you, baby. Hol’ on, Irene. Can you get Auntie a glass of ice? You know, the chunky kind.”
“You and that damn I…”
Irene rolled eyes and went to handle another table before fetching that ice. Nieema pinched a fry and dipped it in the cheese, then the ranch.
“Nasty,” Jasper muttered. “Pick one.”
“Before you knock it, why don’t you try it.“
“No thank you,” Jasper snipped. She grabbed a few fries and ate them dry like a god damn heathen. “Salt and pepper is all I need.”
“Classless.”
“Buckley Sunside, I told you—“
“You said not to cause a mess, I didn’t. But I had to do something, Nimmy. Shit. He was two seconds from walking up on y’all.”
Jasper coughed until her face purpled. Nieema shoved a glass of water at the woman.
“Drink it and calm down, dear.”
The succubus did as Nieema asked and ate a couple more fries. The unsavory situation was ‘bout to ruin Nieema’s appetite yet again. She nibbled, and with each deliberate chew, she ruminated. Stewing, really. This motha fucka would catch his death creeping about Indigo Plains like the slithering piece of shit he was.
“So, that’s when you punched him?”
Buck gave a curt nod and sipped his brew.
Nieema thought Jasper might swoon on the spot with how she smiled.
“Wow. He is watching me then.”
“I told you he was. Buuuut, it’s like I said, you’re safe. I won’t let him come near you.”
Jasper sprinkled too much salt on the second batch of fries and cleared her throat. “I wish I wasn’t so scared of this asshole. He’s a feeble human with twenty-twenty-five good years left. Some demons might call me a coward and snatch my rank.”
Nieema recoiled and scoffed. “Rank?”
“As in…” Buck was surprised as Nieema. “You was in the military?”
“No. I escaped before my boots hit the ground. No way in Undervell or any other hell would I be forced to fight in a war that started before I was even born. My father makes certain his children serve the Undervell cause. From birth, we are taught to fight, to defend our house.
“Kit, is an ass kisser. He’s older than me and wouldn’t dare defy Carriont. Me? Shiiiit. I ran. Fuck no. Not me. I’ll make my own way.”
Buck chuckled and dipped his fries in the cheese while Nieema crunched on ice. She worked on two mouthfuls and observed.
“So, you know how to box?” Nieema asked.
“I can do more than that, but I refuse. It means leaning into my father’s teachings. Being who he wanted me to be. I avoid confrontation at all costs. Someone will die fucking with me, and I’d rather not take a life. It’s bad business.”
“Indeed,” Nieema replied.
As an ex-general, she understood. After serving the rebellion for many moons, Nieema never wanted her kids or grandchildren anywhere near the battle line. War was brutal and changed people. The damage was irreparable. Though she’d left the trenches well over fifty years ago, nightmares still slipped through the cracks, threatening to do her in.
Jasper evaded eye contact because she was a proud woman. Nieema respected it and her aversion to pity. Buck’s declaration touched her somewhere beneath skin and bone. As an old vampire, Nieema possessed the innate ability to read people. From the hop of their pulse, to the rapid beating heart, and overworked lungs. Jasper was a well of knowledge as she swallowed and blinked, feigning nonchalance and swagger.
“Not too many have come to my defense without wanting something in return. My older sister and Kit aside, no one has cared enough. This isn’t an opening to talk about feelings and shit, but thank you. I’ve seen the worst of things living in Undervell. I’m not spooked easily, but Trevor and this last year…”
Jasper chuckled and stuffed fries between her curved fangs.
“I don’t find this amusing,” Nieema intoned. “Why make light of it?”
“You had to have live through it to understand.”
Silence stretched until Irene slammed a glass on the table. Nieema beamed up at her niece. “Thank you, baby, can—”
“Auntie, I got ten tables. This is not your house.”
“I am your queen,”
Irene laughed and flapped a hand. “Your food’s coming out soon. I don’t got time.”
“Go’on, baby. But fix your damn face. Always frowning.”
The little girl snickered and winked at Jasper. Nieema snapped fingers and grunted. “Unuh, not over here.”
She departed with a swirl and deliberate step.
“What about your parents?” Buck asked, choosing the wrong subject. Nieema did not want to talk about that shit. “Where are they? You mentioned kingdoms and whatnot. Where’s your mother?”
“He’s very nosy,” Jasper looked to Nieema and cocked a brow.
“This ain’t nothing.”
“My mother? I don’t know where she is. Somewhere in the five kingdoms. I have no idea. She didn’t bond well with my father and wanted nothing to do with me because of it.”
Nieema sucked teeth and glared at her husband. Why did he have to go there? He never knew when to shut right the fuck up. And now, he glowered at a basket of fries. No doubt the parallels in their story made an impact. Nieema unbuttoned her suit jacket and sighed.
Her old man’s craggy wound throbbed within her own chest. She rubbed the ache, and he patted her thigh.
“It’s okay, beloved. I’m good.”
“Bullshit,” Jasper spat. “You fell into an ocean of sorrow just now. Your empathy almost strangled me. What—never mind. It’s not my business.”
Nieema didn’t approve of her attitude. Jasper closed up shop and threw them mental bolts. Her false aloofness and fight would do little in this situation. It was futile. Something in the blood and body.
Simmering in her soul beckoned them. Not just Nieema or Buck, but both. As one. They felt its caress. The familiar magnetism and pull piqued more than curiosity.
This was worth patience.
Nieema would wait for the demon. In the end, Jasper would be a woman possessed, writhing and pleading like the rest.
“So, what? Is this an open marriage or…”
“That’s more like it,” Buck said, smiling like a damn fool. “Yes, open and seeking a third.”
“For what?” Jasper asked, going in for more fries. “Fun, pleasure, a good time, one night?”
Nieema attacked her second glass of ice and let Buck hold the floor because if she spoke.
“Whatever is necessary in the moment. We take all with open arms and legs. We’re happily married and mated, but we ain’t monogamous. Never have been. It was clear from the moment we met.”
“Why aren’t you satisfied with each other?”
“Ha!” Nieema slammed her glass and crunched before speaking. “Listen here, deary. It’s not about satisfaction or happiness, though. It’s about living and leaning into our sexuality. We love and welcome any and all genders. I love exploring new bodies, new blood, and giving pleasure to those seeking it.
“Make no mistake, I love my husband with every fiber of my being, but we have desires as individuals. I love women too damn much, and he is an unapologetic tea bagger. If this man don’t suck dick in the next three months, he’ll get tetchy.”
“Silicone is coo’ and everything, ya know? But I like how my hands look choking a chubby six-incher with ridges. Slap it on my tongue, play with it.” Buck swigged his beer, burped, and said, “Plus, I like to swal—”
“Okay!” Jasper waved hands and snatched her water as their plates arrived. “Thank god. Holy shit.”
“Coming in hot,” Irene said, delivering their meal. “Extra spicy twenty-piece for my best freeen.” She winked at Jasper again.
“Thank you so much, this looks and smells divine.”
The saucy succubus lingered on the last bit and matched Irene’s flirtatious smile.
“Unc, here’s your short ribs. And here, Auntie, I want fifty percent gratuity.”
“You lost ya damn mind, chile.”
“Fifty!”
“Can you get Uncle a little extra cheese? Thank you sweet pea. Imma double that tip.”
Irene rolled her eyes before departing like an angry, bored teenager.
“Awww, Auntie love herrrr.” Nieema nodded and watched her grown niece tend to patrons with glee. “She so sweet. Irene is the youngest. So she spoiled, you know. My brother can’t tell her no. He didn’t even want her to work. Lil. Princess.”
“The way you soften when gushing about your family is adorable.”
Nieema dropped her smile and picked up her fork. “Family means everything to me. Everything I do is for them.”
“I can see that.”
Jasper went for her wings, and Nieema dragged a crusty wedge of sourdough through braised marrow. It was gelatinous, grainy, and fabulous. If not the patties, then marrow was her go-to. When Buck’s short ribs arrived, they cut the long chatter and focused on their meal.
Per usual, Milo put his whole god damn foot up in the bone marrow and seasoned the hell out of his famous fried cabbage. Fat back bacon and hot sauce elevated every bite. Nieema didn’t need solids, starch or carbs, but she wasn’t about to turn them down. Why should she deny herself this moment of bliss? Granted, she couldn’t eat a lot, but she ate enough.
Fat and sugar in the blood gave her ample hips, luscious thighs, and a belly Buck loved more than her tiddies.
“I tell you what,” Buck said, rubbing his bulging stomach. “I can’t touch nothing else. Them tea cakes will have to wait until tomorrow. Sarah dropped them off. Said they were for Friday’s tea party, but I was gonna sample some, naturally.”
“I figured you were joking about that,” Jasper said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Tea parties? What, do you plan them or something?”
“Yes I do, and what of it?” Buck tweaked a brow, and Nieema smirked, loving his prideful side. “Everybody got a hobby, mine is gardening and tea.”
Jasper erupted in tinkling laughter. It was bright and melodic. Nieema enjoyed her elated display far too much.
“You two,” the demoness gestured between them with a fork, “you’re walking contradictions.”
“Says who?”
“You’re a cowboy, Buck. Let’s not forget your loud, sexy car and the way you carry yourself. Whatever masculinity is, you possess it. Since when has tea brewing and tea cakes ever been considered masculine?”
Nieema canted her head and hummed. “You must unlearn whatever teachings go on down in Undervell, dear. Brewing and making tea are not gender-specific, and I find it odd to attach male or female, feminine or masculine to such things. It is rather close-minded and toxic.
“Buck is a person, not male or female, a person who enjoys tea parties. Where we are from, everyone takes tea rather seriously. They consider him a brew master of sorts. Everyone looks forward to his parties. They are invite-only and the reservation list is long. Some folks been waiting years to attend.”
The woman contemplated, eyes fixed upon her cake. She chewed and nodded, drinking her fizzy pop.
“You’re right,” Jasper muttered. “You are absolutely right. Buck, I apologize. We aren’t so tight in the ass about sexuality, obviously, but gender roles aren’t up for debate. You can be whoever you want to be, as long as it is male, female, or interbred. You must fall into one of those categories. Each gender serves a purpose in Undervell. Three boxes, no room for discussion.”
“Shiiiiid, don’t tell the Lurma peoples that. Them folks who live up there on Keyhold? They have ten genders and no roles to be had.”
“I’d like to meet them,” Jasper said, cutting into that monstrous four-layer cake. Nieema had never finished a slice and probably never would. “Can I?”
Nieema grimaced and tipped her glass of ice. “Don’t think so. The only person who speaks to Lurma is Old Man Joyner. He barters with them.”
“Mmm. The hermit?”
“Yup.”
Buck groaned aloud and pulled out his wallet, thumbing through plastic. “Don’t know about yall, but I’m ready to kick back. I got a long day tomorrow at the store. Bright and early. Huh, my treat.”
Jasper hacked into her second piece and eyed the man. “Who said I’d offer to pay anyway?”
“You funny now, Jasper. Keep it up.”
Nieema cackled, slapped her husband’s shoulder, and kissed him flat on the mouth. He was a man of his word, and they had that in common. Much like Nieema, Buck preferred his way or none. They butted heads, but he was easily subdued. The dark fae stood no chance against her wily ass, and Jasper didn’t either. It was only a matter of time before the succubus pleaded for mercy.
Until then, patience was key.

Frosty and Frigid: An Excerpt

From playful to penetrating, Coco’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “I have plenty of bags left, but I have a proposition for you.”
“Really?”
His smile somehow possessed a smug edge Tatum didn’t find the least bit amusing.
“Yup.”
“What do you have in mind, Coco?”
“You let me help with this grinchy outlook you have about Christmas and for each success, I’ll give you ten bags of cookies.”
Hope flared in the center of her chest. Tatum set her mug down as Coco whipped out his towel and polished the absurd sticker-clad bar top.
“How many days are we talking?”
“Until you leave,” Coco said, back to her, preparing another cup.

It provided the perfect view of his ass, shoulders, and thick braid. Goddess, could she even get her hand around it? Tatum wanted to warp it around her knuckles while she pegge—
“Wait, until I leave?” Tatum questioned, finding his suggestion outlandish and horrid.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“It’s a snowy, ski town, what the hell is there to do here?”
He quietly considered her inquiry and gnawed on his lip. The fidgeting and silence concerned her.
“Weelll, this is Snowdrift. There’s lots to do during this time of year.
I can tell you who to see and where to go.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be helping me with this, Coco?”
He nodded with a tight grin. “Yeah, I am. I will. Because you need my holiday cheer, Tatum. You’re sorely lacking. But we’re gonna get you singing Christmas carols in no time.”
“I won’t be doing that.”
Coco giggled and shook his head. “To be so grumpy you sure are funny, Tatum.”
“I wasn’t trying to be.”
“Oh I know.”
Coco wiped counters and prepared a few more steaming drinks while Tatum muller on what she should do. Undiluted happiness was on the line, here. Coco basically had a knife to her throat. Those cookies changed the game and her life. For a short time k, they delivered what she’d missed for the last two years.
Tatum needed to take some home, and the only way to do that was to go along with his his stupid ass plan.
“Fine,” Tatum clipped. She gulped cooling magic in a mug and fought the sudden urge to hug Coco. He should be paid for this shit.

Coming Dec. 2026

Frosty and Frigid is a Christmas elf romance with a light heart. It’s MF with queer characters and fat positive themes. It’s low-conflict, spicy and still in draft! I’m so excited and can’t wait for you folks to read it.

What to expect:

Christmas magic

Cookie talk

Christmas cheer

Cookie and Peppermint kink

Hot chocolate

A romantic snowy setting in the mountains

Small town magic

Grumpy/Sunshine

Two elves falling in love

Black and Brown MC’s

I Will Wear Graphic Tee’s Until The End Times!!

Daily writing prompt
What are your two favorite things to wear?
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My favorite thing to wear is definitely a graphic tee! Something that showcases my love and often times, hyper fixation. Nine out of ten, you’ll see me in a Star Wars, Deadpool, or Alien shirt. I adore a v-neck with some snarky book quote on it too. Also, anything movie related. Right now, I’m very attached to my Interview with the Vampire (tv show) tee. I wear it most off-days. I have a dress code at work so it’s not often that I even get to wear my tees, but I LOOOOVE THEM!

Chapter 16: Futile Efforts

CW: Anxiety from recalling past trauma.

Jasper

“You got one more chance!” Nieema yelled, standing at her husband’s side. “Better make it count.”
They were smug and beautiful. Two masterpieces. Two gods sent to smite Jasper.
A tiebreaker was needed here. Buck was a man about his business and bowled like a professional. Hell, perhaps he was. Jasper wouldn’t know, because she didn’t know them. They were still strangers. Intense and Irresistible strangers who had crept into her dreams.
Jasper exhaled, pinned her sights on the three holes. She hoped upon some magical star and prayed to the undergods. Jasper didn’t want to give him a chance. It was in her nature to be a tease, to poke and knead weaknesses. Anything that delivered optimal nutrition, she went for it.
And the ounce of lust swirling from Buck at the moment made her dizzy. The Sunsides were powerful on their own. As individuals, their potent desires had become a problem within days. Together? Jasper was full. She was satisfied yet, starved for more.
“Get it over with, dear,” Nieema said, her chin too goddamn high.
“Even if I lose, that doesn’t mean you win, Nieema.”
“Take your turn, Jasper,” the vampire demanded.
“Fine.”
Without delay, Jasper plucked her ball and stepped to the line. Neon lights, music, and the smell of food were strong distractions. She shook nerves, cocked back, and released. The heaviest ball weighed nothing as it rolled.
Jasper held her breath and gripped her chains. The orb inched to the right. She cussed as pins teetered, leaned, and toppled.
“Ghat damn!” Buck shouted. “What a game. You played well, girl! I gotta hand it to you.”
Jasper sighed and threw her head back, peering at the ceiling. “I don’t enjoy fancy food.”
He laughed like a man pleased with himself. “Glad we on the same page about that.”
“I tried to tell you,” Roe cut in. “Don’t bet the Sunsides. You didn’t listen. I can’t save you now, child.”
Jasper adored Monroe. He was a suave two-stepper with impeccable fashion sense. There was a frenetic air about him, but she had come to find that it was a vampire thing. They were dark and daring. She liked it on him and Nieema.
Buck, on the other hand, was different. Nieema’s raven-hued soul was threatening, sensuous, and sultry; her betrothed was terrifying. Even as Jasper studied her rainbow polish, his inky gaze seared her flesh.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Roe snapped up his long woolen coat and headed out, “I have a train to catch.”
“You don’t want to get a bite with us?” Jasper asked.
“I eat solids twice a week and never on Fridays. Have a good evenin’, y’all.”
As Monroe hugged his siblings, Jasper went to retrieve her shoes. She didn’t wait around for the couple to gloat. After a quick trade with a fairy named Kay, she slipped into her sandals and headed for the exit.
“Jasper,” Nieema warned. “What did I say earlier?”
“Riiiight, I must stick with my babysitter at all times.”
“It’s for your protection.”
Jasper might have pouted and stomped her foot if not for Buck’s serious tone. They were kind enough to be the barrier between her and Trevor’s crazy ass. It was an undeserved service, and Jasper felt like an asshole for griping.
“This is going to take some getting used to.”
“Understandable,” Nieema said, waiting for her husband to open the door. He did so with a flourish. “This same treatment grated against my hide at one point. So, just know, how you feel is not lost on me. After you.”
Muggy summer air was better than the Sunsides’ shared eau de and fried food. She inhaled a steady breath and exhaled the ounce of lingering irritation.
“Since I get to choose the spot, I want the nearest bar. It’s been a minute since I had a cold one.”
“Perfect!”
Buck clapped once and scanned the parking lot as they started walking. His mood simmered for a tick, fading from a playful rouge to a concerned gray.
“What’s the matter?” Jasper inquired.
“Hm?”
“You’re miffed about something.”
“Tell you after a beer.”
Nieema slapped Buck’s arm. “What in the devil is goin’ on? I could tell the moment we hit the door. You actin’ like you done somethin’, Buckley.”
“Woman—“
“Oh, I just know you ain’t fixin’ to lie to my face.”
“He is.”
Buck recoiled and canted his head. “Damn, I don’t believe she was talking to you, ma’am.”
“I don’t need permission to speak.”
Nieema whooped and nodded. “You’re damn right you don’t. Now come on, I want some wings. Buck, when we sit down, you got ninety seconds to spill them baked beans or swear on D—“
“Okayyy! Hush now, unhinged dame.”
“I’ll show you unhinged, moss balls.”
“Don’t get me started, you vintage bag uh bones. Moss balls? You like to hold these hairy balls in your sleep. That’s weirdo shit, Nieema!”
Jasper chuckled at their delightful and entertaining bicker fest. Buck was always two steps behind Nieema in terms of wit. But he put up a good fight, and the vampire let him win with a stolen kiss. One Nieema tried to dodge. Their sweet nothing and affection were bubbly, refreshing, and easier to digest. Carnal desire and love were a four-course meal. Jasper always needed a nap afterward.
Leaving vehicles behind, they strolled onward, down a busy street. Most waved in passing or tipped hats. Some stopped to talk and introduce themselves. Everyone greeted Nieema in some fashion, and now, Jasper knew why. She was queen of Ravensguard—royalty: a celebrity.
The thought caused Jasper to have a minor panic attack on their way to the nearest dive bar. She gnawed on the inside of her cheek and stifled a groan. Jasper had just escaped a life of status. Twice! She knew what came with the title of queen, king, or noble. It meant traveling, social and class wars. Eyes on you at all times and expectations.
Those surrounding the king must act in a certain manner. Carry themselves differently, speak differently, and look the part of an ass kisser.
In Jasper’s case, she was expected to become a soldier and a concubine until instructed otherwise. Succubi in Undervell were bargaining chips to be won and used. Though, as Carriont’s daughter, she was to be a sword or an object married off to a wealthy demonic sire. Another unfortunate soul who was told when to eat, sleep, and shit!
“Jasper?” Hearing her name required a response. Buck held the door, waiting. “You good?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded and cracked his gum. “One thing to know about me? I don’t like liars.”
Jasper snarled and snapped in passing. “I don’t have to express myself to you or anyone else.”
“You right, but you’re under a lot of stress. And to be frank, I like to see you smiling.”
“Why?”
Buck scoffed and headed for Nieema’s table. The tiny booth was tucked into a shady, dim-lit corner. Jasper grew excited by the idea of sloppy wings, a foamy dark lager, and decent music. According to reviews, Mio’s had better fare than Fat’s Tavern. She’d be the judge after a spicy twenty-piece.
On a busy Friday night, the bar and grill was packed. Sports highlights or whatever made fans holler and hackle. The compact dance floor was crowded, and long bar lined with boisterous, happy drinkers.
Jasper settled across from the deviant couple and snatched a happy hour menu. “Wings and something dark sounds nice. I want the extra spicy. Twenty piece. Annnnnd the Muddy Highlands cake. Make that two slices.”
“You tried Fat’s yet?” Buck asked, throwing an arm over Nieema’s head. The tiny woman relaxed into her man’s safe embrace. “They got better wings.”
“They don’t,” Nieema countered.
“We go through this every time, and I’m telling you—“
“You don’t tell me shit, Buck. Now start talking.”
“When can I order?” Jasper asked. Her hollow gut growled as she rubbed it. “I need food, solid food.”
Nieema grinned and said, “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means, you’re majesty,” Jasper placed the menu in its spot between them and leveled her gaze on Nieema. “My succubus-related hunger pangs have been sated for now.”
“Shit,” Buck whispered, playing with his wife’s neon braids. “Who said you can taste me for free?”
“Buckley.”
“I’m just fooling, beloved.”
He wasn’t joking, and Jasper wasn’t stupid. Buck wouldn’t take cash as payment.
“You know how succubi work, I’m sure.”
“I do.”
Their gazes clashed as tension shifted and coiled. Jasper wouldn’t allow this man to intimidate her, and oh, how he tried. With eyes smoldering, his smile was unkind. Pine and creamy mint percolated.
Buck’s lust replaced booze and cigar smoke. She nipped at it, clamping her legs shut. The sudden swell and deluge between her thighs was unsettling.
Jasper flinched as glasses were planted on the table with an audible thunk.
“Hey there, new girl.” A busty blonde with gleaming brown skin and silver tattoos winked. “How you liking Indigo?”
“It’s lovely.”
She nodded and blew a fat pink bubble. It popped as she yanked a pad from her apron. With no wings, a telling aura, and red eyes, it was safe to say their waitress was a vampire.
“Names Irene.”
“Ja—“
“Jasper, I heard tons ‘bout you already.” Irene glanced at the Sunsides and scrunched her nose. “We ain’t got no double-dip patties, Auntie.”
“Girl, what? How? It ain’t nothing but blood, cornmeal, flour, and spices, how do y’all not got any?“
“Frankie didn’t order the shipment of cornmeal on time.”
“God damn that boy. I come in here for one thing, an—fine, shit. I’ll take braised marrow and fried cabbage.”
Irene wrote everything down and pointed to Buck with her pen. “Them short ribs gon’ be a minute, Unc. It’s Friday. You know how it is up in here.”
“I do. Bring me two baskets of fries and cheese dip.”
“Gotchu. And for you, Red?”
Jasper smiled at a fine woman in tight shorts and a thin tank top. She was tall and thick as hell. It was a wonder how she got those shorts on.
“I’ll take the inferno wings. Twenty. A side of ranch and the darkest beer you got. Chocolate cake, too. Two slices.”
Irene smirked and scribbled. “You sure about them wings? Frankie don’t play. The heat might make you sick.”
“I’m from Undervell, sweets. I’m good with spicy.”
“I heard that.”
Buck cleared his throat, and Irene giggled on the turn around. “Imma be back.”
Jasper propped elbows up on the table and watched her sway. A distinct tapping, like nails on glass, pulled her away from Irene’s assets.
Buck deadpanned and Nieema grimaced. “That’s our niece.”
“I thought calling an elder aunt and uncle was a term of endearment.”
“It is.”
“Then—“
Nieema squinted. “My brother’s daughter.”
Jasper sniffed as the heat upon her cheeks flared. It was a tad foolish, but old habits never die for a succubus. She was always on the go, on the prowl for potential… or used to be. It’d been close to a year since she even touched another person intimately. Of course, she survived on scraps here and there. Meet-ups with no physical contact.
“Sorry about that,” Jasper said, scanning the rustic establishment. “I can’t help myself sometimes.”
“Anyway,” Nieema piped. “Buck, I believe you have something to say.”
“God—okay, alright. Fine.” The mysterious fae removed the hat and smoothed his hair down. “I spoke to Trevor.”
Jasper winced, hearing his name. She flushed as fear tackled her. “What did he say?”
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“Oh, well, I punched him in his liver. It’s hard to talk with a low-blow like’at.” Buck snagged his beer and peered over the rim. “I can’t help myself sometimes.”
Floored and rendered speechless yet again, Jasper stared at the dark man. Her motor functions sputtered and squealed. She didn’t know what to say to Buck. He’d come to her defense without hesitation. What the fuck was she to do now, with her soaked panties and hammering heart?

And there you have it, another chapter DONE! What do you think is going through Jasper’s mind? She’s never actually had a partner stand up for her like that. Her siblings? Sure. Father? Meh, not when it counted. The thing is, Buck is about his business, as we have seen in the last chapter. He’s got guts and spine. That man ain’t scared of anyone, and now Jasper knows it. The monster under her bed, waiting in her closet, isn’t so big or bad after all, Buck proved it. For Jasper, what he did spoke volumes. She’s befuddled and maybe a little turned on at this point and can’t find her tongue… until the chapter. Once again, I want to thank you all for reading my web novel! You don’t have to, but you do, and every read means the world to me. Have a wonderful day!

Chapter 15: How To Catch That Fade

Buck

CW: Physical violence

Finding a Voaremont wasn’t hard with two brothers living in town. And Trevor was one of them. This tiny detail pleased Buck to no end. He loved the idea of this bitch being close by. It’d be easier to keep an eye on him as well. Everybody knew where this particular Voaremont lay his greasy head because he was a prodigious braggart.
The second largest Indigo Plains estate sat on the east side, five minutes from town center. The brick and mortar pre-fae manor was a monstrosity.
Buck posted up a block down from the Voaremont estate with four stale bear claws and a steaming cup of sweet sandalwood mint tea. It was decent for a gas station blend, but still tasted like a dollar twenty-five. He didn’t complain in a crunch.
Accepting a long wait time, Buck eased his seat back and turned on something nice. He tore into his first bear claw and sipped, wondering what his wife and Jasper were getting into. He thought to text her when them gates cracked open.
“Okay now, where you off to, boy?”
Buck stuffed the second pastry in his mouth and started the engine as an SUV rolled onto Birch Drive. He had no idea where the bastard was going, but stayed on his behind. Ten minutes later, their trip came to a halt near Rackers Bowl.
He figured Voaremont was in the mood for a few strikes the moment he pulled into the parking lot. Everything was pretty normal aside from the fact that Nieema’s pick-up was in the same god damn lot.
“Son of a bitch.”
Buck snapped his gum and bristled. Parking in the back, he killed the rumbling motor and hopped out. With his eye twitching, he beelined for Trevor but stopped short as a familiar face appeared. They pointed to Nieema’s truck and were rewarded with a handful of big bills.
He’d been right, Voaremont had eyes on Jasper. It was always odd how people who claimed to be family were the first ones to stab you in the fucking face. Her cousin was a god damn rat. This wasn’t anything new, and it was a note he’d save for later. Trevor was his main concern, and when Juel left, Buck rushed for the man.
He was tall, wide, and built like an oak, everything Buck loved in a man. Despite his stature, the bitch was homely with ragged, deep-set scars across his cheek.
Now, on a normal day, a gentleman with battle scars turned Buck on, but tonight, he’d add to the canvas if shit got rocking steady.
No preamble or warning, Buck sidled up to the human and punched him in the liver. Trevor doubled over, and Buck locked an arm around his neck, smiling at a passerby.
“Evenin’ ma’am. He’s a lightweight, them long islands did his poor soul in.” The woman frowned and hurried into the bowling alley. “You and me gonna have a little talk, Trevor.”
He gasped for air and gagged.
“If you even think to hack it on my boots, I’ll make you clean every last drop with your tongue. Look at me, now.”
Buck pushed the wheezing, red-faced man into his truck, the door warping. He waited impatiently for Voaremont to breathe and recover.
“Who—“ Trevor paused to cough and spit. “Who the hell are you?”
“Me? I’m a daisy pretty boy, but I hit harder than a cinder block. Imma tell you this one good time. And I hope your dense ass hears me well, stay the fuck, away from Jasper Marrow.”
That got the young man’s attention. Trevor may have had graying temples, laugh lines, and dry skin, but Buck had him by six hundred years. Mr Voaremont was a sapling. A dead and dying sapling cursed with a ferocious fungal infection.
“Wai—how—who are you to her?”
“The last thing you need to be worried about is me. Motha fucka worry about your health and well-being. Don’t make me tell you twice.”
Buck slapped the shit out of the fragile human, drawing blood. Trevor smelled like an abuser. And yes, they held a scent. The bone-deep odor gave them away every single time. As dark fae connected to organic matter on a base level, Buck sensed these things. Nature as a whole knew a leeching parasite when they saw one.
Cracking his gum, Buck stepped over the slumped wretch and hustled into Rackers. A couple of sets was just what he needed right about now.
Music, neon lights, and fried food hit him first. That nostalgic aroma stained flat, retro carpet and leather booths. Rackers had been a part of Indigo Plains for seventy years. They were known for ice cold tap, grease-dripping chicken strips, and frothy blood. Folks all around town decompressed by picking a lane.
The atmosphere was thick with happiness and fun-filled vibes. He loved cosmic night and wanted to join whatever game Nieema had going. Maybe he could even raise the stakes.
“Look who it is!” Karl slapped the faded counter covered in stickers. “Don’t you look riled.”
“I ain’t, not yet.”
“Mmhm, lie to somebody else, cowboy. I got lunch in an hour if you need something.” Karl’s dark, sateen wings fluttered as he went to sucking on a rod of rock candy. Cherry was his favorite.
Karl snickered and piped, “A big ass thirteen!”
“How you know my size, Kay?”
“You forget how I tied your hefty behind to the bed?”
“When? Last year?”
“We need to jog that memory of yours, handsome.” Karl accepted the shoes and offered them. “Call me.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Grabbing his shoes, Buck winked then spotted his group on lane fifteen. Lady Luck was already on his side with their choice destination. Fifteen had won him well over ten grand thus far.
As Buck donned his shoes, he kept tabs on Nieema and how she admired Jasper. He knew the woman better than anyone; there was more to her grin than amusement. She wanted something quick and tough. Jasper wouldn’t be the one to give it, not yet.
Before he tied the last knot, Nieema lifted her nose and caught his scent. Her glowing focus flared the moment she found him. Buck tipped his hat. Nieema smiled and tapped Jasper on the shoulder.
On his swift approach, the succubus pivoted and startled. “Oh my undergods, who invited you?”
“I don’t need no invite.”
Buck gripped Nima’s nape and tugged her over. His greedy, hungry kiss was welcome and returned. The lovely vampire devoured him on the spot. Stopping his heart, she supplied the same love and affection. After a hundred years, them pesky monarchs in his belly waged war the moment their lips touched.
Roe clapped and grumbled, “Okayyyy, can we get back to the game?”
They shared a laugh, smiles ending their lip action.
“It’s good to see you, boy!” Buck pulled Roe into a hug. “You gotta get out more. Why, when something happens, you wanna show your face, huh? I invite you to every tea party I have.”
Roe slipped away and grimaced. “I hate tea, you know this. We got over it every—“
“Yeah, and the last time I nearly knocked ya god damn fangs out. Who don’t like tea?!”
The haughty vampire flipped his hair and went for a ball. “Anyway, let’s focus.”
“It’s not gonna do you any good,” Jasper said. “I’m cleaning house. So far, I’ve won two hundred dollars and a free meal.”
Buck popped gum, slid back, and skimmed the scoreboard. “Oooooweee! You lighting ‘em up.”
“Take it easy,” Nieema warned. “She ain’t that good.”
“Please, woman, she handed you that ass, and I do mean quick.”
Roe rolled his eyes and examined his claws. “But who’s in second place?”
“I’ll give you that.” Buck shook his head and tapped the screen to wipe the slate clean. “And my baby died last. It’s all good, you a champ where it counts, suga.”
“Fuck outta here! Start the game, you old oak.”
“She’s scary competitive,” Jasper said.
“It was worse when we were younger, but bowling has never been her game.”
Buck glanced at Jasper and considered her posture. Relaxed and arrogant, the spark in her copper eyes burning.
“You wanna put something on it?” Buck asked, watching her and checking for the right ball. “Up the stakes? I got something better than money.”
Her full, plum-stained lips twitched and lifted into a wry smile. It was a predatory promise,
“Sure.”
Jasper rose with grace only a succubus possessed. Her confident stride emboldened him to inch closer, testing her mettle. Jasper reached for the ball behind his, forcing herself into Buck’s personal space.
The perfume unique to a flirtatious succubus wafted. He fell victim to her intoxicating demon magic and growled.
“If you win,” Jasper started, her lilt like chords in a symphony, “you’ll have one chance to impress me. If I win, you never try me again, and you will leave me the fuck alone. Both of you. Like I said, I know what men want.”
Buck chuckled and snapped gum, their eye contact holding. She was a sentient fire. Living and breathing to burn all asunder. He wanted to stoke her flame.
Feed it.
“I’ll take that bet,” Buck whispered, a hairsbreadth away from physical contact. “When you start crying, I want you to remember this moment.”
Jasper snatched her ball and cackled. “Yeah, okay. Tired, played. Men make the same vows. You are simple-minded. All have failed to sway and shock me. You’re one of many, Buck. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“Chilllleeeee.” Nieema wagged a finger and said, “You know what? Let me be quiet, cause—Jasper, the last thing you wanna do is piss this man off. Dial it back. He gon’ need to break somebody back, and I ain’t in the mood.”
His wife knew how them words were a quick way to get tied, strung up, and fucked into a coma. Buck glared and grabbed his lucky ball. Nieema threw up hands and allowed him the first break.
He didn’t want to intimidate Jasper, but she was full of shit, heat, and bluster. As their eyes locked once again, he stepped to the line and pulled back. Buck released the ball with the roll of his fingers. The green, shimmering orb was an extension of his irritation.
Seconds later, pins clattered on pine. Jasper’s jaw hung loose as she blinked, staring at the lane. At her side, Buck stopped with centimeters between them and whispered in her ear. “You ain’t the first succubus who has doubted me. I know where allat hubris leads.”
She made certain not to meet his gaze and shivered. He liked how Jasper went for her necklaces and flicked at them. This was a good sign, and he’d celebrate these small victories by winning a date with the petty demoness.

I wanted to take this time to once again thank you. Y’all are so patient with me, and i love that most. I want to start leaving author’s notes just to let you know how thankful I am that you took the time to read my little story. With that being said, we are moving along, and let me tell you, Buck is steadily surprising me. I’m about eight chapters ahead, and he is shining. He’s falling for the demon and quick. The old man isn’t afraid to speak his mind or disturb the peace. He will burn the world for the people he cares about.

Chapter 14: The Raven Queen

CW: Talk of domestic violence and attempted murder. There is a little rehashing, but not much. As always, if you have to skip this bit, please do. If you’d like a summary , feel free to let me know,

Nieema

Catching Monroe Thornbill with his pants down wasn’t new. Nieema didn’t bat an eye as his favorite piece of arm candy hurried from their spot between his legs and scrambled to their feet.
Nila was a whip-thin young vampire who smelled like vanilla bean and clove. Cheeks flush and lips glistening, they squared broad shoulders then bowed.
“Majesty.”
“Nila honey, how’s your mother?”
“In good spirits… considering.”
“Send my love.”
“I will.”
With that, they scurried off and closed the door behind them. A muffled thud gave Nieema the go-ahead.
“You ain’t working too hard, I see.”
“Girl, you know the shit I deal with down here. Please. I need something to take the edge off.”
“You’re supposed to be working, not getting head on the clock like some raggedy, uncouth dungeon troll! I aughta tear your hide, Monroe.”
The male scoffed and flipped his apricot, hip-length tresses. The boujee knowitall kept his hair flat and straight like an uppity Lightbridge faerie trollop. Nieema hated how the lovely shade made his dark skin glow. She’d never get away with orange. Copper, hell yeah. Clementine? Never.
The man was prettier than she but not too bright. That’s why she was queen; Monroe being ten years older didn’t mean shit to their daddy.
“Yeeees, I’ve missed you too, Nimmy. How are you? How is Buck? It’s been a while.”
She softened hearing her nickname. “I’m serious, Roe, what kinda example are you setting?“
“Please, Mother lectures me enough.” He smoothed lapels and scooted forward, focusing on what appeared to be blueprints. “I don’t need this shit from you, too. Besides domestic quarrels, drunken fights, and blood lust fever, I have nothing else to do. We are good down here, Nimmy. I got shit covered.”
“And what about beyond these walls?”
Monroe’s brows creased as he pinned a quizzical gaze upon her. “What about it?”
“There are demon hunters on the loose in Misthill.”
“Bullshit!”
“I wish it was.”
Roe’s derisive laughter was a joy to hear. It meant he was now in a foul mood, and given how his red eyes flared, someone would pay for their crimes.
“Do we have proof?” Roe asked.
“A witness, first-hand account.”
Nieema gestured to Jasper, and Roe glanced in her direction. He wasn’t the sort to know or keep demonic friends. Being burned rather badly by one turned him off completely, and every demon wore the face of his greatest regret. Nieema expected Roe to bristle at the sight of Jasper’s smile, but the exact opposite happened.
He smirked and spoke directly to a demon for the first time in probably fifteen years.
“RedMothStitch.”
“Oh my goood,” Jasper whispered, eyes now on the floor.
“Red what?”
“She’s a gamer,” Roe supplied, still smirking. “My son follows you.”
“You are?” Nieema asked.
As Jasper’s cheeks darkened, she twiddled with her necklaces. Nieema wanted to soothe her somehow. She was an anxious dame, and for good reason.
“Sometimes. It’s nothing big. A hobby. I only have two hundred followers and haven’t streamed since… well, you know.”
“I’ve seen your tips, Red Stitch.”
“I collect coin easy cause I’m pretty.”
Roe’s arched brow spoke to his amusement. Nieema grunted, unwilling to watch him reel Jasper in.
“We need to talk about this hunting business, Monroe.”
“Indeed.”
Nieema crossed the expansive office any staunch bureaucratic snake would love and dropped anchor on an uncomfortable leather sofa. Roe had old-world tastes, habits, and desires. He was obsessed with crystal decanters, aged scotch, and oil paintings. He didn’t own a phone or a television.
Roe still read the paper and loved classical music. He was stuck in the past, but refused to ride a horse.
As Jasper settled next to her, Monroe offered Nieema a warm glass of spiced blood.
“Thank youuuu. This the cinnamon one?” Nieema asked, scenting clove, cardamom, and luxe spice.
“Of course, imported from Southern Bruex.”
“Ohhhh, them desert fairies know how to blend, don’t they?”
“Always.”
Roe sat in his favorite high-backed chair with its worn cushions and scratched frame, swirling his glass.
“I apologize, ma’am. All I got is blood.”
“It’s fine. But I prefer Jasper over ma’am.”
“Noted.” Nieema sipped while Roe relaxed and Jasper fidgeted with her skirt. “So, tell me, what exactly happened and who tried to kill you?”
By the time Jasper finished talking, Nieema wanted his head. Trevor Voarmont was a piece of shit. A controlling, manipulative bastard. In her sleep. He’d tried to snuff her flame during a peaceful slumber. How cruel and cowardly. The only reason Jasper survived was due to her biology. The human hadn’t worn his protection charm that night, and Jasper had careened into survival mode.
After kicking his ass and scarring him for life, she vanished in a puff of smoke. This unique, involuntary fleeing response saved Jasper’s life.
Nieema stared at the raging fire nestled into a massive hearth. It was for aesthetic purposes only, lacking both heat and sound. Seemed harmless in such a cozy state. Some folks might think it was now safe to touch. Wrong! Complacency was a disease. For many moons, people like Trevor watched their step around Nieema. They respected her rule and dared not cross Her Majesty The Raven Queen. But time and shit had softened her a bit.
She didn’t wear armor, a cape, or wield a flaming axe anymore, but Nieema was still a fucking threat. As always, they’d learn the hard way.
“Nimmy, this is… sensitive. As you know, the Voaremonts are not your everyday citizens. They have connections from here to Brasshorne. They own the largest shipping company in the world.”
“They own half the rail line, too,” Jasper added. “This is why I just said fuck it. Trevor is the youngest of five brothers, but he is the smartest. His father won’t allow him to be—“
“No one allows me to do anything, my dear,” Nieema asserted. She dragged attention from Jasper to Roe.
“I don’t give a right fuck who they are, what they own, or who is in their pocket. I am the queen of Ravensguard, and when I declare law, I expect all to follow. It is in our Right of Life creed. No one is to hunt on Ravensguard soil, ever. If convicted, it is punishable by death. Without exception.”
White hot fury boiled in her veins and forced Nieema to her feet. She slammed her glass on the mantle, fixed her tie, and growled. The thought of anyone bearing arms and hunting turned her ferak, foregoing civility,
More often than not, Nieema ruled from afar. She didn’t meddle in her people’s business and gave them the freedom to be whomever they wanted to be. She kept them fed and healthy. It was stressful and difficult, but she had a great team. They had a competent council and expendable funds for a thriving nation.
But what she would not tolerate, under any circumstances, were hunters.
Vermin, pigs, vile beasts.
“When that god damn seal broke…” Nieema glared at a black and white family portrait. The Thornbill line was large, at one point, with well over one hundred members and six generations. There were only twenty-five of them left now. “When the human world went to shit, they decided hunting us for sport was a good idea. A lucrative business, their leaders said. We lived in peace with them for a millennium. When worlds collided, everything changed for the worse.”
Nieema faced her brother and let it be known. “I will not allow it! I refused to have anyone hunted like game in the very land our family rebuilt. I will not stand by and let a faction rise. Not as I live and breathe. I swear to Desidion, I will kill every last one if need be. You gotta get ahead of this, Roe. Because they don’t want me on they ass, I’ll cut ‘em down to the quick.”
Her brother lifted a hand and nodded. “I’ll go to Misthill and speak with the governor first. You sit tight til I get back. And I mean it, Nimmy. A war with the Voaremonts could bring Indigo Plains and Ravensguard to its knees.”
Nieema huffed, shaking her head. “I don’t want a war, Monroe. I need to find whoever is killing the supernatural in my kingdom and send them to the gallows.”
“Gallows?” Roe chuckled and crossed his legs. He watched Jasper and fiddled with his rings. “She says I live in the past.”
“I don’t want to make trouble for anyone,” Jasper said, picking at her claws. “I only wanted a quiet, lonely life. Where Trevor would never find me. I don’t want anyone else getting involved.“
“You don’t worry about us,” Roe supplied. “We know how to disarm the masses without making a mess.”
“I don’t want to create a mess either.”
“You, didn’t,” Nieema stressed, heading for a fully stocked wet bar. She refilled her glass with Golden Barrel Batch blood and went on. “Trevor and his bitch ass raggedy friends did. Do you know them by name, his friends?”
“Yeah.”
“This is good,” said Roe. “We can stop them and their affiliates.”
After a brief stir, Nieema returned to Jasper’s side.
“These events would have reached me somehow. If not you, then somebody else. I got eyes everywhere. And Jasper, I’ll put money on you not being the first or the last victim.”
The air around Jasper shifted, hardened. Nieema tasted her vexation and loved how sweet she smelled because of it. Syrup-soaked black cherries came to mind. Resolve sparkled within her ember gaze.
“You’re right.” She nodded and perked. “You’re so god damn right, and I hadn’t even—shit, I never even stopped to think about the others. Trevor is middle-aged. There’s no telling how many have come before me and disappeared?”
“Exactly,” Roe whispered.
“Let’s do it. I want to take him down. Let’s kill the mother fucker.”
Nieema laughed, set her glass on the end table, and matched Jasper’s stare. “Don’t worry, we will, but in the meantime, I need you to stick to my ribs. Stay close to me. Can you do that, dear?”
“Depends on where we are. I like my space and solitude. But if we’re out? Exceptions can be made.”
“Good, I like you by my side.”
Jasper scoffed, her brow arched. “You are not clever, Mrs Sunside.”
“That’s what they all say, until…” Nieema smirked while the succubus’s jaw ticked. “Roe?”
“Yes, Nimmy.”
“You wanna go bowling?”
“You want an ass whooping tonight?”
“Fuck you, tramp,” Nieema piped. She sought her brother’s wide smile and stood on ten toes. “I’ll wipe the floor with you. Hows ‘bout we get in a couple of games, winner buys lunch.”
Jasper stood and rubbed her hands together. “I do love a free meal.”
“Ha!” Roe grabbed his suit jacket and led the way. “You gon’ learn today, demon.”

Chapter 13: Wild Ride

Jasper

Jasper had nothing staring down the small, mighty woman. Nieema was an undeniable force. Her words were honest; Jasper tasted not a single lie. The confession simultaneously scared and comforted her. This person, these strangers, both Buck and Nieema stood in her corner. Without question or hesitation.
“I don’t know what to say,” Jasper whispered, touching and pinching her chains.
“You don’t have to say anything.”
Jasper may have been taller, but Nieema was the protector here.
“Okay.”
The vampiress gave a curt nod and said, “You’re safe with me, deary.”
Nieema patted the hand at her throat. “No need to be anxious, now. I ain’t gon’ bite.”
The air shifted, from tense to flirtatious, and Jasper was thankful.
“I do.”
“Tuhuh!” Nieema pursed her lips and spun on her boot heels, heading their journey once more. “With fangs like yours, you had better.”
Jasper dared not blush, though her cheeks heated all the same. Lucky for her, Nieema didn’t catch it. Sure, she was a succubus and had years, decades, a century of courting under her belt, but this… a vampire? She’d never crossed a line with one, and their intensity was a great reason not to.
Jasper burned hot on her own; she didn’t need another passionate soul in her bed. And what were vampires if not the embodiment of passion?
“Where are you off to?”
“I already told you.”
Following Nieema around the corner, she caught up with her in three skips. At five-two-ish, the woman’s tiny legs didn’t take her too far.
“Okay, buuuuut why are we walking away from your truck?”
“We ain’t taking my truck.”
“Theennn—“
“You see that?” Nieema motioned toward a cluster of grazing horses. “That’s our ride.”
Jasper squealed and clapped. “Horses?! We’re gonna ride? Oh my under gods! It’s been years since I saddled up.”
Nieema scoffed and said, “You being a rider don’t surprise me none.”
“You’re terrible.”
“You been warned.”
They shared a silent, fleeting moment and smiled. Jasper tucked hands into her skirt pockets and set her sights on the pasture. It was better than ogling or touching the woman without permission. Her fingers twitched and palms itched with an odd desire to stroke Nieema’s full cheek.
“Why don’t you have a stable?” Jasper asked.
“No need, these are my wildlings.”
“Your, what?”
Nieema whistled high, and it carried. The resonant peal was more of a serenade, a calling. The herds response was immediate. They galloped and trotted toward them with alarming speed. The ground rumbled with their swift approach. Jasper stepped back, preparing to run if needed. She wasn’t in the mood to be trampled, squashed, or bedridden for the next week.
Granted, demons healed quicker than most, but she’d never fractured her spine or skull.
A sharp, short whistle from Nieema stopped every last horse. Jasper was astounded by their width and height. The snorting and wild group shone in shades of red, brown, and evergreen.
Majestic and beautiful, gold, silver, and red petted their wavy manes.
“What breed?”
“Murkwood. They are large enough to carry an orc and their wares.”
“Magnificent,” Jasper muttered, assessing a fine speckled horse with blue irises and horns. They snorted and nudged her. “Hello, beautiful.”
“That’s Pots, she likes you.”
“And I like her. Haaay Pots.”
The animal gave another snuffle, and Jasper laughed, patting Pot’s snout. “You are a lovely girl.”
“She is, but we ain’t riding her. She’ll throw your ass off and laugh about it. Chester!”
The bulky red horse pranced, circling them.
“You not cute! Why you showing out in front of company? Get over here, you diva.”
Chester was happy to greet Nieema, and she him. They were adorable, and Chester was intelligent. His searching eyes and telling dance spoke of his effervesant personality.
“Now, you wanna get on up?” Nieema asked.
Jasper quirked a brow and gestured. “How? Chester is taller than me! I don’t see stirrups, a saddle, or reins.“
“They’re too smart for all that shit, trust me. They know where to go, when to stop, and when to move ass.”
Jasper knew horses; undervell didn’t have cars. They had the railway and carriages, pulled by a demon-bred horse. She’d been taught to ride at the age of four. So yeah, she understood these creatures, but never had she seen them perform on their own without direction. Even human-bred mares and stallions needed instruction.
“Does this have something to do with magic?”
Nieema’s slow smile was to die for. The show of fang wasn’t bad either.
“Nowww ya getting it. You want my help?”
“Sure, yeah, okay. Give me a boos—whoa!”
Nieema had clutched Jasper by the waist and hoisted her high. “Mind that skirt, girl.”
On the horse, Jasper giggled and patted their flank. She peered down, into Nieema’s prodding gaze. “You and Mr Sunside think y’all are slick. You’re not. But you are the first woman to pick me up. I’m feeling a way about that.”
“Good, I hope you do.”
Nieema jumped and mounted with ease, only a gravity-defying goddess possessed. She settled in front of Jasper and tapped her calf.
“You gon’ wanna hold on to me, Chester don’t know how to do nothing slow.”
“If this is your way of getting me to touch you—“
A terse whistle put Chester in motion. Jasper yelped as she was almost thrown from the steed.
“Hollly shit!” She wrapped arms around Nieem’s plush waist and tucked her face into the woman’s hair.
“I told you.”
Jasper laughed as Chester galloped towards the mountainside. As if Nieema cracked a whip, his speed ratcheted until scenery blurred and Jasper’s ribs rattled. Wind rushed between her horns and set her free. Jasper had never been one for flying; she hated it, naturally. Most demons preferred both or all four hooves on the ground.
“Is he going to stop?!” Jasper shouted, heart beating somewhere in her ass. She had never been in a wreck, even when learning how to drive a motorized vehicle. The thought of a head-on collision terrified her, and what about the horse?
“There’s a gate! He should stop! Chester! He has a death wish!”
The speed demon stopped on a dime, mere feet from towering iron gates. Nieema erupted in shrieking laughter and dismounted in a single fluid motion.
“It’s not funny,” Jasper snapped.
“Yeah, it was, you were scared as a spring chicken with a fox on its tail. Come.” At the ready, Nieema outstretched her arms and smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll catch ya.”
Right into her trap.
Jasper groaned and shook her head, but slid down into Nieema’s embrace. She was small but strong. It was no surprise with her being a vampire and all, but it still caught Jasper off guard. Not too many lifted a woman of her size. Standing at six-feet-tall, before heels, with a good three hundred pounds on her, most weren’t physically equipped to handle Jasper. Let alone someone a full foot shorter than her.
On her own two feet, Jasper cleared her throat and removed her hands from Nieema’s shoulders. “Thank you.”
“You are most welcome.” Nieema snapped her cuffs and righted the knot at her throat. “Now… where is that—“
“Seven!”
A voice echoed from behind a shack with one window and two empty chairs.
“You summa bitch! That ain’t them trick dice, is they?”
“Hell nah. I’d never cheat you, Leroy.”
“You a ghat damn lie!”
“Just roll, and hurry up.”
Jasper snickered at their back and forth. It was playful, familiar, and entertaining. At least until Nieema cocked a brow and knocked on the box.
“Who in the—we expecting somebody?” A slim man dressed in a dapper waistcoat, trousers, and a pocket chain slid from behind the shack. “Tomorrowwwww. shit! Get up, Roy. Get—“ The fellow snatched the other, his identical twin, to his feet. “Majesty.”
“What in hell are y’all supposed to be doin’?” Nieema asked, scarlet stare bouncing between the two.
There wasn’t much difference in their dark complexion or their features, aside from the hair; it’d be hard to tell them apart if Jasper weren’t a Succubus.
The brother with short, rainbow locs bowed at the waist, smelling like gun smoke and lilac.

“Majesty, we do so apologize. Yes, we are on guard duty. But Leroy and I were taking much-needed respite.”
Nieema crossed her arms and sucked her teeth. “Really? And just how long was this break?”
Leroy cleared his throat and fixed the bat pin on his cravat. “Thirty—thirty minutes, madam.”
Compared to his brother, Leroy was airy, like fresh linen and the first day of spring. He was lighter and not the one with a pistol on his hip.
“I see.” Nieema hummed. “Do I need to give some constructive feedback? Mose?”
“No, madam.” Mose flicked his swirling maroon gaze over and assessed. Jasper stared, knowing what lay behind his quick read. “Shall we ring?“
“No.”
Mose elbowed Leroy. The vampire hurried into their tiny hut. With the press of a button, gates creaked and parted, just enough for their entry. An impenetrable void stood before them. It was a flat, matte darkness she’d never seen a day in her life. And for someone born in Undervell, that was rare. She’d been exposed to every shade and shape of darkness imaginable.
This was a magical abyss, she was certain.
Jasper had never breached a mountainside nor a cave and was a little nervous about it. She inched closer to Nieema and followed her brisk step.
“Your brother lives in a mountain?”
“Mostly.”
As they crossed into bleak nothingness, Jasper screwed her eyes shut. She didn’t know what to expect and wasn’t fond of underground tunnels and such. She’d hated the idea of getting stuck, rendered immobile by rock and dirt. It freaked her the hell out.
“Jasper?”
“Yes?”
“You alright down here?”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
Reluctant as ever, Jasper cracked one lid then the other. “This isn’t at all like a cave.”
“Not anymore it ain’t,” Nieema said, her voice echoing in a grand vestibule.
It was art. Every inch carved and sculpted to perfection. Murals, foliage, and sweeping statues surrounded them. The finer things didn’t sway Jasper much anymore, growing up with an obsidian spoon in her mouth. But she was obsessed with palace living. It wasn’t the privilege or free shit, but the artwork. From the daintiest jewel to the tallest column, everything was grandiose. Not a detail left untouched.
She knew royalty, and this was it. Within the heart of Keyhold Mountain was a castle.
A palace fit for a queen.
Cool, botanical-scented air circulated in the enormous atrium. It made for an inviting atmosphere.
“This is magnificent,” Jasper said, eying Nieema. “I can only imagine what awaits beyond them giant doors. Why don’t you live here?”
“Too drafty and stuffy if you ask me.”
“What? You’ve gotta be shitting me.”
“Wish I was.”
Nieema set her sights above them and the glowing chandelier, where a camera blinked in the corner. It was enough to open sturdy, stone doors. They were thick and no doubt heavy, but separated as if made of rice paper.
“Yup, a palace,” Jasper said, as the bustling main floor told her everything she needed to know.
“Another man’s trash and all that…”
“Nieema?“
“It’s pretty, but it ain’t a home.”
Jasper had a rebuttal at the ready, but thought better of it. Nieema didn’t look pleased to be here, and in a sense, they had such things in common. Back in Undervell, Jasper hated their mansion. It was akin to a prison rather than a home. She spent two-three cycles there at max. They didn’t have enough family to fill even half of the estate, but it was… stuffy.
This subterranean fortress was carved from the very stone of Keyhold. An iridescence sheen of purple and green winked around every corner. It was an elegant feat, one Jasper wanted to learn more about. There was history and culture here. In ignorance, she thought vampires unrefined, coarse creatures.
Her father’s library needed curating.
“How long did it take to build this?” Jasper asked as the wave of busy bodies parted for them.
People nodded or bowed. Nieema smiled at some and ignored others. Their journey was quick and silent for a while. Jasper was fine with admiring paintings and unfamiliar dark bouquets. The underground castle was unique and Gothic, but lacked dreariness. It was welcoming and warm, with soft crystal lighting. She adored the large, animated stained glass windows and giggled at the show of magic.
“Generations.”
“Amazing.”
After a decent trek, high gloss stone gave way to a crushed velvet runner. Entering a quieter wing of the castle, Jasper was curious about who and what was behind a bronze set of doors.
Nieema didn’t knock or wait for an invitation. She barged right in and paused in an office doubling as a library. Jasper followed close behind and sucked in a breath tainted with lust. She swayed as the potent dose nearly dropped her ass. Clutching Nieema’s shoulder for support, she scoffed at the view of someone crawling from under the desk.