Category: fiction

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.

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: Chapter 17

Low didn’t know which way was up as he yanked his boxers off the floor. He couldn’t focus or form a single coherent thought, and the male’s scent made it worse. Assssss hole. What was Low supposed to say now? Nothing, not a god damn word.
Low grunted and pulled on his underwear. Halfway decent, he located his sweats. The shirt was harder to find.
“Where is it?” He dropped to the floor, confused as to how it had crept under the bed. After dragging it out, he donned the cotton. Next, his glasses. Low squinted, hoping to find them quickly.
“My glasses? Man, what the—”
“Nightstand,” Red supplied.
Low whipped about, spotted and plucked them. Sliding his frames on, the world appeared with booming clarity.
He didn’t appreciate it.
“You going to hell with that suit on,” Low murmured.
“Pardon?”
“You heard me.”
“I assumed red was your color.”
Low frowned and patted pockets. “What you mean?”
“The Pirus tattoo on your arm.”
There were several things wrong here. Red’s attention to detail was attractive. Low loved the suit and, yes, it was his color. Red, however, was getting a tad too close, and Low didn’t trust himself not to punch the elderly vampire in the face.
Lastly, that chapter in his life was closed.
“I turned over a new tree. Fuck a leaf. I ain’t banging no more. I haven’t since ninety-eight. Not that it’s your business.”
In a pocket, he felt for the waiting blunt and fished it out. Low ignored the male’s closeness and opened the oversized window.
He needed air, and Florida offered nothing stepping onto the patio. It was too damn hot for this shit, even with more rain in the near future. Precipitation gave no reprieve. Low’s lips hugged the blunt happily as he found a lighter and lit the tip.
Stress-free and hungry coming right up. As Low inhaled, Red disturbed his nightly ritual.
“You look like a French toast man,” Red stated, like he knew him or some shit.
“Wrong. I do waffles.” The hell was his goal, after hearing their whole discussion. To humiliate Low further.
It wasn’t being a bottom that bothered Low. Nah.
He wanted to fuck and get fucked, otherwise, for him, a proud verse, there’d be no point.
Low’s problem was how thoroughly Red obliterated him. At the end of the night, Low was a vampire. Halfbreed, but still a bloodsucker. Biology and instinct ran heavy in their species.
He felt manhandled and small. Dominated. Low shuddered and pulled from the wood.
“If it makes you feel any better,” Red sighed, “we are in the same boat.”
“It don’t.”
It did.
Knowing Jaxon felt like a cum slut, too,o made his chest swell with pride. It meant Low had laid some mean pipe.
“Maybe a little,” Low murmured.
He extended the blunt to Red as an olive branch.
“I’m working. The hell do I look like?”
“No need to get smart.” Low snorted. “Uppity ass.”
“Oh, okay. Mr. I’m working, don’t talk to me.’”
Low chuckled, expelling a cottony white cloud. Warmth coated him from head to toe, promising a good night.
“I can’t be distracted,” Low added. “I do real shit. I don’t be sitting behind a desk all night like you.”
“You think you got everything figured out, huh?” Red asked, facing him. Low minded his eyes and lifted them to the sky.
“Yeah.”
“Where’s the food and blood? I’m really starving. Like, I’m about to throw up.”
Low giggled as Max’s voice brought him back down to earth. He ditched the roach on the turnaround and watched as she searched for something. “Your phone is under the pillow, baby.”
“I dont remember putting it there.”
“You always do, though.”
“So what?” Max tossed pillows and squealed. “There you are. Okay, purse, glasses, and phone. We move.”
Low did the honors and grabbed her fuckin’ trash bag. Who needed a bag this big? She might as well carry a duffel.
“Huh.”
“Thaaank you.”
Of course, she paid Red no mind. They never did this, stayed after a threesome. It was weird, and she was nervous. Low knew every look, fidget, and tell.
“Alright.” Max donned her large, round hippie frames. “Solids, liquids? Where are they?”
“Why are you so flustered, Maxine?” Jaxon asked. The grin on him was devious.
She wrenched the door open and said, “I’m trying not to hurt you in some way, asshole.”
“You already shot me. Is that gonna turn into a habit?”
“I don’t know, depends on how you act.”
Low snickered as they filed into the hallway. Max had a mouth and an inexhaustible need to use it as a weapon. But so did Red.
“Play around if you want to, Maxine.” The male dropped down to her level and snarled. “I will snap your fucking spine in half next time.”
Shorty had them shades on, but Low saw peeped her glower. Jaxon tried to intimidate, and in a different setting he’d get lucky, but the spell done wo’ off.
“You mighty presumptuous, Jaxon. Assuming there will be a next time. As you heard we,” she gestured between them, “don’t do that. You know how it goes. This was fun…you seem great….so on and so forth.”
Red snapped back to his full height and spun on a chuckle. They followed, close behind. Low needed a bite immediately. Their journey down an empty hall remained quiet, save for Red’s noisy shoes.
The man was a force. His walk and talk demanded attention. And in a red suit, bruh had a way about him that made Low reminisce…Max slapped his arm.
“What?”
“Don’t,” She gritted.
“I ain’t do nothin’.”
She showcased a hand and shook her head. He wanted to assuage his girl with a kiss until they halted.
“I never seen a kitchen so dark, damn bruh. It’s like a mausoleum. Too much black.” Low hopped three steps and jogged to the flat, matte island. “Oh yes.”
Sitting down, he snagged a plate, and Max did the same. Low ran out of space, loading up on eggs, sausage, and potatoes.
So, of course, he grabbed another and dropped on it.
“You hate waffles,” Max said, too god damn loud. Not minding her own business, she popped her brows. “What are you doing?”
“Girl, you know I lo—” Laughter punched from his chest. “I love waffles. Mmmm. Yum.”
Low stole a quick glance. Red leaned ever so sexy like against the counter, handling a mug.
“I have never seen you eat them,” she added. “You like French t—”
“Shhh, shut up. I’m flipping it. Trying something new.”
Max shrugged. “Okayyy. I’m telling you, they’re good.”
No, they weren’t. Low hated them truthfully. Waffles got soggy quick with syrup pooling in soppy cubes. It wasn’t a horrifying experience. Never one to back out or cower, Low poured the sticky shit and shoved wet napkins into his mouth.
He gagged. It was a textural nightmare.
“Why don’t you just eat the French toast?” Red suggested.
Low hesitated, but surrendered. Fuck it. Without looking at the man, he pushed the waffles aside.
On a third plate, he stacked it with his tried and true. They went down easier because he lovvvved the mouthfeel and taste. When a glass of grapefruit juice magically appeared, Low downed it. He went in on eggs and sausage next.
“You do this for everybody?” Low asked. Making sure to set a keen eye on the male dripping in red.
“Yeah, it’s a common courtesy,” Red admitted, much to Low’s surprise. “Y’all not special. And Max, we are in agreement.” Biting into a danish, Red shrugged. “You don’t go back for seconds, and I didn’t ask for it. I’m good.”
“Cool.” Max snipped, focused on her food.
Low scraped up his French toast that held the bitter aftertaste of rejection. Double-dipping was against the rules. Their rules. And Low never overstepped. Individually, they were allowed to do whatever, but if by chance either found someone, then it was fair to let the other know.
Low never met anyone worth enough to let Max go. Nobody made him yearn for more, aside from her.
Saluting with his glass, Low smirked. “Glad we got it sorted.”
“Feel free to let yourself out.” Red checked his watch. “I’m done with Tracy’s financial business, so…see you around, I guess.”
Max considered Red for a beat and tilted her head. “Not likely.”
“You two have a good evening.”
Low nodded and scooped the last of his potatoes. Max giggled, but neither spoke for a minute. They left the house and were in his car on their way to the tattoo shop when he sighed.
“That was weird,” Low said.
“Riiiight? Talk about awkward. Jesus.” Max retrieved her vape and puffed. “I’m so glad he wasn’t needy about the whole thing, you know.”
“Yeah, yeah. Me too, but at least we ain’t never gotta see him again.”
“Who you tellin’, honey?”
Fun as it was, a recurring threesome was bad news for all parties involved. And Low, for one, didn’t have time for that shit. He had kids at home and bills to pay.

*All predators catch their death in my books

Hours later, AB found himself wandering about in a shoe box. It was an apt description for Joel’s house. The low ceiling was less than an inch above his head. He examined cabinets overrun by ants. They scurried to and from boxes like busy little soldiers.
He didn’t have much. Flour, baking soda, and salt. A blanket of dust coated everything, aside from one counter where a thick layer of grime waited to be scraped off with steel wool.
The house wasn’t in bad shape,e structurally speaking. It had good bones but needed to be bleached.
A pungent aroma of mold and rotted flesh made for one helluva cocktail. It added to the ambiance Joel’s nasty ass was going for.
In the sink, dishes waited, and had been for a while. Creeping around the tiny four-burner stove, AB grew nostalgic.
A quaint, one-bedroom abode with low-hanging beams and plank floors. Candlelight, instead of bulbs, and the smell of freshly baked bread replaced decay.
AB and his mother lived in dozens of hovels and holes. But every so often, they lucked out. Acquiring enough coin for an actual home or cottage, with a fireplace and a roof. Where AB rested on a soft palate and not the ground.
Squeezing through the hall, the floorboards squealed until he reached the living room.
A lawn chair, a mounted forty-inch, and an empty beer can weren’t exactly inviting. AB hit a one-eighty and sprinted upstairs, where death settled on his skin.
He stepped into a room that should have housed a bed, a dresse,r or even a desk.
Being dangerously close to eight hundred years old, AB had seen it all and done enough. He didn’t have aversion to blood, gore, or homicide. But even he had to hold his breath and turn away.
Caked layers of Lysol, Lyme, and baby powder didn’t help.
“Fuck,” he whispered, taking in the scene again. AB growled. Vampires, at best, were decent, and some had the balls to do something compassionate, like save lives. Thanks to decades of dilution, humanity helped calm and tame their inner proclivities. AB worked hard to control his own issues. Massacres and serial killings were frowned upon. Most vampires didn’t give a shit about who they killed.
AB only snuffed two women, and he had to, ‘cause they wanted to harm his mother. Two Behld witche,s soaked in black, blood magic, wanted his mother dead.
He couldn’t let it be.
AB didn’t have a code or nothin’, but he was raised by a woman, and held them in high esteem. He tried not to kill innocent men, but they tasted the best. In his days of overindulgence, brutality, and debauchery, he happily dined upon plump dignitaries with fat pockets.
They were drained of blood and funds.
AB used his dick and addictions to make the most of this life. But children were always off limits. No amount of money or blood was worth vanquishing a soul so young. His dark past was a safe space for nightmares, but AB never, ever touched kids.
Dropping to a crouch, he stared at the little bodies, ill-wrapped in tarp and tape. They were so tiny. Decomposing toes and hands. There were twenty-eight missing children in this room.
“He’s downstairs,” Ines said with a bite. The male had kids of his own, grown and in the world doing adult shit. He refused to look inside.
AB shot upward, crossed creaking woo,d and snatched two duffels off of the floor. Pacing out, he coughed as the odor stuck to him like bad cologne.
When he reached the bottom, he tossed the heavy bags in front of Joel. Mr. Liston sat in the lawn chair, as his legs had a motor attached. He chewed on fingernails with pupils big as dimes. Sweat beaded on his waxy, tight skin.
“You lookin’ bad, Joe.”
“I’m—I was only taking a little. You’d never notice.”
Ines took residence on the last step and paid witness.
“But I did. You must be smooth out your rabbit ass mind if you think I wouldn’t notice when five bricks of Brown Sugar go missing.” Lowering to his haunches, AB looked up at Joel and smirked. “I keep note of every ounce, because it’s mine. And stealing from me won’t be tolerated. Furthermore, your ass is high as a kite.” Standing tall once again, AB leered. “If you use my shit?! You pay me! You polished off two ounces, so where’s my motha fuckin’ money, Joe?”
“I don’t have any money an—” He looked back at Ines, but AB slapped the bitch back around. Blood splattered all over his shirt.
“This is Gucci, you sick fuck.” AB growled, shaking his head. “You stole my product, refused to pa,y and now… You ruined my favorite shirt. Bitch…” He chuckled and studied the mess. “You know, humans have one life, and don’t live past a certain point. But us, we are so much fun, ‘cause no matter what you do, we breathe. We are sturdy, solid. I mean, unless you cut our head off…or have halo bullets on-hand.”
Ab strolled over to the four-pane window and peered at the moon. “Torture ain’t no fun with humans. You push too hard, they break and wither. Not us, though.”
“Please, AB,”
“Four years you’ve been on my payroll and I,” AB purred, pinning Joe with a searing glare, “paid you well. I give everybody raises and shit to avoid situations like this. But youuuu Joe, are greedy. So, we’re gonna see how much that stomach can hold.”
AB nodded at Ines. He hopped to it and sprinted out the door. Staring at Joe, AB smiled. “I’ll kill you for stealing from me, but I’ma have some fun for what’s upstairs.”
“Don’t you judge me. You’re no be—”
“I what? I ain’t never hurt kids.”
“They wanted it, they begged me to love—”
Ab’s backhand found Joe’s face. The assault sent him careening. On his side, the male choked on his own blood. “You the worst kinda vampire there is. We don’t have many taboos, as you know.” He rammed a Nike boot into the asshole’s stomach, making the prick heave. “But we all agree that children are out of the question. No siring, no feeding, no killing…and definitely, no…touching! Ah, Ines, you’ve come with gifts.”
His old friend entered, carrying a box full of things that made him happy. “What do we have? Boric acid, sulfuric acid, pliers, drills, and hammers? Nice! Arsenic, molten silver. Oh shit, I can’t touch that. Uhmmm, ooo mercury! You know, I’ve taken a sip of this. It’s got a citrus tinge. Oh! Bella Donna. Ines, you shouldn’t have.”
Keeping a fanatical eye on the sick bastard, AB dropped to the floor, punched through his mouth, and ripped out that slick pink muscle.
“I don’t need you screaming.” Gurgles and moans filled the silence. “Drill.” He pushed Joe’s lanky body over, popped the button on his jeans, and unzipped.
Ines handed AB a Craftsman,n and once the males member was free, hands tried to intervene. “No! No. You weren’t shy with those kids. Why be bashful now? Move!” AB smacked his drunk fingers. “That’s why you got a small dick, Joe! Open wiiiiide.”
The head of him winked just as Ab kissed it with an auger bit and pulled the trigger. Joe worked hard to holler, but Ines held his mouth shut.
Mr Liston thrashed as the spiral bit dug deeper, shredding skin and muscle. Blood oozed over AB’s knuckles as the drill worked like any food processor might.
Eating him raw and tearing his urethra to shreds. Ab enjoyed the carnage and freedom. Droplets whirled, and mangled pieces landed on his face. Tiny chunks of meat covered clothes and speckled the floor.
“Look at that.” AB giggled. “Pate.”
He removed his hand and sucked the pureed fixin’s from each digit while Ines yanked Joe’s molars out. Just in case. He went for fangs, and his green eyes disappeared to the back of his skull.
“He tastes like shit,” AB admonished. He spat and grunted at the foulness of tainted flesh.
“Yeah, all those drugs. Now you’re gonna be high, dumbass.”
AB laughed. “That’s the least of my worries. I wanna work him over slow. Like a pot roast. My dogs will love the bones. Chauncey has a thing for femurs.”
“I thought he liked tibias,” Ines said as he popped the cap on a tub of bleach. “Yeah, that one dude up in uhhhh, Tallahassee, who robbed you.”
“Ohhh no, yeah yeah. Chauncey did like his tibia, god. He gnawed on it for weeks. I’ve gotta flay em’ good this time, though, and roast the bones so there’s no residuals. No bad stuff for my babies. Okay, down the hatch, Joe.”
Ines poured bleach into his pie hole until it overflowed. He’d wake and drink it eventually, but a little Bella won’t hurt. At least not yet. This was another all-nighter, but of the bloodiest kind. It gave AB something else to focus on. Because the alternative irked his fucking nerves.
AB dropped Bella into Joe’s mouth. It mixed with bleach. Soon after, odd fumes percolated. “Maybe we should wear masks. Where are you taking Char for your anniversary?
“Oh shit, you’re right. Last time we passed out. I still got some in the trunk. And as for Char, she ain’t getting nothing. I’m taking her co-worker, Tonya, out instead. The bitch has got knockers like you wouldn’t believe. Hair platinum and legs for days.”
“You’re a piece of shit, Ines.”
“Eh, it takes one to know one.”
“You are most certainly right.”
“The wife ain’t going nowhere. She knows I get curious. We’ve been married for eighty god-awful years. Her yakking about money and whatnot cost her another anniversary. Maybe the old bag will shut the fuck up from now on.”
The male cackled in his crackly, husky manner and ran outside. Ines was a four-hundred-year-old Bostonian. He smoked like a chimney and used pomade in his hair. His style remained in 1960. If Ines didn’t wear a knitted shirt and trousers, something was wrong.
His buddy, as if he was auditioning for the next Scorsese mob picture, was proud as hell of it too.
“Okay, here. I got a whole box of N-95s from—”
“Don’t speak it, please.”
Ines grimaced as they put on masks from another time. Years Jaxon wanted to forget. Humans weren’t the only beings who had a shit time. Set and ready, he and Ines got busy. This was a great way to end a night.

Fear and the Art of Choosing Courage

What’s a fear you’ve overcome — and how did you do it?

I love this question because fear shaped my entire life. 

My biggest fear was public perception and harsh critique. I waited so long to publish my first public facing book because of this.

It’s sad to say, but I am a people pleaser. I wanted opinions and feedback to be good, great, FIVE STARS. But you can’t expect that as an author, it’s unrealistic, and I knew this. The mere idea of someone thinking, I’m annoying or a bad writer scared the fuck out of me.

I was scared of how they’d see me once I started pushing my books and marketing. In my mind, ANNOYING THEM! It’s a trait I am trying to grow out of at my big age of 38. I was so concerned with how I’d be perceived that I stood in the way of my own growth. This fear held me back from a lot. It kept me safe and comfortable but dissatisfied.

I published my first book quietly, but I still did it! I overcame my polarizing fear of criticism and perception.

I did this by choosing courage.

Courage to succeed, fail, be seen, heard, and rejected! I choose courage before I press publish on each new chapter. I choose courage with each and every edit. I choose to be courageous because little me deserves to be an author.

Courage is my daily affirmation. As a Black, bisexual woman I speak it the very moment I step outside. I choose to be brave and courageous for the rest of my life. The alternative is no longer an option.

Chapter 32: Freaks and Creeps

“Tasquer tits!” Kit tossed the vibrating rock into the top drawer and slammed it shut. “Only for a bit longer.”
“It was you!” Julep shouted.
Satchel in hand, Kit rolled his eyes. “What have I done this time?”
“You’re a blithering, loose-lipped fool. Telling him about my fears of baled cotton! How daaaaare you! We’re brothers!”
Kit knew well what he’d done, but it was for Julep’s own good. Checking his reflection, Kit tugged on his sweater vest and snapped cuffs. The demonic feline leaped and settled upon the chest of drawers. He hissed and swiped at Kit, claws at the ready.
“I had to do something; those hens would’ve eaten you alive.” Kit slid his journal into his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He ignored the racket in the drawer and headed for the door. “Look at yourself, old friend. You’re a complete mess! They’ve taken a bit of your ear, and your tail is bandaged. You’ve also been nicked on your nose. Something needed to be done. You’re stubborn and reckless. I have to watch out for you. I’m sure without me, you’d have been murdered by now.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“You most certainly can not.”
“Yes, I can!”
Kit scoffed and nearly flattened Jasper on his way out. He side-stepped and hurried across the porch.
“Shit, man. Watch it.”
“I do apologize, but I’m late. Leftovers are in the fridge, and I made banana bread with extra cinnamon.
Save me some!”
Julep scurried off and yowled in passing. He cursed and called Kit everything except a child of the Undergods.
“Mangy feline!” He watched his best friend enter a copse of trees. The dark, horrifying thicket was no place for him. There was so much about this world he didn’t understand, and he was terrified of being mauled by a lion. Grunting, he marched onward, towards the main house. During his journey, he observed the surrounding fauna. Chickens, sheep, and arranged, tiny bipeds with horns. They were adorable freaks Kit wanted to stuff in his pocket. They were burrowing species, diving into the earth as he approached a rather large hole.
The chattering, furry creatures scurried as Kit sought a better look. He crouched before their burrow and thought to grab his phone. He examined the small mound of dirt and verdure.
He eyed a decent stick and reached for it.
“I wouldn’t.”
The voice grated, through roused sensations, Kit would rather not address. Hank’s scent confounded him to some degree. It was equal parts floral and fresh. A fragrance you’d might find on a delicate flower, not a man built for labor.
“Why not?” Kit asked, peering into the hole. Glittering blue eyes focused upon him. “They’re cute and—“
“Love dragging dead bodies into their den.”
Kit reeled and snapped upward. He backed away and glanced at the little peeking critter.
“My word, does everything want to kill me out here?”
“You in Ravensguard, son.”
“I am not your son.” Kit whirled about and considered the vampire. His height and width was of not matter. “I’d advise you to remember my namesake and use it. You may call me General Raze or Kit. I prefer the latter. But you are never to refer to me as boy, son, or sport. I am three hundred years old and haven’t been a child for many cycles. Do not insult me for a third time.”
His red gaze sparked beneath an illuminated sky. The balls of gas were a phenomenon he wanted to explore. Kit admired the stars each night. He longed to know more about them and Hank. Despite his cragginess, Kit was intrigued and utterly perplexed by the blood drinker.
Hank scoffed. “You got more than a chip on your shoulder, bruh.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Have you come to pester me? Because you have done that and some.”
“I save your hide and this the reception I get?”
Kit pursed his lips, nose to the glimmering moon. “You have my gratitude.”
“Hm.” The man sniffed, hands on his hips. The pose was striking and defiant. Kit wasn’t certain on how to respond as Hank nodded and said, “The cotton ball trick worked. I was coming to thank you for it.”
“Of course it worked. If we’re talking defensive strategies, I am never wrong.”
“You’re welcome,e would do fine.”
Kit canted his head. “Pardon?”
“You gotta work on them people skills.”
“People what?”
“Shit.”
Have waved a hand and made off. “Peculiar,” Kit whispered, watching him stroll across the pasture. His feet were uncovered, which was uncommon for land dwellers.
They wore coverings at all times, except indoors. Kit plated his hooves, but never removed them. No point. Hank and his bare feet made Kit smile. “Weird indeed.”
“Whatchu looking at?”
“Your…well, what is Hank to you?” Kit asked, pivoting to meet Jo’s mirth. He had begun to enjoy his joviality and laughter. “Your uncle?”
Jo grimaced and shook his head. “Hell, nah.” Jo’s fixed attention was curious. Set on Hank, he grinned, brown lips hovering above a purple straw. “Noooo. No. No kin to me. He’s GG’s knight. Truth be told, that vampire keeps his distance. Never one to let anybody in. Well, until Veronica. Bitch.”
Kit squinted and clucked his tongue. “Do you and Hank share som—“
“Ready to do some investigations, demon man?”
“Ah, yes!” Kit perked as his belly tumbled with excitement. “More than ready, I’d say. Recon is my favorite. Gathering information on our adversary is crucial.”
“Crucial for what?” Jo asked, nose scrunched.
He headed their trip toward his vehicle while Kit grew giddy at the idea of slaughtering bad ilk.
“Obliteration!” Kit roared, shaking fists at a bruised velveteen sky. “Surprise attacks are what I am known for. We will observe, infiltrate, and crush the opposition.”
Kit stomped his hoof and snarled as Jo giggled. “I still can’t picture you out here catching bodies. You put in some heavy work with the pumpkin mutant thing, though. I will say that.”
“You still doubt?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ll be wise not to.”
“You funny, Kit.”
“How so?”
“You’re honest and mean what you say. Not many folks speak their mind around me. It’s always refreshing when they do.”
Kit laughed and said, “Your deputies don’t have an issue with speaking out of turn.”
“That’s ‘cause they know me.”
Jo used his remote device to open the door. Kit didn’t hesitate. He hopped into the large towing and cargo truck, brimming with jubilation.
“So,” Kit stared as the vehicle rumbled to life. “Are you going to expound on what it is we are investigating?”
Jo dropped his coffee cup into its cradle and started their drive. He was loose at the wheel, though hesitant. Kit sensed his anxiousness and wanted to ease the fairy somehow.
“What are you fretting about, young man?”
“Young man, there you go again.”
“You’re younger than me by decades.”
“True, but I ain’t young by no other standard.”
“Enough,” Kit clipped. “Tell me why your smile has dimmed.”
Jo frowned for a beat, but his eyes remained on the road. “I don’t know what’s going down, really. Powell said I gotta see it for myself, and that your sisters’ neighbors might be into dark shit.”
“Dark shit?”
“Yeah. I don’t know. The old man didn’t wanna talk on the phone.”
“What does this have to do with my sister?”
Jo shrugged. His lack of information tested Kit’s waning patience. “Don’t know yet. But them folks on her street seem nosier than most.”
“Nosy like how?”
“Damn, Kit.” Jo’s smile was pleasant to witness but uncalled for. “You asking a lot of questions.”
“Indeed. If this has anything to do with my baby sister and her well-being, then I need every last detail. I will protect her at all costs. With my life if need be.”
Jo’s approval shone in his grin. “You alright, Kit. There ain’t a lot of men who’d show up for his kin like you.”
“We are a fierce about our tethered. Though we may not always like or even agree with them, we are always there to protect.”
“Sounds about right. I’m the same way with mine.”
Kit patted supple leather and watched a nefarious wood straddling them.
“How many siblings do you have, Jo?”
“None. Just me.”
“The only heir. Must be sublime.”
“I ain’t never felt like an only child.” Jo giggled and plucked his chilled coffee. “I got cousins out the ass. They’re more like older siblings. We tight as brothers and sisters. Me and Tre do just about everything together.”
“So you are close with them?”
“Hell yeah.”
“Mm.” Kit scratched his itchy, growing horn and said, “I suppose Jasper and I are closest. Though we have one younger sister and two brothers. We also have Scour, but they’re neither male nor female. Our Grandmaster was cruel to them.”
“Grandmaster? Like, grandma?”
“Yes, probably. She is my father’s carrier. She is much too old for titles and loathes the term mother. I think our father takes issue with this.”
“So he got mommy issues?”
Kit chuckled and nodded. “He wouldn’t know it, but yes.”
“Yuuuck!” Jo grimaced and huffed. “I can’t stand no man with parental problems. Keep that shit far, far away from me.”
Kit’s tongue with tacky with vellix dragon soot. A question lingered on his palate. One he didn’t know how to ask. He wasn’t even sure if he should. It was no business of his, and what exactly had he planned to do with the information?

Kit sat passenger, fiddling and twiddling. He picked at his bag, cuff, and scratched his horns as if they were a bother. It was a tick, or tell. Something was up with his friend and Jo, ever the curious man, tapped Kit’s arm with the empty cup.
“What’s on your mind, Demon Man?”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“You been poking about for the last five minutes.”
Kit shook his head, looked out the window, and floundered. He started and stopped. Cocked his head and brow. Shit like this was why Jo had a hard time believing he was some hardened war vet. Maybe that was harsh, and GG might go upside his head for thinking it. Buuut, Kit was soft and awkward. Surly at times and scared of just about everything.
“It’s nothing.”
“Never pegged you for no liar. I know me a few.”
“I—blast! Well, do you have children, or a wife, perhaps?”
Jo cackled, taking the Maplewood exit. It was clear, Kit wann’t good with people. He’d clocked it straightaway. The demon didn’t know how to handle himself around others, either. Perhaps this was due to his many years of service.
Jo couldn’t help but gravitate toward men who served.
Rolling on down Great Oaks, he glanced at Kit and grinned. “That’s all you wanted to ask me?”
“Yes.”
“You something else.”
“I am.”
Jo snickered and parked in front of Jasper’s sad, sickly abode. It was haunted, alright.
“Naaah. I ain’t got nothing going on quite yet.” Jo rubbed his chin and said, “I lost my wife about two years ago.”
He didn’t stay put long enough to witness Kit’s pity or solemnity. At this point, Jo was sick of all them daggone sorrys. He couldn’t stomach one more. Bouncing out of the truck, he waved at Powell.
“Death is death,” Kit said. Meeting Jo on the sidewalk, he shrugged. “You’re still here. The best you can do is honor your dead. Celebrate with drink and fir.e It is always a bit sorrowful losing ones we hold dear. But cycles are meant to end. Even demons can die.”
He stared at the demon who’d struck him. Kit punched Jo right in the nuts, stealing his ability to speak. His aloofness and tone were refreshing. He didn’t even try to pat Jo on the shoulder, hand, or back.
No tears, only indifference.
“Thank you,” Jo said.
“For?”
“Being a strange piece of work.”
Kit frowned. “I’m going to need a thesaurus for these idioms and metaphors you all have. It’s exhaustive.”
Powell grumped, joining the duo. “’Bout time y’all got here.”
“What did you find, deputy?” Kit asked, journal and pen at the ready. “What is it about her neighbors that roused your suspicions?”
The old wolf sniffed and swung his boredom to Jo. “What in the hell is he doing here?”
“You’ve got nerve!”
Head on a swivel, Jo assessed the quaint street. Not a soul stirred. Well-kept, colorful homes lined (street name), windows aglow. Folks were indoors, enjoying dinner or their bed. Jo was jealous.
More than past his bedtime, he yawned. The three shots of espresso did jack shit. He needed more than Nita’s best pressed bean. Aching to rub his feet together and drift into REM, Jo clapped once.
“Let’s take a walk, fellas.” They were off, ambling. He aimed for the end of the block. “What you sniff out, Powell.”
“There ain’t nothing right about that house or this funky ass neighborhood.”
Jo’s wing twitched, and senses thrummed. He wasn’t no vampire, but it was in his blood, along with dark magic he would rather not touch.
His father was to be thanked for it.
Most judged Jo before he said a word. It was something about his stained fingertips and tattoos. The runes he was born with tended to pulse whenever he was within proximity to Dreardian magic.
It was old, blood arcana. The forbidden spells of the Lowstrum family. Their curses were a blight on Indigo Plains.
“You smell that?” Powell asked as they passed the cutest house on the (street. “It ain’t right.”
It wasn’t. From afar, he spotted a trimmed lawn, adorable gnomes, and a thriving garden. The owner took care of the paint and loved flower boxes. They even had a porch swing swaying in the breeze. It was too god damn perfect, and Jo hated it.
Perfection was a ruse. A lie. Smoke and mirrors. It didn’t exist. Somethin’ nasty and ugly festered beneath the fake vanilla scent.
“It’s foul,” Kit added, focused on the two-story. “This is demonic construction.”
“Huh? It’s an old world build.”
“No. No. Not the architecture. The wards. I don’t speak Jalisect, but I know someone who does.”
“Jelly, what now?” Jo studied the tidy home, seeing nothing. He was no demon, though.
“Maybe we can use you after all,” Powell rumbled, slapping Kit’s back. “Good work, General.”
Smug as hell, Kit lifted his chin. “I am always a good choice. Leave it to me. We will get to the bottom of these odd happenings.”
The front door creaked, opening for a pair of eyes to greet them. They stared, and Jo bristled in the strained quiet.
“Hello, there,” Powell called, waving. The homeowner didn’t say a word. Jo ain’t like how beyond them, stood a void. A darkness not even he made out. Lights shone from inside, dappling the lawn.
What they were looking at didn’t add up.
“Have a good night now,” Jo said.
They slammed the door and locked it. Deadbolts clacked into place, telling them what time it was.
“I don’t like it here,” Kit said, scrutinizing the block. “My demonic urge is to fight. I have neither a weapon nor strength. We should leave at once.”
“You right.” Jo took his advice and hustled onward. They tracked back up Great Oaks and were watched the entire way.
“This ain’t normal,” Powell said, booking it. “I’m bout ready to throttle ‘em. See you tomorrow, Sheriff.”
Glowing pits of green pierced through the eerie, abysmal cracks.
“You notice how quiet it is?” Jo asked, keys in hand. He aimed the remote as Powell tore away, heading for his truck. “Not a single cricket or cicada. I don’t even hear a god damn owl. Ain’t no breeze or nothing. Ohhhh nahhh, hell nah. This ain’t for me. My Black ass do not belong here.”
Starting the engine, he glanced at Jasper’s house and flinched. Numerous sets of eyes glared from the second floor. Green, red, yellow, and white.
He pointed, and Kit gasped. “What in the Undervell—who are they?”
“I have no fucking idea, but we gon’ find out soon enough.”

Neon Red: Chapter 16

Interviews were tedious work; Tracy had a time researching bothersome, intrusive questions. His only concern was whether this male had the means and skill to fight. Perhaps some sort of marksmanship. He didn’t care to know who the person was or where they came from. Nevertheless, he pried and weathered on with asinine queries. Going down the list, he tapped on another.
“And what makes you qualified for this position?” Tracy asked.
The male was of grand stature with a decent amount of weight on him. He was brawny rather than muscular, with a wide build that could block and slam people into things.
“Uh, I was sired three years ago by my ex-girlfriend. Before that, I was a boxer in the human world. I’ll be forty-seven forever, but I’m in great shape.”
Tracy held back a gag. “Splendid, I can use someone like you. I find your history to be a plus, Russell. Before we wrap up, do you understand the dangers of this job?”
He nodded. “I do, Mr. Bissette.”
“Tracy, please, and that’s wonderful. I assure you, it’s slow around here. But if I need transport or some other services, you’ll be called in. You’ll work a minimum of four days a week.” He paused to wet his whistle with the finest espresso in Florida. “I don’t need you for everything. Most times I use my main guard, but even then, he only works four to five nights a week.”
“I’m not sure if this is what I’m looking for. I’m taking care of my mom and-”
“The pay is thirty-five an hour, and there is room for a hefty bonus at the end of the year.”
“Holy hell, that’s a lot of doe.”
“Yes, it is.” Tracy nodded. “And typically, you will get a full eight hours doing various things. Elliot is in charge of tasks. I am sure he’ll find you work.”
Russell beamed, and Tracy felt accomplished. This was the second person he interviewed, and the first failed. This male, however, even with his sickening human past, was personable and eager.
“I’m ready whenever you need me, Mr.- er, Tracy.”
“Good man. I want to hire you now, but unfortunately, you still need to pass one more interview. In truth, Elliot will be your superior. I’m not one to handle trivial things of this nature.”
Tracy shoved his chair back and rose. He was over the dreary process. Russell took heed and followed him to the front door.
“I will wait for Elliot’s decision, but I’m sure he’ll agree. You are an excellent fit. Until then, you’re free to go. Don’t stray too far from your phone.”
Russell smiled once again and extended a steady palm. “I’ll be waiting for his call.”
“You do that.”
Tracy opened the oak as Jaxon arrived. “Oh, look at our timing. How are you tonight, Jaxon?”
“Very well, thank you.”
“Glad to hear it.”
When he entered, Russell made an exit. “Stay safe, son.”
“You too, Tracy.”
Upon his departure, Tracy shut the door and met Jaxon in the kitchen. “That, sir, is top-shelf espresso. Jaya just made it.”
“She is a master at work. Her coffee is divine.”
Tracy agreed with a tight grin. “How is everything coming along? I wasn’t aware you’d take last night off.”
He sighed. “I’m done, actually.”
Tracy was delighted to hear the news as he poured himself a small cup. “Damn, I didn’t think you’d be done so fast. When can I expect a bill?”
“Tonight,” Jaxon muttered, stirring the blond bean batch. “But I need to speak with you about something first.”
The sentence slipped from his mouth like a threat. Tracy wedged a bit of distance between them.
“What is this about?”
“Your finances, of course.”
Jaxon faced Tracy, sipped the hot beverage, and pinned a glinting stare on him.
“Won’t you have a seat?” Gesturing to the breakfast nook, Tracy slid into the same chair he’d sat in mere moments ago. Jaxon appeared across from him with a cup and saucer. He was dressed to the nines in formal attire. A red three-piece suit and tidy hair pulled back, away from his face.
He seemed young, personable, friendly even. But in his gaze, Tracy noticed something else entirely. This dandy accountant wasn’t who he put into the world. Tracy had known many men like Jaxon.
Righting the crooked mat and off-center charger, Tracy nodded. “What is it you seek, Jaxon?”
“I think you should be asking what I, can do for you.”
Cutting eyes upwards, Tracy cocked a brow. “I’m not following.”
“As you already know, I’ve found some discrepancies. Rather substantial ones. You’ve got a lucrative business that makes too much money, Tracy.” Jaxon tipped his silver chalice and shrugged. “My job is to find these things. Review financial dealings and provide advice. And mine for you is, either stop what you are doing, or hire me to cook your books.”
This wasn’t threatening at all. He was offering a way out of a major fuck up Tracy didn’t even know existed. God damn it, he should have hired someone to do this years ago, like Jaya suggested.
“Okay, sure. You don’t have to twist my arm. How much do you want?”
“I don’t want money.”
Confounded, Tracy canted his head. “I am missing the mark again, I fear.”
“I want resources, I want transport, and I want more space.”
Now his demeanor made sense; the true beast underneath making his debut.
“My god, which part of the business are you?”
“Pharmaceuticals.”
“You’re a fucking drug dealer?”
Jaxon relaxed, crossed his legs, and snapped crisp, white cuffs. “If you wish to be formal, then all right. Yes, I’m a drug dealer.”
To think he came referred. “But you’re an accountant.”
“Yes.” Jaxon nodded and gulped down the rest of his coffee. “I am, but accounting as a hobby. It’s something I like to do. I like numbers, have a knack for organization, and adore meaningless tasks. The stuffy job humbles me at times.”
Tracy ran a hand over his waves and looked out the window. “Florida…” Rain was year-round, and as it came down with promises of a flash flood somewhere, Tracy didn’t know what to make of his confession.
“I don’t have resources.”
“Don’t lie to me, I read everything, Tracy. Your construction business is over 20,000 square feet. You’ve got that house in Doral. Not to mention, if I open a contract with you, I can build whatever I want without it looking too shady. As it stands now, I own a deli, a wing joint, and a god damn ice cream shop.”
Jaxon stood and marched back to the coffee. Tracy got the gist, but wasn’t sure about any of it.
After topping off his tiny cup, Jaxon added an awful lot of sugar. “I have my consulting business and two residential properties. I’ve only been here for eight years. I can not risk another buy without an audit. And I can’t afford that.”
“Just hire someone else.”
“I don’t trust anyone enough.”
“Why trust me?”
“You have shit to lose, Tracy.” As Jaxon pivoted, he shrugged. “And a daughter so deep in, she’d get ten years for every grand earned.”
Panic caused him to wince. “How did you come by this information?”
“I told you, it’s my job. Now, the way I see it, you’ve got something I need, and I have the means to make your financial hiccups go away. Plus, I have ships.”
“Ships for what?”
“Your raw meat business, I overheard you in your office. Listen, I got ties overseas and people who need a man on this side. If you help me, two for the price of one. You get more bodies and clean books. But in return, I want your basements and housing developments. I need more places to stash my inventory. It’s getting hot with my shit, and I need to move. Yesterday.”
Tracy ruminated. This was huge. Selling drugs and running humans was a biiiiiig operation he never signed up for. But with Matthias on board now, maybe another person on his team wouldn’t hurt. Someone he could trust. Matthias was not that person.
“So what?” Tracy looked up at him and frowned. “You wanna be partners?”
Jaxon stared into his cup and grimaced. “Yeah, I suppose so. I have more than enough room at my Brickell office. There’s even a second executive suite.”
“I’m not okay with being a middleman. I’ve done this on my own for a while now. I hire people to find me bodies, and I sell them. What are they willing to pay me? I want no less than ten grand on delivery for my services, and twenty percent of the sale.”
Jaxon hissed. “I don’t know if you’ll get that. But I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’ll agree to a partnership only after the paperwork is handled. I will be the one to draw up a contract, and we will both sign it.”
Jaxon acknowledged with the tip of his cup and said, “Looking forward to it.”
“There will be a fee, Jaxon.”
“I expected as much. We’ll talk numbers a little later.” Returning to his seat, Jaxon’s friendly smile made a comeback. But Tracy would never see him the same again. “For right now, tell me more about your business.”

Max worked hard not to wake, but her internal alarm clock wouldn’t allow that. Wiggling around reminded her of the day’s activities. She scooted across the empty space and threw an arm around Low. Max loved being the big spoon. Kissing his nape made the male groan.
“What time is it?” Low rumbled. The sexy, dusky tone echoed in her chest.
“I have no idea, nighttime.”
He sighed long and heavy, then faced her. His eyes, the color of slate, greeted her. “Wus good witchu?”
“My coochie hurts.” He cackled, and Max tried not to, ‘cause it wasn’t a joke. “Honey chile, I ain’t lying. Y’all wrong, for real. I think I need a walker.”
“Shit, say that then. You know I love a good stroke.”
Max smacked him on the forehead. “Yo breaff stank, hoe. Get out my face. All that dick sucking you did.”
“You’re one to talk, sluttin’ out all hours of the day. You love my fonkie breath anyway, shut up,”
“I do not.” She refuted, but his smile and proximity kneaded Max into mush. Low moved in and kissed her once, twice, a third time.
“Yes, you do,” he whispered, getting fresh under the sheets.
“Hol’ up, I ain’t got nothing for you.”
Letting Low have his way, he pushed Max onto her back. And she was prime for it. Thighs lax and body willing, her pussy flexed as their lips touched.
Gentle and slow, he entered her once again. It was nothing like the rough and tumble during those wee, early morning hours.
There was no place more comforting or familiar.
With him between and slipping inside, her body accepted the rising pressure and pleasure. Max knew every dip and curve. Low’s frame weighed heavily, offering her shelter and intimacy. Languid but steady, he dug her out, taking it easy after using her up hours prior.
Low played it safe while making the bed bounce. When he pulled away from her kiss, she locked arms around his waist.
“Oh baby—Lowwww. Yes…” Her breathy plea urged him onward. “I feel you, bab—oh shiiiit. I fee—make me—uggggh.”
The way he fit with his body pressed against hers left no room for oxygen. Max adored this and what he gave. With legs around his waist, she moaned his government title and dared not to cry as her breath hitched.
Toes curled, spine locked, and eyes rolled. She snapped.
Warm, lazy waves of ecstasy weaved its way through her. An orgasm woke Max proper as Low came down on her mouth once more. Soft and sweet, he grunted, carrying her through his own release.
Low collapsed, and Max took the male’s pounds. Hugging him tight, she closed her eyes as reality crept into their space.
Why did this have to hurt?
Feelings weren’t involved; allowed. She couldn’t even lie to herself anymore. The silence after their sensual descent had long begged for words neither dared to speak. Both denied its existence. Too scared, too broken, and scarred from past traumas.
Feeling him withdraw, Max shivered and laughed.
“I’m done, shorty.” He snickered and flopped onto his back. “I ain’t got nohtin’ left. I’m tapped out.”
Just as he said that, a hand found her tiddie.
She slapped it away. “That’s enough, Low! God damn. You’re finished, ‘member?”
“I know, it’s just your tiddies hanging out. I gotta touch ‘em at least one time.”
She laughed again and shook her head. “I gotta let you know one thing. Baby, that big bitch blew your back out.”
Low smacked his teeth and shot up out of bed. “Don—why you gotta bring it up?” He whined and dashed down the hall. Max followed him into the bathroom and couldn’t help but poke.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I get my shit broke all the time.”
He reached into the stall and turned on the water. “I do the back-breaking, okay?”
“I kowwww, I know. But you screamed his n—”
“Shut the hell up, Maxine Bernice, ‘fore I tear off into your ass. I’m not even gonna be able to look him in the eye.”
Max pushed him into the stall and stepped in. “But you fucked him up as well. His legs were shaking, remember that?”
“I do, yeah. You’re right. I held it down and wasn’t playing no kinda games. But you did, too, babe. I love how you held his balls. That was a good technique, shorty. I’m saying. You broke him doooown. But you know what? He’s mean as hell in them sheets. I figured that, but damn.”
They grabbed the soap and rags, lathering in a hurry.
“I didn’t think white boys were carrying weight.” Max shook her head and scrubbed. “I was bamboozled, lied to, and tricked. I watch porn, but I never thought, like, it was real life.”
Low stood in front of the spray and giggled. “That’s a misconception. I‘ve been with enough white men to know. Not every Black man is well hung, and not every white man is small.”
. “Don’t I know it.” She scoffed. “But look here, I have had some small ones that still gave me an orgasm through penetration. Them the ones to watch out for, ‘cause they know what they’re doing.”
Low smiled. “You not wrong, baby. But uhm, you think he wanna do this again?”
“No, no, I doubt it.”
“We’ve never had a threesome with the same person twice, Maxi. It’s against the rules.”
Max circled around and was pelted by lukewarm droplets. “Damn, Low. You don’t have it hot enough.”
“Shorty! Why you always gotta burn my skin?”
“It don’t even be hot like that.”
“It do too.” He frowned as she turned the heat up a little more.
“How can you get clean with cold water?”
“It’s not—”
“It is! Now get my back.”
Low grumbled and snatched the cloth out of her hand. “Stop yelling, with your big ass forehead.”
“So, you like it.”
He giggled again and washed her back because her lover was sweet like that.
“I gotta go to work,” Max whined. “I’m supposed to open the shop.”
“You probably late.”
She nodded, rinsed, and stepped out of the stall. “I surely am.”
Running for the hanging terry, she heard the door and froze. What to do, what to do. In a state of panic, Max twirled and jumped back in the shower.
“What in the—”
“He’s back,” she whispered.
Low’s dumb ass ducked and crouched. “Oh shit, go out there, Maxi.”
“You go. You’re the man, handle this shit.”
They quieted at the sound of approaching loafers. Low hunched, like that was gonna do something.
“Are y’all hungry?” Jaxon asked.
Max smelled his fine ass through the door. She bit her tongue to keep from cussing.
Low elbowed her, so she shoved him. He slipped and dropped to his ass.
“Uh, nah, nah.” He shrugged. “We good, for now.”
“You sure? I ordered out from GreenStreet cafe. I got eggs, country potatoes, and what else…”
Max slid to the tile, threw up her hands, and mouthed a true statement.
I’m so hungryyyy.
Low shook his head.
“I got waffles, French toast, and Cinnamon pancakes; those are my favorites.”
Her stomach hollered,d and Low snickered. She made a pinching symbol then moved onto praying hands.
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Uh, a little something. But I uh, we, got shit to do so, a lil’ sumn’.”
She nodded as Low stood and grimaced. They stilled, waiting for a response.
“No problem. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
“Yup.” Low shrugged again, nd nobody spoke until the door closed.
“What the fuck we gonna do now, Max? Hm? You want me to sit up here and have breakfast with that man? Damn, bruh.” Low stomped out of the stall and snapped a towel. “After last night, hell nah. Plus, we never stay afterwards, Max. That’s our rule. Even more, he brought me outta character. I don’t like that. My spirit can’t handle it. I wanna fight him. To assert my dominance.”
Max dried and stared at Low. “Baby, there ain’t nothing you can do. He’s—”
“Don’t say it. Please don’t. Because I know.” He snapped the soft cotton for a second time and wrapped it around his hips. She just held her’s closed, ‘cause they weren’t made for fluffy people.
When they marched into the bedroom, Low yelped and smacked the wall. “You a nosy muh’fucka!”
Max was aghast as Red leaned against the wall. Looking reeeal pleased with himself.
“And you’re a liar,” she spouted. “That was an invasion of privacy, asshole!”
She stormed for her clothes, gathered articles, and turned her nose up all the way back into the bathroom. Max slammed the door and whined. He looked great and smelled—No, no. Her life was complicated enough. Red was an animal, a ferocious beast who ate pussy and fucked like sex provided the very oxygen in his lungs. There was no room in her life for something or someone like him. And the way shit was going, she wouldn’t even have space left for her own thoughts.

It’s two days late, and I am sorry for that, y’all. Summer is a sad time for me. Nothing drastic happened; I just don’t like it. Lol. Most come alive during the summer months, I DO NOT. I am my least vibrant self. I litterly call it sad girl summer because I am in such low spirits. I can’t wait for fall and winter. UGGGH. Anyway, here is chapter 16! Where we get to witness the aftermath, the night after, the POST NUT CLARITY hits hard here. And you know what? I loved how honest they were about the whole ordeal. Max and Low aren’t afraid to talk about the awkward things, and I love that most about them. Their communication could use some work, but I think their transparency played a major part in the relationship. Now, let’s hope they continue this trend moving forward. Until next time, loves, thank you, and have a wonderful week. Byyyyeee.

Chapter 31: Fangs and Hunger Pangs

Nieema wanted whatever the succubus wanted to give. And yes, she wanted that god damn tail. She salivated and flexed below the waist. Her pussy seeking company, someone to strangle and hold. Her tapered tail was dangerous for some and even had poisonous barbs, but now it flicked with sensual promise. It was a fat, prehensile demon with telling knots and bumps Jasper had manifested for this special occasion.
“Yes,” Nieema rasped.
She tracked its slow sweeping motion and nodded. “Yeah, I want you to put in and don’t stop.”
“Look at you, so greedy for it.”
Nieema hissed and grasped Jasper’s face, plunging into another kiss. She rocked against her pliant, buoyant form and moaned, tasting every note. Buck, Jasper, and even her own water. It spurred her into movement. Nieema rolled, more than ready to bounce and ride.
Jasper clung to her, claws catching on her ass. The tiny pricks of pain added to a new, yet familiar brand of euphoria.
Desperate, she severed their kiss and clutched Jasper’s horns. The woman was flushed. Purpled cheeks and gold dust painted her red complexion. It was beautiful, gorgeous, and quite the portrait Nieema committed to memory but hoped to see for a while longer.
“Talking won’t get you anywhere nice, demon. You can either fuck me this instant or see yourself out.”
Wolfish and sharp-edged, her smile spoke volumes. It was clear she wasn’t amused. From a striking molten ocher to hot iron, her eyes flared.
“You got too much bass in your voice, Your Majesty.”
“And you, are working my last nerve, woman! I need you to fu-fuck!”
Speared and impaled. Nieema wailed, grasping Jasper’s smooth horns. She groaned as heat radiated and seeped; spread.

Heat tackled Nieema as Jasper’s tail twisted and coiled. “Ooooo shhhhhhit.” Nieema gasped; heat and lust encapsulated them. Sweet flames of pleasure licked at her slick skin and teased.
Jasper pushed and stretched with abandon. Every knot and inch waged war against her G-spot. Nieema tossed her head back and hissed.
“Ohmyfates. You so good.” Hot, scorching lips fell upon her shoulder and neck. “Damn, girl.”
The succubus growled and purred. “I knew that pussy was good.”
Nieema bucked with her quickening motion. She keened, enjoying the slip and melody. Their bodies connected, and Nieema consumed her whole. She took her thickness and rolled on it.
With each deep dive, she whimpered. As focus waned and eyes escaped to the back of her head, the world vanished.
Magic and succubi wiles traced every curve of her body. It twined with her senses and laved over her.
As if she’d been taken by five, Nieema registered hands, lips, and fingers. In her ass, on the clit, and pinching nipples. Claws raked her back as Jasper claimed her mouth.
Her tongue slick and hot, thickened. She was transported to another plane of fiery desire. Nieema sucked on her and rode it out.
The demoness lacked decorum and shit. She was unkind inside. Jasper hemmed Nieema up quick. Using her tail for the worst, she arrived with swift punches. Her thrusts were lethal and strong, causing Nieema to lose all wits.
She held onto the woman’s horns and took it on the chin. Jasper beat her down and delved into her pussy. She made it talk back and bite. Desperate, Nieema growled and chased her withdrawal.
Jasper slapped her ass and made Nieema suck her down. She choked on it until the woman let her breathe.
“Yesss!” Nieema roared and panted, bouncing on it like she’d never been fucked a night in her life. “Shit, Jasper. God damn youuuuu…”
She tasted her arousal and mewled as Jasper clenched her throat. The demoness heaved and hugged Nieema close.
“Give me what I want, Nieema,” Jasper said, voice trembling. She worked her tail and demanded action. “You will come for me. Show me them fangs, lover!”
Nieema quaked and made her ass clap. She tussled with her thirst and urge to nut.
“Ohhhhhshiiiit. Oooodamnnnit.”
“Let me see you break, Your Majesty.”
Buck scented smoke spilled from Jasper’s lips and provoked Nieema’s hunger. She inhaled, wanting every dose she offered. Her need to feed overlapped with a painful pang to cum.
“Ffffff—uck! Tear that shit up, girl.” Nieema bit her bottom lip, drawing blood. She clasped them horns and tensed as Jasper’s monstrous magic galvanized within.
Desire, pleasure, and lust clashed with her own. It swelled and overwhelmed.
Nieema ruptured. Two-fold. She’d loosened, convulsing, shivering. Bursts of passion gushed, coating the succubi’s tail and thighs.
Jasper bellowed, calling Nieema by name. She locked arms around her and chuckled. The guttural sound was too much for her delicate sensibilities. Nieema snapped Jasper’s head to the left and begged.
“Let me feed. Pleeeease. Let me have your precious essence before you depart.”
“As you wish,” Jasper whispered.
Hot and cloying, her blood rushed. Fang deep, Nieema took her and gulped. She purred at her throat and warmed as the gorgeous succubus nourished her once again.
More than sated, Nieema licked wounds closed and kissed each mark. “Thank you.”
“The pleasure is all mine.”
Nieema swallowed, loving how her blood and pussy lingered. “I don’t know about that.”
She met Jasper in the eyes and smiled. They were back to their normal shade. Goldenrod amber. Sweet as her natural nectar, she grinned.
“Now I see why he don’t play about you.”
Nieema giggled and sighed, cradling Jasper’s full cheeks. “I can cook too, you know. And, I’m talented, smart, courageous, and fine as hell. There is more to me than my perfect pussy.”
“You are all of that and more, I’m sure.”
Nieema sniffed and dropped hands. “You cute. I’d tell you to keep talking, but I need a shower. How about you join—“
“I can’t.”
Nieema was the one who’d laid everything bare. On the table, clear for her to see. Full transparency. She’d erected boundaries not even an hour ago, and yet, she wanted to obliterate them.
Nieema didn’t want Jasper to leave so soon, but had no choice. They were here for the vibes and shit. Nothing more, nothing less.
“Okay, yeah. Of course.”
Nieema cleared her throat and figured herself foolish. Jasper was far from the first woman they’d met and fucked. And she wouldn’t be the last. Ignoring the weird prick in her chest, Nieema hopped off the woman.
Palm open and outstretched, Nieema called her house robe. After donning satin, she snatched up the woman’s clothes. Jasper had twisted and wrapped her tail.  Tucked high and out of sight around her thigh. Nieema hated it and wanted to know why a succubus born in hell was ashamed of such a beautiful part of herself. It definitely had something to do with Trevor.
Nieema forced a smile and handed the articles over.
“Thanks again, Nieema. You woke this old succubus up.”
“Happy to help.”
Sliding into them tight shorts, Jasper beamed. Fangs and a telling gleam in her eyes was quite a portrait. “I bet.”
“You fed well, I take?” Nieema asked, chin lifted.
“Indeed.” She loomed. The succubus snickered and stole a kiss. One more and she was gone. The door clicked, and Nieema grunted. “She a good one. Different. Her power is beyond any we’ve had. I thought she was gon’ tear me in half. Whew, chile. Look at you, freaky ass.”
Buck slumped in his chair. Butt ass naked, dick on limp and sullied by his own hand. Nieema cackled at the sight. “Bring your ass on, Moss Balls, let’s get cleaned up.”
“I couldn’t help it, you know how I get watching.”
“Hm. I’m sure you had quite the show.”
“Y’all was rocking steady, baby.” He high whistled, following her into the bathroom. “And she is sumn’ else. God damn, I wanna tackle allat jelly.”
“Looks like you gotta be patient.” Nieema turned on the shower and stripped.
“She just don’t know how good it’s gonna be with her teasing me like this.”
“I envy the woman,” she said, twirling on her toes. Nieema hugged her husband and kissed his hair-dusted chest. “In the meantime, you want me to scratch that itch for you?”
“You damn straight. Come here and gimmie that suga’!”
His love put the sun to shame; it brightened him. Nieema would never grow old or tired of his obsession. He was a good man who loved his woman, and Nieema was the luckiest vampire in the world to have snagged the very best Fate had to offer.

Listen, let me tell y’all something, I didn’t want them to fuck yet. I really didn’t. I wanted to make them wait another chapter or two. But Jasper and Nieema wanted this to go their way. I kept fighting it, but in the end, they won! And Nieema, the poor woman, she’s enamored. I can’t blame her. And yo, the idea of Buck being a shameless Cuck is so funny and thrilling. I love him with my whole heart.
He’s gonna crack that succubus wide open. I know it. I have an idea how and when this will happen…But I hope y’all love monster romances.
Anyway, thank you so much for being here. I couldn’t do this without y’all. Have a lovely week and HYDRATE! Byyyeee, Bookie!

Neon Red: Chapter 15

Low did not want to  kill this man and run ass out through the back. But if he started jaw jacking, his dome was about to get knocked off. On top of that, they had to move quickly. ‘Cause this big, fine, ginger was ancient. He was bound to have skills beyond their own.
Swift, strong, and cunning.
Underestimating meant death. Jaxon had every advantage. He’d clap them both without wasting a breath. But Low had eyes on everything. The vampire’s flexing hands and tense thighs said he wanted to act.
“Pulling that trigger would be the last mistake you ever make.” Jaxon smirked and said, “This house is crawling with vampires who’d gut you and her for it. You’d never make it off the property.”
Calm and remote, Jaxon didn’t give a fuck, but as Max shuffled inside, his low lidded stare remained.
“You not innocent as I thought.”
“And you ain’t no accountant,” Max proclaimed.
“Yes, I am.”
She sneered while Low’s gun stayed pressed to Jaxon’s skull. “You want money or what… how much you want?”
The male chuckled. “There you go again, assuming shit. Oh my god, this is like a huge issue with—does she always—”
Agile, strong, and calculating.
Jaxon rammed his temple into the barrel. Distracting Low gave him the upper hand. Red grabbed his wrist and twisted.
Low hollered from the assault.
His arm nearly snapping it right off, he dropped the Glock. Red kicked it under the bed. Max moved mean and punched Jaxon in the diaphragm. Her fast thinking forced a release.
Low lunged for the gun and was still too slow. Jaxon snatched his shirt, but Maxi was at it again. She growled and bit the males forearm.
After another release, she dove for the pistol herself and Red recovered. “You a fast one ain—”
Low yanked the alphas hair and gave shorty enough time to clutch that .45.
Using their natural speed, she popped up, aimed and let one hit. Max tossed the hot steel instantly. She was a brave female, but she’d never shot anyone before.
Two seconds later, men barrelled through the door and ran in from the patio. Low threw his hands up because yes,  they were out numbered. Four green dots speckled his stomach and five were aimed at Max.
“Oh fuck, you’re gonna kidnap me…oh god, Low he’s gonna want a ransom. Oh shit. I meant to kill you, though.”
Low groaned. “Girl shut uuuup. Please, baby, just hush for a minute I really can’t take—”
“Don’t tell me to hush. I am really stressed right now.”
“I know, me too, the hell y—”
“This man is gonna kill me, Low.” She was terrified, and yeah, Low was finna shit himself. Typically, he wasn’t scared of anyone except for the IRS. But damn it, the mere thought of losing Max polarized him.
“Sir, are you okay?”
Jaxon cut to the man in black and nodded. “I’m good, it itches.” Flaring, red eyes darted around the room.
“You’re not good, AB. Ya bleeding for christ sake.” Another guy made his way into the room and sniffed.
“Back up off me, blood.” Low growled as his fangs elongated. “I’ll kill you before they get me, I promise you that, bruh.”
“What we gonna do in here, AB?”
“Get out.”
The male with a rough accent scoffed. “You can’t be serious.”
“I said get out, Ines!”
His thundering demand made them move and post haste. The last ninety seconds flew by and felt like an eternity. Low just had them thangs on him, now they were alone again while Wus Good played in the silence.
Awkward.
“My dad can pay you.”
“Listen, listen, I need you to shut up.” Jaxon made a request, and Low eyed her. He mouthed, ‘calm down’. She frowned, but crossed her arms and flopped into the armchair. Low, however, watched Red as he growled and sauntered past her.
Max shrugged and stabbed a finger at the door.
Low gave the cut off signal then stopped, noticing Jaxon’s leery red gaze from the bathroom.
“You won’t be able to leave until I allow it so…” The door slammed and running water followed.
“What are we gonna do?” Max whispered.
Low deadpanned. “Baby, he can still hear you.”
“Right.”
She lifted a finger, grabbed her two-ton bag, and wrestled with its contents before plucking out her phone. He nodded and fell on the chaise when a text came through.
Little Mermaid: We gotta figure out how to leave.
He stabbed keys and replied quick.
Cold Blooded: You see how tight his security is?
She nodded then typed.
Little Mermaid: What does an accountant need with security?
Low pointed and wondered the same thing. He lied, ain’t no way Red crunched numbers for a living. In the process of hitting her back, the bathroom door swung open.
“Seriously? Are y’all texting each other right now?”
Jaxon stomped from the washroom and ripped Max’s phone out of her hand.
“You want me to shoot you in the head next?”
Jaxon grunted. “Y’all are fuckin’ nuts, certifiable.”
He threw the android in her lap, and poked at the hole in his shoulder. He may as well take the tank off, it had blood on it… and it was hot. Low grimaced. What the fuck was he thinking?
“And you, Maxine. You all of five-two, but had the gall to square up with a pureblood. I’m six-six a-”
“No you ain’t.” Low snickered, and it might have been the wrong time, but his ass was lying…again.
“Yes, I am.”
“You more like six-four. Don’t do too much.”
Jaxon’s jaw fell. “What is wrong with you? Are you not grasping the totality of this situation? I could kill you, right now.”
“Nah, I am.” Running a hand over his beard, Low shrugged. “But don’t be height fishing. You good, no need to lie.”
Easing into the chaise, Low admired Max while she observed Red and said, “We have millions.”
“I don’t want your daddy’s little  money.” Stalking his big self to the wet bar, Jaxon frowned. “And I don’t wanna kidnap you. Fuck. I need ice.” He spared a moment of silence to pour Henny and swig.
A second helping followed.
“I wasn’t gonna snitch or whatever the hell. You jumped to conclusions, as usual. I’ve known you for all of a week, Max, and I see your negative personality traits loud and clear.”
The female crossed her arms with an eye roll. “Yeah yeah, I’m working on it.”
“No you not,” Low spat. “Why is everybody lying right now?”
Jaxon snapped his fingers and continued, “I was just bringing it to your attention. Tracy is one false move away from going to prison. Unless…” On the turn around, he leaned against the bar. “I can cook his books.” Hitting the liquor, Jaxon peeped over the rim.
Max frowned and said, “I’m not the one you need to be talking to.”
“I know that, don’t you worry your pretty head about it, Maxine.” He hissed her name and snarled. “I will handle the rest.”
Shorty sighed and said, “Well, we should go. This was fun, but it’s about that time.”
Red slammed his glass on the mirrored side table, and faced them again. “You shot me for no reason. This shit escalated too quickly. You went from accusing me of stalking you, to accusing me yet again. Only to put a hot slug in my shoulder. You owe me another apology, mama.”
Low fought a smile, ‘cause Red was telling facts and had a major point. But Max hated being wrong and she wasn’t perfect. Never one to admit she fucked up or take accountability, was a huge problem. They got into it about this very same thing a bunch of times. Low was no better, though, and two people who wasn’t shit, being not shit together, made for a happy couple…an almost happy couple.
“This is kind of bad,” Max nodded. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. I overreacted.”
Low scoffed. “Oh, I know you are not folding that easy.” He stabbed her with a narrowed gaze. “After all the times you—wowwwww. Okay, damn, you wild, shorty.” Feelings hurt and all he pouted.
“Low, I shot him,” Max pointed out, as if he didn’t see the whole thing. “It’s not like I drank the last of his limeade.”
Low jacked to his feet and gasped. “I knew you did it! Tried to make me look crazy, thinking I drank all my shit.”
Max looked up at Red. “This was two years ago. He stores grudges for a rainy day, it’s sooo bad.”
“It don’t matter how long ago it was, shorty. Ten years we been rockin, and you play me like that. Damnnnnn.”
“You drank the last of his favorite juice, I presume? Then you lied about it.” Red smirked. “That’s cold.”
Low clapped and said, “Thank you, thannnk you. Eccczactly.”
“Fine, I’m sorry I drank your juice. I’ll buy you some more.”
“I want ten cartons! For damages and distress!”
“I hear you.”
Spinning around, he eyed the Glock and swiped it. Low shoved the piece back into its holster and pointed at Max.
“Let’s head out, we done here.” Shorty got busy, gathering her things while Low stepped to the bar and clocked cognac.
“Is this all you drink?”
“Hell yeah.”
He chuckled, fashioned himself a half glass and smashed it. “I ain’t never had Hine before, it’s  smooth.”
“I can’t find my glasses.”
“In the chair, baby.”
She searched, skipping right over the damn frames. “I don’t see them.”
“Behind you,” Low muttered.
“Oh.”
Red sighed in passing and stopped at the nightstand. He snatched open a drawer and pulled out…gummy worms?
“You want some?” He shook the bag and Max rounded to his side.
“Yeah, are they sour?”
“Nah, I shoulda got some sour ones.”
She dug into the bag with him and Low scratched his head, perplexed.
From guns to fucking candy?
“I got Jolly Ranchers, too.”
“I’ll take one,” Low said as he joined the duo and was given a handful of blue. “Man if you don’t take all these nasty ass blue things.”
Red chuckled. “You don’t like them either?”
“Hell nah.”
“I got cherry, watermelon, and peach left.”
“I’ll take cherry.”
“A man with good taste.”
Max smiled. “I want peach.”
This wasn’t exactly how Low saw the night going. But, he still ended it by sucking on something sweet.

This had to be the weirdest night of her life. Max went from shooting someone, assuming she was about die, to eating gummy worms. They were good though. With her palm out, Red dispatched a few peach Jolly Ranchers.
“Thanks. Now I really feel bad about shooting you. I didn’t mean to though.”
“You distinctly said you aimed to kill me.”
She snorted. “I mean yeah, sure, but people say a lot of shit in the moment.” Max peeped his boredom and tried not to laugh, but failed.
“What’s so funny?”
She was small and they were too close, which meant, her neck almost cracked looking up at Jaxon.
“Nothing, mind yours.”
“Give my damn candy back, since you wanna be rude.”
“No.” She frowned and backed up, “It’s mine now.” she twirled the peach candy open and grinned.
“You ready, shorty?”
“Yeah.”
She heard Jaxon sigh as his larger than life frame plopped onto the chaise. Popping the treat in her mouth, Max couldn’t help but notice his eyes. The spooled gold glinted as he stared at her. Or studied them more like it. She shrugged and glanced at Low who nudged his chin towards the door.
“What happened to our plans?” Jaxon asked, in a deep guttural tone that garnered her attention.
“I’m sorry?” She clacked her tongue ring against hardened sugar and sucked on it to keep from talking.
“What about you, Low?”
She cut to her lover as he smiled with a mouth full of golds. “Uh, I don’t uh…I figured that was off the table. Cause you know…”
“Because?” Red smirked. “Because I got shot? Thing is, about that, it ain’t real if somebody don’t bleed first.”
Max’s breath hitched. She hacked and swallowed the candy by accident. Oh god, he was a nut job, sexy as shit, kinda scary, but not. Those arms…he should be in the woods, swinging an axe. And why was his nose pierced like that?
Jaxon bore into her as his broad chest awakened her curiosity.
“Low, maybe—”
“You a special kinda horny, Red. And any other night I’d maybe—”
“Why you acting like a pussy all of a sudden? You’ve been talking a lot of shit, Elliot.”
Low chuckled and relaxed against the wall, eyes narrowing. “Don’t go there with me. You an old male who can’t keep up with this here.” Licking his lips, Low shook his head. She needed popcorn and glass of wine. “Plus, I doubt you’ve even been with a man, you’ve ignored every pass I have made. I don’t need no curious dick in my life. I been there with straight men, and ain’t never going back.”
Jaxon shot to his feet. Max backpedaled, clearing a path.
He pointed at Low and beamed. “Outta you two, I thought she was the hardest to convince. But it’s you, ain’t it?”
They met eye to eye damn near and stood inches apart. Max swallowed, tingling with envy.
“You’re reading me all wrong, Low. Yes, I am old. Very. So it should come at no surprise that I have never been or will be, straight.”
Oooo come on now. Jaxon yanked up Lows shirt and snatched the gun free. His scent rolled in waves, and overwhelmed the humid murkiness from outside.
It pulsated and thickened as he shoved the pistol under Low’s chin.
“Uh oh.” Max whispered. She had to do something, what if Jaxon lost it.
“I’ve sucked more bureaucratic dick than years you have been alive. I’ve fucked more men than you have, and that’s a certainty. If you ever, put a gun to my head again, it’ll be the last thing you do on this earth.”
Her breath came in pants, and thighs trembled. She watched, wanting what they had. Max inhaled a lung full and swayed. Their scents were an aphrodisiac. Low’s stoicism, and unwavering eye contact made her pine for some attention. Max had always been greedy and needy, this wasn’t their first threesome. They had them all the time. Men, women, shit…all genders, no genders.
It was open season and she hated being left out.
Jaxon smirked, his free hand tunneled around and Low hissed. “Violence is the vampire equivalent of Viagra, is it not? And you, Ms. Bissette!” She flinched when he turned around, pistol aimed at her. “What you wanna do to me now?”
“I dont know.”
“Liar.”
“I just—”
Jaxon stood before her; the tallest of redwoods. Thick, aged, and majestic. Arms like fat boughs and tresses of burning fall leaves.
“The only thing you need to understand, Max, is that I want you. Not later, not tomorrow. But right now.”
His scent invaded, coiling within the walls of her swollen pussy. She wanted to ask why and what made her so special as a lowly halfbreed.
Fuck allat.
Max dropped her bag and whimpered. “Whatever you say Re—Oh shit!” Jaxon picked her up with one arm, and next thing she knew her back met the wall so hard a panting fell.
He growled and snarled, “You got a loud ass mouth, and I wanna hear that shit too.”
“What?”
Lord knows how, or when he removed her pants, but he had. And god damn, they lied! Everybody who said white boys were small, they were liars straight from the pits of hell! Max gasped only for her lungs stall as he broke through and slipped…better yet, rammed his dick into her guts.
“Oh my god!”
“Yeah, I am your god now.” His lips whispered against hers. “Now say sorry.” He purred, starting a deadly motion. “Tell me you sorry, Max.”
“I’m so—”
He didn’t let her speak, using those lush lips, Jaxon kissed her like a furious, starving beast. The force came second to the ache between her legs.
Sensations erupted as he filled her out.
Flexing around him, her pussy stretched and accommodated. Nipples tingled and skin tightened while she tasted and teased.
Max begged for it, and mewled, arching and opening.
As he tore away, she stared into a golden lake of desire and heaved.
“You want it now, huh?”
“Yea.”
One thrust and she bucked.
“Fuck!” Max cried.
“Hold on tight, now.”
She should have taken his word for it, ’cause not even a second later, he gripped her thighs and ravaged Max up against the wall. Mean, and thorough, he eased in and pulled out in such a way that everything shook loose.
Her brain rattled, lamps dared to tip over, and her pussy creamed around his girth. Digging nails into his shoulders, she clutched with pangs of lust riding her raw.
“Oh shii—waiiii—I’m ’bouta cum! I’m gonna cum I swa-” He choked her. Blocking airways, the slut tore her shit down. He was unkind with knitted brows, fangs, and a bitter snarl. She wasn’t used to this at all, but on the cusp of a release eyes rolled.
He touched her ribs and grunted.
The marrow-melting friction intensified and twisted into a prickling ball that threatened her sanity. His claws scored her flesh as thrusts quickened, causing her hold to slip.
Jaxon used Max’s pelvis as a stress reliever.
“I’m sorrry, I’m sorryyyy, shhhit! I’m sorrrry,” she wailed.
He destroyed her insides and mixed them guts.
Max was about to go ape shit.
Ready to beg and plead, pleasure consumed her.
Mind and body were held hostage by an orgasm, a reckoning that made her scream. She wanted mercy and for him to keep going. “Ughnnghh-uhhhhgghghh-” She growled through growing fangs and moaned. Max returned his ruthlessness with a vicious eye. The ass hole was grimey with his dick. He didn’t even know her like that.
Motha Fucka.
“Put. Me. Down.” She gritted the words because this wasn’t right. The male was flush, and reddened by what he’d done.
Prick.
“I sa—”
He rolled his hips and she whimpered.
“I think we understand how things go now, don’t we?”
“Yes! Now let me down.” She snapped and wanted to spit in his face. The big fine red-haired monster withdrew and hissed.
“Why the hell are you so tight, ma’am?”
“Kegals and vinegar, bitch.”
He growled and wrapped a big hand around her neck. “You wanna do this again?”
“Not yet, share the wealth. God damn. Up off me”
Sliding down the wall, she landed on the floor, and leaned. Max stumbled into the nightstand; he helped her upright.
“I’m fine.” Max had to have some dignity here. “I can walk.” She retrieved her pants, looked at Low and tried not to blush or cry. Her man was undone and fidgety. His leg bounced as he gave a tight smile.
“Woooow, look at the time.” Low feigned a yawn and stretched. Max giggled while he punked out.
“I know you are not…” She sputtered as Red turned and stared at her homie, lover, friend.
Low shook his head. “It’s late, it’s getting late—you wanna go, Max?”
She was unimpressed. “No.”
“I think I’m tired, though. Feel a headache coming on.”
“Don’t look like it.” Red added. Low’s strong man was standing at attention. If Max had to suffer a god damn beat down then it was only fair if he suffered with her.

AB couldn’t think straight, the room went on a little spin and there were two men sitting in the chair instead of one. Her scent was on his tongue. It stained his skin while her cream was left to rest upon cooling flesh.
His heart rate decreased and body stiffened. After such a sublime release AB should have been ready to pass out, but nah. He wanted the other half.
His hunger hadn’t been sated quite yet. Low’s cocoa brown lips and stormy eyes beckoned.
“You running from this dick already?” AB asked.
“Fuck you, bruh”
“By all means, please.” AB hissed.
Low covered the smiled that curled his precious mouth. If he didn’t move quick, AB was about to lay the little one out ‘til she collapsed from overexertion.
“You know what? I don’t even got no glide on me. I don’t eve—”
“I got it,” Max cut in with the save. She hefted her satchel and rifled through it. What she pulled out made AB happy as hell.
“What were you saying?”
Low’s lips thinned, glaring at Max. “Baby, why you got that in your purse?”
“Cause you never know when you’ll need lube, and look. We need it.”
She smiled and gave a thumbs up. This woman had nerve, being so god damn sexy and cute at the same time. AB shrugged and rounded to the other side.
“Excuses aren’t gonna help you here, Low.” AB pulled a hair tie from his pocket and did what he had to do. With tresses bound, he smirked. “How about I help you relax?”
Low’s brows popped. “Uh, I mean, yeah. Sure—if you comforta—ooooookay.”
AB wasn’t a perfectionist per say, but he figured, if you were gonna do anything, give it your absolute best. And in many avenues of his life, the motto acted as motivation.
Dropping to his knees, he shoved Lows legs apart and clawed at his waistband. “Boxers, seriously? You’re wearing gray sweat pants.”
“I’m Conservative. I ain’t out here being a slut, okay.”
AB snarled and yanked on his pants, boxers followed. Classless. He’d never wear a second layer with grays. Irritation faded when Low’s solid shaft bobbed free.
AB’s own dick danced again at the sight of this males blessed endowments.
Low grunted and scooted forward. “Go ‘head and ease my stress.”
Velvety and thick. AB clutched him and watched the response with bloated arrogance. Low bit down on his lip and bucked. His excitement glistened on the blunt head, tempting AB like another type of candy.
He flicked at it with the tip of his tongue, making Low grunt. The musky, earthy flavor lingered and he wanted more. He started at the base and laved.
There was a lot of ground to cover. Teasing the spot just below his head made Low groan and grip the fluffy armchair.
Glutinous and impatient, AB kissed the tip and devoured him slowly.
He jutted, encouraging action. Cradling his heavy set, AB worked with caution. He improved suction and massaged the males heavy sac.
“Ohhh fuuuuuck,” Low choked out a response. The sound pleased AB immensly. He wanted to hear it again. Committing to the motion, he used skill and speed. Simultaneous actions created a rhythm most couldn’t keep up with. The twist of his neck, an embracing tongue worked in unison with a tight grasp.
AB added flair and swallowed the head. He slid down, into his throat. “Shit!” Low’s bark would have made him smile, if his mouth weren’t full.
AB put in that work. Up and down, deep and suffocating. His gag reflex was non existent. Eons, fuckin’ centuries of giving head secured his status as a deep throat champion.
Spiraling and tugging, caressing and sucking, AB kicked it into fifth gear, forcing Low’s head to fall back. Pleasure raked through them both. Watching someone cum because of him—a hand.
Oh shit!
A warm palm wrapped around him and worked vigorously. He moaned with Low deviling deeper and didn’t stop. Pressing on, AB performed to perfection. Thanks to Max, his neck game grew nasty as she jerked him the fuck off. Slick and heated, he saw stars as Low’s nails scraped his scalp, the male grunted and used him up.
With Max down below and Low taking control, he fucked his throat and came with a curse. A nano second later, AB’s desire boiled over and erupted. His body listed, and if it wasn’t for Low, he would have melted into the floor.
“Get the fu—”
The male withdrew with a pop and shot upward, pulling AB with him.
AB smiled, spun around, and fell face first onto the mattress.
Ass up and face down, he spread wide and enjoyed the sensation of the gel on his booty hole. Max appeared in his line of sight, grinning. “Hope you enjoy this.”
“I want you in my mou—Ohhhh, yesss!”
Low stretched him with ease. No prep needed, AB old and well versed. The glorious sensation sent chills through his body. Spurts of pain paled in comparison to striking bolts of pleasure. He shivered and arched until Max appeared.
And dear heavens…her pussy was fat, sloppy, sexy as hell and wet as rain. She opened and flexed her pretty pink slit.
“Damn it!” He shouted at both her plump petals and Low’s dick, stroking him just right.
AB hissed and plundered her folds. Slippery as fine as silk, he ran over her clit with his eager tongue. Her preening flooded airways, and amplified his heightened nerves. “God Low, you fuck like a grandp—“ He slapped his ass and impaled him.
AB gasped and received a second thunder clap, then third.
Dining on Max had become difficult once Low’s motion began. He rocked the boxspring, the headboard, and peeled his fuckin’ guard back. AB ground his molars and welcomed the beating.
Low growled like a full grown vampire and yanked on his hair. That was a no go and he’d pay for it later. AB was too busy with trying to breathe as his head dropped, resting on Max’s thigh.
The female tweaked her own pearl and rolled her hips.
Oxygen stalled as his body tensed and Low pummeled his prostate.
The world vanished.
All AB heard was Max come while Low’s release spilled inside of him.
His orgasm came with white hot rage, AB roared. Shaking bottles on the bar, they exploded as he was immersed into another round of delirium.
“My turn!” Max yelled. Shirts and her bra flew across the room. In a haze, AB admired the tat on her chest. It was fucking beautiful. So was the skull covering the expanse of Low’s back.
On the verge of coming again, he watched as the male stretched her supple walls. AB was prepared to sleep in the wet spot if need be. HFS, what he received was unfamiliar and uncommon. After many years of fucking, he knew every sensation. Before, during and after. The shit rarely changed, but this felt weird, different even. He wasn’t too sure if he liked the startling realization.
With marrow running hot and legs shaking, he was left to cool.
To harden like a well used wash rag.
Low peeked over his shoulder and said, “Gimmie what she got.”
AB chuckled, though unsure. “I don’t know if she can—”
“I’m a goddamn vampire, too! Put it—put—oh hhhhh, Lowww, I want it! Put that weight on me.”
She cried as the male stirred them guts.
“Fine with me.”
After grabbing the lube, he did the honor of covering Low’s fat ass. Oh god, he had stretch marks. AB made a disgusting noise as he played in the silicone-based liquid. “Neither of you will leave here in one piece.”
They ignored his promise, but would soon realize how serious he was.