Category: fiction

Chapter 8: Brunch and Buck

Jasper

Waking at 2pm wasn’t bad. In fact, Jasper loved it. She figured later was best when on vampire time. After a lovely bath in a clawfoot tub, she marched out onto the porch and settled in the adorable swing. Typically, she listened to music and stitched, but with a natural symphony, she opted not to. This new kind of peace was jarring and yet, wonderful.
No matter the time of day their land enchanted her. Sheep, goats, and chickens of various sizes grazed as their canine wardens played with each other. Jasper focused on her project and fed the needle through crisp linen. She poked and pulled with a light hand, listening to birds sing their favorite tune.
It was beautiful up here, above ground, on land. Undervell didn’t have blue jays or robins. They had Tarlickers, Scorgefolls, and Stingburrs. The avian creatures resembled lizards more than anything else. The dust bird thing from last night reminded her of them, only without feathers and beaks.
Jasper smiled at the hint of sweet and woody. She drove the needle through and looked up to find Buck Sunside to her immediate right.
He leaned on the railing and laughed. “Well I’ll be god damn, that’s a unicorn riding a phallus.”
Jasper showcased her artwork and said, “It’s a commission.”
“Ain’t the wildest thing I’ve seen.”
“I bet.”
“So it’s true. You got the sewing bug, too. Shiiit. Some nights I wake up with a pin in my hair and thread in the crack of my ass.”
She stifled an ugly giggle and considered Buck for half a second. Sleeves rolled high like slut, Stetson tilted just so. He belonged on the red carpet, congregating with movie stars who looked like him. Burnished brown skin, full lips, and a black silk stare probably pulled them all within minutes.
“I wanted a hobby and found one,” Jasper said, petting embroidered knots. “You have no idea the type of shit people ask me for.”
“Oh yes, I do.” Buck slapped solid wood and set his sights beyond. “One time, somebody asked Nieema to make a quilt using their own hair and snake skin.”
“Whaaat?”
“Yeah. Old man Joyner. He live up in the mountains. Hermit. You know the type. Few bolts loose but sweet.”
“Ah.”
She hadn’t met a hermit and never wanted to. Refocused on her stitch, Jasper heard his heavy boots climb steps and clomp across the porch. She held her breath as he plopped down next to her without asking. This was, technically his house. His property.
Jasper wasn’t shy, especially around men, but Buck’s soul was dark, whereas his scent was sweet as cane sugar.
She’d like a nibble.
“I hear you lived in the capital?”
“I did.”
“For how long?”
His voice was a problem all its own.
“Nine years.”
Buck high whistled, snatching her attention. She checked on the smiling man and bit her tongue. He lounged with arms splayed and legs wide open. Arrogance wafted, and Jasper nearly took the bait, but she was stronger now. Staring wasn’t going to do a damn thing but piss her off a bit.
“I suppose,” Jasper chimed, “people fawn over you. They trip and fall. Maybe even faint. But you’re not as sly as you believe yourself to be. Have you forgotten that I’m a succubus? An old one who can sense your arousal half a mile out.”
Buck chuckled and shook his head. “Well, since you know then we clear on what is I want.”
“The answer is no. You can’t have it.”
“Fair enough.” He tipped his hat and reached into his pocket for a pack of gum. “I respect boundaries and I respect people.”
Jasper watched him shove a strip of cinnamon between his white teeth and wanted to bite him.
He respected boundaries?
She was befuddled by Buck’s quick acceptance. Men, especially male demons, rarely gave a shit about womens boundaries.
“Listen, I came by cause there’s some business you gotta handle. Papers and contracts to sign. I’m gonna take you on down to the office.”
“Oh, nice. Let me—“
“Jasper?” Kit called, stepping outside in an apron covered with flowers and flour. “Brunch is served. Hello, Buck. What a pleasant surprise. Would you like to join us?”
Buck snapped gum, checked his watch, and laughed. “I mean, sure, you’ll never see me turn down free food. But sir, you’re a few hours late for brunch.”
“Seeing as Jasper and I just woke, I’d say it’s a perfect time.” Kit clapped and ran inside. “This is exciting!”
Buck looked to Jasper and squinted. “How scared should I be?”
“In Undervell, he’s pretty good with a brick oven, but some of our ingredients are… weird. This is his first time making land dweller food.”
“Shit,” Buck grumbled. “I already committed, so I reckon there ain’t no turning back.”
“You can change your mind.”
“Hell no. I’m a man of my word.”
Jasper followed Buck inside, though in no hurry. She put her project in the basket near the sofa and examined the table. It didn’t look bad. Most of Kit’s offerings were standard.
“What we have is French toast, peach and cream crepes, fatty meats, and eggs from those chickens outside. I did have quite the adventure trying to collect them from various hiding places. Some of the ladies attacked me. They are quite feral.”
They both found a seat at the table and grabbed a plate.
“This looks amazin’, Kit,” Buck announced.
“Why, thank you! I don’t understand your measurement system well, but tutorials helped.”
Jasper adored how Kit straightened and beamed with pride. No one had ever cared about his mess in the kitchen. Their father said cooking was for lesser demons, not a Carriont heir.
After loading her plate, Jasper cut into the French toast and sampled it. Kit rushed over with his journal and bumped his knee as he tried to sit.
The old coot was nervous and at the ready with a pen.
“Tell me. You hate it? What’s bad? Does it taste bland or rancid? I tend to enjoy a fermented bread soaked in onion juice.”
Buck coughed, and Kit gasped. Jasper giggled, noshing on a thick slice of the best French toast she’d ever had. And that wasn’t an exaggeration.
Buck sipped his milk and said, “Folks ‘round here don’t go talking about onion juices during breakfast. That’s sick. But I gotta say, this here is some mighty fine toast. Thick, coated just right, and sweet. Mm! I need me a plate to go.”
Kit scribbled in his journal and nodded. “What of the eggs?”
“Oh, uhhhhh.” Buck made a face. “Too salty, and you gotta take it easy on the pepper. We like spicy shit, but the eggs gotta be left alone.”
“Got it. No salt and—:
“Hold on now, I didn’t say that. I said, less, salt. There’s a difference.”
Jasper ran another piece of bread through a pool of maple syrup and said, “I agree. Too salty, but otherwise fantastic. You have outdone yourself, brother.”
“Also,” Buck cleared his throat and dabbed his lips with a napkin, “those ain’t our chickens. Them hens belong to Hank. And he’s not gon’ like you touching their eggs.”
Jasper smiled with a mouthful. Kit’s slate gray cheeks darkened as he frowned. “I didn’t see any in the chiller and I—“
“It’s in the storage bin on the bottom shelf, left-hand side, probably. Nieema loves to keep shit overly organized. Don’t ask me why. She buys a box or container for everything.”
“Sooooo, is that why none of the foodstuffs have packaging? Because I believe it’s a waste of time and actually—“
“I think it’s tidy,” Jasper interjected, defending Nieema’s organizational skills. “Labels would help, though. Last night I had a rough time finding the cheese.”
“That’s what I said,” Buck hollered. “But she don’t like labels. Says they’re ugly.” He shrugged and went in on his victuals.
For fifteen minutes, their trio chowed and finished every bite of Kit’s fare. Even the crepes were perfect. Jasper didn’t think her brother had been at the cooking thing for long, but perhaps she hadn’t paid enough attention.
Several burps and grunts later, Jasper slipped into a pair of sandals and fixed the bow on her head. She’d decided on a crocheted crop top and a fun ruffled skirt. After adorning each horn tip with rainbow caps, she grabbed her phone and skipped out the door.

Buck

Gods and devils, Jasper was the prettiest little thing dressed in purple and red. She had a smile that’d make the sun jealous, prancing toward him like a happy, carefree dame. One moment, Jasper stood tall as an impenetrable fortress; the next, she was soft as spring clouds during April showers.
“I’m ready,” Jasper said, twirling from side to side.
Buck laughed and started their journey back to the house. This woman was a doozy to read. He’d thought they wanted the same thing, and was wrong. Buck assumed he had this demoness figured out when, in fact, he didn’t. Nieema was spot on with Jasper. She was complex.
Environs shifted when they shared the same space but something gave her pause. Jasper’s eyes glittered and sparked talking to Nieema. Buck hadn’t imagined their interactions and attraction. It was there, but Jasper laid the cards flat and was honest. Full stop, she pumped the breaks and they had to accept it.
Nobody said they couldn’t be friends, though. Jasper looked like the kinda fun Buck enjoyed.
“What papers do I have to sign? Hope it’s not my soul.”
Buck cackled as their long legs gobbled up the trail. In no time, he spotted his car. “Isn’t that your thing?”
“Sometimes.”
“Seriously?”
He wiggled keys free from his pocket and stabbed the remote, unlocking doors.
“We only kill other demons. Make soul contracts with other demons. Not every demon can make someone give them jewels or wages. To be honest, most can’t do it.”
“You can.”
Jasper laid a sidelong stare on him and smirked. “Sure, but I don’t. Life’s no fun that way, trust me.”
He sighed and opened the door for her. Jasper was cute as a button and lived honorably. She was far too adorable, and he understood her hesitation. Succubi sniffed out souls like he tracked mint leaves. Buck wasn’t delusional about it, he was not everyone’s cup of sweet sun tea. And you couldn’t hide from a succubus.
Jasper saw straight through his countryside charm and manners.
“Click that belt, darlin’.”
“Cut the pet name shit.”
“Fine by me.”
He knew for a fact she liked it, but wouldn’t press. With Jasper tucked and secure, he revved the engine.
“Ohhhh, my goodness.” She giggled and cupped her mouth. “Do that again!”
He smashed the gas and Jasper exploded in more laughter. The minute he hit the highway she was gasping for air.
“I-I’ve never been in an old car.”
“Had her for seventy years.”
“Seventy?!”
“Mhm. Just swapped the block, tuned her right on up. Got some heated crystal core pistons under the hood now. Some say it kills the transmission, but I haven’t felt no change. Grant it, I ain’t no mechanic, but I know how Ursala rides.”
“I have no idea what the hell you said, but I love your car.”
Buck gripped the woodgrain and added twenty to the dash. Jasper’s smile remained for miles, and he was happy to be the cause. She liked his tunes and complimented his driving. Jasper was a chatterbox, and Buck had always been the listening sort.
“When are we going to start the demolition thing?” Jasper asked.
“Demo—woman, I don’t know what Nieema told you, but we won’t be doing that tonight. We have to survey first. Get an idea of what we can salvage and take a few measurements.”
Jasper deflated and pouted. She muttered and faced the window.
“Yeah, I know. Everybody gets excited about them sledgehammers.”
“I wanted to destroy something. It’d be a good stress reliever.”
“It sure is, but let’s handle the boring stuff first.”
She cocked a brow before rolling her big copper eyes.
Buck hit the exit and rumbled into town. Folks were out and about, mostly human. They got an early start to the day, nocturnal fae were just waking or sleeping in. Buck got about three-four hours, his Drendt side kept energized.
“Okay, here we are.” Buck parked in a near empty lot and locked up. “This shouldn’t take long. ‘Bout twenty. After, we’ll head to the house with Nordizach.”
“This is no fun at all.”
Buck snickered, allowing her entry first. Their construction firm was a two-story glass house. It looked like your everyday city office. Omari took charge some years back and redecorated. Buck thought it was pretentious and stuffy. They even had uniforms and company colors. It was bullshit but not his circus anymore. Yes, Buck and Nieema owned it but neither wanted the job after ten years of running the show.
Blue-collar gigs were not their bag, though they tried for some time. Good thing they had other, more lucrative streams of income.
Omari was quick on his feet with eyes fixed on Jasper. The ever-busy career-oriented male didn’t have time for a lady. According to his ex-wife, Omari was emotionally unavailable. Given how he tripped and stumbled from his office, he was up to no good. Buck quirked a brow as the man-child ran at them with his hand out.
“Hello, hi.” Omari’s smile touched his ears. Buck sighed as he tried to put on a show. “I’m Omari Sunside. What can I do for you?”
Jasper smirked, shaking the boys hand. She exchanged glances with them and hummed.
“Sunside, as in…”
“Hay, Pop.”
She giggled and reached for the glittering gold chains at her throat.
After a quick embrace, Buck got to the introduction.
“This here is Jasper, she just moved into that spot on Great Oaks.”
Omari smacked his teeth and said, “Cold-blooded. Hawke the Realtor?”
“Yeees?” Jasper posed the question, letting Buck know she’d been swindled.
“I bet Jack doesn’t know about this. That house is a death trap and is cursed.”
Jasper flinched. “Cursed? How?”
“No one who moves in stays.”
Buck nodded as she looked to him for confirmation. He didn’t think it was cursed, but rather a shit hole built on shit land. Most of the houses in that neighborhood needed foundational work year-round.
“It ain’t good land, is all. Hard upkeep.”
Omari sniffed and shook his head. “Jasper, if I were you, I’d hire pest control and go to a hotel.”
“Oh, no need. I’m staying at the Sunsides Inn.”
Buck caught her wry grin and popped brows. Omari, the tramp, slouched at the news. He knew damn well when folks found their way onto the ranch they were either going to fuck or had. Unless they were dignitaries or political figures from across The Frothing sea, of course.
Jasper was neither, so she was free to share sheets and sweat with Omari if she wanted. She blushed as if impressed. They yammered about the town, and Jasper asked him about places to eat and where to get fabrics. Nieema was the best to ask for the latter.
Buck cracked his gum, interrupting the fast friends, and said, “We came to see Yardi. Jasper got papers to sign, and I have a house to survey.”
“Alright, Pop.”
Buck embraced his son in a tight, comforting hug and ran a hand over his waves.
“Stop!”
“They need some love, my boy.”
“Leave me be. I’m losing sleep over this mall business.”
“I know it.”
Omari focused on Jasper and said, “It was nice meeting you, Jasper, and welcome to Indigo Plains. Watch it with this one, he’s trouble.”
“So am I.”
Jasper arched a brow and grinned. She was mischievous and sly. Buck knew it by how her eyes stuck to him. She might not want to, but she had thoughts. He was damn certain about that.
With a final wave, they separated, and Buck started the short journey. He banked right with Jasper at his side, still smiling.
“He’s your twin.”
“Ya think so? I always been told he look like his mama.”
“I see her, but he has your eyes and… air.”
“My air, huh?”
Jasper nodded, keeping them eyes ahead. He hummed, cracked gum, and scratched his jaw in confusion.
At their destination, Buck knocked on the glass, spooking Reese Yardi Muckerton. The fine fella was reading the contract he’d drawn up last night for what was sure to be the fifth time. Meticulous and detail-oriented, Yardi was an excellent project manager who memorized every word he typed.
“Hello, there.” Yardi shook Jasper’s hand and ushered them into his office. “It is great to meet you, Jasper. And welcome to Indigo Plains. I hope it’s treating you well.”
“Better than expected.”
“Love to hear it, please have a seat.”
Everybody grabbed a chair, and Buck removed his hat. He placed it on top of the man’s desk. It earned him a glare. To be funny, Buck left it there. Yardi snatched the folder from under the brown brim.
The human fiddled with his wire-frame glasses and said, “I’m sorry about your home. I don’t think anyone would have agreed to buying it if they were made aware of the damage.”
Jasper shrugged. “I went in knowing it was a fixer-upper. I just didn’t know to what degree. I overdid it. I do that sometimes, you know.”
Buck scoffed, and Yardi snorted. “Even so. We know Hawke. He saw easy prey and dove for the kill. He took advantage of you.”
“That’s what I keep hearing.”
Buck ground his molars at the show of Jasper’s nervousness. She went for them chains and gnawed on her lip. He wanted to pat her knee or rub her back, but it’d be wildly inappropriate. The urge was strong, though.
“That’s why we here,” Buck said. “To fix what we can.”
Reese wagged a finger and nodded. “Exactly, and Buck here knows how these things go. Jasper, you will here a bunch of construction talk, but don’t you fret, it’s to keep you safe. It’s to keep our workers safe and to ensure everyone can do their part. We will be going with a time and materials contract on this one.”
Buck propped a booted foot up onto his thigh and grumbled, “I know it. The place is a hellhole. Alls good. Tell me where to sign and I’ll start writing checks.”
“Wait.” Jasper butt-in. Her molten eyes sparkled and bulged some. She was shocked as hell. “What checks? You said it was free.”
“For you, yeah. But materials and labor ain’t free. I gotta pay these people. We’ll be doing most of the structural work, but I’m not an electrician or a plumber. I can pound nails, sand pine, and install drywall all day, but that’s far as I go.”
Jasper was set to refuse, but Buck saw it in her hardening expression.
“The Sunsides do this,” Yardi added. “You’re not the first. They take on a lot of projects and pay for them out of pocket. You’re one of hundreds they’ve saved, financially speaking.”
Reese gulped his coffee and sighed. He made great progress with Jasper. Her shoulders drooped, and so did her resolve. She still flicked at her jewels, but Buck knew they’d won.
“Trust me, Jasper, you want their help. The house, just from what I’ve seen in passing, tells me you’re looking at ten-twenty grand minimum. And I can only guess what the inside looks like.”
Jasper dropped her hand and said, “Fine. I don’t have two thousand, let alone twenty in my account. I’m not going to refuse. But I will figure out a way to pay you back.”
Buck chuckled and popped his gum. “Sure you will.”
“I will and don’t you dare doubt me.”
“Oh I don’t, but I didn’t ask for no reimbursement. And good luck getting that by my wife, she’ll blow a gasket.”
“I don’t care. It’s a lot of mone—“
“Moving along.” Buck stopped her there and inched forward, reaching for a pen. He’d started the business and knew most contract blabber well enough. “We gotta meet Zach at the house. Give her a quick rundown, Yardi. I’ll start signing.”

Daily writing prompt
What is your favorite holiday? Why is it your favorite?
View all responses

So, this is a tough question, but I love Halloween and Christmas equally. Halloween, because I was a witch turned vampire in a past life and love spooky shit. Halloween is a month-long holiday for me. And yes, the same goes for Christmas. I adore cozy things, sweets, and winter weather! Fuzzy socks, cocoa, crackling fires, and Christmas-themed monster romances become my entire persona for sixty whole days.

Chapter 7: Lemondrops

A little word before we begin. I want to add a few content warnings. This chapter is loaded with degradation and masochism. No, I am not an authority on BDSM but I have done my fair share of research. Which, I strongly encourage. Yes, books can be used as learning tools, but you will not find that here! Do not take anything I write to be law, it is fiction. And while yes, this is a fabricated world I cooked up, I want to say, I take consent seriously and in this case, without exception. BDSM isn’t about getting off on beating people. It’s not abuse, and it isn’t dark. It is meant to be something profoundly intimate between consenting adults. This lifestyle is about trust and communication. So, if the CWs didn’t scare you away, then by all means, read on. If by chance it’s not your thing, please skip this chapter. I will not take it personally.

Buck

Buck entered the house barefoot and smelled food. He gave thanks to the wife and found his plate in the microwave. Before stabbing start, he read the note she’d slapped on the fridge.
Meet you in the barn.
“Well shit, it’s my lucky day.” With his priorities set in stone, Buck wolfed down meatloaf, home fries, sage sausage, and cabbage. He chased every bite with a swig of honey beer and swallowed two slices of pistachio butter cake. “Imma need my strength.”
Full as a tick and feeling much like himself again, Buck crept into the early morning warmth and made certain to set the alarm. He wouldn’t be coming back. Still barefoot and indecent, he jogged across green pastures and headed for the barn. Buck waved at the sheep, hopped over micro goats, and nodded at James, the stubborn mountain goat.
James was a crotchety old fucker and loved to kick folks in the nuts. Why Hank put up with his shit was a mystery.
“What ya looking at, James?! Huh? Jealous?” He bleated and charged. “Get on with the bull!”
Buck sprinted for the rustic barn door and shimmied inside. He hooped in victory and slammed the barrier shut.
“Whew. What an asshole.”
“Go wash up and make it snappy.”
He grinned on the turn around and spied his lovely bride. Their barn wasn’t for animals or the sheep, but it was away from the house and out of earshot. It also provide them with enough room to play. They’d flipped the space twenty years back, turning it into a loft some called a dungeon.
Buck and Nieema knew what a dungeon felt like, smelled like, and had personal trauma tied to the cursed place. They would never call their love nest such a thing.
Buck eyed the regal woman who posed as any tyrannical queen might. She was impatient on her throne made of core timber and rattling steel. Nieema’s frigid stare promised overtime.
“You lucky I need some TLC.” Buck glared until he reached the bathroom. “Five minutes.”
“Three!”
He smiled and started the shower. Steam pillowed as Buck scrubbed rich soil, moss, and groundwater from his skin. He picked dirt from his claws and washed thorns from his hair. Sweet notes of the land never abandoned him, but he did his best. Not everybody enjoyed the smell of nature.
“Whatchu got for me, beloved?”
A man about his business and confident in his step, Buck exited the washroom, booty naked, and excited as ever. Like a good boy, he waited for instruction.
“Come sit,” Nieema said, patting the throne she’d vacated. “Let me nourish my love.”
Buck sighed and settled into the hard, pockmarked chair.
The punishment chair.
“I got your text.”
Pleasure sparked in his veins as hot droplets pelted his shoulders. Buck relaxed the moment Nieema touched him. Her deft fingers and strong grip loosened knots and kinks. Closing his eyes, he surrendered. It’d been a long night and he deserved this. While Nieema kneaded, she purred.
The familiar melody lulled and soothed. He’d grown to need it over the years. A song to usher him into heightened states of being. Nieema added pressure and caressed his throat, coating it in oil.
“I won’t let them take you from me,” she rasped. “If they even dare, I’ll pick them off, one by one. I swear it, on my soul. And those of our children. I will turn this valley red and sully the rivers with their viscera.”
Buck laughed at her dramatic ass.
“Ain’t I special?”
“You most certainly are. And everyone will know just how much if they cross me.”
Nieema nibbled on his ear, his jaw, and his clavicle. She kissed his nape and raked her nails over his scalp.
“Look at me,” Nieema demanded, circling around to face him.
Buck knew better than to disobey his queen. And matching her intense scarlet stare made him shiver. Dressed in her favorite gown from times past she was dignified elegance.
A choke collar, corset, and chandelier earrings. Maroon velvet, supple leather, and silk ruffles.
It’d be hell to remove but he’d rip that god damn bodice from her back when allowed.
Nieema lifted her sharp chin and sneered. He’d already told her what was on the menu this morning. His dick jumped and thighs spread in anticipation. Buck gripped armrests and squirmed. Her scent alone tempted a weak old man. She was soaked below the waist, and they both knew it.
“Pathetic,” Nieema chided, fishing for a treat between her breasts. Heavy and soft, they undulated as she dug. “Eyes front, Buckley! You vile worm!”
Buck whimpered and bit his bottom lip as she pulled the goods free. A cobalt glass glinted beneath humming overheads.
Nieema plopped down, her dress ballooning. She growled and popped the top as Buck rolled his hips, inviting the woman to stroke him. She scoffed and poured a potent mixture into her palm.
The blend of oils, dusts, and herbs scented the air. Allspice and rich, it pooled in her hand. Buck hissed the moment she clasped his bobbing length. He’d tried not to focus on it, delaying it was best for both parties.
Nieema’s tugging grip warmed. Buck moaned, watching her work him with lazy pulls. She was smart, keeping the head tucked away. Buck appreciated her skill and motion.
“I bet you want me to choke on it don’t you?” Nieema asked.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?!”
“Your majesty.”
“Too bad. You haven’t been good enough for that.”
She smirked, sliding from tip, to base, to balls. Nieema cupped them. She slathered slowly, massaged, and crushed.
Buck yelped and opened his legs wider. Pleasure and pain popped off, ricocheting from toes to crown.
His eyes rolled and asshole clenched. He went for his nipples and Nieema smacked his hand.
“You bet not! What a disgusting, disrespectful cunt you are!” He grunted as she added another hand and pressed two fingers against his taint. “How dare you try to touch yourself. I did not grant permission.”
“I’m sorry, your majesty.”
“All you want is a nut, you ain’t really sorry.” Nieema laughed, releasing his balls. “Yet.”
Buck panted as she snatched ropes and tightened knots. On his wrists, ankles, around his shaft, and his throat.
The oil soaked into his skin and forbade an orgasm. It halted the inevitable. Ever so close, lodged in his pelvis and stuck, he dropped into a realm of perpetual ecstasy.
The only cure was for Nieema to feed from him. She’d suck the magical substance from his blood and it’d be her turn for about an hour. It had the opposite effect on her, however, and thank gods.
“I want to hear you say it,” Nieema commanded. “Say, ‘I’m a vile wretch who deserves punishment’.”
“I—I—“ The promise of an orgasm wrenched his sac and evaporated within seconds. “I’m—“
She slapped his thigh with the cane, causing endorphines to flood his system, only to be smothered. Buck writhed in his favorite chair and peered into his wifes seeking eye. Nieema Struck Buck again, and he belted a curse.
“I’m a vile wretch who deserves punishment!”
“Sickening how you blither and bow at my feet.”
Nieema flicked his nipple and ventured across the barn. He watched her rifle through drawers and groaned as another almost orgasm rocked his brain loose.
“Ya Majesty, please. Gimme somethin’ anytin’. A kiss a—“
“Hell nah!”
He tried to arch and failed. The magic was working up into his ass now and dear gods he moaned her name.
“Pig!” Nieema belted, whacking him with the cane yet again. The pleasurable streak of pain sent a heat flare to his core. Buck gasped, eyes darting to the back of his head. Sweat beaded on his skin as Nieema pinched his nipples with her needle-like claws.
Buck barked a cuss. “Yes, your majesty! Gods! Pleaaaase.”
“You look quite sad and small doing all this begging.” She yanked each nipple until they split. Hot blood dripped and streamed down his belly.
“Shiiiiiit, I—“
Nieema added clamps to the bleeding nubs and licked him clean. Buck lost all sense of self. The pinch and throb worked quick, calling a would-be release to the surface. He shouted and yanked at the restraints when it scurried away.
“God damn, gooood damn.”
“Foul mouth gets you nothin’. Piece of shit peasant.”
“Unnghhh…”
Degradation, humiliation, and masochism was his balm. Buck had lived for many, many years with folks tiptoeing around him. He didn’t sit on a throne or attend balls, but he was born from gold and crowns. To the public, he was more than just a construction worker, a handyman, a gardener, a stable boy, or a dishwasher. He’d never asked nothing from nobody but they acted as if he’d hung the stars.
Folks never said nothing bad about Buck and treated him like tissue paper. He was surrounded by yes men who had the same holes in their shoes as he did.
Something about pain and humiliation set him straight. His dark sided nature begged for it.
Nieema was the first woman to accept such vulnerability, and as she smacked him with the cane, he fell in love with her for the thousandth time. There was no one he trusted more than the lady who insulted him.
Blow after blow, Buck shivered and shouted for more. Nieema often made him beg for ten welts. He relished in her control and attention.
She inched down to her knees and bit the inside of his thigh, never drawing blood. She wouldn’t drink, only tease. Nieema degraded Buck and scratched his chest. He loved the fuck out of her and growled the moment her fangs penetrated his slick flesh. He moaned at the feel of lips and screamed his obedience.
Sweat cascaded and gathered in his thick thatch of forest green curls, settling under his ass.
When the room grew too chilly and his nuts hiked for the tenth or fifteenth time, Buck roared.
“Lemondrops! Motha fuckin lemon…drops!”
He laughed and sniveled as Nieema dropped the cane. She hurried off and returned bearing gifts. Buck sat there as the wife kissed his forehead and removed clamps with a gentle hand.
“Awww, look at my man.”
“Yeah, you fucked me up.”
Nieema giggled, massaging his nipples. She added a numbing cream and kissed the scratches on his neck. Her aftercare was top-notch and above reproach. She dried him and untied knots. The lack of rope and pain did nothing to douse his need for her.
Nieema was careful with his hardened shaft. She uncoiled the length of hemp and nylon slowly. He grunted at the freedom and the desire to come.
“You smell like you want somethin’ nice,” Buck said.
“I don’t know what that could be, Mr. Sunside.”
She lifted that heavy skirting and straddled him. with Nieema perched on her knees, warmth and fuzz grazed his dick. She rocked, and Buck dipped under and then between. He clutched himself and tugged, revealing his weeping tip.
His damp head kissed her lips.
Buck shifted and winched under her strength. Nieema sunk fangs into his throat and sucked. She pulled at his vein and with it, lust. Undiluted and untamed a fire of desire blossomed in his soul. With zero finesse, he punched hips upward and impaled his wife.
Her muffled scream was glorious, and so were her tight walls. She clothed and bathed. Nieema’s body fit around him like a fine-tailored suit. He had girth more than length and she was often sore, but god damn he took care of her aches afterward.
Buck wrapped arms around her soft, pliant form and rutted.
Nieema detached from his neck and cussed his name. She was soaked through. Her luxurious honey coated his nuts and created a mess. Their connection was obscene. A symphony of quick claps and leaking waters.
“Buuuuuck,” Nieema cried as she clung to his shoulders. “You—damn—ugh!”
“I know it,” Buck panted. “You right there. Let it go for me, baby. Gimme what I come for!”
He dug her out and wasn’t to keep a lady waiting. He shifted and arched.
Nieema belted his name again and scored his shoulders. Pleasure coursed through him in waves and battered his senses.
Blood, vanilla, and moss entered his lungs with each sawing breath.
She cast a spell on him and clenched. Buried to the hilt and pummeling her, he was eager.
Nieema erupted, but Buck continued onward as she gushed. He fucked her raw. Growling and yanking on her perfect braids. Buck snapped her head to the side and kissed the supple curve of her breast.
“Agaiiin, Buck, I’m bouta—fuck me babyyy! Yes!”
His control vanished with the taste of her skin. She was decadent and pure. Gentle yet deadly.
Grace and power.
Her pussy convulsed, snatching Buck by his soul and sac. They howled like starving beasts in the night and came as one.
Buck collapsed in his chair while Nieema trembled against his chest. He covered her damp forehead with kisses and rubbed her back. She laughed, which in turn made him cackle.
“I like the pathetic worm bit,” Buck said, holding tight and pulling out.
He could and would sleep inside of her. They’d done it on more than one—two—ten occasions.
“I wanted to get creative.”
“That you did, baby. I loved it.”
She sighed and wiggled. “This dress is so goddamn bothersome. You know what? I dusted it off and thought it’d be nice, you know? Why in the hell did we ever wear this shit?”
“I think you look fine as wine. Mm!”
Nieema sat upright and tweaked a brow. “How are you gon’ get me outta this thing? I got about five layers and my habits keeping your from these luscious tiddies.”
Buck went at the velvet and leather like they’d pissed in his grits. He tore the fucker loose and her marvelous breasts jiggled, thanks to Nieema’s crackling laughter.
“Now, if I wanted to ruin it, I woulda done so. You old fool!”
“I need these tiddies free.”
Buck held a generous breast in both hands and latched onto her nipple. His wife shouted, and he stood, heading straight for the bed upstairs.

Chapter 7: Welcome To Indigo Plains

Jasper

Before moving to Indigo Plains, Jasper hadn’t researched the town much. Kit had been right; it was an impulsive purchase but a needed one. She knew Indigo Plains operated mostly at night, with its large nocturnal population and all. With three schools, one hospital, and a tight-knit fae community, Jasper figured there wasn’t much to it.
Their delivery run proved her wrong. Sure, Indigo Plains lacked high rises and an urban symphony, but it was rich with life. Far from a sleepy town, pedestrians crowded the sidewalk. Bodies spilled from a rowdy bar, and a group of teenage satyrs laughed into a busy cinema.
Everyone Jasper encountered was kind and quick to introduce themselves. The shops and eateries were packed. There wasn’t a piece of trash in sight. And she hadn’t tripped over a rat or stumbled on a beer bottle.
The air on Great Oaks Street was sweet and savory. The aroma snared her. A food stand in front of Zarbies bakery gathered their attention.
“Oh, hay now!” Nieema doubled back and inhaled with dramatic flair. “These are Nana Fosters’ famous meat pies. Flaky dough filled with salted pork, spices, and extra cheese.”
“Where can we pay?” Kit asked. Quick to spend money he didn’t work for. “Where can—”
“These are samples. She puts them out at the end of every night. We’re coming up on two am, she’s about done.”
“Soooo…” Kit clutched his new journal, waiting for Nieema’s answer.
“Go ahead, sir! They free.”
“Excellent.”
Jasper loved free food and wouldn’t pass on this. The first buttery bite made her sag. She shook her head and grumbled with a bulging cheek.
“This is—“ Kit lost his tongue and moaned. “I can’t think of anything else. I want a basket full.”
“Well, most order by the dozen.” A gentle smile and eyes greeted them. “Hello, there. You must be new in town.”
The fairy elder with pastel pink curls and gauzy wings fluttering at her back hobbled over and extended a hand.
Jasper accepted the salutation with thanks. “Jasper, it’s nice to meet you, ma’am. This is my brother, Kit.”
The man waved, smiled, and chewed.
“I’m Nana Foster, and these here are my Poppin’ Patties.”
“They are positively delightful,” Jasper admitted, her finger itching to grab another.
“You know me, Nana.” Nieema winked and said, “I’ll take two-dozen. Add ten more for my friends here.”
“Now, why are you two hangin’ with this troublemaker?”
The women cackled and hugged, Nieema patting her back on the pull away.
“I may be trouble, but I’m the best kind.”
“You know better than to lie to me, girl!” Nana Foster slapped Nieema’s arm with a towel. “How’s that mall business going?”
“You know, going.”
Jasper witnessed the elder darken, her jovial nature evaporated.
“I never wanted no strip mall. I didn’t vote for it.”
“Ninety percent of y’all did, and Bobbi had to be fair, Nana. He—”
“It ain’t gonna do nothin’ but bring mess and take our business.”
“You know we’re loyal. Indigo Plains will not turn its back on you.”
Nana sniffed and snapped her towel. “Yeah, until a mighty big-name cookie shop promises something new.”
“A cookie establishment will not have these delectable treats, Nana Foster.” Kit gave a curt nod and plucked another pastry.
“Two per mouth.” Nana quirked a brow and her hip.
Jasper nearly choked as Kit grimaced and put the pie back. Demons had elders too, and knew better than to cross them.
“Well Nana,” Nieema piped, “I’ll be by to pick up the order tomorrow. We gon’ get on the good foot. I gotta get supper started.”
“I know, feed those babies.”
“They’re grown!”
“Grown as a sapling.”
Nieema bid Nana farewell and Jasper did the same. The elder pinched Kit’s cheek and he gleamed. The display was erroneous. He’d never let a soul touch his face, let alone a stranger. Then again, Kit appealed to an elders nurturing side. It could be his features and stature.
“She’s nice,” Jasper announced. “Everyone is nice. It’s nothing like Misthill.”
“You stayed in the capital?” Nieema asked, clearly astounded. “Girl, six-million people is too many for me. The hustle of the city isn’t my favorite.”
“I think you’d fit in well,” Jasper said, stopping at her truck.
“However do you mean?”
“Your attire is…”
“What? You ‘spected boots, a cottage dress, and pigtails?”
“Maybe. your husband is a stereotypical cowboy.” Jasper traveled from Nieema’s neat and tidy box braids to the tips of her buckled boots. “Y’all are polar opposites.”
“You know what they say ‘bout opposites, don’t ya?”
For the third time on this wee early morning Nieema opened the door for Jasper. It was sinful how heat flared upon her cheeks and spread. The little woman caused a scene and Kit giggled climbing into the backseat.
Jasper claimed passenger and grinned at the wily vampire. “Are you this chivalrous with everyone?”
“Only those I deem worthy. Buckle up!”
Nieema slammed the door and was quick about hitting the gas. Weird, disjointed music filled the amicable silence.
“What is that raucous?” Kit asked. “It’s offensive and vile!”
“Skat jazz.”
Jasper boomed with laughter because this shit didn’t fit Nieema either. “You’re a strange, perplexing woman, Mrs Sunside.”
Nieema popped a shoulder. “So I’ve been told.”
“Jazz, quilts, and a cowboy husband? You’re two steps away from front-running a death metal band with electric blue hair and black nails. Can’t say it doesn’t suit you, however..”
“I know you can’t, tuhuh! I look damn good.”
“What melody is death metal?” Kit tapped Jasper on the horn. “Will I like it?”
“Think Core Dread.”
“Yuck! I hate it already.”
Nieema smiled, eyes on the road. Headlights illuminated her glossy, tailored brow, the curve of her nose, and the sharp point of her fangs.
“So,” Nieema began, “I think we should go over what we’ll be doing tomorrow.”
“With my house?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“What can be done?”
“For now? Survey and demolition.”
Jasper winced. “I’m sorry, what? Demolition?”
“It’d be doing you a favor,” Kit murmured, not minding his own business.
“At least it’s mine, and Father didn’t acquire it for me.”
“Well, just so you—that’s… I refuse to stoop.”
Nieema chuckled as if something amused her. Jasper failed to see what she had. A demolition was the exact opposite of what Jasper wanted.
“What do you mean by—“
“Calm down, woman. Damn. Listen, in order to rebuild, we must destroy first. The floor is rotten. The walls are crawling with mold. The wiring is faulty, and there probably ain’t no repairing the pipes. Everything must go, then, renovations.”
“Oh, okay. So then I’ll need a hammer and such.”
“Girl, you gon’ need a sledgehammer.”
“Sledgehammer?!” Kit bellowed. “I have a war hammer much like it. Can I help? Can I demolish?”
“Sure,” Nieema said, mid-giggle. “But you’ll have to be fitted with safety gear first.”
“We’ll be wearing armor too? This place isn’t as ab as I thought. First, the bean casserole, then home and goods, meat pies, and now, I get to wield a hammer!”
Jasper loved her brothers enthusiasm and thirst for violence. He was the Dukes favorite thanks to his appetite for war. She didn’t buy it, though. Kit had been molded by their patriarch. He walked the path Carriont paved and ached for approval. Countless children and Jasper was the first to leave.
“What are we gonna do now?” Jasper asked.
“I’ll throw dinner on the table, then call it a night.” Nieema parked in the driveway, gathered her satchel, and slipped out of the truck. “You can mosey about under my roof if you’d like.”
They followed her lead and retrieved Kit’s wares. Jasper had only bought herself a few necessities, whereas Kit, went apeshit on cat toys, journals, and sheet sets.
Nieema’s comment wasn’t a suggestion, but an invitation. The roll of her tongue spoke where she had not.
“Think I’ll catch a rain check on dinner.” Jasper glanced at her yawning brother, then studied the gorgeous farmhouse. “I don’t operate on a nocturnal schedule yet. I’m tired as hell.”
“If you change your mind, let me know.”
“I will.”
Nieema’s carmine appraisal remained for three seconds too long. “Hope so, ‘night y’all.”
“Goodnight, madam,” Kit said. “Thank you for the outing. I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun.”
The vampire frowned. “I wouldn’t call working fun, but you’re welcome. If you wanna see some real fun, I’ll show you. We’ll make a night of it.”
“Excellent.”
With a wink and wave, Nieema jogged into her home. Jasper groaned as her head dropped. She kicked pebbles and muttered.
“I think she likes you,” Kit remarked, stating the obvious.
“Thanks for the news. Come. Let’s get drunk on berry wine and watch Head Chef.”
“Head Chef?” Kit’s lilac stare brightened and sparkled with glee. “Is it like Cooked and Charred?”
“No. It’s more like Bottom Flame Kitchen.”
“Nice. Watching land dweller shows is technically research. I’d loved to learn more about their cuisine.”
“Most people don’t eat what they make on those shows.”
“I will. I’ll be happy to give these dishes my best effort.”
Jasper let Kit prattle. It was nice to hear him talk about something other than battle and ranks.
“I’ll be your taste tester.”
“Terrific.” Kit swung his bags as they marched for the cabin. “This is going to be great. You’ll see.”
“Can’t wait.”
She grimaced and prayed for her poor guts. Whatever Kit had in mind scared the shit out of her.

Thank you so much for reading! You’re an incredible human!

Chapter 6: In Which The Past Finds Buck

Buck

Replacing his classic muscle fifty-block with a new age engine powered by magical stones was the smartest shit he’d ever done. Buck arrived at Jack’s Real Estate and Legal Services in three minutes. He’d spent almost an hour arguing with that god damned city man about permits and regulations. It was exhausting when suits only smelled money.
Omari, their eldest son, was fed up with assholes and called his pappy. Buck was happy to play ref and calm the blue-blooded human down. He was lucky town folk had voted on this project, otherwise, they wouldn’t have shit.
Buck didn’t want a three-level shopping monstrosity in their town. It’d be an eyesore and attract trouble.
“Hiya, Buck,” Chelsea sang. Her wings fluttered as he removed his hat. “He’s in the bathroom. Got a little too happy with an eldonberry smoothie. I tried to tell him to take it easy but…”
“Mom, please.” Jack hung his head, fixed the tie, and exhaled a ragged breath. “Come on, Buck. Let’s talk in my office. Ma, hold my calls.”
“I know it.”
Buck tipped his hat, making Chelsea blush. She was a spry woodland fairy and didn’t look a day over sixty-five though pushing four-hundred. She wasn’t in the market for relationships, but he knew how Chelsea liked to dip and dive on it.
“What you call me for, Jack?”
“Close the door, would ya?”
Buck grunted as the latch clicked. “This feel like bad news.”
Jack settled behind the desk, his stained glass wings twitching. He was a handsome fella but off limits given how the wife and Buck nailed his mama to the headboard once —twice—twelve times at least.
He grabbed a seat and waited for some bullshit. Jack tugged on the point of his right ear and rocked in his executive chair.
“I’m coming to you because my mother asked it of me. This ain’t typical. Don’t be thinking that I’m running my mouth about everyone, but I thought you should know, the Palison purchased some land. The Carters’ old farm. As you know, Packard died last year. His kids opted to sell. And…”
“Why ain’t you say no?!” Buck glared at the man. “Why didn’t you just—“
“Just what? Buckley, I have ten kids.”
“We all got kids!”
“I’m the only income my family has. When faeries leave Lightbridge, their is no support for us and—“
“I know. Shit god damn it.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe it’s a coincidence.”
“No. No. Shiland was buried four months ago. I know—I figured—“ Buck cut the commentary and stared at flat, gray carpet. He’d known this day was coming but damn, not this soon. “Thanks for telling me, Jack.”
“Sure thing.”
“Is the deal closed?”
“Not yet, ten days.”
“Got it. Thanks again.”
Buck gripped wood grain and peeled tires out of the parking lot. He would have stayed in the streets longer, but now, he needed a second alone, in his element. Pushing two hundred horses down the strip of road leading back home, he turned up his comfort tunes.
Highway 56 snaked across the continent. From Lightbridge, to Ravensguard, and continuing through Brasshorne. It ended at the tip of the world, Frostwinds Edge.
Four territories with four crowns.
Buck groaned, parked in the garage, and killed the engine. He cleared the vehicle and sneaked through the side door. Left of the detached garage was the wood. A dense thicket holding his past and dearest of memories. Before crossing the tree line, Buck tugged off his boots and t-shirt.
Barefoot and half naked, he entered the dark beyond and whispered hello to the sneaky elm, old oak, and wise willow.
“What in the hell y’all been up to? Boy, do I got some crazy shit to tell you.”

It Feels Sooo Good To Be Baaaack!

Well! What a month March was. First, let me say this: I didn’t intentionally vanish. I lost my ac adapter for my laptop! I had nothing and could do nothing for three whole weeks. And I was miserable. No writing, no posting, nothing. Okay, that’s a lie; I brainstormed and wrote on my phone. Short stories (ones that never see the light of day), but stories I had fun writing.
Anything pertaining to PWAPF or blogs, however, was on hold. Everything is on my computer. With zero storage left on my device, I don’t have IG or WP on it. Obligatory work apps take up a lot of space on my phone. So, I was stuck for weeks and loathed every minute of it. But WE ARE BACK, and I hope to push out a new chapter on Tuesday.

Coming Spring 2025

Born into an apocalypse, The Huntsman knew a little something about death…but nothing, about babies.

On any other night, Carver would finish the bounty and get ghost. This was not one of those nights. After fulfilling a small contract, Carver stumbles upon a wailing child. In need of help and a babysitter, he seeks advice from the only decent person he knows. It just so happens that person is his closest friend and maybe, his greatest desire.

This is a 25k MM paranormal romance. We got spells, small conflicts, vampire feedings, wizardry, and adorable found family fluff. There are grey themes such as the death of a spouse, blackmail, and contract k–lings.

Spring 2025

Chapter 5: In Which A Demon Shall Not Swoon

Jasper

Jasper snickered as her brother glared at the plumber’s feet. He wasn’t used to being dismissed, much less by a stranger. Kit fooled many with his fresh face and unrealistic phobias. But demons knew better and feared him, as they rightly should.
She looked on while petting a unique blend of threads. It was softer than anything she’d ever used.
“Kit,” Jasper warned.
“I was merely trying to help, sir. There is zero cause for your attitude or rude introduction.”
“That wasn’t no introduction,” Hank muttered from below. “I don’t know you and I don’t wanna know you.”
“Damn, man.” Jasper high-whistled, draped the folded quilt over the armrest with care, and jacked to her full height.
“I have never been so disrespected. You are an asshole and lack manners. You, sir, would fit well on my favorite pike!”
“’Scuse me?!” Hank scrambled from under the sink and rose from his ass like any gravity-defying vampire. “What the hell you say to me, boy?”
“Boy?!” Kit seethed.
“Alright, alright.” Jasper wedged herself between the men and tried for de-escalation. “Kit, you can’t piss people off then threaten to kill them, its uncouth. But Hank, it’s kinda rude calling a grown man a boy. He’s three hundred years old. You can’t say things like that. My brother, here, isn’t known for his patience.”
“Neither am I.”
“Hm.” Kit sneered and Hank was no better.
“Dearest brother, I have some important stuff to teach you about this world. Come. Let’s leave Hank to his business.
“I need supper before I actually murder someone.”
Jasper stifled a giggle and a hangry joke. It was funny because he was serious.
“There ain’t nothing in that ice box. You’ll have to wait for groceries. Nieema just left.”
Sooty puffs of smoke escaped from Kit’s nose as he huffed.
“If you that doggone hungry then go on up to the main house. I’ll tell them you coming.”
Jasper wagged praying hands and bowed as Kit stomped for the door. He exited with vile words while Hank’s jaw ticked.
“Sorry about him,” Jasper said. “He’s not used to fae or land. He’s read a lot about this place but never visited.”
“I reckon he’s a spoiled prick who ain’t worked a day in his life.”
Jasper grunted and smirked. “Now there, is where you’d be wrong.”
“Sure.”
Hank let the convo rest there and returned to tightening bolts or whatever. Jasper took his silence as a period and joined Kit on the porch.
A vicious wet heat clung to her skin and soaked Indigo Plains. Humidity touched every blade of grass and leaf. She’d moved here for solitude and the promise of peace. The weather was a delightful bonus she much appreciated.
“If someone doesn’t ask for help, you leave them alone,” Jasper pronounced, admiring the majestic vista.
“It is an honor to meet me, Hank should have been-“
“Up here, you’re a nobody.”
Jasper shrugged and cleared the steps in a single bound.
“What do you mean? Please explain.“
“Nobody, no one, not a soul gives a damn about you, Kit.”
“I don’t know how I feel about this revelation.” Kit matched her stride by power walking and looked as if she’d shattered his heart. “Fowler says land dwellers love demons. These people worship us and beg at our feet.”
Jasper laughed and sought a star-speckled sky.
“Ohhh, they do love us. He was right. They show up and show out. For those with succubi blood, they’ll do just about anything.”
“I’m only half incubus.“
“Don’t matter.”
“I say, your vernacular is atrocious.”
“You can be two-thirds or fourths, whatever, no one cares. They’ll kill for you, Kit. Some would clip their own vein and pluck every hair from their pretty little head for you.”
“That sounds more like it!“
“They want your body, brother.” Jasper skipped ahead and spun, facing Kit. She remained on the path and smiled at his obvious terror. “They care not for your status or the reward of being your bonded.” She stopped dead and clutched his suspenders. “No, no! What they want, brother mine, is your mind, your dreams, and strapping form sheltering theirs and—“
“Enough!”
Kit smacked her hands away and blushed. His gray cheeks purpled with embarrassment. He was a prude and no fun at all. Grinning at the man, she flicked a bejeweled loc over his shoulder.
“I’m gonna set your ass up with somebody,” Jasper vowed.
“What?Wait—no.”
She sighed and continued on their journey. Approaching the big ranch house she cackled as Kit stuttered and stumbled. Words never caught purchase on his tongue.
“I don’t wanna hear your excuses, bruh. Listen, you need to get bent then bent over.”
“I am not discussing this with you! My intimate affairs are none of your concern.”
“What intimacy?”
“Don’t be crass, Jasper.”
She took the steps in twos and side-eyed her eldest sibling. His head and spirit dragged across the covered porch.
“I’m sorry, Kit.” Jasper locked an arm around him and squeezed. She wasn’t the biggest hugger, but exceptions must be made. “I know you have fears and… worries. As with most things. I won’t push, but I might make suggestions.”
“You always do.”
She smiled, kissed his sad, shaved horn then stabbed the doorbell.
“Off with you,” Kit snapped.
Jasper released him and shoved the fucker. He stammered and cussed.
“Who the fuuuck are you?”
Jasper pivoted and Kit yelped at the sound of a grating, warped voice. She didn’t know what the hell to make of this perched creature. Ugly as shit and odious, saliva dangled from its crusty beak.
“What in the name of death gods is it?” Kit asked, gripping her bicep.
“I have no clue.”
“Ah!” Buck charged at the unnatural, winged cryptid, wielding a dangerous broom. “You old buzzard! Getchya ass—ah!”
“I came to welcome you new guesssts.”
The thing squawked and took flight, losing feathers on their ascent. They clawed at bristles and laughed. The hysterical howl was horrifying. Jasper almost smiled as Buck and the spawn of something beyond the depths of hell dueled.
Buck held good form with a thick forest green braid whipping about. She often paid attention to details; the makings of a person. Tensing thigh muscles, a calloused iron grip, and the curve of his hips.
This was bad business but they offered to help.
“Damn scavenger.” Buck stomped, swore, and cracked his gum. “Sorry ’bout that. Dust Peckers are damn hard to shake. I’d rather termites. Come on in, Hank said y’all need a meal.”
With Buck missing the hat, Jasper got a better look at his eyes. She nodded in passing and clocked the grin. He wasn’t cute smelling like an unknown sweet wood and cinnamon bark.
Their inviting home immediately claimed her attention. The main house was an architectural feat and Jasper didn’t know shit about building things but it was wondrous.
Spacious, massive even, and immaculate. She stopped by the stairs and counted three stories. Coated in white and love. The Sunsides residence was nothing like her rotting Victorian.
“What a serene environment.”
Jasper high whistled and followed Buck through a hallway lined with more odd artwork. She was taken aback by framed embroidery. Various sizes and shapes, the pieces hung from every wall. After a decent stroll, they entered the great room and veered right, into the kitchen.
“This is living!” Kit shouted. “You have done well for yourself, Mr. Sunside.”
“Buck.”
“Buck. What is it you do, exactly?”
“They own a construction business.”
Kit hummed and meandered. Jasper kept a close eye on the demon. He was prone to touch, handle, and fumble. One might never guess he was a natural-born killer with a specific skill set.
Sitting at a table tucked into a cove of windows, she watched Buck rummage. The kitchen with its long counters and shiny appliances filled Jasper with envy. She’d grown up around the same luxuries but had never owned anything until now.
It wasn’t the high-end refrigerator or the weird coffee contraption that made her slouch, no. It was the fact that all of this was theirs. No one bought or filched it from a human with recurring debt.
This was why Jasper had left the nest. She wanted to make her own way, be her own person, and live by her own rules. Duty, obligation, fear, and corruption brought her here.
The freedom this world offered was unmatched.
“So,” Buck started. “I got leftover lasagna, roast beef for dips, subs, or ten-layer bean casserole. Don’t ask me what’s in it. I don’t know, my grandson Mace inhales anything with beans.”
Kit slid into the booth and pulled a small pad from his pocket. “What is a bean casserole?”
“Layers of mashed beans, cheese, meat, and sour cream I think. You wanna eat it cold.”
She was curious about Kit’s notes and what he jotted down. He had a love of food that surpassed eating it but she never saw the appeal of preparing a meal. Jasper couldn’t cook for shit. She was told by an ex that a starved stray dog wouldn’t touch her food. She tested the theory of course, and it was true. The mutt gruffed and pawed at the bowl, flipping it over completely.
“I will have that,” Kit said. “Would you happen to have hot sauce?”
Buck laughed, his husky amusement supplied her with far too much delight. “Do a pig shit?”
“What—yes, they do. I think. I’ve never seen a pig in person.”
“You’re funny, Kit.” Buck presented her brother with a large bowl of bean muck, chips, and a tub of Reaper Water hot sauce. “I like you.”
The gorgeous, dense souled man popped gum and rested his big boot on the bench seat. It was a decent pose, one she often used when trying to court easy prey. His stance and stare would’ve made a daintier person blush.
“And what about you, darlin’? What can I get ya?”
They’d met hours ago and he went straight for a pet name. Jasper wasn’t a petite damsel, but god damn it, some words turned her into a doe-eyed flower.
Some shit wilted her petals and ‘darlin’ was a winner. Not even twenty-four hours since they had exchanged names and she was ready to swoon. Time had never stopped her in the past, but things had changed. A while ago, Jasper ignored her instincts and rode the wave of passion. She lost herself. Twelve months of hard lessons made her hop states, buy a house in a rural town with a population of five thousand, and delete all socials.
“Lasagna,” Jasper said, digging into his shadow-laced gaze “And make it two servings if you can. I like to eat.”
“We got that in common.” Buck dropped his foot and backpedaled into the kitchen. “And I don’t leave no crumbs behind either.”
She wouldn’t bow to this man or fold for him. Not now. Not ever.
“This is incredible!” Kit announced. He drizzled more sauce on the goop and scooped. “I can’t name most of the spices but I will research this recipe at a later date. I know a few off the top of my head. Pepper, garlic, sweet chilies, and onion.” Kit paused for a tick then carried on. “Believe it or not, Buck, demons have taken to some of your culinary customs. We adore onion and garlic quite a bit. Though, you are mighty liberal with it. Do you really use them in every dish?”
“If my wife can help it.”
“I assumed the vampyree were allergic to garlic.”
Buck chuckled again, the harmony snaked around her spine and tightened.
“It has to be unprocessed. Whole cloves, wild, and grown in cursed soil.”
“Ahhhhh.” Kit mumbled and waved his spoon. “I see, yes. Another piece of knowledge fractured by the hands of time and small human minds. I understand. Most think us spirits attached to religious institutions. I’ve never understood the connection. They’re fables.”
The moment Buck gifted Jasper with food she let Kit talk the man’s ear numb and dove into the cheesy, meaty goodness. The piping hot tomato sauce was well seasoned and thick. She drifted in and out of the conversation, stuffing her face. Jasper didn’t care how rude it was or how she looked. After such an exciting night, she was starved. Two slices of butter-topped sourdough hit the spot and sopped up leavings like a sponge.
“Glad to see somebody likes my lasagna.”
A cup of iced tea appeared as Jasper sucked sauce from her fingertips. Now, she blushed… a little.
Lifting eyes to Nieema, Jasper nodded. “I love it actually. It’s been years since I had a real home-cooked meal.”
The woman scoffed in surprise. “Let me guess you, don’t know how to cook?”
“I can bake a mean pop tart and throw together the best cocktails you’ll ever have.”
“Now there,” Buck interrupted. “Is something I need in my life. A cold mixer? I can’t get enough of goblin glitter.”
Jasper laughed and sipped a chilled sweet tea, heavy on the lemon. She relished it. “Gooood choice. Extra sugar cane, cranberry bitters, and maraschino cherries. I’d never peg you for a glitter guy, Buck.”
“Well, see. That’s cause you don’t know me. I welcome a good peg—“
“Get the hell—“
“I’m only playing, woman.”
Buck snatched his wife into a crushing embrace and captured her lips. He devoured her on the spot and Jasper gawked. She didn’t mean to but had no choice in the matter and Buck’s cutting eyes caught her dead.
Prying his wife off, he cackled. “Don’t you go teasing me now, I gotta go.”
“You can stay.”
“I most certainly can not. These bills ain’t gon’ pay themselves.”
Nieema wrapped his long braid around her fist and yanked. Jasper flinched at the power move. Their foreplay and flirtatious energy clogged the air. As a veteran succubus, she involuntarily fed on lust and carnal desires. Jasper nursed their shared intimacy and nibbled on it. Scents and energies fused, causing her stomach to drop. An unfamiliar brand of desire pooled deep in her belly and settled between clenched thighs.
This was about her biology and make. Nothing more. Her demonic soul thrived in this environment. Fighting such urges was futile as they were a testament to her maturity.
Nieema shoved Buck and returned. Nieema’s intense, scarlet consideration was worse than her husband’s undivided attention.
“Who here wants a tour of our ranch?”
Against better judgment, Jasper raised her glass. “I’m for it. What say you, Kit?”
The demon shrugged, unsure. “As long as we stay out of the woods.”
Nieema bit into a ripe, kingsbury peach and said, “I ain’t making no promises. Those woods hold many magical secrets”
“They can keep them,” Kit clipped.
Jasper and Nieema giggled.
More than ready, she scraped ceramic and rushed to the sink. “Alright, Nieema. Lead the way. I’m anxious to see the grounds.”
If Jasper was lucky she’d keep her eyes on the scenery and not, on Nieema’s mouth.

Nieema

Nieema spent the last hour moonlighting as a tour guide. Even for her —somebody who’d lived on this land their entire life— she found the setting sublime. Acres worth of flatland, three lakes, snaking rivers, and a picturesque mountain view left her ass speechless many uh nights. She loved Indigo Plains with its harsh winters and humid summers. Living amongst the stars and the trees was nice. She preferred sketchy woods over echoing catacombs.
“I thought most ranch dwellings raised cattle,” Kit said. He gestured to a pasture with grazing sheep and goats. “Where are the bovine and bulls?”
Nieema launched an old tennis ball through the air and watched Ringer, one of three, Collies sprint after it. He barked and jumped for it.
“Cattle ain’t our brand. Never was. The Haggers across the road keep cows and bison. Goood job, boy!” Nieema crouched and scrubbed Ringer between the ears. “Cows and such don’t take to vampires well. Sheep and goats? We’re best of friends. Ain’t that right, baby?” She snatched the fuzzy, old ball from the pooch and tossed it again.
“It’s beautiful out here,” Jasper rasped. “Fresh air and impressive views. I can only imagine what Christmas is like around here. Especially the mountains.”
Jasper was a masterpiece if Nieema had ever seen one. She was rough and tumble, but not coarse. Her silver hair short and newly chopped with spoke of rebellion. Nieema knew countless succubi. They never cut their intrinsic cornrows and braids. It was so unlike her people and abnormal, but fitting in Jasper’s case.
Restarting their walk, Nieema chucked the ball and checked the time. “Say, how would y’all like to make some deliveries with me?”
“Deliveries? What do you make? What is it you do?” Kit was a nosy man with strong opinions and a blunt tongue, she liked him. “Jasper said you own a construction business.”
“Yeah, we do. But, we got more bills than you know and as an immortal, hobbies are a must. In my downtime, I make candles and quilts.”
“Wait, you’re the one who made the quilts and art, huh?” Jasper smiled, no doubt perceiving Nieema.
“I did, and what of it? I’m an old broad who knits and makes sweet-smelling candles. You gonna make a joke? My whole family does.”
“What? No, no. I was uh, well…” Jasper peered at the horizon and ruffled her hair. “I cross stitch. I’m great with a needle and thread. Good with my hands. Thought about making blankets and such, but I can’t afford a sewing machine right now.”
“Get outta town!” Nieema gasped as they approached her pick-up truck. “Now, why ain’t you just say so? Do you take commissions? You got a portfolio or a website or something?”
“I do.”
Nieema wagged a finger and plucked keys from her skirt pocket. “This is great! I need some new patches, too.”
“Is this how you make money, Jasper?” Kit asked, with more oomf than necessary.
He dispatched judgment and Nieema thought it rude.
“What you tryin’ to say, sir? Because my little sewing job brings in six figures a month.”
Kit tapped his lip with a sharp talon and mulled on it.
“Exactly,” Jasper said. “I sell feet content too.”
“Feet? What would anyone want with photos of hooves?”
“Not all of us have hooves, Kit.”
“Well, yes, I forgot you have five strange digits. I suppose your matriarch is to blame for such an unsightly mutation.”
Jasper sniffed and frowned at her kin. “They pay out the ass to see my feet, okay. You wouldn’t understand.”
Nieema stabbed the fob and started the truck as she worked to steady her heart. Pretty feet made her crawl and kneel. Knowing this here demon had a booming foot business quickened an ancient vampire’s slow beating pulse.
Gathering herself, Nieema hummed and opened the passenger door. “After you.”
Jasper sighed and shook her head but hopped into the front seat. Kit’s eyes flitted about the cab before hopping inside.
“This is exciting. We have a train system and carriages in Undervell.”
“Under what?” Nieema asked, putting the truck in drive. “What’s—“
“Hell,” Jasper supplied.
“Right, right. I be forgetting hell ain’t the real name for it.”
“Hell is better. I like it. Sounds foreboding and dark.”
“Everything Undervell is not,” Kit supplied.
Jasper laughed, looking back at the demon. “I wouldn’t go that far. We have blackout seasons and nights where it rains acid and molten metals.”
Kit drooped and sighed. “Don’t remind me. I love our down season, it’s when we break out the skulls, candles, and give hatchlings treats.”
Nieema kept eyes on the two-lane highway and listened as the siblings reminisced about a holiday similar to Halloween. Except Undervell folk had a ball and dined on fine foods for an entire cycle, whatever that meant.
With their land skirting the edge of Indigo Plains, the trip into town lasted longer than it should have. Twenty minutes and some change later, Nieema parked in front of Landon’s Home Goods.
“I’m still not used to this,” Jasper said, staring at the pink and purple facade. “There’s no skyscrapers, high rises, subway systems, or factories.”
“That ain’t true, we have four factories.” Nieema popped the trunk and slipped out. Jasper and Kit followed. She rounded to the backside of her truck and retrieved boxes. “The Petersons own a mill and the largest wheat crop in town. Hell, Maybell’s milking Farm has the biggest factory around and then there’s Jed’s water purification, lab, factory, center place.”
Jasper lifted the boxes Nieema tapped and Kit slammed the hatch.
“Thank you kindly. And last but not least, you got the blood distribution bank down on Heartlocke Circle, right next to Mace’s barbershop. My grandson owns that spot.”
As they started for the store, Nieema smiled at Bonny Kinsington. “How’s the kids, Bonny?”
“Great, Miss. Here, let me.“ Bonny yanked open the door and bowed her head. “They’re good. I’m throwing a party for Nathan, I’d love it if y’all could swing on by.”
“I sure will. I know Jo will be happy to see Maryanne.”
“She’s married now, Miss.”
“Oh, well, they’re still friends.”
“True.” Bonny grinned, her cheeks strawberry red. “I must be going, gotta put the roast on.”
“You go on, honey. Don’t let me hold ya.”
Bonny waited until they were inside Landon’s, which gave fancy department stores a run for their money. Indigo Plains kept to their own brands and local shops, they didn’t need no outsider business.
One mall was enough.
“I bought a few cups from here yesterday,” Jasper said. “The deals are fantastic. It’s not often you can find quality for under five bucks. I was shocked.”
“Landon barters with the fairies for his stuff. And, you know, folks bring things in. Like me, I give him these candles free of charge.”
“For free?!” Kit shouted, wrestling with a buggy. He rattled the cart loose and beamed. “Oh! How marvelous. I have always wanted to use one of these. I’ve never shopped on my own before.”
Nieema sashayed on through the busy store and glanced at Jasper. Her kin seemed spoiled, sheltered, and pampered. She, however, did not. It was interesting.
“Do you have those uhm, cards or the paper sort of currency?”
Jasper laughed, the harmony pleasant and welcome.
“Debit? Yeah. Cash? No. But— wait, what are you trying to ge— Kit, wait, bruh. What—“
“You go ahead, I’m gon’ hand these over to the stock team. And talk with the manager.”
“Alright. We’ll be quick.”
Jasper bounded after an excited Kit, leaving Nieema to process. Wondering where the woman’s tail was, she went about her business and decided to make this snappy. They had six deliveries to make before closing time.

Chapter Five Coming!

“Do I like Jasper? Yes. I do. She’s cute and rugged. I’ve made it my duty to get to know this woman. I have to, I want-no, scratch that, I need to know her secrets. There’s something about Jasper I can’t place. She’s surprised me with her charm. And for a vampire my age, that don’t come easy. So, naturally, I wanna show her around. And there ain’t no tour guide better than me. I’ve lived in Indigo Plains for a veeeeerry long time.” – Nieema Sunside