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.
“But I caaaaan’t move Maxi, I swear to you I can’t.” Max stood over Chrissy and laughed at her theatrics. The cute, bubbly blonde was flat on her back and ready to cry again. She threw out a hand, and Max tried to help her up. “My body doesn’t work anymore. Just throw me in the ocean.” “See, this is why I don’t date Scorpios.” Jordan’s input made Max laugh, but Chrissy glared at the man. “Not funny, you bitch.” “I may be a slut, but at least I’ll sleep without a broken heart. Ah! Ndari!” “Leave her alone, Jordan, she’s in enough pain.” “Come on, baby.” Max pulled Chrissy up, and the girl whined, but got to her feet that were tucked in strappy heels. She never wore sneakers or boots; she’d rather saw her feet off than wear anything below six inches. “We only have two hours left.” Chrissy slumped over the counter. “You can do iiiit.” “We’re not gonna get customers anyway,” Jordan said, with a massive dose of irritation. They had two walk-ins and no appointments. Which, given her father’s financial matters, wasn’t good. Business needed to pick up, and like now. Either that or accept Jaxon’s offer. “I shoulda’ called out. It’s shit, niiiight, Maxi. I canceled a dick appointment for this.” Rounding behind the counter, she smiled at Ndari and shrugged. “Sorry, can’t relate.” “That’s because you have Low slinging his tally whacker in your face all day.” Max giggled and opened her sketch book. Grabbing a pencil, she sighed at the eyes staring back. She’d added color two days ago. “Low was only a participant last night.” “Uuuuugghhh.” Jordan stomped his big foot and groaned. “Here we go. Another threesome, I take it? I hate you. You get laid more than anyone I know.” Ndari nudged her. “Who was it this time? A construction worker from your dad’s job. A model who wanted to kiss you, or a girl who had cute hair. Oooo, what about—oh, dear lor,d this is beautif, ul Maxi. Who is this?” She sighed again. “Jaxon Aubrey.” “Who?” “Jaxon, the redhead.” Chrissy popped up from what may have turned into a power nap. “The snazzy fella that came in here the other night? Oh my god!” “I knew he liked women!” Jordan stopped sweeping and deflated. “He looks like a pussy beater.” Max clicked her tongue ring, “Naaahhhh. He loves himself some dick too,” The lumberjack dropped the Libman and gasped. “No way, bitch. Please, do tell.” “I am gonna kill you.” Ndari barked, “Why didn’t you tell me?” “It just happened last night. And it is not happening again.” Chrissy grimaced. “Cause of your weirdo rule about second dates? Live it up, sweet cheeks! I do, and I’m one hundred and forty-five.” “Old skank,” Jordan blurted. “Troglodyte. Go wash that hobo beard, it smells like gym socks.” Jordan flipped Chrissy off as the bell rang. Their group scattered, revealing the last person Max wanted to see. Despite how nice he was, she didn’t want to deal with him. “I hope you don’t mind. Tracy told me where to find you.” Ndari was perplexed, glancing at Max. “Uhm, I’ll go restock your room.” Raymond stepped to the counter, and Max wanted to scream. Maybe curse and knock this man in the head with the cash register. If he died, their problems were over. Slamming her book closed, she battened down the hatches on her attitude. This wasn’t his fault; they were both stuck in the middle. Although he probably wasn’t involved in his father’s affairs. Max had her reasons. The allowance was barely enough to care for everyone. “Uh, no. It’s fine. You might as well see where I work and what it is I do.” Raymond meandered and stared at the cluttered wall of art. “I don’t have any tattoos, never thought to get one. Looks painful.” “It’s not so bad once you get used to the needle. It can actually become quite addicting.” He smiled and dragged kind eyes over to her. “I can tell. Not a single person I know with tattoos has only one.” “Nope, can’t say I met anybody with one tat. They’re like unicorns or—” “Mermaids.” She blushed and gestured to the one on her neck. “Yes, exactly.” Raymond sighed and looked out the window, then returned to Max. “I was wondering if we could go somewhere and talk, if you’re able.” “You know what? I can’t.” Chrissy appeared with a pristine smile and golden ringlets. “I got ya, girly, go on. I’ll lock up. Might leave earl,y though. It’s dry as my mother’s apple pie.” “You sure?” Max grimaced.” “Yes, hun, go.” Ndari squeezed her arm and smirked. “I want you to text me when you get home.” She made eye contact with the mal,e and Max snickered. “The moment you get in.” “I will, Mom. Don’t worry. Can you open tomorrow?” “Like I did tonight?” Ndari cocked a brow. “Yeah, sure. For the tenth time this week.” “I lovvve you.” Shouldering her purse, Max pointed at Jordan. “I want you booked by next Friday, and I mean it. All of you. Tilt will be back from vacation in a week, I don’t wanna hear his mouth about how he’s the goat or some shit.” “It’s so quiet without him.” Jordan’s disdain for Tilt was due to his crushing…and bad. “Okay, I’ll see y’all. Be good!” Max let Raymond lead, and the gentleman opened the door. “Thank you kindly.” “No problem.” Miami heat, brine,e and moisture stuck to her skin. A shower was next in line after a meal. She followed her escort, and he stopped in front of the Mercedes E-class. Damn, talk about saucy. Raymond remained helpful and allowed her to get in first. “Thanks.” Once safely buckled, he ran to the driver’s side. The interior was lavish and smelled of men’s Cologne. He started the engine,e and Ronald Isley came on just in time. “Oh my god, I love the Isley Brothers.” “What?” Raymond grinned as he started off to wherever they were going. “Me too, and this one? That Lady is my jam.” “You got good taste, my man.” “So, it’s Friday and 1am. Where would you like to go? There are a few 24-hour spots around here.” “The Tavern,” Max prompted. “I go there a lot, especially this time of night. It’s close, and they have great fish and chips.” “Ohh yeah, I know the place, Hotel Croyen, right?” “Exactly. It’s legit, six minutes away. Right on Collins.” Raymond smiled. “The Tavern it is.” There wasn’t much of a trip at one in the morning, but they filled the time talking about music. He had a love for golden oldies, that was it. “Must be fate, look at this. Right in front, gosh.” Gosh, she thought. Did the male even cuss? To be fair, not everyone did, but Max needed to say ‘shit’ at least once a da,y or she’d explode somehow. After Raymond paralleled like a master, he got out and beat her to the door. “Are you gonna do that every time?” Max asked. “If left up to me, yes.” She snickered and paced to The Tavern. Sensing him on her heels, Max looked back. “They have wonderful apps, and the Nutella waffle? Holy shit.” Being a woman on her own, she didn’t like to be waited on hand and foot, so she ran for the door. “Ha! Too slow, honey! You gotta be quicker than that if you rolling with me, now.” Raymond chuckled as she made way inside. Fried food and coffee tickled her nose as cool jazz played at a hushed volume. The all-hour diner was packed and bustling. Waiters whipped to and fro carrying trays, while others jotted orders with a smile. “I did not think it would be this busy,” Raymond said. “Mhm. Kids are starting to come in from everywhere. This time next week, we’d have to wait an hour to get a seat.” “How many?” the cute hostess asked. “Just two,” Raymond replied. Raymond handled formalities while Max headed for the exit. A fifteen-minute wait wasn’t much, but she didn’t want to pass it by standing around. “Uh, outside?” Max pointed to the door and strolled back out. The heat be damned, it was stuffy in the waiting area with nowhere to sit. At least they had a bench to kill time on. Dropping her ass on down, Max rifled through her bag. “Where is…god dam—oh, found it.” With her hooka—instead of vape—in hand, she turned the thing on and inhaled all that cherry goodness. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. Do you mind?” Raymond shook his head. “Nope. Have at it. I smoked a joint once, back in college.” She giggled at such an innocent answer. His admittance didn’t surprise her. This male came from money. He was well educated and straight as a fresh line. They’d been given the same opportunities, but Max hated the square, trad wife bull shit. Pressed, prim, and proper had turned wicked within. Raymond was nice. The Black hipster, aci berry, and oat milk smoothie quality worked for him. His locs were tight, neat, and in a masculine updo. Something most men would appreciate. Ripped jeans and a plaid button-up screamed Ambicrombie, though. Other than his whack ass attire, he seemed affable with a non-threatening, soft coral stare. “It’s not weed,” Max stressed. “I don’t smoke Mary Jane. It’s hookah.” “What’s that?” Max pulled the metal tip from her lips and examined it. She smiled and said, “I don’t really know.” “You’re smoking a mysterious substance?” “I mean…” She looked at it again. “Well, shit, yeah. It tastes nice. I think it’s tobacco of some sort.” Raymond grinned, his pearly whites making a brief appearance. “You live on the edge, I see.” “This ain’t even close to the edge, Raymond.” “Call me Ray.” “Okay, Ray. You can call me Max.” Before inhaling, she sighed. “Sorry about running out on you the other night.” “Don’t apologize, I understand. This is… I don’t even have the words for it. I hadn’t planned for this. My Father barged into my house yelling commands. Stating how I had get married.” His shoulders sagged, and his expression darkened. “I never wanted to get married. I don’t want to. You seem like a decent woman…I just, I’m not ready for any of this.” Max gave him a second to fume; hell, they both needed it. She didn’t want this either, nor was she ready, or fit to be anyone’s wife. Pushing smoke through her nose, she shrugged. “If I didn’t need my Dad’s money, I’d be gone.” Ray scoffed. “I wish it were monetary for me. I’ve been doing what Matthias wants my whole life. Became a Lawyer for him. I’m the Viscount’s personal attorney. Just like he wanted. Now, I’m getting married. With little hope of him acknowledging any of it… Oh, Max, forgive me. I don’t mean to trauma dump.” “Don’t say sorry for shit. We’re in a fucked up predicament, and if you ever need to vent, I’m here. I’d rant, but it is what it is. Can’t blame anyone but myself, really.” Raymond rested his elbows on his knees and looked back at her. “Thank you for not telling me to go shove it.” “I know how an overbearing and controlling parent can be. Lived my entire life with one. I know your pain, bruh. Not to change the subject or anything, but uh, how old are you?” “Fifty-one.” Max high whistled at such a low ass number. “Whew, baby, you fresh meat. Hey now, you better be careful, I might let you get to know me.” The male blushed hard and straightened. “How about you? I don’t want to ask a lady overtly. That’s highly inappropriate.” Max took another hit and wrinkled her nose. “I’ll be a centennial next year.” Ray’s eyes popped. “Wow, gosh.” “I know, I know. I’m an old lady, but I got style and sass. I can teach you a few thangs, don’t you know?” He beamed and said, “I believe that, but no. I was going to say you don’t look a day over twenty-one…as expected. But you fit in with this time so well. Not many of us do. You obviously shop at Hot Topic. Max exploded in genuine laughter. She crackled and tapped his arm. “Was that your attempt at a joke?” “Maybe, was it bad?” “No, I liked it.” She snorted and stashed her hookah in the bag. “I love expression. In all forms, Body art and modification is an excellent outlet for someone like me. I love piercings, and I definitely want more. I forget how many I have.” “I counted two in your nose and one in your lip there.” She was impressed by how fast he noted everything. “Nine on your left ear, annnnd four on your right.” “You, sir, are correct. But you’re missing some.” He frowned. “I am, where? I don’t—” Max extended her tongue, shutting him right the fuck up. The male recoiled and blushed again. He looked elsewhere and cleared his throat. “You have one just there… in—yeah, there it is.” She buckled down on a bout of giggles. “I’m gonna get a cross bar real fuckin’ soon though.” “Whatever that is.” He nodded and glanced her way. “It’s a horizontal piercing.” “Ohhhh, okay. That looks like it hurts really bad.” Raymond grimaced. “Nope, a quick stab and it’s all done. Plus, we heal quick. An hour or two and donezo.” “Hm. Well, if it’s any consolation, they suit you.” Now she diverted attention. To the ground, her shoes, and various couples enjoying a late night out. God, Max didn’t want to do this. Raymond wasn’t who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. More to the point, she didn’t want to get married. But her luck was shit, and there was no going back. “Thank you,” Max said. “I do it for me, not for acceptance.” “Good for you.” Raymond’s reply held zero snark. He spoke genuinely, but the slice of sadness gave her pause. Max wanted to find out why, but his name came through the speakers. “That’s us.” Max chimed. Bouncing up, Ray showcased a palm. “Oh my god, what is that?” He pointed, and Max jumped, prepared to wield her taser. Spinning around, she saw nothing. “Made you look.” The male’s voice got her attention. She laughed at the corny shit as he stood there with the door open. “After you, m’lady.” Max snapped her fingers. “You got me, Ray. I’m gonna have to keep my eye on you.” “That you will.”
Ooooop, I bet y’all thought I was going to forget, huh? Nahhh. I gotchu! As long as y’all read it, I will publish new chapters. I want to finish this book so y’all can hate me for the second! No, because I’m serious, you’re probably gonna hop into my inbox afterward. Buuuuut, don’t fret, it’s all gonna be okay. But not for Max. (insert crying emoji) She and Raymond are being put through helllll. When I wrote this book, I was so into torturing these poor souls. I was all about putting my characters through the absolute worst. And I think that speaks to how dark my own life was at the time. I was trapped with a violent, abusive man. I felt as though I had nowhere to go. Like I’d lost all autonomy. I wrote this series to give myself hope and to vent, kind of. Yes, the road to our HEA is rough, but it’ll be worth it. This was the story both Max and I wanted to tell. And you know what? I’m happy I wrote it, but I’m even happier that y’all are reading it. Thank you so much for stopping by, and please stay cool. It’s hotter than hell, and Y’ALL, my AC is broken. I live in Vegas. Send me SNOWWWWW! Anyway, y’all have a beautiful night and see you next week, bookie.
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.
Nieema’s red, shimmering attention and emotional rise stoked more than an inner flame. Their combined presence stirred environs and Buck’s evergreen lust. As always, the meshing of their souls called to her darker proclivities. She wanted them open, vulnerable, pleading for mercies she’d edge them with. Jasper propped her ass up on the desk and hummed. She swiped the binder and leafed through it to keep herself busy. “What I want from everyone is transparency. I want open communication and mutual understanding.” “Pertaining to?” the vampiress inquired. “Us.” Nieema’s laughter was nefarious in nature. Jasper smirked, spotting a fantastical piece. A nude figure astride a unicorn. The latter was adorable with fangs and an even sharper horn. Having a dastardly idea for this one, she plucked it. “I was afraid I’d scared you off,” Nieema said. “In all honesty, you did.” Jasper glanced at Mrs. Sunside. She concentrated on the patch but nodded. “I like to gather myself before jumping headfirst. I am apprehensive, not unwilling. After Trevor…” She snarled and cocked a brow. Jasper flipped another page and studied linen squares. The artist had a skilled hand. Talented, they created mosaics. Buck cleared his throat. “You were saying?” “Yeah, sorry. Uhm, thanks to him, I’m not in the mood for titles or monogamy. I don’t want long-term. Moreover, I don’t want any part of your high-profile lifestyle.” Jasper sighed, pushed off, and clapped the binder shut. She tossed it on the desk and decided to peruse. She clocked the tub labeled THREADS and pulled it out. Jasper cracked the lid and whistled. Meticulously organized and colorful. “Can I borrow a few?” “If you keep talking.” Jasper snickered and went on, “I know royals and the expectations that come with them. Whosoever steps foot into your chamber is expected to carry themselves to a certain standard. They are watched, followed. I’m done with that shit.” Jasper nabbed various shades of blue, purple, and red. Pastels were next. She was heavy-handed with them, but Nieema didn’t show interest in her haul. “I’m gonna tell you just like I told your husband, I don’t want drama, chaos, or anyone in my business.” Nieema sucked her teeth. “If that’s all you want, I gotchu, but let’s be clear, there will be times when we are unavailable. You understand? We are not beholden to you. We aren’t exclusive,e and with that, for us, come boundaries.” “Speak them,” Jasper demanded, meeting Nieema’s sanguine stare. “Buck and I put our marriage first. If, for any reason, we feel the need to slow or cut you off entirely, that is our right. We will communicate such things, but we expect the same from you. We are grown as hell. Ain’t no ghosting shit over here. If you’re not in the mood, say that. If you want a moment with one of us, alone, text in advance. We got a lot going on, as I’m sure you are aware. Expecting time without notice is not how we operate.” Jasper approved. There were no strings to snap or knots. No room for questions or concerns. Nieema laid everything bare. Without negotiation. How Jasper chose to take it was a personal matter. She respected it. “And what about you, Buck?” She set her sights on the man and shrugged. “What are your guidelines?” He pulled from his pipe and lounged. “She told you already.” “I like it.” Jasper bit her lip and grunted.”Plain and simple. We have an accord, your Highness.” Nieema peered, claws thrumming on wood. “Good. I’m glad. But you still didn’t answer the question.” “Which was?” “You’re cute,” the Queen said, grinning. “If I kissed you right now, would I taste my husband on your tongue?” Heat stroked her spine and swelled. Jasper matched Nieema’s faceted fixation as the scent of burning cherry wood perforated. “You tell me, Your Majesty.” From sitting to standing in a single breath. Jasper didn’t flinch as the vampire snatched the box and slammed it on the desk. The tiny woman was fierce. “They say vampires are impenetrable. Unbreakable and solid. Shall we put it to test?” A concerning growl pulled her to attention. Jasper snapped to Buck and his aloof demeanor. “What was that?” He smoked and stared. Cool fingers gripped her chin. Nieema forced Jasper to lock in. She met the Queen’s ruby glare and purred with satisfaction. Nieema wasn’t one to be teased or played. The kiss cracked Jasper wide and tugged on soaked coils of desire. Pressure and pleasure mounted as their lips fused. Jasper put her tongue to use. She twisted, tasting every delicious drop of lust this vampire offered. The cloying notes were almost overwhelming. Her want was thick, nearly tangible. Falling into and under her spell, Jasper grasped Nieema’s heavy ass. Plump and dimpled, it enticed. The woman yanked on her shorts and nipped. Jasper flinched and cut their contact. The slight sting made her walls ripple and sweat. Nieema licked her luscious brown lips and asked, “Do you enjoy an audience or would you prefer he participate?” Jasper clung to Nieema and cast her gaze to Mr. Sunside. Unfazed and collected on the surface, he burned below. His soul was agitated. Tasting his want and vexation, Jasper hissed. “Until I want your company, you can watch. But you should know that won’t be tonight.” Nieema laughed, her lips cool and grazing. Jasper kneaded all that ass and enjoyed how the queen lingered at her throat. “I got nothin’ but time,” Buck rasped. “Good to know.” With patience dwindling and hands full, Jasper hoisted Nieema high. The woman scoffed but didn’t protest, wrapping legs around her waist. Nieema captured Jasper’s lips for a second time and worsened the ache. She roiled an old succubus. Her plush form and lips weren’t enough, and as their kiss tapered, Jasper hissed. “Where to?” “Follow him,” Nieema ordered, nuzzling a scorched spot behind the ear. Buck was up and leading their journey. Jasper tracked the man by way of soul. His darkened desire and irritation was delicious. “You lucky I’m in the mood to be handled,” Nieema drawled, pecking and nipping. “The luckiest woman in Indigo Plains.” “Don’t sweet-talk me, demon. I don’t need that shit.” “Understood.” Jasper slapped her ass. Nieema yelped and bit her lobe. She giggled under the playful assault and kissed her flat on the mouth. Nieema moaned and groaned as their troop halted. Her majesty snipped their affections and dropped to the floor. She pranced across the room and attacked her husband. While they went at it, Jasper gulped, taking her fill and a moment. She assessed their marital chambers and shivered. Love overflowed. It drenched every surface. Staining the duvet and cal king bed, their shared lust enchanted the space. Jasper meandered, seeking to understand. To know them. To delve into what made the Sunsides unavoidable. Their room was packed. Floor to ceiling, wall to wall. Greenery and art surrounded them. Ivy scaled and twisted around four posts fitted with iron rings. The canopy was a nice touch. No headboard, only a mirror. “What are these for?” Jasper asked, flicking metal. She tugged, testing it. “Who likes to be tied and bound?” “You stalling?” Nieema asked, approaching. Her predatory gait made Jasper want to bite. Scratch and score. The vampire shoved, forcing her backwards. “I wouldn’t call it stalling. I was starving. And y’all are good fare.” Nieema yanked Jasper’s shorts. The small, alluring woman was as impatient as her husband. “Is she always like this?” Jasper asked. Buck was tucked off into an inky corner. Lavender-hued smoke and gleaming gold fangs were the only indication he was even there. She smelled him, guzzled his arousal. A blast of cool heat caused Jasper pain. She gasped and stumbled. Fingers graced her pussy. “Let me taste it.” Nieema convinced her with the slow dip and arrival. A single finger made Jasper stagger and collapse on the bed bench. Legs spread and claws clenching curls. Jasper had nothing as Nieema pulled her shorts off. She kicked the fabric free and scooted. Offering herself. The vampire knelt and kneaded her inner thighs. “Flex for me. Let me see her drip.” Jasper did as she was told and panted. She licked her dry lips as Nieema patted her mons and belly before teasing. “I love how y’all look when ready. Reds, pinks, and purples. Ain’t nothing so pretty as succubi pussy. I swear it.” Nieema grunted and glanced two fingers against her pulsing slit. “Look at you. Greedy.” “Nieema, please.” “Please, what?” “Taste me, kiss it.” Nieema snarled, eyes ablaze. “You don’t gotta beg when I’m this hungry, baby.” Jasper keened the moment Nieema set lips upon her. The wet heat made lids flutter and head loll. It’d been so god damn long. She caught a fever and melted beneath her lashing. Nieema was a skilled queen. She was careful, giving, and sweet. Taking her time, she lapped and circled in slow, torturing strokes. She tugged, sucked. Licked and slurped. The obscene melody worked to tighten the inflamed knot in Jasper’s belly. Nieema was a master at her craft. Too damn good. She drew her pleasure and stalled it. Edging with ease. Jasper heaved, pulling the woman’s hair. She cussed and rocked against her. “God damn, Nieema.” Fire encapsulated her as the vampire used her abilities. She was better than any vibrator or toy. It’d been a long while, but Jasper remembered. She never had this. Never had another find the clit and dance with it. “Shiiiit!” Jasper hollered, seeking oblivion. She tensed, thighs shaking. Heady spices, blood, and lust provoked her demonic instincts. She wanted to take and claim. Plunge and demand. “Oooooo, damn girl. You, you—oh, fuck!” She arched and allowed Nieema to hike her up. The Queen cradled her ass and feasted as if it were her last supper. Jasper gritted her teeth and watched the show. Lungs seizing, she rode Nieema’s face and bore into her gaze. She was vicious and powerful. Unforgiving, fangs penetrated at the same moment Jasper erupted. “Ohohohooooahh!” Because she was a succubus, her pussy creamed and sucked fingers clean. A golden deluge streamed and painted Nieema’s lips. Lacking finesse and with little civility to spare, Jasper yanked Nieema to her feet. She rid the woman of all layers and latched onto her breast. Jasper explored the soft planes of her supple form and pulled her in. She locked arms around her waist and lavished Nieema with kisses. She squeezed and groped, loving her lush body. “Turn around,” Jasper commanded. Nieema arched a regal brow but smirked. She spun about and blessed her. That ass was gorgeous. Sitting, wide, and round. Jasper had no shame. She bit her left ass cheek. “Ah!” Nieema rubbed bite marks and peeked over her shoulder. “You sneaky devil.” “I’ve only just begun. Touch your toes, Majesty.” She didn’t hesitate to bend over and present herself. “Open up to me. Spread them.” Nieema widened her stance. Blush pink and sable had never looked so divine. She glistened and wept. Leaving any and all worries at the door, Jasper unraveled her tail and flicked it. “Is this what you want?” Jasper snaked her way between Nieema’s legs and tapped her clit with the tip. “You want me to fuck you now?”
About two years ago, I gave Vella a try. It went absolutely nowhere. I don’t know, maybe it was my lack of marketing skills. Anyway, I took Neon Red down six months before Vella shuttered and said I’d release it on D2D or Smashwords. I can still do that. I’m still thinking about it, but I figured why not give Substack a go and see what happens. If it doesn’t pick up after about six months, I’ll bring it here. No big deal. I get more reads through FB than anywhere else anyway. So, with that being said, I will post Content Warnings here. Neon red is a Dramatic Paranormal Romance. Keyword: dramatic. It’s dark, twisted at times, and messy. The story follows four vampires. First up, there’s Maxine, a depressed, ninety-eight-year-old divorcée living at home. Then we have Low, a bodyguard intent on fucking up his career and personal life. And because I love chaos, there is Jaxon Aubrey, a genius accountant moonlighting as a drug lord. Lastly, and not my favorite character, Tracy. Maxine’s father, Low’s boss, and Jaxon’s newest client. Neon Red is the first in a three-book series I completed four-five years ago. It’s not my best work, but it is fun and enjoyable. I have been editing and tweaking since its Vella days, so it ain’t sooooo bad. Neon Red is a journey some may not like, and others might love. Keep in mind, again, this is a dark story with dark themes. I don’t condone drug use or selling, nor do I care for those who actively destroy lives. This is fiction, and trust, I do not glorify it. There are consequences for every action. If you follow along to the very end, you will see what I mean. The main coupling is a fast-burning polycule. Mmf. Crossing swords and sloppy toppy for everyone! By everyone! I’ve said it many times, but all these characters are Bi or pan. No assuming, just know! Also, Maxine and Low are Black. Jaxon is not; he is Irish. I suppose this makes it an Interracial and Black love romance. Neon Red is unapologetically Black, and some language will seem dated. That’s intentional. These are old ass vampires with decades behind and in front of them. Time moves differently when you’re immortal.
Without further delay, the CWs and trope card.
Off-page death of a parent, Depression Murder, Parental Neglect and Financial Abuse Trauma, Mild Gore Blackmail, Drug Selling, Drug Use (weed), Parental Abandonment, Mention of Religious Bigotry, Past Domestic ViolenceNeon Red trope card includes Polycule dynamic, plus-size FMC, Secret Relationships, morally gray MCs, Paranormal Romance, Forced Marriage
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. *Also, chapter 7 is not a typo; I broke it up into two parts. That will not be happening again. I just don’t prefer it,
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.
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!
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.”
“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
“Where is it? Wher—yes!” Jasper found her favorite scarf in a box titled ‘books’. There were books inside, but also non-book items. With a telling whimper, she scurried into the bathroom and tied the rainbow silk length tight. The bright, colorful theme continued all the way down to her boots. Pink overalls made her hips pop. Jasper had no business trying to look put together. She was celibate! A sexless succubi was a thing of myth, but she was here to defy the odds. Sex, love, and companionship brought nothing but pain into her life. Of course, when a handsome couple lusted after you it said something. She hadn’t lost her touch. Jasper still had what folks wanted. From the tips of her gold-tipped horns to the soles of her feet she was…she was… Jasper stared at her reflection in a cruddy, broken mirror and sighed. She was still trying to find herself. Trying to recover tiny shards after a terrible ordeal. A shrill ring and clatter made her flinch. Jasper rushed from the washroom and saw to her phone. She smiled at the photo and name. “Kit?” “Hay.” “What’s up, lovebug?” “I… well… Jasper, I quit!” Her heart bloomed with warmth and hope. “Oh, my god. Kit you didn’t. Oh shit. You, when—quit?” “Yeah, and Dad’s pretty mad. I—that would make two of us and well—he kicked me out.” Jasper stopped dead and stared at her laptop. She had orders and shit to fulfill but holy hell, she was going through a lot. Tugging on her necklaces she nodded as Kit went on about their father’s lecture and anger. The Duke was mad and who cared. Not every demon belonged in hell. Not every demon knew how to harvest souls, make contracts, or even kill. Jasper didn’t and had never committed murder. Other demons treated her like a pariah. “Okay, Kit?” “Mhm?” “You’re gonna stay with me. Of course. No questions asked.” “Are you sure? I don’t want to…” Her brother mumbled as always, doubting his usefulness and station in her life. “Yes! Now shut up and get over here. And hay—“ A heavy-handed knock had her jumping out of her skin. “Just come right in, don’t knock. I’m having my house looked at. Don’t mind the mess and behave. Also, that fucking cat stays outsi—“ “He’s not a feral outside cat!” “I don’t—“ A third knock put her in motion. “I gotta go. See you in a minute.” “Kay. Bye.” Jasper ended their call and jogged downstairs, forgetting about the warped wood. She slipped on the second to last step and stumbled into the vestibule. “Holy god damn.” She was a mess and in a hurry, it seemed. The Sunsides were attractive and soooo off-limits. She hadn’t participated in a threesome in years. Not that it was an option, because it wasn’t. Jasper set aside her obsession with vampires and her curiosity about Buck Sunside to open the door. “Hayyy.” Jasper waved a hand. “Come in. And watch your step.” “Forgive Buck,” Nieema said, crossing the threshold. She carried herself like a queen and resembled one. “He’s in writing mode. Ain’t no talking while he’s walking. I’m going to throw some things at him and he’ll jot it all down.” Jasper scrunched her nose as Nieema turned up hers. She was a gorgeous Black goddess with obsidian skin and a shock of teal braids. They were bound in an elegant crown and suited her regal features. “Water damage,” Nieema pipped, strolling into what might be formal living one day. Jasper loved the giant fireplace. “Mold damage. Termites are having a time wallowing in their rot. The floors gotta go. There’s a leak below. Solid bones, though.” Nieema stomped twice and nodded. “The foundation is crumbling, child. I can hear mice chattering in the walls and squirrels are in the attic. They’ve chewed through the wiring, I’m sure. I wouldn’t turn on a single light if I was you.’ “They don’t work,” Jasper added, though given the lanterns and fake candles, Nieema probably knew. Buck followed his wife, scribbling every word. They traveled through the house, making Jasper dizzy. There was shit wrong she hadn’t even noticed. They conversed about what to do in the kitchen, leaving her to stare. Buck was enormous. Taller than them both. Nieema was tiny, maybe five-two, so everyone was taller than her. But it wasn’t every day Jasper found a man over six-two. And he was at least six-three, perhaps five. His brawn caught her quick, but his mysterious nature and impeccable bone structure captured her attention. She found his down-home country attire funny next to the Mrs. Nieema dressed as if she fronted a metal band. Corsets, chokers, matte lips, and the color black. Yesterday it was a corset dress. Today it was leather pants. Her bottom— “Jasper? Hello?!” “You expecting somebody?” Buck asked. “Shit, Kit. I’ll be right back.” Jasper hightailed it out of the musty pantry to see about her brother.
The house was a piece of shit. On a quiet, cozy street it was an eyesore. Boarded, abandoned, and inhaling its last breath. Buck smelled rot and decay. The wood swelled and them termites, yeah. They were eating good. Mother fuckers. Nobody should be living in this house. It was one light breeze away from collapsing. He heard every creak, groan, and snap. Beams screamed under their weight and bolts rattled. “She shouldn’t be staying here, mama.” “I was about to say the same. This place is a ruin. I’m wondering how much Hawk Shade got outta her. It ain’t worth more than ten thousand. Knowing his greedy ass he milked the poor woman.” “You know it too.” Buck opened a crooked cupboard door and let it slap to a close. Her house was in dire need of an overhaul. There wasn’t shit worth repairing, everything had to go. Down to the nails. Jasper’s voice was a nice distraction. She entered the kitchen with a stout young man who was much older than he appeared. He cradled an ugly, fat, hairy cat and shook his head. “What a—Jasper are staying here? It smells terrible. I can taste the mildew. I can get sick. My chest feels funky…” Nieema hummed in her way and twirled, facing the duo. They were kin, Buck saw it in the eyes. As his wife dallied and pulled on a wobbly drawer, he got to thinking. “This fella is right, don’t ya know.” “I’m sorry?” “Well…” Nieema examined the sink and clucked her tongue. “It’s a health hazard, a health violation. I wouldn’t allow nobody to stay up in here, much less let you buy the place. The realtor was wrong, Jasper. Now, if you want us to fix the house fine. But I can’t imagine y’all staying here overnight. I know you demonic and all, but it smells nasty, looks worse and where is this man gonna sleep? Like I said, I can—“ The second a Wicker Spider come bursting through the floor, Buck pushed the soft fella into the pantry and slammed the door. The eight-legged beast was foul, quick, and mad as a wet hen. They clawed for Jasper who had jumped on the counter. Nieema was bucking on the fucker like the rodeo goddess she was. “Don’t worry, mama! Imma—“ He spotted a cast iron skillet in a box and snatched it. The creature with razor thorns lining each limb flailed about and lunged at him. As Jasper screamed and the man in the closet cried, Buck bashed the thousand-eyed freak in the head. “That’s it, baby! Get that sucka!” Nieema tore into its gray, fibrous exoskeleton. “Don’t let it scratch you!” “WomanI been fight—“ He danced with the screeching as it tried and failed to throw his wife off. With a final blow, he called every root beneath and above. Vines, nettles, brambles, and barbed boughs fractured planks and studs. They snaked through wallpaper, around rusted pipes, and weaseled through outlets. From below and behind, branches and trunks pierced the giant bug, spraying guts everywhere. Nieema shred them to bits until it collapsed in a heap and wheezed. Their neon green eyes flickered and died as its vitality waned. “Well at least there won’t be much to dismantle up in here.” Nieema laughed and Buck rushed to her aid. He helped his sweet darlin’ down off the beast. “Don’t be funny, Buck. She’s terrified.” Nieema extended a gentle hand and Jasper squeezed it. She helped the shaken woman onto her feet. “I think you got more than a termite infestation. Which is even more reason for you and the—“ Jasper cursed and waved at the mess Buck done made. “My brother!” “Oh my. Honey, I am sorry. Buck, get the man outta there!” “Yes ma’am.” Buck, thanks to his Drendt side, had a way with nature and a strong connection plants. The mess of thorns, sticks, and needles parted for him like any pair of curtain might. He rushed to free poor boy. “Oh my god is that Wicker Spider?!” Jasper;s kin balked, holding their cat close. “Mhm.” “How did it get here?” “Probably migrated or was brought over by a no good sumabitch. You let these heffas start making babies and you’ll be in a world of trouble. They love meat, ya know?” “Meat?” The man was sweating now, and that cat was a fuckin’ mess. His deep brick complexion was washed and damp. Given how his horns were sawed down Buck would wager he wasn’t no killing demon. “They sure not herbivores,” Nieema said. “Now, seeing as your kitchen is gone and we don’t know if this thing has created a nest, I think you should stay someplace else.” Jasper nodded as she tugged her brother’s arm. She looked him over and agreed. “Okay. Yeah. Whatever. We’ll get a hotel and—“ “Didn’t nobody say nothing about a hotel, Missy.” Jasper whipped her head around. “Wait, what?” “We have more than enough room on our ranch.” “Nieema, I—“ “That’s settled. Come on now. Get a bag and let’s get going. I got ox tails and rice on the menu.” Jasper looked to Buck, as if he’d intervene. First of all, what Nieema says goes. And second, he wanted and needed to know her better. This was a fine invitation and beneficial for everyone involved. He smiled and nodded, his wife was never wrong about these things.
J. T. Frost 