Low was in his element. Standing over the six-range Viking, he tested his famous gravy. “Mhm. Can’t get no better than that.” Some spent money on cars, jewels, and watches. Nah, he loved plants and kitchen appliances. Subzero, Vikin,g, and Mielie. They were Boujee and pricey, but when you were a homebody, you needed reliable shit. And in this age of obsolescence, expensive goods tended to last longer… as planned. On the menu for tonight was slow-cooked garlic pork roast, fried cabbage, truffle mashed potatoes, and homemade French bread. Not his loaf, but Max’s. The female baked her ass off but could not cook rice. Washing hands, he nodded at the boys who were in the living room, lounging like they had not a care in the world. Low turned the warmer and timer off. “Ashton, can you set the table?” He heard a whistle and shuffling. “Teddie, kill the game boy. It’s time to eat.” “Yup, I’m super hungry.” “I know the feeling, bruh.” Mitts on, he retrieved a loaded pan filled with sizzling meat from the oven and marched to the table. “Ohhhhhh, Low, that looks amazing.” “It’s finna taste better too.” “I believe it. I told Ron you make the best shrimp and grits in Florida. He said, ‘hell nah, my mama does.’ So, I said ‘bet’. You have to make some shrimp and grits now.” The boy talked a mile a minute and took no breaks unless he had to breathe. “How you volunteer me like that?” “Simple. I know yours is better.” Ashton rushed around carrying utensils, cups, and condiments. He loved setting the table, but Low knew it was more so outta habit. Pops made damn certain his sons set the table for their entire lives. Low had done it ‘til moving out at a hunnit and twenty years old. Sides joined the main dish, and seconds later, they were seated. Low ate breakfast or lunch with them, depending on how he felt. But supper was to be eaten at the table. No matter what, at some point during the day, he enjoyed a meal with his siblings. “Hands.” Palms up and outstretched, he gripped the smaller ones. Bowing their heads, Low waited for Teddie. It was his turn. “Lord, we thank you for the food you allowed us to have. And thank you for giving my brother the know-how to cook it, and in Jesus’ name, bless those who are without bread. In Jesus name we pray, Amen.” “Amen.” Low paused talking to stack protein on his plate. “How’s gymnastics going, Teddie?” His brother smiled and passed around the mashed potatoes. “I’m second in ranks.” “That’s what’s up. You been going at it all month. See? Practice makes what?” “Perfect,” Teddie sang. Theodor was a happy teenager on the cusp of manhood. Sixteen, innocent, and never been in the streets or seen a gun. Their parents did well until the moment they left. “I have a shot at the championship this year.” After loading his plate, Low clapped palms with Teddie. “I know you gon’ make it. And if you keep going. You’ll get that scholarship, too.” Teddie beamed, his brown eyes shining with pride. “I know I will. It’s about manifestation. Max told me—” “Here we go.” “What?” Teddie frowned with a mouth full. “She’s right. A positive mindset works. You stick with it and make things happen. When you realize how powerful your own thoughts are, the faster you can wipe out negative energy.” Low laughed and shook his head while chomping on potatoes. Looking at Ashton, he ran a hand over his short, pre-dreads. “And what about you, boy? How are you doing in the band?” Ashton nodded, dropped his fork, and signed. It’s going good, though, I’m still kinda bad. I think the violin is my instrument. I really mean it this time. “Are you sure?” Low asked with a smirk. “You ain’t tried drums yet.” Ashton shook his head and signed. Nah, too noisy. You know I love classical strings. I just had to decide. Cello, violin, flute, clarinet, trumpet. I got the piano down, thanks to Max. But I’m sure it’s the violin for me. I like how it feels in my hands. It speaks to me. This little boy was fourteen and growing too damn fast. Ashton was seven years old when they were abandoned. Now, he wore braces, stood five-foot-seven, and talked about girls. Pretty soon, he and Theodore would be grown men. Time ain’t stop for no damn body. Low smiled, flashing fangs. “Whatever you do, it’s gonna be great, Ash. Once you learn a skill, you excel. I’m proud of you.” Glancing at Teddie, he said. “Both of ya’ll. I just wish I could be there for competitions and recitals. I’m sorry about that.” The middle brother shrugged. “You always say sorry for things you can’t control, Low. You didn’t ask to be a vampire who has a sun allergy. It’s the weirdest thing. Don’t you think, Ash?” He nodded and signed. It makes no sense. And then, one day, I’ll be allergic too. But I’m more of a night person, anyway. “Yeah, but you remember,” Teddie shoveled cabbage and snorted. “You remember when I put garlic in your room?” “I do.” Low sipped his cold, sweet blood happily and smiled. “That was when I first told you, right? Yeah, yeah. Y’all wanted proof so bad. You put garlic under my pillow and about burned me to death.” He side-eyed Ashton, ‘cause that sneaky boy got him fresh out the shower. Low walked into his room, and Ash ripped the curtains aside. Ashton rolled his eyes and signed. I believed you afterwards. “Yeah, I would hope—” The doorbell interrupted their chatter. Standing, Low checked the time. 9:30 and barely vampire hours, but he had called for Mrs. Piper to watch the boys, since they ain’t know how to act. Hitting a u-turn, he jogged out of the kitchen and hustled for the door. “Max?” She waved from beyond the glass. “Hay, baby. I was just about to text you, too. I was finna hea—what’s wrong?” Her feet dragged along with her face. Maxi was a positive ball of happy-go-luckiness. Sometimes, her never-ending jubilation got on his last damn nerves. But when Low closed the door, sadness clogged a dark silence as her forehead met his chest. “What’s the matter, Max? Talk to me,” Low said, his demand terse. Linking arms around him, she mumbled. “What is it?” He stepped into the bar area, entrance adjacent, and sat on a stool, pulling Max onto his lap. “Woman, you gotta speak up.” Low hated it when she was sad and blue. It didn’t feel good on the inside. Cupping her cheek, he yanked off the frames and tossed them on the bar-top. “I’m getting married,” she muttered, about ready to cry. Low heard those words, but the loud racket behind his ribs made it tough to make out. “You what?” “I’m getting marrieeeed.” Hands dropped away as he recoiled. Who would have thought he’d care this much? Low remained willfully ignorant for years. He refused to scrutinize what had blossomed between them for his sanity, her mental health, and the job. They had an agreement, an arrangement that worked great, but… “When did you meet somebody?” he asked, unable to look at her. Staring at rows of top-shelf liquor and hanging martini glasses was a better game plan. The sudden feeling of betrayal had him fucked up. It was unwanted and ridiculous. They were grown adults who set boundaries from the first time they… “Low?” “You said we would tell each—” “Oh, my god. No, I didn’t meet anyone.” He cut back to Max with questions. “I don’t understand.” “My dad did this.” He jacked to his feet and paced. “What the fu—what the fuck?!” Linking fingers atop his head, Low halted and gawked. “Are you playing with me right now?! Max, don’t play. Please don’t.” “I’m not. This guy named Matthias came over, and basically, I have to…” Some shit hurt Low’s feelings, other things turned his pillows red. Then some issues and dilemmas made a man wanna rip his own heart out. And to be trill, this was the second time Low felt the latter. As Max explained the whole ordeal, he wanted to vomit. What was finna happen? Was Raymond Lawry going to take her away? Would they move out of state? The bleak thought threatened every bite he swallowed. “Is everything okay?” Teddie asked. His concern called Low’s muddled mind into the present. “Uh, yeah.” He nodded. “It’s fine. Max, baby, you hungry?” Shaking her head, she smiled. “Hay Teddie.” “We have mashed potatoes.” He knew how much she loved the spud. Ashton ran in next, slipping on socked feet, and slammed into her. “Hi, kid,” she chimed as the boy pulled her into the kitchen. “Guess I’ll have a bite.” Both of his brothers were taller than she, but it never stopped the woman from babying them. Low was about to flip. Like, he needed to smoke, or he’d kill one of his children. Not the boys, but a plant. They were his kids. Well, not all. Some were closer to him than that. “See.” Teddie showcased a tub crammed with slices of bread. “He even let us have some. Cause you know he’s stingy with it.” “It’s mine, the eff you mean.” Low barked. Max gave him the nastiest scowl in return. “No.” She snarled and said, “I will tear you up. Y’all can have as much as you want, and if you like, I can make another batch tonight.” When they sat, Low cleared his throat. “Mhm, nah, I’m heading out. Which means you are too.” “I don’t wanna.” “You do.” He smirked. “Where are we going?” Max asked, handling baked goods. She smeared butter on its fluffy white top. He shrugged. “Don’t know. I ain’t the one driving.”
Good evening, y’all. I know it’s late, but it’s still Friday! This is a win! Also, I am writing this half asleep, but I did it. I really hope you have a terrific weekend, and per the norm, I want to thank you. If not for y’all, I wouldn’t keep doing this. Your time and interest mean everything. Have a wonderful Memorial weekend, loves! Byyyyeee.
Close quarters and molten delight. Buck wasn’t one to push or the sort to add pressure until within the arms of promising darkness. He let folks live and die however they wanted. There were too many petals to pluck. Why worry himself silly over one fragrant flower? It was no secret that he was for whoever wanted him. Be it man, woman, or them, he’d be there. Slipping between walls and digging ‘em out. He wasn’t picky. Buck had a good woman with great pussy he tasted with every swallow. “There ain’t much to it,” Buck said, smoke puffing and curling. He applied another price sticker and glanced at Jasper. “You got it.” “Surely.” “How many jobs have you had?” “Not many, but enough.” “You like dealing with people?” Buck asked, plucking his pipe from the shelf. “And don’t be shy. Consider this an interview.” “Thought I had the job already?” Gold flecks sparked in her eyes like agitated fireflies. Jasper’s unbidden attention yanked at his soaked roots. “I need some personal info to put on paper. Mater fact…” Buck brushed past the demon, and she chuckled while he was left to burn. Her scent dared to raze his soul. “Step into my office.” He sauntered between stacks and units. Shelves cluttered and dusty. Nieema hated the task and refused to handle it. The aroma of sawdust, mulch, and metals reminded him of them early days. When the hardware store was their only means of making ends meet. Buck smiled and trekked onward, across twelve hundred square feet. Their first baby had grown up and out since times of old. “We gotta fill out that application and such. Got health care and whatnot.” The back of house wasn’t shit but a bathroom, office, and an adjacent break room. They cut wood outdoors because Buck couldn’t stand the sight. They weren’t sentient trees, but watching the work made his ass itch nonetheless. “Let’s see here.” Buck hustled to the bookshelf, set his pipe next to a fussy ficus, and located the folders. He snatched one and dropped it on the desk. Jasper was a cold piece, feet kicked up atop glossy mahogany. Ankles crossed, she rocked in the chair, hands on her soft belly. Buck grunted and smacked her loafer. “You don’t pay for nothing. Feet off my shit.” She cackled and snagged the folder. He picked a pen from the holder and offered it. Jasper snatched the damned thing and locked her scorching stare upon high. Buck matched her indignation. He smoked in silence and gathered much from her quick script. “I don’t take to demands well, Buckley.” “Sumn’ else we got in common, huh?” She flipped pages and continued, eyes on the application. “Your wife is beguiling.” “I agree.” “Nieema was respectful and forthcoming. Intent on fucking me.” Buck grunted and ambled, mouth to the teak tip. He waited a tick and stared out the single four-pane window he’d installed nearly two hundred years ago. Still held up, much like his marriage. “You tryna make a case or convince me of somethin’?” “I don’t want you to think I came onto her. Or that I sought to do anything with your wife.” He scoffed, clouds undulating as he pivoted. Jasper finished her duty and leaned in the chair. “I wouldn’t care if you did.” “Understood.” He sniffed, smirking. “What’s your plan now?” A dire wolf might deem her smile a threatening show of fang. Buck loved this part. He adored them self-assured types. A pretty woman to step on his neck and make him beg for pain. The sweet dame who’d clutch his nuts and make him pray with reverence. She’d do it to ‘em. Buck believed this succubus to be kind, personable, and everything her kind wasn’t, but she had the beating pulse of a domineering demon. One he could trust to do him right when the occasion called. “I don’t want complications,” Jasper asserted, rising. She pressed forward and rounded the desk, seeking to devour Buck right on up. Her magic spilled and pooled between them. Fine florals, sweet nectars, and spice. He inhaled every note and became a glutton within seconds. She settled on his tongue, coiling around Nieema’s essence. The richness roused his old bone and wood. Buck inched closer as she grabbed his pipe. He watched, fascinated. Jasper pulled with ease and exhaled. Smoke billowed, framing her strong features and capped horns. The succubus pushed his most prized blend through her nostrils and said, “I’m at a point in my life where all I seek is peace. What y’all bring to the table is trouble, and I don’t want it. I don’t want anyone in my face. I don’t want to be paraded around by king and queen.” Buck shivered as their proximity forbade another breath. Breast to breast. Heaving and creaking under her sheer demonic weight. The air was thick with it. Lust, desire. It laved the skin. He growled and bore into her gaze. “I don’t want my business in the street.” “You got my word,” Buck rasped, drunk on her presence and scent. She hadn’t pulled a single succubus card, but he was ready to drop for it. Crawl and kneel for a crumb. She paused for a second hit, and squinted. “I don’t want expectations.” “There ain’t none.” “You aren’t easy to read,” Jasper said, grinning. “I find this to be both thrilling and terrifying. It’s sickening how undeniable your darkness is. Heavy, potent, you carry on the wind and strangle me. I’m choking on it even now. Don’t make me regret this, Buck.” “Never.” She placed his pipe on the desk and sat on it. “You may touch me now.” As if the soil demanded him to, he heeded her words and closed the distance in half a second. He locked an arm around her waist while his width forced her legs to part. Buck claimed Jasper’s mouth and demanded entrance. She gave. Allowing him the pleasure of exploration. Sweeter than morning dew and honey tree sap. He threaded claws through her short hair and gripped strands. Jasper responded in kind. Lighting him ablaze, she fisted the fabric at his back. A telling heat pulsated on his bricked dick. Succubi came on strong as hell and turned that ass into a fiend. He wanted to be seated within her. Deep and burning between her luscious thighs. He growled while she hissed from the belly. It was packed with deadly promise. Buck wanted her bite. He craved her fang-filled kiss and loved how she took to him. Desperation fueled their fire. Flint to parched tinder, he was ready for conflagration. “Hello?!” The holler ruined their moment. Buck rumbled, furious with the world. He snapped her head back, and she yanked herself free. A beat later, teeth and fangs penetrated bone. She’d struck him quicker than a pit snake. To cool his ass down and keep from nutting in his pants, Buck escaped her clutches. He stumbled into the shelf and patted at the bite wound on his shoulder. Blood seeped, staining his t-shirt. “You ain’t shit!” Buck yelled, rushing to pluck a tissue from the box. “It’s seven in the evening and you biting motha fuckas’. This—you know wh—I got something for you.” Jasper laughed, pleased with herself. She leveraged weight on her palms and shrugged. “Who says I want it?” “Don’t get cute.” “I’m not.” She slid to the floor and said, “I have plans with the wife.” “Mhm. Yeah. I bet you do.” She arched a brow while Buck blotted. He loved the sting, tug, and burn. Jasper had no idea how close she was to getting fucked out in this god damn office. He would have, but something about it ain’t sit right. Buck was going to give this demon more than a quickie in the back of his hardware shop. She deserved more than that, and he was more than happy to give her time if need be. “After you, ma’am. I got customers.” “We have customers.” Jasper winked in passing and exited on her high horse. “I want my first check on Friday.” “You can want it all you like, don’t mean you gon’ get it. The hiring process takes time.” “I need the money, Buck.” She spun about, walking backwards through stacks. “I’m serious.” “You want me to spot you a few—“ “No!” Jasper fussed about not taking handouts anymore. He truly didn’t give a fuck and wasn’t about to let the woman talk him down. She’d take his money and like it.
Happy Tuesday, I know it’s a day late, but bookie, the 9-to-5 is gnashing its teeth. Taking a chunk right out of my ass. Buuuut, we persist. We keep it moving and march forward. Just like Buck and Jasper! We have arrived! First kiss for both husband and wife. They’re cute as hell, and I’m still discovering new things about them. Jasper has no fight left, and I feel her because Buck is some fine shit. Big, bold, and dark. We love us a morally gray forest daddy, don’t we? I know I doooo. Anyway, I love how they’re not taking each other seriously while being nothing but themselves. Jasper isn’t one to fuck around, and Buck ain’t either. He loves to be handled with care, but make no mistake, he can and will make demands. I’m anxious to get these three alone. And the moment I publish this, it’s off to see about them. With that, I will bid you farewell. Until next week, folks, have a wonderful night. And don’t forget to drink more water, watch your favorite show, and get some rest! Byyyye.
Tuesday’s weren’t for the weak. Nieema hated slow days more than off days. After five hundred years of working, moving, and shaking, she didn’t know how to relax. The only down time she had was in Bucks arms or tucked away in their dungeon. If not for him, Nieema wouldn’t have a reason to sit ass. She was a mother, grandmother, and queen of Ravensguard. This kept her from lazing about. June through August was her least busiest time of year. Come November, she’d be knee deep in charity work, quilt making, embroidery commissions, and festive requests that should have been scheduled months prior. December was all about the Solstice and Christmas. When Nieema jumped from town to city, checking on her people. She had civic duties, paperwork, and housing to procure, not to mention the occasional visit from territory leaders. So, Yeahhhh, holding up in the hardware shop made her feel useless, antsy. She coulda’ been doing something productive. Instead, Nieema reclined behind the counter, scrolling on her phone. While searching for yarn, thread, and other shit she didn’t need, her night brightened. Feet kicked up and ankles locked, she smiled. “What can I get you, fine folks, tonight? I got a discount on sandpaper and caulk.” “What I want ain’t on them shelves.” “I know that’s right.” Nieema glanced at the door as he entered, Jasper trailing. And oooowee, was she a sight. Pressed, slick, and classic. There was nothing more attractive than a person who dressed to impress. She smelled better than a fresh hotty toddy. Cinnamon sweet and dark, their scents mingled. Jasper accompanied Buck’s earthy woods and high allspice so well. Their tangled aromas made her more than curious. She enjoyed the sublime fragrance and wanted to speak on it, but decided not to. Buck’s words echoed in her skull as Jasper avoided eye contact. She hung back and perused. Nieema dropped legs and admired her husband. “Where you been?” Nieema asked. “Dorthy wanted an introduction.” “Hm.” Nieema didn’t have nothing nice to say about the woman, so she wouldn’t address it. “Other than that, what you get into?” “Nothin’.” Buck popped his gum and sniffed, sliding behind the counter. He scooted on over to the POS and tapped on the screen. “Buckley, you got ‘bout two-point-three, and I do mean it.” “He done pissed me off!” Buck piped. “Hawke is a red-beaked vulture, tell you what. He prayed on Jasper’s naivety and kindness. I couldn’t have it.” The drawer popped open, and Buck got to counting the till. Wasn’t but fifty-seven dollars in it. They made the most money on weekends. “You spooked that man. His brother texted me about it. Said he rushed home in tears. Thinks we gon’ have him beheaded.” Buck laughed and said, “Lucky I don’t.” “You hush. Wild boy.” “Damn straight.” Buck cast his gaze downward and lingered. “Where’s my love?” Nieema giggled as he descended. His crushing, breathtaking kiss roused her thirst. Nieema had half a mind to drag his fine ass to the back, but figured it rude, given their company. After nipping his lip, she stole a drop or two. He grunted and pecked her forehead. “Why you so quiet, woman?” Nieema asked, looking for Jasper. She’d ventured off, disappearing between shelves and stacks. “It’d be a shame to interrupt.” “Is that right?” “Nimmy,” Buck warned. Jasper sauntered on over, hands in her pockets. Her sashay was nasty, and so was the wolfish grin. Jasper wasn’t so shy or skittish now. Nieema sensed her draw. Succubi fed on desire, lust, and love. They thrived in a passionate environment. “Dining on me and mine, are we?” “Shhhhit,” Buck hissed. Nieema crossed arms atop the counter and matched Jasper’s molten gaze. She was bold and unabashed, towering. Gold winked and gleamed against her gorgeous red complexion. Jasper was a cold piece and had to know it. Bad as a bitch and sneaky. Arrogance wafted as she peered. “I don’t have much of a choice with y’all. You freaked out.” “You ain’t seen shit yet,” Buck said. Nieema snapped her fingers. “You just told me—boy, shut up.” “Well.” He slammed the drawer and sighed. “You know how to work a register, Jasper?” “Of course.” “Good. Get over here and show me then.” She stalled, squinting. “Say please.” Nieema chuckled at her statement. Buck was the wrong one to try. He’d stroke that ego and make you feel so goooood. Finessing an unprepared dame was light work for the king of Nieema’s heart. “Please,” he drawled, eyes glinting beneath the rim of his dusty old hat. Fuck, Nieema wanted to give him neck right now. Drop the knee and choke. Jasper’s confidence swelled. It was all in her face, in her smile and high chin. Nieema clocked her sure stride and square shoulders. Poor soul thought she’d won. “Well, since y’all are gonna do some training. I’m gonna head out. Got some business to handle.” Nieema snatched her bag from under the counter. “Before I go, Jasper, I wanna apologize—“ “Will you be free tonight?” Jasper interrupted. “Uhhhh, yeah. I can be.” “I’ll see you at the ranch. We’ll talk then.” “We sure can. Ten-thirty?” “Done.” “Perfect.” “Indeed.” Nieema checked on her man, mirth shaking him loose. Maybe he was right about patience and whatever the hell. True, Nieema wasn’t the one trying to smash last week. And yes, she’d been telling Buck not to jump the line, and hell yeah, she was fuckin’ hypocritical. Jasper wouldn’t be ignored. Instincts told Nieema not to forsake this woman. She listened to her gut and intuition without fail. They were never wrong. If a vampire had nothing else, they had base instincts. It was a matter of survival. Life or death. “You two behave, and Buck, I need you to get the collards. I’m not gonna ask again.” “I know.” “You say that, but I asked you on Monday to pick them up. Farris just harvested them for us since yours aren’t ready. Don’t embarrass me!” “Go on, now, Nimmy. Take yourself somewhere. We busy!” “You ain’t busy yet, Moss Balls.” “Nimmy, god damn it.” Nieema cackled as Jasper asked about the term of endearment. On the way out, she eyed the duo, and they smiled. It was a delicious vision. Buck in proximity to Jasper. Brushing fabrics with inches between them. The implication made her shudder and exit. She needed the cool rush of a late summer breeze. With fresh air came clarity, reminding her of what she needed to do before heading home. Strolling down Everrose Street, she plucked her phone. With a tap, she dialed Hank. Folks smiled and waved. Nieema returned their friendliness in kind as her knight and right hand answered. “Huh? What?” “I need you to meet me at Lita’s.” “Are you good?” “No.” “On the way.” Hank had been her blade and shield for centuries. They’d traveled the world and fought; bled together. She’d dug trenches and nearly died beside the vampire. Nieema knighted Hank some five hundred years ago. He hadn’t left her since. He was family, but family didn’t always get along. He was mad about that wild bitch who tried to slaughter everyone in the coven. There was only one way to stop her. Axe and salted rainwater. Hank was pissed, no two ways about it. He wasn’t happy with Nieema or Buck at the moment. It wasn’t his fault, though. Love potions were horrid and had lingering effects even after the victim was cured. Hank suffered greatly at the hands of an unwell necromancer. Soon, he’d come out of this fog and see the truth. Until then, Nieema had to deal with his scorn. Mad as a soaked burrowing bear he may be, the man would come when called. He knew to drop the shit and stand on ten toes. When it was time for knightly business, he was there post haste. It came as no surprise when Hank rolled up and jumped from his truck ten minutes later. Serious as ever, no nonsense and alert. He joined Nieema at the table she dined at. Next door to Lita’s was Indigo’s finest vampire dive. It catered to their kind with a menu vampires appreciated. Blood was the main ingredient. Powdered, spiced, cold, hot, mixed, pure, or tap. The meals were fresh and hot, made to order. “What you got there?” Hank pursed his lips and snagged a corn puff. It was similar to a double-fried hushpuppy dripping with grease. Cornmeal, flour, and coagulated blood. Of course, most nutrients were lost after frying, but it tasted damn good. Nieema got three dozen and a medium, sugar blended a-positive. Frothy and refreshing, she sipped as Hank stole a puff. “You can get your own.” He grumped and chewed. Hank had a grandfatherly air about him, though he had no kids and never married. The thought often caused her pain. He’d put his whole life into serving. Nieema wanted more for him, but they’d argued about it enough. “What’s going on, Majesty?” “Don’t do that.” “You queen ain’t you?” “Hank, you can be mad all you want. But that won’t change what happened.” He garbled and stole his second puff. “You talking to me like I don’t already know. What you call me for, huh? What’s going on?” Nieema punched down her drink with the straw, considering her next words carefully. She didn’t know the whole story and had no intention of running her mouth about Jasper. “Juel might have…been paid to keep tabs on our new house guest.” Hank recoiled and blinked. “Cheryl’s boy?” “Mhm.” Hank stroked his beard and nodded, attention fixed on the bustling crowd across the street. Some new space movie was released two days ago, so the cinema was packed. Free ticket Wednesdays and unlimited popcorn kept Spalding’s in business. Its glittering marquee made her nostalgic for times past. Buck had taken her to the movies for the first official date. Back then, films were silent moving pictures. Nieema refused to give her money to them big theater chains. No way, no how. “What you tryna’ do?” Hank asked, mid-sigh. He crossed his arms and glowered. “I don’t know what we can get him on. He wasn’t stalking.” “How you know?” Nieema snipped, crunching on ice. “He been watching her comings and goings. Off in the cut somewhere, eating sour candy. Sounds like stalking to me.” “You gonna detain him?” “No.” “What am I here for?” “This is official royal business, okay? You gotta be with me.” Hank shrugged and snagged another ball. “Alright now! You gon’ lose two fingers fucking around with my food.” For the first time in a while, Hank grinned. “Hurry up and eat so I can get back.” “What you got going on?” Nieema considered the old vampire. “Why are you in such a rush?” He sniffed and scrunched up his face. “My chickens. I gotta keep an eye on ‘em. That furry devil done killed ‘bout three. Nimmy, it’s bad. That man ain’t got no kinda handle on his beast or friend, I don’t know, hell.” Hank was mighty flustered. “Who’s beast?” He flicked a hand and snapped fingers. “Wushisname, uh, Jasper’s brother. Uh, Kit? His cat is wild, feral, and a pain in my Black ass.” Nieema chuckled as Hank prattled on about the chaos Kit’s cat had caused. Apparently, it was possessed. A demonic kitty. How adorable, she thought. “Well,” Nieema started, “I wish you luck, but don’t be acting a damn fool.” “I ain’t.” He lied. “Yeah, right. Don’t badger Kit and leave his cat alone, you hear me?” “Shit,” Hank cussed again, mumbling about his coops and such. “I’ll try, but Nimmy, I can’t lose no more hens.” “I hear you.” Hank shook his head and sighed. “You almost done? God damn!” “Shut your rickety ass up.” “Don’t make me knock this shit over,” Hank warned. “I’ll do it!” Nieema eyed him and pointed two talons at his mug. “I’ll break my foot off in you—“ “I’m ‘bouta go,” Hank snapped. “You playing with my time, woman.” Nieema laughed and finished her drink. Hank helped her polish off the puffs and even tossed her trash. With their snack date done, she headed next door. Lita’s was one of two hair salons in Indigo Plains. And folks loved Lita’s cause; Marshay braided better than Princess, who had a chair at Wax. Nieema preferred Lita’s, mostly cause it wasn’t so prim. Hot irons and food scented the air. It was a welcoming aroma she found comforting. Every last chair was taken. Folks looked mad and defeated. They had appointments, for damn sure, but time was of no value the second you crossed the threshold. “Look who decided to show they face!” Marshay bellowed, eyes on the hot comb she held with care. “You come up in here after taking them braids out for no damn reason.” The owner of Lita’s, named after her late mother, tapped somebody in the temple. “Girl, you got nerve. You bet not fall asleep in my chair!” Marshay lifted her carmine stare and tweaked a brow. “They were fine, Nimmy. Shit. You be wasting my time.” “Look, here, you know I gotta switch shit up. Don’t know why you mad.” “Tuh, do your own hair from now on, then, Queen.” “You so huuuuurrrt,” Nieema grimaced and pointed at Juel. His chair was second to last. He sat in it, eating. “Listen, imma buy you lunch, Shay.” “I want a bottle of Venwae.” Nieema cocked her head as Juel dragged tail. “Venwae! The fuck who you think I am. That’s top-shelf blood, ma’am.” “Nimmy,” Pat called from his spot by the dryers. “You hear about the mall shit?” “Yeah, of course.” “Huh? You heard about the Voaremont inviting the Chieftain over for supper?” “Juel, bring your behind, now!” “I’m coming, I had to put my food up.” “What you mean invited?” Nieema looked to Pat. The man nodded. “Invited how?” “You know how invites work, girl.” “He can’t enter Ravensguard without my say.” “Wellll, you better talk to the Voaremonts’ and the orcs about it.” “I plan to.” Nieema glanced at Hank, who was already tapping on his phone. “Get that motha fucka on the line.” “Already done.” Her knight exited the salon with the phone to his ear. “Juel, baby, let’s take a walk.” “I didn’t know you were with her, I—“ Nieema clasped a hand on the back of his neck and peered into butterscotch brown. Juel was a good boy and probably didn’t mean harm. But, he was still on the wrong side of this here situation, and Nieema wanted to know why. “I didn’t ask you to talk, quite yet, honey.” Nieema started their journey and released her nervous cousin. “Don’t worry, Juel. I ain’t gon’ bite you. But I will need you to talk, and it’d behoove you not to lie. Start from the beginning and tell me how you got
Hello, y’all. I know it’s a few days late. I am sorry for that, but I wanted to give myself some breathing room. I wrote a few more chapters and don’t feel so…behind? I looooveee staying ahead by a couple of chapters, but I paused for two shorts that I had to get out of me! Anyway, we are back on schedule, and here they are. We have a lot to come, and I know y’all are waiting for Buck and Jasper to have their moment. Soon, I promise. There will also be side quests! As y’all know, I’m a panster. And this panster loves external conflict. I’m still gonna keep stuff low-stakes, this won’t be high, world-ending shit. Nahhhh. But there will be a dash, sprinkle, pinch of political intrigue. I can’t stay away from it…apparently. The Voaremonts’ ain’t shit. I’m going to let y’all know that now. And yeah, the surname is…Mhmmmm. Not an accident. And with their mall comes trouble of all sorts. What else? Oh! Jasper’s cursed house is still cursed as hell, and we will get back to that in a bit. Because it’s FUNNN and I like where this is going. Anyhooo, thank you, thank you for being here with me. Your support makes my day. Have a lovely weekend! And remember, drink water, eat that god damn muffin, and sleep more. Byyyyye.
From room to room, they traveled and talked at length about decor. Jasper had never thought about her space to such a degree. Color palettes, woods, textures, lighting, and focus points. Turns out she knew Jack shit about her own wants and desires. She’d never been asked so many questions in her life. Favorite color, time of day, and animal preference. Was she nocturnal or more of a morning person? Thirty minutes into their walk, Jasper was comfortable and ready for the work to begin. “I don’t want black in here either,” Jasper said, standing in what would become her gaming room. “I want chill vibes but happy. This is where I’ll be spending the majority of my time, so I’m going for comfort. Relaxation, you know?” Dorthy nodded, scanning the space. “Muted shades of purple, blue, and indigo.” “Yes!” Jasper pointed at her and said, “Exactly. Blackout curtains and sexy art.” “What you mean by sexy?” Buck asked, arms crossed and booted foot propped just so on a ratty box. “Artistic nudes.” Jasper pinned her sights on the man and advanced. “Neons, paintings, and whatever else Dorthy can cook up. I love the female form.” Buck scoffed, chewing his cinnamon gum. “Guess you and me got somethin’ in common.” Jasper smirked, inches between them. She sighed and flicked his hat. Buck’s fixed attention called her bluff while his scent and soul tempted a starved succubus. He was thick on her tongue, sweet, smoky, and nutty. All things she didn’t need. As his gold fangs gleamed, Jasper shoved both hands into her pockets. She met his molten gaze. “I fear we have too much in common, Buck.” “I know exactly who to call,” Dorothy tapped on her phone and muttered. “No hologons. I’m thinking sconces. Straddling the hearth. Focal lighting will be perfect.” “Rugs,” Jasper announced, snatching free of his enchantment. She spun about and sauteed towards the exit. “I want fluffy rugs. No carpet. Just area rugs and shit.” “Perfect,” Dorthy piped from behind. “I’d love to keep the old personality of this home. Woods, sitting areas, and the sun room! What would you say to stained glass?” “Isn’t it colorful?” “Indeed.” Jasper stopped on the main level and shrugged. “Whatever you think is best, I’m down for, as long as we stick to no black. No stone. And natural light down here. I want cozy, not drafty, lived-in, not sterile. I wanna feel like I’m walking into my place of peace and happiness.” Dorthy beamed, nails clacking against her screen. “It’s been sooooo long since anyone has given me this much decorating freedom.” Jasper leafed through Dorthy’s portfolio, loving the work. Her home was in good hands. “I trust you, Dorthy.” Buck grumbled, and Jasper grimaced. “What the fuck? You’ve been doing this all day.” “You got enough, Dorthy?” Buck clipped. hands on his hips. He stared out the bay of windows and sniffed, clearly annoyed. “We gotta get going.” “More than enough, I’d say.” Dorthy extended her palm, and Jasper shook her delicate hand once again. “You are a dream client, Jasper. It will be my pleasure to bring your vision to life. If you’d like, feel free to e-mail me pictures, art, or decor that speaks to you.” “You’re going to get sick of me.” “Doubtful. The more you find, the easier my job will be.” Dorthy gathered her briefcase and purse before heading out. She cleared her throat, and Buck gave a stiff nod in return. Blood was cold and sour between them. Jasper was curious,s but it wasn’t her business. “Glad she’s gone.” Buck shook his head, watching the woman get in her car. “She cheated on my great-grandson.” “Ohhhhhhh.” “Mhm.” “It makes sense now.” “She ain’t no good, but what do I know?” “Why did you want her to help if—” “She’s still family and the mother of my grandkids. Two of whom are still in school.” Jasper wanted to speak on how his emotions faded from gray to blue to pink. He was proud and protective of his family. She found his unabashed display of love and how he wore it on his shoulder refreshing. “You adore your grandchildren.” “Every last one.” Buck cracked his gum and stomped for the door. “Let’s get on.” “Where are we off to now?” “To see your realtor.” Jasper winced and followed the man to his car. She thought he was joking until they pulled up to Hawke’s office ten minutes later. “You’re serious.” “As a god damn digger bear in spring.” “Oh shiiiiit.” Jasper hopped out of the vehicle and kept with Buck’s pace. “You think he knew about the state of my place?” “Yup.” Jasper’s face heated, and the base of her horns itched. Clenching her fist,s she bit her tongue. There was no need to barge into his business and start a scene. It wasn’t that big of a deal. She didn’t want to inconvenience anyone or— “You got three seconds to start talking!” Buck stormed into Hawke’s office and loomed. Jasper waited beside him, keeping her lips sealed. Hawke’s big yellow eye flung to her as he dropped his phone. “What uhm—what can I—uhm, what do you need Bucko?” Buck planted palms on Hawke’s desk and growled. Jasper’s breath hitched, and stomach caught fire. She flushed with heat and grinned as Hawke grew anxious. He was ripe with apprehension and fear. “He’s scared,” Jasper added. “What you scared for Hawke?” “I—I—what can I do for you, Ms. Marrow?” She scowled, ready to flay this man. “What can you do for me? How about you start by telling me why you let me buy that cursed fucking house?!” “Cursed?” Hawke showcased his sweaty palms and trembled. “I don’t know nothing about a curse. That house has been—” Buck leaped over the desk and landed in front of Hawke. He smacked the man’s ruddy cheek and kicked his chair into the file cabinet. “You fixin’ to lie to me, boy?” Buck hiked his chin. “I can smell them tall tales. Lie again and see where it gets you.” Hawke was a mess of fried nerves as he stammered. “Look, I don’t know who they were, but somebody left me a note!” “A note?” Jasper queried. Bile rose to the top and bubbled. Hawke nodded, glasses slipping down his nose. “Yeah. A note and ten thousand in cash. They told me to email you the listing directly.” “Shit.” She cursed, rubbing her forehead. Jasper knew damn well who gave him the note. “This can’t be happening. I thought it was a normal notification from another realtor site.” “It was, sort ot. I just sent it to you personally.” Buck situated the tip of his boot on the chair, between Hawke’s legs. The man blanched and stuttered. “Why was you looking to sell that haunted piece of shit anyway?” “It’s easy money!” Hawke squeaked, eyes glittering with a promise of tears. “People love flipping houses. They love a project, but they never stay there long. In the end, I still get paid and always have a listing. But I swear, Buck, I don’t know nothing about a curse. On my Mama’s life, I didn’t know.” It was important to note how humid the air surrounding Buck had become. Jasper sensed his roiling nature and tapped his shoulder. He shoved the chair, making Hawke yelp. “You will give Jasper that ten grand you got. Every fuckin’ dollar, you hear me?” “Every cent.” Oddities persisted as he sneered. She clocked them quickly. Thorns on the pads of fingertips, the vine-like tattoos twisted and slithered beneath thin cotton. Jasper’s interest piqued as the potted plant on Hawke’s desk wilted and died as Buck vacated the office. “You’re an asshole,” she asserted in passing. “And I want it by Friday.” He nodded, and she snapped her fingers, forcing the gentleman to take a nap. He wouldn’t even wake to piss. It was payback for being a creep. Jasper exited the establishment with confidence and unstable emotions. Buck leaned against his big old car and puffed on a pipe. It was quite the dignified sight. Where she came from, males who mattered smoked from pipes. They held themselves to a higher standard and dared not roll their own ashleaf. “Smells good,” she said. “What is it?” “My special batch. Dusts, powders, florals, magical minerals, and my wife’s hot honey.” Jasper folded arms atop the roof of his gorgeous ride and observed. “I’m sorry? Did you just say—” “I like how she settles at the back of my throat. The smoke brings out her flavor real good.” Buck’s easy, cool response and dominance disturbed her. Jasper should have been the one in control, taking the reins and telling Buck where to go. It was quite obvious he wasn’t her usual case. Claw clicking on metal, she observed. His attention wasn’t coy or playful. Smoke swirled and framed his ravishing, strong features. “What’s on your mind, Jasper?” Speaking to that would’ve been a dire mistake. One she was unwilling to make. “You’re disgusting.” Buck smirked. “I don’t wanna be nothing else.” “I’m sure.” Jasper huffed and opened her own door. After slamming it shut, she fought to steady her pangs. She was famished and craving as if she hadn’t nibbled on the man for hours. Undervell gods, be with her. Buck was dense and full-bodied. His desire ripe, dripping with want. She could appease, play him well, and satisfy without touching, but the intimacy of it all scared her. “Where are we going now?” She asked, voice rising above the loud, rumbling engine. “The store. We gonna do a little training and see if you got what it takes.” “For what?” “To run shit. We need somebody who does well under pressure. Someone who can provide excellent feedback and communication, service when time calls for it.” Buck’s eyes drifted from the road to Jasper. He held firm and switched gears. The air was taut and humid. Jasper would not be swayed or pushed. “We talking customer service or something else?” His smile and smoke lingered. Jasper liked every base note. Cherry, vetiver, and something unique. She snickered, knowing the undercut’s source. One thing about Buck Sunside, he cherished and adored his wife. This important detail, among others, rs made him the sexiest man she’d ever met. “Thank you.” “For?” Bucked asked, annoyed. “Helping with Hawke. I didn’t think it was actually this bad, but—” Thinking about Trevor left her flushed and cold. “You didn’t have to, but you did.” “Funny how you think coming to your defense was a choice. As a grown man with status, means, and might, it is my duty and honor to help those who are unable. Not that you aren’t capable, Jasper. “It’s just, I know succubi intimately, and you, darlin’, are warm-hearted. Strange. Unlike your sisters in many ways. Hawke preyed on your goodness. That old bird is, in fact, a vulture shifter who can’t wait for some easy pickings. I ain’t gon stand for it.” His conviction and potent lust worked against her. Jasper didn’t want this man or any other. This was the fallacy she’d repeated to herself daily. It was to keep her afloat. The hunger in his eyes was more than she could bear. Jasper set her gaze beyond the window and decided on silence. If Jasper dared to speak another word, she’d make Buck pull the car over and bury himself between her clamped thighs.
Saturdays were a moment of leisure for Max. It was her usual night off, and she didn’t have to do anything. She hadn’t been back to the shop since last Tuesday and required the break. She needed a lot of immaterial things, but was thankful for a lot. There were others without food, shelter, or water. She tried not to complain about her life. Being grateful for abundance and comfort was only right. Growing up with her father, she used to be spoiled, entitled, and a complete snob. All that changed when she turned forty-two and left home for the first time. Max got a glimpse of the real world and watched in horror as it collapsed around her. The poverty-stricken were treated like animals, discarded and imprisoned for failing to become another cog in the wheel. And you know what? Fuckem’. The gov’ment and tight-lipped ass holes in their ugly suits and melted faces. They were part of a dying breed. Capitalism would be their ruin. The world would change one day, and not in their favor. “Has he called you yet?” Ndari asked. Max smiled and shook her head. “I did not give that man my number.” “And why not?” Driving down NW 17th street and jamming to some old school Wale, Max didn’t wanna get into that. But Ndari was one of her best friends. The girl knew when she was bullshitting. They’d spent the last thirty-five years together. She saw Ndari more than her own parents. “You know why.” “‘Cause you have some weird notion that he’s not so genuine.” She gave Ndari a side-long glance and nodded. “I know guys like him. Okay, not just like him, but sorta. They’re all about god complexes and arrogance.” Max wrinkled her nose and snorted. “He’d probably make me wash his feet. ‘Sides, bruh, he’s a jerk.” Her sister, by another mother, laughed. Ndari’s smile was bright and adorable. She may have been covered in tattoos and dripping in goth glam, but she was sweet as sugarcane. Thirty years ago, Ndari needed piano lessons, and Max, was a piano teacher. At some point, ‘cause the money was good, and Ndari would have it no other way, Max became her nanny as well. “You love a good asshole, Maxi.” “You not wrong, but they’re never good for you.” “Nooooope, not in the long run,” Ndari said with a grin, her dimple piercing popping and glinting. “But they’re fun to play with. That’s why I smash em’ and trash em’.” Max cackled as she parked just before the 95 overpass. “Come on, let’s get these boxes off.” “Yup.” After killing the engine, she hopped out of the Wrangler and rounded to the back. “I can’t believe we did sixty-eight!” Pulling the hatch wide, Max was in high spirits. Setting a goal of sixty-eight bags and meeting it felt great. The rising number of kits wasn’t a good sign. But at least she found a way to help. Max side-stepped from behind her truck and whistled. “You know what time it is!” She shouted at a mixture of humans and vampires who came topside at night. She waved them over. “Next week,” Ndari said as she grabbed a fully loaded care package, “I think I’ll drive. That way, we can bring more.” Max gasped. “Yes, that’s a great idea.” The United States was crowned the wealthiest, but she failed to see how when so many were unhoused. Those without resources and means were in high numbers. Most were human, as her species’ monarchy had swooped in and stepped up, but not every vampire wanted to be saved. The first to show was Henry, a lovely vet who kept a few pigeons and didn’t like dogs. Which was why he hated Lionel; he had two golden doodles. “Hello, Max,” he said, wearing a wonderful smile. Henry beamed, despite all else. “How are you?” “I am good. And You looking sharp. Are those new shoes?” “Oh yeah, donated, just my size, too.” “Wooo, child, they look good. Here you go, baby.” Handing over the packed reusable bag, Henry leaned in for a hug, and she obliged. “You gonna scare the ghost, Ndari,” he joked. The girl recoiled. “Who do you think I aim to please?” Henry cackled and went on his way. “I’ll see you in a week, okay?” “Right on.” He gave a thumbs up and trudged along. Next was Wilma, a chatty patty who loved gossip and had a lot to say about her daughter. The foul woman threw her own mother out. Max knew some by name and others not. For years, she traveled north, driving up to Overton on a mission. This stretch of underpass had been home to a major homeless encampment for eons. The city cleared them more times than she cared to recall, but they always came back. And for most of them, it was home. Tents, boxes, and sleeping bags rode the sidewalk, flowing into the street. Meeting her eye to eye, Olina, a fellow vampire, held a solemn grin. “Thank you, Max. I don’t usually ask for blood, but my old man’s not doing so good.” Offering a bag filled with food, toiletries, cash, and clothes, she frowned. “What’s wrong with him?” Olina shrugged. “I don’t know, but he’s been out of it.” Ndari spun around and pulled a few bags of blood from the box. “Here, honey, take this. And is he sick?” Max felt terrible for Olina and Carl. The couple were addicted to heroin and didn’t want help. Olina’s partner was a human pushing seventy. Every year, humans age and their health declines. “Listen,” Max started, “I know doctors who study human medicine to navigate through our world. It helps a bit since our healthcare system is fairly new. At any rate, I can bring someone here.” Olina nodded. “That would be great. His heart isn’t beating the same, and blood is sluggish. I know I’ll lose him soon, but I’m not ready to say goodbye.” “I understand.” Max threw arms around the woman and welcomed Olina’s embrace. Upon their separation, she grabbed another bag. “Here, make sure Carl gets this, okay?” “I will. Thank you again.” Max just nodded, ‘cause none of this was to garner thanks. Someone had to do it. They deserved care and somebody to look after them. She didn’t have the ability or cash to help everyone, but Max was trying. Her Dad’s allowance lightened the load some. She was happy it went to those who were given a shit hand. Florida’s nonprofits and charities could only do so much with the state leaking money. The 2020s started shitty and plummeted from there. Preternatural creatures felt a shift coming. A reckoning was due. As an immortal, you witnessed the comings and goings of everything. It was only a matter of time. That’s why Max chose to live how she wanted while the world still allowed such freedoms, though she had obligations. She enjoyed this part the most. Interesting conversations they had with magnificent people had become the highlight of her week. Knowing they’d get a meal helped her sleep better during the day. Chillin’ in a million-dollar home and doing nothing for anyone was a disgusting way to survive. Even her Father gave money to various charities. He’d never come on a run with her, though. Everyone else did, which made him look like a jackass. Jaya joined Max three times a month. Jordan committed two weekends, and Low came along with her whenever he was off on a Saturday, which wasn’t often. “So, after this, I gotta go back to the shop,” Ndari stated as she offered Garth his bag. The man wheeled his way over and snatched it. He despised Ndari, detested Max, too. A human with a vampire prejudice was hilarious. “Garth, you should talk to Carrie and Olina.” He tried to spit on the ground and failed, most of it gathering in his salt and pepper beard. That toothless snarl and furrowed brow worsened. “You blood suckers are fucking animals.” “We love you too, Garth.” “I was in the Gulf War!” he barked, pointing a gnarled finger. “He bit me, right on my ass!” The same story each week. Max thought it was funny every time, too. “He bit you on the ass?” she pandered. Ndari shrugged. “Or in…the ass?” Punching his thigh with an arthritic fist, he scoffed. “On my ass! And sucked the blood right outta me.” “That’s the best place…” Ndari said, “to suck blood.” Garth’s enamel-free jaw flexed as he backed up in his wheelchair. “Semper fi!” Max gave him a high salute. “Safe travels, sir.” As he turned away, she sighed. No matter how evil Garth was, she enjoyed him, too. “We haaaave, thirty-three left. Hopefully, the cops stay elsewhere this time. Who up next? Oh, Betty…oop, okay now, I love the pink wig, girrrl! You know how I am about colors!”
Low bounced out the whip and rushed into Tracy’s house, gunning for the kitchen. He had a long day and forgot to eat. A brotha was starvin’ for everything. Midday escapades did that to you. It was them smoke and fuck kinda hours. Nothing like what he did with Max. Some girl and their best friend left without saying bye, and he’d never see them again. Minutes after leaving last night, he barged into the noname DM’s and made shit shake. In the kitchen, Low searched for anything. A bowl…a mixing bowl and Fruity Pebbles. He left the bag of bootleg brand cereal out and grabbed whole milk. Thank god Jaya bought real shit. Even Max liked plant-based. “What the fuck is uh oat milk?” Grimacing, he poured and ate standing. Low listed against the counter while eyes rolled and stomach celebrated. All was going well. He was chilling and eating breakfast when the sound of expensive shoes interrupted his quiet moment alone. When Mister Jaxon -hilarious- appeared, Low suddenly appreciated the intrusion. A man who knew how to dress knew how to use what he had. Red walked in like a bag of money, confident, and Alpha. A fresh aqua Cologne and whatever was underneath. Low couldn’t put his finger on the scent yet…maybe Tuscan Leather. It worked, ‘cause Red was old as fuck. “Look who it is, Elliot Collins.” Jaxon recited his gov’ment as if it were a slur. Ohhhhh, he was feeling some type of way about their talk last night…riiight. Low wanted to say something stupid, but not on duty. Had to keep a clear head. Doing so was hard, given how Red stared. “Wus’ good?” “You’re in front of the coffee.” Behind him was indeed the espresso machine, a Keurig, and an olden times twelve-cup coffee maker. Scooting to the right, Low returned to his cereal and paid Red no mind. For two seconds. “My fault.” Jaxon looked dashing in suspenders, ruby cuff links, and Ferragamo loafers. Low always wanted some nice shit, at least a belt or a tie. Must be nice. Spooning more of the multicolored fortified grains, he inched to the left again. The guy was entirely too close for comfort. Low was working, god damn it, but his tongue craved far more. To speak obscenities and threaten this here male with a good day. “You don’t have much to say tonight, huh?” Low shrugged. “Not really.” “And why is that?” With the subtle hiss of the espresso maker, he glanced at the accountant. “You making yourself at home, I see.” “Says the one eating a ridiculous-sized bowl of cereal.” “I basically live here.” Low slurped and gulped milk, then spun to grab the bag. “You don’t.” “I was told to make myself at home so…” Low carried his pebbles and bowl to the breakfast nook. He sighed aloud and sat at a cozy table set for a family of three. He didn’t enjoy holding his water or mincing words. It was unnatural, going against his grain. Low also hated being in close quarters with people he wanted to fuck when there was no fucking going on. “What’s crawled up your ass?” Jaxon inquired as the sound of metal and porcelain chimed in his ears. “I’m working,” he spat, pouring cereal. “Working?” “Yeah.” “So you do work for Tracy. I saw a few account transfers under your name. What is it you do for him?” Punching his sweet breakfast down with a spoon, Low matched his gaze. “Bodyguard.” Eating and clocking, he watched Jaxon’s perfect brows arch in surprise. “Why would he need a bodyguard?” “That, is not your business.” Dropping eyes back to his meal didn’t stop peripherals from doing their job. Low sensed and noticed Red’s advance. He leaned on the island, which put a mere three quick steps between them. “So about that test drive…” This motha fucka here, swear to god. Low smirked, chomped, then paid Red the attention he demanded. “Yes?” “Does your invitation still stand, or am I too uptight?” The question slipped out, and them eyes were devilish as he sipped a fine espresso. The way they shone like 24k gold was unreal. “I guess, maybe.” Low wanted to say something else, but he wasn’t even finna think it. Instead, he took a few bites and shrugged. “On my next day off. So, Wednesday.” “Wednesday it is.” “You got a card or somethin’?” Red set his cup down and dove into those soft slacks. He plucked a card holder, snapped free a crisp square, and offered it. grLow yanked it. “Classy, for a card.” He ran the stiff material under his nose, made deliberate eye contact, and inhaled. Daaaamn, his natural eau de was fire. After a delicious whiff, Low tucked the invitation in his back pocket. “What is that?” Low asked, then tipped the bowl and swallowed every drop of milk. “Your scent, I’m trying to place it.” “How’s that going for you?” Low chuckled and shook his head. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Mr. Gingersnaps was flirting. “I’m working,” Low recited again. As he rose, Tracy, with his signature brisk step, entered the kitchen. “Tracy, is Max here by any chance?” Jaxon intoned. “I wanted to commend her on the cake.” Pouring himself a hefty cup of joe, Tracy sighed. “I fear she is not. My offspring is galloping around town. She stays gone most Saturdays.” In passing, Low ignored how Red tracked his every movement. He betta knock it off, ‘fore he get a passport to Chocolate City. Many, many moons ago, Low had been repressed by what society and religion. Such idiotic and disastrous restrictions didn’t suit him. All genders were welcome, ‘cause Low wasn’t picky. Age was non-negotiable, however. They had to be fifty-five or older. Them youngins gave him the willies. But race, ethnicity, gender, and species didn’t mean shit. Did Low have standards? Yes. Preferences? Hell no. Low was too god damn old for that. “What a shame,” Jaxon replied. Low rolled his eyes, noting how Red’s tone and vernacular changed around Tracy. Guess errybody code switched, even saditty white folk. After throwing his bowl in the dishwasher, Low made a diligent effort not to glance at Jaxon and failed. Wondering how long his di—hair was when unbound. “We’ve got a big night,” Tracy said. “A few errands.” “Sounds like fun.” “I assure you, it’s anything but.” Jaxon’s smile was unsettling, sneaky. It wasn’t something Tracy would clock. Low, however, has met hella snakes. He knew their tells before striking prey. “I will leave you to it.” Jaxon started toward the exit, then hit a one-eighty. “If you need me, I’ll be in your office.” “Good man,” Tracy approved. “Uhm, Elliot, is Hollister there?” “He’s meeting us.” “Great. Good, good.” Two cups of Colombian and one A-positive later, he and Tracy were on the 826, heading north. Back to the spot where they conducted business. ‘Cause the adage about shitting where you sleep was real. They were halfway there when Low grew curious. “Tracy, how did you hear about Jaxon?” “Through a friend at the office.” Glancing at him made the male do a double-take. “You don’t think we can trust him, right?” “I wouldn’t go that far.” Low shrugged. “I don’t know him, but I would be wary. Stay about. Don’t say too much, and do not let him intimidate you.” Tracy dismissed the statement with a hard scoff. “Oh, please, not even my father intimidated me. I can promise you, Jaxon Aubrey is not a male I find the least bit threatening.” Low believed it. Calm and stressed, Tracy may be, but the athletic and scholarly male had balls. His finagling and hustling required a strong spine. Which sometimes, Low hated, ‘cause Tracy used those same traits when dealing with Max. He treated his daughter like shit. Similar to a warden, Tracy gave commands and made demands. Low was in no position to say anything. Not with mouths to feed and tuition to pay. “Please, he’s an accountant for fucks sake.” Tracy had a point. Owning a spot in Doral’s gated community was a golden ticket. Again, must be nice. Perry, the night guard, let them pass, and Low waved. “I wonder how many we have tonight.” “It’s a drop off?” Low asked. “Indeed.” Riding the roundabout toward Tracy’s abode, water surrounded them. A lake flanked all properties. Low wasn’t sure if they were man-made or what, but it shooolll was rich. Some quiet shit he’d love to have one day. Crawling up to the spot, he hung a lefty into the driveway. “Alright, we have rou—” “No time.” Tracy hopped out while Low stabbed the garage opener. From there, two vehicles hit a k-turn and backed in. The three-slot setup had more than enough room for both trucks. Low stayed in the car and waited for the signal. A high whistle was his cue. He concealed Tracy and their guests by closing the garage doors. As Low emerged from the Range, Hollister rolled up. The country boy drove a well kept 1948 GMC. Low, a self-taught master at restoring rusted hunks of scrap metal, fell in love with the five-window truck. ‘Ol boy came in hot and loud. After ‘disturbing the peace’, Hollister leaped from the cab, donned his hat, and stomped over in a pair of snake skin boots. “Sorry, I’m late. My son took his first steps today.” The male was alight. “I had to capture the moment. My wife was beside herself.” “Nah, nah, don’t apologize. Some things can wait. But your child’s first steps are once in a lifetime.” “Thanks. So, what we got?” “Drop off.” “Nothing too big, I like’at.” Hollister held the lead as they stepped into the house. Tracy and his supplier were already seated in the living room, going over formalities. “Ten?” Tracy asked. Low interrupted to retrieve some info. “Ten what?” “Bodies.” Paniera was a gangly middle-aged human with peppery hair and dark, inset eyes to match. He was one of twelve who worked for Tracy, and an important piece. Messengers and delivery boys were vital in this business. Humans didn’t give a shit about details, and their love for that all-mighty dollar took precedence. Mortals were greedy for money, power, and youth. Men and women micro-managed what little time they had and made each second count. Low respected their resiliency. Survival, by any means, was a value both vampire and human shared. So, when you needed to get shit done, ask a human drowning in criminal offenses and debt. How they got paid mattered naught. Hollister hissed. “You brought ten witchya?” “No.” Paniera shook his head and said, “But I will have them. Next week.” “How the hell you do that?” Low questioned. “Yeah.” Tracy’s gaze narrowed. “One or two has been the norm for years now.” “There’s an influx of men from overseas. Another crack down on organized crime is underway, think… political.” “Holy shit,” Hollister blurted. Tracy glowered, crossing his legs. “What’s happened? Are these men guilty of something? Because, as much as I despise you all, I will only sell barbarians. The very worst earth has to offer.” “Yes, heinous crimes,” Paniera answered with a slimy smirk. “These blowhards got wrapped up in a sex trafficking ring. Little girls, boys… the manifest was long. My guy wants them to disappear.” This was some deep state type shit, and Low’s thoughts spiraled from the expose. Killing pedophiles was a hell of a good way to spend a night or two. He might keep one to play with. Paniera pulled a flask from his jacket pocket and popped it open. “The media are spinning it as imprisonment and solitary confinement,” three swigs later, he continued, “but, somebody more powerful wants them wiped off the planet and living in hell at the same time.” Tracy mulled for like five seconds before nodding. “Yeah, I’ll have your payment ready upon delivery.” “Great, and same as always. I’ll text you details in a few days.” “Good man. Now, let’s see my merchandise.” Low led everyone down the hall, past the kitchen, and into the mudroom. He pressed a thumb to the fingerprint reader, a thing he had to coerce Tracy into getting. A little extra security never hurt nobody. He needed more, to be honest. Locks clacked, and they shuffled into the garage. Low met Paniera’s henchmen at the rear and opened the hatch. A naked man lay hogtied and unconscious. “What’d this one do?” Hollister asked. “Killed his mother and sister. Violated the deceased and drowned their dog.” Low snarled. “That’s fucked up.” “The other one?” “Oh, he’s a nasty son of a bitch. He sold his infant twins to a demon.” “Oh, my god,” Hollister growled. He wrenched open the other trunk and yanked out the savage. “Well, let’s get them clean and ready for the slaughter.” Tracy sang, as they’d deliver these vile muh’fucka’s unto hell and make some money in the process.
That’s a wrap for this week, folks! I hope y’all had a wonderful week and have an even better weekend. Going forward, I want y’all to remember, this is a dark romance. Keep that in mind. The MMCs have their *ways* (mostly Jaxon). They’re morally gray with a dark gray lean. Not jet black, but not cinnamon rolls either. Most of the darkness comes from the world around them and what they delve into. It can get bleak at times, and even I was like, “Bruh, what???”. And Max?! My baby love. She is sweet, caring, and deserving of MORE! Anyhoo, as always, thank you so much for spending time here. You could’ve spent 5-10 minutes doing anything else, but you didn’t. You’re an amazing human. I know things are fucked up at the moment, but honey, WE WILL PERSEVERE! Remember to read that book, watch your favorite show, and DRINK MORE WATER, BOOKIE! Byyeeeee. ✨🩷✨
“You can take it, darlin’.” Buck put his weight on Nieema, stealing her will to breathe. “Yeeeeah. That’s it. You like it heavy!” Buck growled as the missus moaned. “I dooooo. Ohh—Bu—uck! There, baby. Right theeerrre.” He focused on her sweet spot and she whimpered as bones popped. “Yes,” Nieema groaned. “Crack my shit, baby. Stomp on that bitch! I said harder, old man.” “I’m doing it.” “You ain’t.” Buck rolled his eyes and stepped on her spine. She hollered in pleasure. “A vampire your age shouldn’t have back problems or any physical ailments at all. Them babies fucked you up, darlin’.” “Yeah! And who put them, babies in there?” An ugly belly laugh bubbled up from Buck’s gut as he stamped on his wife’s back. Buck spent twenty minutes, once a week stepping on Nieema’s spine. Most vampires who conceived had some small physical issue. Pregnancy was hard even on immortal folk and orcs alike. “And I’ll do it again,” Buck vowed. “I know that’s right,” Nieema said, hands tucked under her chin. “Fill me up, daddy!” “Nasty mouth.” They laughed as Buck continued his business of jumping on her. She was a sturdy gal and loved about three or four hops. When something popped, she moaned once more. “Darlin’,” Buck started, pressing the ball of his foot into her shoulder, “you heard from Jasper yet?” “Uhhhm. No.” “She ain’t come out the house yet, and I’m getting worried.” “Buckley, we don’t know her well. Maybe she’s a homebody.” “I mean, yeah, but after the other night she disappeared.” “Hm. Weirrrd.” Buck paused and squinted. Her response was short and squeaky. “Nieema Desiree Falerie Sunside, what did you do?” “Why do I gotta do something?” “‘Cause you did.” “You don’t know shit.” She didn’t even look up at him. The betrayal. Buck cussed, lowering to the floor. He joined Nieema and lay on her body. She was more comfortable than hardwood. Though his wood was now pressed into her dimpled ass. Buck ignored the tempting juggle and cushion for the moment. “Nieema.” The woman smacked her teeth and said, “We were having such a good time, and I figured—she was into it and me. Jasper was interested, earnest, and assertive. She gave proper consent and everything.” “You did not.” “Shit, she was quick putting a hand down my pants, and I wanted to taste her. So, you know, naturally, we ended up downstairs. After our climax, she vanished. I think I spooked her.” Buck knew it had something to do with sex. Nieema was an intense, impulsive vampire with a high sex drive. He’d been dealing with her pangs for a hundred years. They had their ways and proclivities as a couple, but Buck didn’t always think with his dick. True, he wanted to make it flex with Jasper. Cut the demon down for about an hour or so, but he had a feeling she wasn’t ready. “Nieema, baby. Why you have to go and do that?” Buck rolled off of his wife and eyed her. The woman knew better than to meet his stare and didn’t. “She was celibate. You heard her just fine.” “Yes, but you weren’t there. Jasper was about to take lead on the matter. I had to calm her down, shit. That’s not how this show go. Not yet, at least. That woman was on fire. Just sick about it, baby.” He stood and marched on over to Nieema’s vanity. He snagged the scissors, pulled the chair, and short whistled. She rose with vampire agility, defying gravity as if it didn’t exist. After sprinting over, she sidled up, and sat down. Buck snagged a twenty-four-inch braid and snipped the end. With practiced ease, he unraveled and loosened the thick strand. “I know how you feel about wanting to bed her down, but I think, you jumped it.” He discarded the hair into the plastic bag that waited in Nieema’s lap while she mumbled curses. The old woman knew she was wrong, so he didn’t have to say it. “Sweetpea, Jasper moved out here to get away from drama.” “And we ain’t bringing none to her.” “Maybe to you this ain’t drama, but for her, it could be a lot.” “I thought you were in a hurry, Buckley. You the one making bets and shit.” “That was for a nice dinner, not no thick dick!” “Well, that’s what I thought.” “Of course you did, freaky.” Nieema chuckled, clipping the ends of a braid. They used the next ten minutes to take down her hair with normal chit chat about the family. Norma was on her way, Mace was in marriage troubles, and Trey had another baby on the way with his ex-wife. That was some mess for your ass, but that was his life. Couldn’t tell him or them anything. Buck tried to steer their babies and grand babies right, but after a certain age, there wasn‘t no changing their minds. “Jo tell you Trevor wants to press charges?” Buck asked, raising a brow. “I know he does.” “That was a love tap! Pussy.” “I doubt it.” “Who side is you on?” Buck asked, checking the wife’s reflection, making her giggle. “Mhm. See what I get? Disrespect.” “That man got what’s coming to him,” Nieema said, pulling free another blue strip of hair. “Monroe is in Misthill now. He can’t seem to get an appointment with the Mayor. He’s indisposed. I sent him a summons.” “Mm. Had to put on the crown, huh?” “Unfortunately.” “At least you look good wearing it.” She smiled, and Buck kissed her thick, natural mane. “I’m sure we’ll get this settled nice and easy.” “The Voaremonts aren’t known for rolling over, Buck.” “We ain’t either.” “I know that’s right.” After cutting a few more ends, he loosened braids as Nieema breached the Jasper subject yet again. “I gave her a job at the shop.” “I mean, we need the help, but do you think she’ll be okay? I still don’t wanna let her outta my sight.” “I told Maggie about it,” Nieema reassured. “She’s willing to charm the store.” “That’s quick thinking, my love. On your toes!” “Aren’t I always?” Buck barked in laughter and trashed his last batch of hair. “Hell nah.” “I know you better hush.” “What? I’m supposed to lie? You said there ain’t to be no lies or secrets between us. I will hold to the vow we made allllll them manymanymany years ago. I know you probably don’t remember. Senile self. We gotta get you to bed, it’s late, Grandma!” “Shhuuut uuuup.” She cackled right along with Buck. “And it’s you who gon’ put me to bed.” “Damn skippy!” As always, Nieema and Buck found solace in each other. There wasn’t a quiet, dull moment between them. After decades, ten and some change, they’d become the best of friends. Marrying the person who made him laugh was the best decision of his life. The night they’d met, he’d made her chuckle and vice versa. Within hours, Buck had become enamored with some Ravensguard soldier he was likely to never see again. After a passionate day in bed, Buck had said goodbye. He promised to find her someday. Turns out he didn’t have to look hard, because ten years later, Nieema showed up at the tavern wearing his favorite smile. “Ooooooo baaaaby, listen!” Nieema relaxed as Buck scratched her scalp. He focused on the middle of her head and the kitchen, just how Mrs. Sunside liked it. “You know how to use them hands… mmmm, yes you do. Little to the left, litt—ooop!” Buck cackled and carried on with their routine, which led to the bathroom. These times, the few they shared with such busy lives and a large family, he cherished. They were his priority. Taking care of his dame wasn’t always top of mind. Buck regretted them days, when he didn’t put Nieema first. She belonged on the pedestal he’d built only for her. After washing, rinsing, and stripping down to nothing, he covered Nieema’s conditioner-soaked tresses with an extra-large shower cap. “Thereeee you go.” Buck popped the elastic, and Nieema flinched. “Now come here and get what’s coming to ya.” She giggled as Buck plucked her plush behind off the tile and carried her right on into the shower stall. Steam laced with lavender and chamomile soothed the mind while Nieema’s lips roused every nerve. Scolding hot water pelted his back and cascaded, dripping from his tight braid. With little finesse and impatience, Buck set his woman on a stone bench and loomed. “Well,” Nieema prompted, “go on and satisfy your vicious sweet tooth.” Her crimson stare provoked several emotions. Buck had never been one to beg or snivel for pussy. That was until he’d met Nieema. He’d snuff the sun if it’d bring this woman peace. He’d vanquish all evil and become the worst version of himself if it pleased his queen. Nieema spread her delicious thighs and blessed him. Plump and glistening, her southern lips beckoned a motha fucka. She wept for a kiss, and he’d never deny Nieema a thing in this world. Buck’s knees gave as he was enchanted by velvety brown softness and glittering blush pink. Nieema presented herself and dipped a finger between what he knew to be sopping wet walls. Buck growled and bristled, snatching her hand away. “Hands off my goods, old woman.” She laughed and undulated, cupping her buxom bosom. Nieema’s scent drew him closer. Buck kissed her flesh, and she hissed. He sniffed and grunted, growling as the beast within longed to devour. Her wetness coated his lips as he circled her large clit with his nose. His wife was insecure about her precious rosebud. For a time, she hated how it protruded and swelled with her arousal. It took time, care, and reassurance. Buck loved to suck and tease her large clit. “Mmmm,” Nieema moaned with every kiss and nuzzle. “Babbbee, pleaaase.” “You so fuckin’ wet, woman.” Buck clutched his dick and flicked her with the tip of his pierced tongue. “I need another batch for my tea. I’m almost out.” “You know what you gotta do.” He responded by suckling her button and mashing his god damn face into her pussy. Buck worked her clit. Around and around while Nieema rocked slowly. She sang his favorite melody and melted with every lazy lave and lap. He sipped from her with gladness and appreciation. Buck swallowed her rich decadence and vowed once again to be her last devotee. If there was no one left to bow, he’d be the queen’s final hand to bend the knee. If there were none to adore her, he’d be there to shower her in affection. He’d be the last to obey the Ravensguard queen. His final breath would be that of dedication! Of his love, in this life and the next. Until the goddess called him to the Soil of Soul Buck promised to stand tall at Nieema’s side. Mating be damneed. In truth, he didn’t need it. His lifeblood was hers the second they spoke. “Oooo shit!” Nieema keened. “You like how I taste, love?” He responded by gripping her hips. Buck yanked Nieema forward and gorged on his favorite meal of the night until she thrashed, on the cusp. It was in the tremble of her words and curl of her chubby toes. Buck studied her body, inside and out. Her arch stiffened and lip curled. Buck stopped, and Nieema roared. Panting, she pulled his braid and cursed. “You had better have a good reason, fairy boy!” He only laughed and stood, taking her with him. Leaving her no room to complain, Buck hoisted Nieema high and flipped her ass. Nieema cackled as she dangled upside down. This woman loved her some vertical sixty-nine, and once she got to sucking, so did Buck. With her pussy at home on his tongue and thighs framing his face, he lapped with fierce edge. Nieema’s nectar turned a decent fae feral. As her soul mate, fated, and begging fool, he dove headfirst. And his queen was no slouch, taking him deep. Buck stumbled and leaned against wet tile, locking himself in place. He lashed at her clit and drank from her blessed fount. Nieema coughed and cussed. “Ooooo shit! Bite it, baby! Bite—“ Buck tensed as she swallowed him down from root to stem. There was nothing left to do but deep throat. He came up for air and shouted to the Goddess. His eyes rolled as Nieema sucked him down and continued, nuts and all. Her jaw unhinged, and she devoured. Claimed and choked. “Youuuuu devilish slut!” Buck roared. He growled, thrusts meeting her sinful rhythm. “I’mmmm—ooweeeee…” Needing to shatter and release, Buck screwed his eyes shut and penetrated her with his thickening tongue. The pierced muscle caused her majesty to squirm and writhe, body slick and plush. Buck tightened his hold and fucked his beloved in quickened fashion. He curled the tip and twirled, twisted, tasted. She moaned and bobbed, using that neck for the greater good. Sweat and water collected between them, dripping from toes and nipples. Nieema clung to him, scoring his thighs. Buck grunted and lavished her with his love. Nieema pumped and rolled as he punched. Their shared desire and passion coalesced and seeped through bone. It pooled in the marrow and heated, setting his soul to a rolling boil. Buck clutched her ass and drove his tongue deeper. He was set to tear this woman apart until she bit down and let him loose. His spine steeled, and thighs burned with the effort to remain standing. His fight and refusal to fold were futile. Nieema pulled an orgasm from the body, leaving him for dead. Euphoria sprouted from every cell and limb, enveloping him completely. She wrenched it from the root, and he attacked her gushing pussy without delay. The woman howled as Buck lost the use of his legs. They’d turned to moss and were unable to bear his weight. Before his ass collided with the floor, Nieema belted his name and flexed them vampire skills by righting herself in half a second. When his behind greeted wet tile, Buck laughed, allowing his queen to straddle. “You ain’t tired?!” Nieema kissed his neck and cupped his stiffening dick. “Damn woman, you gon’ put me in the coffin one day.” “And I will be right there with you, old dog.” They shared a bout of laughter and reconnected. No matter the time, day, or year, there’d never come a moment when Buck Sunside would ever get enough. She was the mother of his children, the beat of his heart, and the rich soil nourishing his soul. .
“You can take it, darlin’.” Buck put his weight on Nieema, stealing her will to breathe. “Yeeeeah. That’s it. You like it heavy!” Buck growled as the missus moaned. “I dooooo. Ohh—Bu—uck! There, baby. Right theeerrre.” He focused on her sweet spot and she whimpered as bones popped. “Yes,” Nieema groaned. “Crack my shit, baby. Stomp on that bitch! I said harder, old man.” “I’m doing it.” “You ain’t.” Buck rolled his eyes and stepped on her spine. She hollered in pleasure. “A vampire your age shouldn’t have back problems or any physical ailments at all. Them babies fucked you up, darlin’.” “Yeah! And who put them, babies in there?” An ugly belly laugh bubbled up from Buck’s gut as he stamped on his wife’s back. Buck spent twenty minutes, once a week stepping on Nieema’s spine. Most vampires who conceived had some small physical issue. Pregnancy was hard even on immortal folk and orcs alike. “And I’ll do it again,” Buck vowed. “I know that’s right,” Nieema said, hands tucked under her chin. “Fill me up, daddy!” “Nasty mouth.” They laughed as Buck continued his business of jumping on her. She was a sturdy gal and loved about three or four hops. When something popped, she moaned once more. “Darlin,” Buck started, pressing the ball of his foot into her shoulder, “you heard from Jasper yet?” “Uhhhm. No.” “She ain’t come out the house yet, and I’m getting worried.” “Buckley, we don’t know her well. Maybe she’s a homebody.” “I mean, yeah, but after the other night she disappeared.” “Hm. Weirrrd.” Buck paused and squinted. Her response was short and squeaky. “Nieema Desiree Falerie Sunside, what did you do?” “Why do I gotta do something?” “‘Cause you did.” “You don’t know shit.” She didn’t even look up at him. The betrayal. Buck cussed, lowering to the floor. He joined Nieema and lay on her body. She was more comfortable than hardwood. Though his wood was now pressed into her dimpled ass. Buck ignored the tempting juggle and cushion for the moment. “Nieema.” The woman smacked her teeth and said, “We were having such a good time, and I figured—she was into it and me. Jasper was interested, earnest, and assertive. She gave proper consent and everything.” “You did not.” “Shit, she was quick putting a hand down my pants, and I wanted to taste her. So, you know, naturally, we ended up downstairs. After our climax, she vanished. I think I spooked her.” Buck knew it had something to do with sex. Nieema was an intense, impulsive vampire with a high sex drive. He’d been dealing with her pangs for a hundred years. They had their ways and proclivities as a couple, but Buck didn’t always think with his dick. True, he wanted to make it flex with Jasper. Cut the demon down for about an hour or so, but he had a feeling she wasn’t ready. “Nieema, baby. Why you have to go and do that?” Buck rolled off of his wife and eyed her. The woman knew better than to meet his stare and didn’t. “She was celibate. You heard her just fine.” “Yes, but you weren’t there. Jasper was about to take lead on the matter. I had to calm her down, shit. That’s not how this show go. Not yet, at least. That woman was on fire. Just sick about it, baby.” He stood and marched on over to Nieema’s vanity. He snagged the scissors, pulled the chair, and short whistled. She rose with vampire agility, defying gravity as if it didn’t exist. After sprinting over, she sidled up, and sat down. Buck snagged a twenty-four-inch braid and snipped the end. With practiced ease, he unraveled and loosened the thick strand. “I know how you feel about wanting to bed her down, but I think, you jumped it.” He discarded the hair into the plastic bag that waited in Nieema’s lap while she mumbled curses. The old woman knew she was wrong, so he didn’t have to say it. “Sweetpea, Jasper moved out here to get away from drama.” “And we ain’t bringing none to her.” “Maybe to you this ain’t drama, but for her, it could be a lot.” “I thought you were in a hurry, Buckley. You the one making bets and shit.” “That was for a nice dinner, not no thick dick!” “Well, that’s what I thought.” “Of course you did, freaky.” Nieema chuckled, clipping the ends of a braid. They used the next ten minutes to take down her hair with normal chit chat about the family. Norma was on her way, Mace was in marriage troubles, and Trey had another baby on the way with his ex-wife. That was some mess for your ass, but that was his life. Couldn’t tell him or them anything. Buck tried to steer their babies and grand babies right, but after a certain age, there wasn‘t no changing their minds. “Jo tell you Trevor wants to press charges?” Buck asked, raising a brow. “I know he does.” “That was a love tap! Pussy.” “I doubt it.” “Who side is you on?” Buck asked, checking the wife’s reflection, making her giggle. “Mhm. See what I get? Disrespect.” “That man got what’s coming to him,” Nieema said, pulling free another blue strip of hair. “Monroe is in Misthill now. He can’t seem to get an appointment with the Mayor. He’s indisposed. I sent him a summons.” “Mm. Had to put on the crown, huh?” “Unfortunately.” “At least you look good wearing it.” She smiled, and Buck kissed her thick, natural mane. “I’m sure we’ll get this settled nice and easy.” “The Voaremonts aren’t known for rolling over, Buck.” “We ain’t either.” “I know that’s right.” After cutting a few more ends, he loosened braids as Nieema breached the Jasper subject yet again. “I gave her a job at the shop.” “I mean, we need the help, but do you think she’ll be okay? I still don’t wanna let her outta my sight.” “I told Maggie about it,” Nieema reassured. “She’s willing to charm the store.” “That’s quick thinking, my love. On your toes!” “Aren’t I always?” Buck barked in laughter and trashed his last batch of hair. “Hell nah.” “I know you better hush.” “What? I’m supposed to lie? You said there ain’t to be no lies or secrets between us. I will hold to the vow we made allllll them manymanymany years ago. I know you probably don’t remember. Senile self. We gotta get you to bed, it’s late, Grandma!” “Shhuuut uuuup.” She cackled right along with Buck. “And it’s you who gon’ put me to bed.” “Damn skippy!” As always, Nieema and Buck found solace in each other. There wasn’t a quiet, dull moment between them. After decades, ten and some change, they’d become the best of friends. Marrying the person who made him laugh was the best decision of his life. The night they’d met, he’d made her chuckle and vice versa. Within hours, Buck had become enamored with some Ravensguard soldier he was likely to never see again. After a passionate day in bed, Buck had said goodbye. He promised to find her someday. Turns out he didn’t have to look hard, because ten years later, Nieema showed up at the tavern wearing his favorite smile. “Ooooooo baaaaby, listen!” Nieema relaxed as Buck scratched her scalp. He focused on the middle of her head and the kitchen, just how Mrs. Sunside liked it. “You know how to use them hands… mmmm, yes you do. Little to the left, litt—ooop!” Buck cackled and carried on with their routine, which led to the bathroom. These times, the few they shared with such busy lives and a large family, he cherished. They were his priority. Taking care of his dame wasn’t always top of mind. Buck regretted them days, when he didn’t put Nieema first. She belonged on the pedestal he’d built only for her. After washing, rinsing, and stripping down to nothing, he covered Nieema’s conditioner-soaked tresses with an extra-large shower cap. “Thereeee you go.” Buck popped the elastic, and Nieema flinched. “Now come here and get what’s coming to ya.” She giggled as Buck plucked her plush behind off the tile and carried her right on into the shower stall. Steam laced with lavender and chamomile soothed the mind while Nieema’s lips roused every nerve. Scolding hot water pelted his back and cascaded, dripping from his tight braid. With little finesse and impatience, Buck set his woman on a stone bench and loomed. “Well,” Nieema prompted, “go on and satisfy your vicious sweet tooth.” Her crimson stare provoked several emotions. Buck had never been one to beg or snivel for pussy. That was until he’d met Nieema. He’d snuff the sun if it’d bring this woman peace. He’d vanquish all evil and become the worst version of himself if it pleased his queen. Nieema spread her delicious thighs and blessed him. Plump and glistening, her southern lips beckoned a motha fucka. She wept for a kiss, and he’d never deny Nieema a thing in this world. Buck’s knees gave as he was enchanted by velvety brown softness and glittering blush pink. Nieema presented herself and dipped a finger between what he knew to be sopping wet walls. Buck growled and bristled, snatching her hand away. “Hands off my goods, old woman.” She laughed and undulated, cupping her buxom bosom. Nieema’s scent drew him closer. Buck kissed her flesh, and she hissed. He sniffed and grunted, growling as the beast within longed to devour. Her wetness coated his lips as he circled her large clit with his nose. His wife was insecure about her precious rosebud. For a time, she hated how it protruded and swelled with her arousal. It took time, care, and reassurance. Buck loved to suck and tease her large clit. “Mmmm,” Nieema moaned with every kiss and nuzzle. “Babbbee, pleaaase.” “You so fuckin’ wet, woman.” Buck clutched his dick and flicked her with the tip of his pierced tongue. “I need another batch for my tea. I’m almost out.” “You know what you gotta do.” He responded by suckling her button and mashing his god damn face into her pussy. Buck worked her clit. Around and around while Nieema rocked slowly. She sang his favorite melody and melted with every lazy lave and lap. He sipped from her with gladness and appreciation. Buck swallowed her rich decadence and vowed once again to be her last devotee. If there was no one left to bow, he’d be the queen’s final hand to bend the knee. If there were none to adore her, he’d be there to shower her in affection. He’d be the last to obey the Ravensguard queen. His final breath would be that of dedication! Of his love, in this life and the next. Until the goddess called him to the Soil of Soul Buck promised to stand tall at Nieema’s side. Mating be damneed. In truth, he didn’t need it. His lifeblood was hers the second they spoke. “Oooo shit!” Nieema keened. “You like how I taste, love?” He responded by gripping her hips. Buck yanked Nieema forward and gorged on his favorite meal of the night until she thrashed, on the cusp. It was in the tremble of her words and curl of her chubby toes. Buck studied her body, inside and out. Her arch stiffened and lip curled. Buck stopped, and Nieema roared. Panting, she pulled his braid and cursed. “You had better have a good reason, fairy boy!” He only laughed and stood, taking her with him. Leaving her no room to complain, Buck hoisted Nieema high and flipped her ass. Nieema cackled as she dangled upside down. This woman loved her some vertical sixty-nine, and once she got to sucking, so did Buck. With her pussy at home on his tongue and thighs framing his face, he lapped with fierce edge. Nieema’s nectar turned a decent fae feral. As her soul mate, fated, and begging fool, he dove headfirst. And his queen was no slouch, taking him deep. Buck stumbled and leaned against wet tile, locking himself in place. He lashed at her clit and drank from her blessed fount. Nieema coughed and cussed. “Ooooo shit! Bite it, baby! Bite—“ Buck tensed as she swallowed him down from root to stem. There was nothing left to do but deep throat. He came up for air and shouted to the Goddess. His eyes rolled as Nieema sucked him down and continued, nuts and all. Her jaw unhinged, and she devoured. Claimed and choked. “Youuuuu devilish slut!” Buck roared. He growled, thrusts meeting her sinful rhythm. “I’mmmm—ooweeeee…” Needing to shatter and release, Buck screwed his eyes shut and penetrated her with his thickening tongue. The pierced muscle caused her majesty to squirm and writhe, body slick and plush. Buck tightened his hold and fucked his beloved in quickened fashion. He curled the tip and twirled, twisted, tasted. She moaned and bobbed, using that neck for the greater good. Sweat and water collected between them, dripping from toes and nipples. Nieema clung to him, scoring his thighs. Buck grunted and lavished her with his love. Nieema pumped and rolled as he punched. Their shared desire and passion coalesced and seeped through bone. It pooled in the marrow and heated, setting his soul to a rolling boil. Buck clutched her ass and drove his tongue deeper. He was set to tear this woman apart until she bit down and let him loose. His spine steeled, and thighs burned with the effort to remain standing. His fight and refusal to fold were futile. Nieema pulled an orgasm from the body, leaving him for dead. Euphoria sprouted from every cell and limb, enveloping him completely. She wrenched it from the root, and he attacked her gushing pussy without delay. The woman howled as Buck lost the use of his legs. They’d turned to moss and were unable to bear his weight. Before his ass collided with the floor, Nieema belted his name and flexed them vampire skills by righting herself in half a second. When his behind greeted wet tile, Buck laughed, allowing his queen to straddle. “You ain’t tired?!” Nieema kissed his neck and cupped his stiffening dick. “Damn woman, you gon’ put me in the coffin one day.” “And I will be right there with you, old dog.” They shared a bout of laughter and reconnected. No matter the time, day, or year, there’d never come a moment when Buck Sunside would ever get enough. She was the mother of his children, the beat of his heart, and the rich soil nourishing his soul.
“A quart of beef stock? What in the Undervell is that?” Kit read the recipe for a common stew and was confounded by three ingredients. “Stock, corn starch, and russet potatoes…Perhaps I can research each ingri—“ “Or,” Julep shouted from his post on the windowsill. “Forgive me because this is a crazy idea, but how about you ask someone!? Maybe Nieema. I like her. She’s vampyre and quite sensual. If I weren’t cursed to hold this feline form I’d make her mine.” “She is betrothed you whore.” “Semantics.” Julep’s tail flicked and rolled as he watched chickens peck the soil searching for grubs. He was intent on killing them for how they’d treated Kit earlier. “My suggestion stands. Ask her. Land dwellers seem amiable and dare I say, kind. Encouraging even. I hate them.” “I suppose you’re right.” Kit removed his apron, hung it on a hook shaped like a kind of nut, and grabbed his journal. He stopped to boop Julep’s nose. The testy cat hissed and tried to fight him off. “I hope to have lunch, supper, what have you, at least started before we leave. I’m rather excited about this demolition business.” “Yes, you ache for violence.” Julep lapped at a paw and brushed it over his ear. “You and I are such alike it scares me at times. Say, on your return would it be alright if I took a walk?” “Why?” “I’m bored.” Kit blinked at his friend, who stared with indifference. “Julep, you are a liar. You bring me rodents when I’ve expressed how foul they are. You tell me they attack you. Lie. You leave refuse in my bed and say you were ‘sleep shitting’. Lie. Youuu, want at the chickens.” “I do not!” “I counted fifteen hens. And I will come back to the same amount or I’ll give you a bath then fit you with a leash!” Julep hissed once more and lunged at Kit. The bastard took chase and clawed at his ankles. “You’ll bleed, demon! If you even dare, I’ll fill your shoes with mice!” Kit yanked open the front door, and Julep escaped in skittish, feline fashion. “You had better run, petulant beast!” The sun shone in a clear blue sky and mammals bleated. One could say it was a lovely day if not for a seething gentleman blocking the exit. “Ah, you,” Kit intoned. “Yeah. Me. I know you touched my eggs.” “Were those your eggs?” Steeling his spine, Kit sneered. “I didn’t know. I was sure they belonged to the chickens that laid them.” “Don’t get smart with me, jack!” “My name isn’t Jack, it’s Kit.” “Don’t you ever go digging for my eggs.” Kit growled as Hank’s red eyes sparked. He was within range to catch his death. Clove and bergamot swirled about. The scent was oddly comforting and contradictory of his boorish behavior. “They are everywhere!” Kit pronounced, holding his ground. “I don’t give a shit, they’re mine.” “Surely you’re not using all of them.” “I am.” “Liar!” Hank hissed like the uncouth cave dweller he was and begged for a fight. Kit was born for battle, molded by it. He’d won many wars and made a name for himself. In Undervell, he’d have ripped Hank’s tongue out, pureed it, then spoon-fed him the mush with glee. But this was Indigo Plains, Ravensguard territory. He did not need to kill this man. Done with the whole conversation and Hank’s dewy complexion Kit stomped across the porch. “I have nothing more to—“ “Don’t you walk away from me! I ain’t done. Don’t bother my chickens or my eggs, do you hear me?” Hank blocked Kit’s path for the second time. “Get out of my way or I will be forced to cause bodily harm.” “There you go, threatenin’ me again.” Hank huffed and hiked up his trousers. “You sho’ you wanna ride this stallion, boy.” “I’m sure Granny not gonna like you pestering her guest.” The disembodied voice turned Kit around. There, on the overhang, sat a fellow with magenta locs and a bag of crisps. His legs dangled as he smiled and looked to the sky. “This guest is too god damn nosy!” “And you too grumpy,” the roof-sitter claimed. “Indeed.” “You hush,” Hank grumbled. Kit pivoted and faced his nemesis. “You have no authority here. Good day.” “You heard him, Hank. Get goin’.” “Jo, I wann’t talking to you.” “You know I do not give a fuck. I will tell Granny.” Hank resigned and mumbled expletives on his trip down the stone path. With the cantankerous vampire on his way, Kit watched him go. He was a brute with the stature to match. “Whyyyy, are you on the roof?” Kit asked. “I was bored, didn’t have nothin’ pressing to do so I figured why not say hi.” “Hello.” “Where were you goin’?” Kit shifted his gaze up and over. “To ask your grandmother a question. Nieema, right?” “Mhm. Yeah. But she ain’t up yet. ‘Bout another two hours.” “I’ll wait. But, again, why are you sitting on th—“ Jo laughed, swinging his legs. “’Cus it’s the best place to think. Where you do your best thinking?” “In the bath.” “I can see that.” Kit yelped, clutched his journal, and slid from the landing zone. Jo had jumped from the roof and touched down with unnatural agility. He was rangy and wolfish. His smile remained, showcasing more than several fangs. Kit was unsettled by his friendliness and pointed features. He’d never seen such a thing. “You have quite the pair of wings,” Kit said, noticing the subtle twitch and flit. “Your grandmother is a vampire, no? As would be your mother or fat—“ Jo stuffed an orange colored crisp into his mouth and said, “We all mixed up ‘round here. My Mama wasn’t even all vampire. The only one who is, is Granny. My Mama is only half. I got fairy blood mostly. As you can tell from the lifts.” “Lifts?” “Another word for wings.” Jo looked to the winding walkway and laughed for whatever reason. “You wanna come with me somewhere?” “Where?” “To see a witch.” “Yes!” Kit gasped. “Let me get my satchel first.” After running inside for his bag, he filled it with his journal, a bottle of water, and two cashew butter and blackberry jam sandwiches. “I’m set.” “Why you look like a hobbit on their first adventure?” “A whaaat?” “You got the sweater, purse, and hairy hooves.” “What is a—“ Jo cackled and started their pleasant journey through the field. It was hard to believe this entire stretch of land belonged to a single family. Of course, Carriont owned a manor with thirty-five rooms, a botanical garden, and an amphitheater but to Kit, it felt more like a soggy shoe box. “Who was the fairy?” Kit asked. “My dad. He still in Lightbridge. The classless fuck. Got my mama pregnant and bought her a train ticket home. Fairies don’t much like melting pots if you know what I mean.” “I do not, unfortunately.” Jo smiled and dragged his feet, the strange coverings slapped the ground in annoying succession. They were hardly useful with the bit of plastic between his toes. Kit shuddered at the sight. Five digit freaks. “Most folks up north in fairy land don’t mess with vampires.” “Ahhh, I understand. In Undervell, many don’t like sleep paralysis demons. My father calls them ruffians. The general population ignores them. They’re labeled lazy trash by the media.” “That’s fucked up.” “I suppose, in a sense.” Kit kept a wary eye on the woods. He’d kill a lion and make quick use of its hide. If one even dared try a surprise attack, he’d throttle them. “Are their lions here?” “Lions? What, like Simba?” “Who?” “Damn, what y’all be watching in hell?” “Lions, you know? Big golden cats with impressive claws and—“ “Oohhhh, shit!” Jo laughed, and his wings fluttered. “Noooo, no. We don’t got them here. That’s like down south, across Pearl Gulf. Nahhh. No lions. But we do got like, Ore bears, bear shifters, Burling bears, Dust peckers, Harpies, and uhhh spiders. Them big ones.” “I saw one.” “Whaaaaat? And you still breathin’?” Jo tsked and crumpled the empty crisp bag. He slipped it into the pocket of his checkered shorts and smirked. “You’re a bad, bad man, Kit.” “I was shoved into a closet. I didn’t even get to fight.” “Ohhh, you know what? Grandaddy said something about that.” “I’m sure.” If Jo never spoke, one might be frightened of the young man. He was covered in tribal ink, draped in gold jewelry, and his claws were the darkest shade of red Kit had ever seen. As if he’d dipped them in blood. The color faded at his third knuckle, where an amber, sun-drenched brown shimmered. Faeries were hideous creatures. “I’m quite excited to meet a witch,” Kit said. “You ain’t never seen one?” “No, never.” “My grandpa was a witch. Warlock, really. It’s why I got magic in my bones.” “Sooo, you’re the Sunsides, great grandson.” “Mhm. Yup.” “Where’s the rest of your family?” “Hell if I know.” Jo shrugged and waved at the sheep. The poor devil was insane. “Not everybody set up for town living, and most don’t wanna die here.” “What nonsense. Indigo Plains is magnificent!” Kit inhaled a deep breath, enjoying the outdoor stench. “It smells terrible, but even I see the beauty here. It’s peaceful and bright. Magical. After sunset, the moon casts an incredible light upon this land. I didn’t want to come here. I mean, I did. But not this soon, and certainly not under these circumstances.” “What circumstances?” Kit stopped himself from saying too much. He still had six days to get Jasper home and he was no closer than he had been hours ago. “My sister, I came to help her with the dire living situation when we were attacked by the spider beast.” “Riiiiight, right.” “Young man—“ “Whoa, I’m forty-five.” “I have trousers older than you.” The fairy laughed again and shoved Kit’s shoulder. He stumbled into the grass and tried to hold his own chuckle, but failed. They followed the path for another thirty minutes. During such time, the loquacious Jo had stated facts and opinions. He tossed rocks, twirled sticks, and skipped along. Every so often, Jo stopped to speak with sheep and a huge fucking blue goat with an immaculate set of horns. In that moment, Kit wished he hadn’t shaved his. He touched the bumpy, raised edge in need of a touch-up and sighed. The Duke had said wild horns were improper for a general with status. “Why are we going into the wood?” Kit asked, stopping in his tracks. “This ain’t no forest. Calm down.” “Woods.” Kit looked from the snaking road to an amused Jo. The damned stones vanished into a void. Twisting the strap on his bag, Kit took a step back. “I can’t.” “I told you it’s not a forest, woods, whatever.” “Not the same thing.” “This, is a garden.” Kit scowled. “A garden?” “Yeah, swear it on my Mama’s heart. Maggie keeps plants and shit like Papa Buck.” “Wait, he has a garden?” “Yeah. You saw it on the tour.” “The greenhouse is his?” Jo nodded and waved a hand. “Let’s goooo. Got things to do, geezer.” “What’s a geezer?” Jo giggled and extended a palm. Kit stared at it, not knowing what to do. “What would you like from me?” “You somethin’ else, demon man.” Kit flinched as Jo snatched his hand and gripped it with cold fingers. It’d been a while since anyone other than Jasper had touched him. Shocking and strange as it was, Kit needed the support as they inched forward. It was fact, he’d led an entire army into battle sixty-four times and had the scars to prove it. Yes, he was known as General Raze the Great Impaler and yes, he saved all of Undervell four years ago, but by gods, the woods turned him into a hatchling. A cowering wee thing on the verge of pissing themselves. His heart thudded. He couldn’t hear Jo’s prattle over his own chattering teeth. Towering trunks and creaking boughs. They were going to eat him alive! Swallow him whole and dine on his entrails! A golden light bobbed, causing a brief distraction. Kit sucked in a breath as the tiny being landed on the tip of his nose. “What—“ The insect buzzed away and Kit tracked its winding movement until it perched atop a luminous flower. “Oh my, it is a garden.” Flanking their path was an unfathomable amount of blossoms, bushes, and vines. He didn’t know what any of them were called and dared not ask. Miniature winged insects fluttered about while frogs lazed on lily pads in a nearby pond. Sculptures, fountains, and sitting areas gave the area personality. “Yeah,” Jo said, sighing. “She’s a pack rat. Like, bad. Almost bad as Old Man Joyner. I been telling her they’d make a nice couple.” “I don’t know what a pack rat is, but it sounds lovely.” Jo snickered and knocked on a pink oval door. He released his hold and hugged a portly woman with coral-hued curls. Kit appreciated her bespangled hair, studded with beads, both colorful and dissimilar. “Come, my boy, come. And you’ve brought a friend! Welcome, Kit.” “You know my name? We have never met how—“ “I know everything that happens on this ranch. I’m Maggie, honey. Now come inside so I can feed you.” He smiled on a nod and entered the witch’s home. It was a storybook cottage and smelled of freshly baked bread. Kit was pretty good with flour and yeast as well. Though no one had ever tried his loaves except for Jasper. Herbs hung from the ceiling and above the wood-burning stove. Jars, tea cups, and pottery cluttered every surface. Bowls of fruit and veggies straddled a large tome. Kit was awestruck. Her home was everything he figured it to be. Witches weren’t the neatest bunch. They had spells to complete, wards to cast, and medicine bags to fill. He’d done research on them, too. Kit had been fascinated with witchcraft its wielders for many years. Powerful beings who pulled words from a page with intention and purpose. “Sit, sit.” He obeyed and settled on the sofa next to Jo, who lounged upside down. Feet kicking, he crunched on something and erupted in a squeal of laughter. “How’s the house business going, Kit?” “I can’t say. We’re supposed to do the demolition tonight.” “Yeah, right. Leave it to Grandma Nima. All she wanna do is swing that hammer. There are things you gotta do before the actuarial construction begins. I’m sure Papa Buck is handling it as we speak .” Kit twisted around to examine the witch. “Are you a relative?” “I was married to their son, Carter.” “Was?” “He caught the travel bug,” Maggie said, cutting into a cake Kit would devour in seconds. “Went off to fight in a war that was no business of ours. Trolls. Quarrelsome. Bah! Anyway, Carter transitioned some twenty years ago. I’m Jo’s grandmother.” “Ohhh, this is getting rather confusing.” “I can see how it would. We got ‘bout four generations of Sunsides in this town. Be prepared. Not everyone stayed, but I got more cousins than I can shake a stick at. Here you go, baby.” Kit hurried to accept the gift of sugar. “Thank you, this looks divine.” “Divine? You flatter me.” “Never.” Maggie blushed and slapped the fairy’s foot. “Jo, sit your behind up. Every which way on my couch. You lost ya mind. Huh.” “Oooo. Cake!” Jo hunched over his plate and smiled. “Grandma, is there extra raisins in it?” “You damn skippy.” “Mmmm. Carrot cake is the only cake I eat.” Kit didn’t know what carrot cake was, but the moment bits of carrot, dried fruit, and cinnamon greeted his tongue,e he understood Jo’s comment. It was unlike anything Kit had ever tasted. Soft, moist, with a slight crunch. “What is that toffee-like morsel?! What brand of heaven is this? Ohhh, Maggie, I have been gifted food from a skilled god of fare!” Maggie exploded in a crackle of giggles and clapped her hands. “Take that Culinary Arts and kiss my Black ass!” “Yes!” Kit whooped and raised his fork. “Kiss her Black ass Arts of the Culinary.” Jo hollered in laughter and choked. He hacked while Maggie patted his back. “Slow down, baby. I told you, chew before you swallow. You know, he came out of the womb with a spoon in his hand.” “Seriously?” Kit gasped, and Maggie waved a hand. “You’re hilarious. Not many demons are. I like you, Kit.” He perked at the compliment, as no stranger had said such things to him before. After scraping crumbs, Maggie ordered him to have another slice. Of course, he agreed. “Jo, you know them Platter boys stole two more pumpkins from Mr. Carol again.” “Come onnnnn, Grandma no work talk.” “No, you gotta do somethin’ about ‘em.” “I already did, I—“ “You gave them a stern talking to. That ain’t gon’ cut it, this is the third time. You know Mr. Carol is getting his patch ready for the fair.” Jo finished his last bite and groaned aloud. Kit didn’t see what the issue was. “Are these ruffians?” Kit asked. “Barbarous thieves?” “They’re teenagers,” Jo said. “Seventeen and eighteen. Kids. They have an obsession with pumpkins. I don’t know.” “Are you their ward?” “What? Nah. I’m the Sheriff.” “And as sheriff,” Maggie piped, braiding strands of ribbon dangling with charms, “its your job to stop crime.” “I got deputies for that shit.” “Boy.” “Sorry, ma’am. But why I gotta do it?” Maggie hit Jo with a telling side eye, one even Kit evaded by looking at a stack of thick books on the coffee table. Herbs, stones, and trees. He’d love to read each volume for research purposes. “You wanna go on a ride-along with me tomorrow?” Jo asked. “A what?” “Do you want to ride with me while I’m working. Doing boring sheriff stuff.” “Absolutely! I’d love the chance to dish out laws and orders. And rid Indigo Plains of all tomfoolery.” Kit waggled his brows and nudged Jo with an elbow. he snickered. “You not doing none of that. But I love the enthusiasm.” “Aw.” Kit slouched into the sofa. “Can I at least arrest someone?” “I can’t remember the last time I arrested somebody. Maybe five years ago?” “Wait, but you’re a land-dwelling patron of order, as we call those with authority in Undervell, you must detain and judge.” “Our courthouse is for like, property cases. Civil suits. There’s virtually no crime here.” “Save for them Platter boys,” Maggie mumbled. “Grandmaaaaa.” “How odd. Jasper said crime is a huge issue in the capital.” “I bet,” Jo chimed. “And Johnny Law makes it worse.” “How?” “I don’t got it in me for a talk like that. Grandma, more cake!” “You want another piece too?” Kit tapped his lips and scrunched his nose. “Do…uhm…do a pig shit?” Jo cackled, stomped his feet, and smacked Kit in the arm. “Lords,” Maggie rolled her eyes and said, “You sound like Buck already.”
J. T. Frost 