Neon Red: Chapter 19

Low cruised on the 826 heading East. And didn’t this drive ring some bells. He just did the shit, which wasn’t helping him at the moment. His mind whirred with images from that night with Max. He missed her already, per usual. Low often counted down the hours to when they were allowed privacy again.
But another face appeared between sleep cycles, giving Low a bad case of blue balls. He caught an urge to hit himself over the head with a crowbar. Them type of problems needed to be avoided at all cost.
“Are you okay, Elliot?”
He nodded. “Straight as a fresh line up, brotha.”
“I’m inclined to think otherwise. You’ve said two words since I got in the car.”
“I’m good, Tracy. I got a lot on my mind but nothing deep.”
Shooting him a quick glance, Low shrugged at Tracy’s high chin. “I gather Maxine has told you what happened?”
That wasn’t what had him twisted, but nowwww, thanks to Tracy, he was ’bouta be in a bad mood. “Yeah, but it ain’t my business.”
“It isn’t, but I assure you, I’d avoid this if I could. Alas, my hands are tied.” Low stabbed Tracy with a side-eye while he peered out the window. “I don’t wish for my daughter to hate me. I…”
“It’s hella barbaric,” Low added, like a dumb ass. “Invasive and it reduces Max to nothing more than a bargaining chip. You don’t see how fucked up that is?”
“Oh, but I do. More than anyone. I haven’t had the opportunity to give her away, and I never wanted to under these circumstances. I don’t know what these men will—I can’t fathom such things. I don’t trust Matthias or his son. No matter how well meaning the boy is.”
“Boy?” Low croaked.
“Uh, no no. Nothing like that. He’s fifty.”
“Ghat damn.”
“Yes, quite young. Maxine will be a handful. He’s not prepared for a woman like her. My daughter is like a raging brush fire, wild and zero percent contained.”
Low stopped a big smile from breaking free. Tracy told no lies. Maxi was a lively woman with a good heart and an even better mind.
“She’s just like her mother,” Tracy whispered, head hanging. “In so many ways. Happy and shining, in spite of tremendous adversity.”
Keeping eyes on the road, Low let him have some peace to sort through this moment. Tracy didn’t know he knew about Bernice, and how she died during childbirth. He wanted to throw comforting words out there, but it wasn’t his place. Instead, they finished the drive without discourse. Low let Miles Davis play uninterrupted until reaching the Brickell condos.
After finding a parking space, he deaded the four cylinder, and waited for the boss man to move.
“Alright, let’s go.”
“Go where, exactly?” Low asked as they hopped out the Avalon. “Are you buying a place here?”
Tracy nodded. “In a sense. I guess I am.”
“Daaaamn, look at you, coming up in the world.”
Starting toward the elevator, Tracy strutted with swagger and confidence. He had money and a tiny piece of power, he was in fact on the come up.
“Please, it’s no big deal. Although, this is a prestigious residence. Prime property for the elite. Can’t say I haven’t put in my time. I deserve this, to be frank.”
Low slapped the call button and scoffed. “Damn right you do. Claim it, own your future.”
“Christ, Elliot. You sound like my daughter, don’t tell me you believe in all that spiritual rigamarole. I know you were raised in a religious household, but Maxine’s beliefs are strange.”
When allowed, Low stepped in the box and chuckled. “What number?”
“Four.”
He stabbed the circle and listed against a mirrored panel. “Nah, I don’t get down with all that light and love or whatever. But some of the stuff seems okay.”
Tracy frowned, harder than normal. “Rocks and energy, it’s beyond me.”
“Don’t let her hear you call them rocks.”
“Ohhh yesss,” Tracy groaned. “Crystaaaals. Excuse the fuck out of me.”
They got a good giggle outta that before their ascent stopped. Low gestured for Tracy to make an exit. He always went first, so if anything got rowdy he saw who was coming but had his back too.
It was a service night, so Low carried them dual rails like the military. And thanks to his forged open carry license, he wore the holster with confidence. Cargoes and boots. He was on the battlefield, so why not?
The corridor ended when Tracy yanked a door open and walked right on in.
Low stayed on his ass, but calmed once inside the office. “Damn.” Shorty sitting behind a desk caught his eye first. A dime and some change, she fit the establishment. It was sleek and serene, with
Cream and pine threaded throughout. Low liked lavish shit, just not in his house.
Stopping in front of the receptionist, she did a double take. He nodded and she blushed. Low was fa sho finna get that number upon departure.
“Hello again, Mr. Bissette. He’s almost finished with a consultation, you can have a seat.”
“Terrific.”
Tracy led him across the airy, open space and into a waiting area kitted with leather and glass tables.
“This is nice, but what are we doing here exactly?”
His employer snapped up a magazine and flipped pages. “Knitting, who knits anymore? Uhm, well, I’ll be working here, as a matter of fact.”
“Doing what?”
“Same as I do now, but on a much larger scale. I’ve taken on a partner.”
Low recoiled and blinked. “You have?”
“Yes, an—”
“Oh well, Mr. Aubrey I hope so.”
The surname made Low flinch, and he hadn’t the balls to take a look. This can’t be happening, no no no…absolutely not. Ain’t no way in hell.
“Ah, Tracy.”
Fuuuuuck no.
Low peered at a stack of magazines as Tracy stood and greeted the personal nightmare. It was bad enough that this male didn’t want to leave his brain in peace. The world shitted on ‘em.
Partner? He was the partner?!
This was so fuckin’ awkward and now, Low had to see him all the tim—
“Elliot.”
Low returned to the present and grinned. “Yes?”
“I said you can come with me.”
“I’ll wait.”
Tracy’s brow twitched. “That’s ludicrous, you never leave my side. Get up.”
“Okay.” If the pay wasn’t so good Low would have hauled his ass right out the door.
Jacking to his feet, he cussed. Low followed Tracy, winked at the secretary and stopped right quick.
“What’s your name?” he asked, smirking.
“Britney.”
“So, how long you been working here?”
“Britney.”
Low stiffened as the girl spun around in her chair.
“Yes, sir?”
“Make sure to fax Mr. Palmer the itinerary.”
Red might as well be a walking biohazard. Dangerous and toxic as fuck, he smelled amazing. Why…why…one haunting word. Just one, and it had every intention of bugging the shit out of Low all night.
“Yes, sir.”
Low turned his attention in the opposite direction, and zipped past, stumbling into the office.
“Holy hell. This like an apartment.”
Expansive, with panoramic views. He hung back while Tracy sat in front of a long, executive desk. Low faced the window ‘til their conversation about numbers and percentages started. They used fancy verbiage he didn’t understand.
The back half of Jaxon’s office had everything. A wet bar, TV, conference table, and couches. One of which, Low chose to fall into. Again with the knitting mags. Not for nothing, but Red had greeeeat taste in a lot of things.
Including secretaries.
Britney sashayed with libations and such. She wore the hell out of a silk blouse and skirt number, too.
Business sexy.
“Would you like some water or blood?”
“Water is fine.” He smiled, flashing fangs. “Thank you.”
“Britney.” Jaxon called her and the girl almost ran for it. They fucked before. Yeah, of course. She was pretty and young. But so was Low, shit. They had centuries between them. Five hundred years give or take.
Like an idiot, Low dragged eyes up and over to the boss. Annnnd it only got worse. Red sported a poplin top like a grown ass man. What was it? Tom Browne? Probably, rich ass. Red laughed at nothing because Tracy wasn’t witty.
Fake, fake, fake ass bitch.
His mouth was disgusting.
Low ain’t never met a man who sucked dick like he’d mastered it. Work of the devil. Straight like that, red hair and all. Staring wasn’t a good idea and when their eyes clashed, Low stopped breathing.
Play it coo, bruh. You ain’t no punk, don’t you dare cower.
Low held his own and like a G, didn’t even blink.
Shiiiid. He wanted to fuck the old vampire right on this couch. His dick liked the proposition, but Red severed their moment and Low inhaled.
“—your shipments are yours, I don’t want anything to do with it.”
“That’s fine, and understandable.”
“But there may be times when our people co-mingle. Uh, Elliot, come here.”
This is stupid, Low thought.
With another groan, he rose on wobbly legs and stalked over to the new partners.
“So,” Tracy started, “you’ll meet with his team and get to know them. You, Hollister, and Russell.”
“The new cat you texted me about?”
“Yes, but I want you all to get acquainted. I think it would alleviate any mix-ups, and awkwardness.”
Too late for that.
“Uhm I’m sorry, whose team and for what?” Low crossed arms over his chest and waited for an answer. Tracy glanced at Jaxon who shrugged.
“My team of bodyguards, henchman, and runners.”
Low’s head cranked on his spine, he stared at Red and frowned. “Your what? You trafficking humans too?”
The male sighed aloud. “No, Elliot. I am into other things. Like weed, ice, coke, black rock, H, benzos, bars, perc, beans, Fentynol, lean or shit, VB… whatever the itch may be, I can scratch it.”
Low erupted in ill-timed laughter and kept at it. Turning away from the pair, he tried to quiet down and snorted.
“Elliot, what is so funny?”
“I…I—” He choked on a giggle. “I’m sorry, Tracy. Okay.”
Low bit his bottom lip to stifle another dose of chuckles and returned to the conversation. It made sense now, why he was overcome with desire.
He sniffed it out, sensed it, and was drawn to it.
Low had a problem, he was strongly attracted to criminals. Always had been, and he had terrible taste in men. Women, too.
Better yet, Low looooooved self inflicted wounds. He smashed at least three drug dealers in his day, all were on the DL but none so pretty or…
“I kinda figured something was off about you,” Low said, squinting and scrutinizing. “What’s your radius?” he asked.
Red rocked in the big boy chair like a goon.
Low wanted to swallow his tongue. Before his confession, this was bad, but now shit went from schweatin ol’ boy to thirsting for a muh’fucka.
Fast.
“Miami.”
He cocked his head. “Nah, I said how many blocks you got?”
Jaxon Aubrey’s face was made for sex. This was not the venue.
“And I said Miami, Baton Rouge, Augusta, and Wilmington North Carolina. Wells and Scotland.”
“Ooooohhhhh.” Low nodded sloooow. “Ohhh. You like up there. Oh shiiiiit, so you like top dog.” Pulling on his collar, Low smiled at Tracy. “Are you sure you wanna get involved with a kingpin?”
Low swallowed hard at them words. In truth, they were aimed at himself. Personally, he was finna turn into a bird. A cluckin’ ass groupie, but Tracy needed to know what he was getting into.
“I’m serious, Tracy. I’ve been here more than once. You fuck up, somebody like him won’t think twice about killing you.”
“We’ve come to an agreement.”
Low threw up his hands. “Okay. Fine. I tried to help…”
He pointed at the couch. “I’m gonna wait over here, but uh yeah. The comment I made about the dro? It was ass. You need to do something about that, and your supply. I’m running on empty.”
“I’m working on it as we speak.”
“Good,” Low snapped. “Hope so. This is bad customer service.”
He turned on his boot heels, power walked back to the sofa, and plopped. This was worse than he thought, and wasn’t gon’ get no better. Why…why…a male like Red was bad news. How was Low supposed to forget about their one night sneak now?
How was he supposed to move along and pretend like Jaxon never existed now?
Guess he had to, though, huh? Since the baller ass drug dealer used Low up already. He ain’t want no more. Fine, whatever, fuck him. Just his luck. A man can never have impeccable pussy and dizzy dick on deck at once. It was impossible. He had the cat, but that there redhead was being stingy with his bone.
Bitch.
Low glared at Jaxon and vowed to leave him be. Even if he was a dope boy.
Ohhhh don’t do it, bruh, you stronger than this!
Letting the BS go, he swiped a bottle of Evian off the coffee table and cracked it open. He wasn’t desperate, nah. Low had no shortage of ass.
After guzzling sixteen ounces in one shot, he stared at the empty container and scoffed. A nigga was thirsty. He chuckled at the inner commentary.
“I’ll take that.” Britney came through with a white smile and brown eyes.
“Thanks.”
She grabbed the plastic and replaced it with a card. He acknowledged her gift and nodded. “I gotchu.”
She blushed again, and switched in them heels. He watched her go, and had the nerve to stare, too.

Wings and Willows: Sneak Peek

A dark figure barreled through her front door and slammed it shut. They dropped to the floor and heaved. Their damp, tattered cloak and muddy boots told a quick tale. “I can hide you,” Whima said, clutching the jar. She was set to beat this person to death with it if need be. “But if you wanna stay up in my place, you gotta pay.” Gloved hands reached. Whima shuffled backwards, eyes on their busy digits. “What you got there?” They chucked a heavy sack at her feet. Coin clattered and spilled upon hardwood.

She told them to pay and figured they wouldn’t. It was a sure fire way to get this stranger out of her house. Whima didn’t have a phone, a tablet, or a TV. She’d left all manner of technology in the city. The only thing worth a damn in her home was a record player and an ancient stock pot she called a cauldron.

“Well, shit.” Whima scowled at the hooded stranger. “I got a couch and cellar, if you need hiding. Stay out my kitchen and my ice box. Understood?”

They sat there, silently, blocking the only exit.

“Hello?”

After clearing their throat, the runaway spoke. “Yes.”

Their timbre was smooth as whipped shea and deeper than a well. Whima set the jar on her kitchen table and squatted. She scooped up payment but kept eyes on them.

“Twenty-four hours,” they rasped. “That’s all I need.” Whima stood, securing the weighty pouch. She knotted leather and stored funds in a cookie tin with the rest of her money.

“One day is all I’m willing to give.”

“Thank you.”

“Hm.” She swung them a side eye and checked on her wax. “I don’t care what you’ve done, but if you try me, I’ll make it hurt.”

“I am a man of honor, madam. I’m not in the business of hurting people.”

“Good. Keep it that way.” “What’s your name?” he asked. “You first.”

“Shade.”

Whima grimaced, staring into her steaming blend. “What kind of name is that?”

“I do believe this was supposed to be an exchange.”

Whima scoffed, hand on her hip. She pursed her lips and snatched up a towel.

“Whima.”

“Whima,” Shade drawled, trying it on. She winced as they repeated her name like an incantation. As if it were a spell, something divine. Whima almost dropped her pot.

“What an interesting name.”

“It was my Mother’s.”

“Nice to meet you, Whima.”

“I’d say the same only you haven’t removed that hood yet.” She placed her stock pot on a warming plate and dipped the ladle into a steaming goldenrod pool. “And if I’m gonna meet somebody, I like to look them in the eye.”

Shade chuckled, resting arms on his knees. He was a large fellow with big hands. She was certain he’d break her in half but the moment Shade removed the hood, his stature no longer mattered.

A Black fantasy romance with open door spice and a smitten fairy prince.

Chapter 33: Potent Magics

Five business days and Jasper was back to the basics. Work and commissions. From five to twelve, she held the store down with Cherry. Her one and only co-worker was a delightful woman with two kids and a school schedule. She was busy and about her money. Her name was apt, considering her favorite color was red. She said folks thought it was corny most days, but Jasper was biased. Being into red and a beautiful shade of carmine, she saw no issue with it.
Cherry left her to the norm. Customers who never needed help and window shoppers. The job was easy as hell and a quick way to make some doe. With next to nothing in her account, Jasper was giddy when Buck texted her about direct deposit things. She’d get a few dollars by next Friday.
Settling into a routine, Jasper was happier than she’d been in a while. After spending time with Nieema, she needed a minute alone. It’d been too long, and her body was out of practice. Her power and will wanted to suck down every drop of Nieema’s soul.
The urge to devour her bit by delicious bit was terrifying. Jasper could’ve killed the poor woman. With her succubus nature showing out, she decided on space and time. Distance made her grow fonder. It had an old demon yearning at six in the morning with a hand between her thighs.
Jasper had texted the Queen. To say hello, to remind her that yes, she was still here. Jasper was available and uncomplicated; desperate.
Her smile above and below was sweeter than honeydew.
With nothing much to do, she drifted. Daydreams consumed minutes and hours. Soaked in pomegranate red and plum purple. The vision of taking her once again was all-consuming.
And to think, Jasper hadn’t even touched Buck.
“Fuck.”
“My bananana pudding will fix whatever has you cussing like that.”
Jasper popped forward in her chair and dropped her boots to the floor. She stood as a gorgeous woman with pastel pink hair sashayed forward.
She was light on her feet and suffocating. Her sugar-coated soul was cloying, tacky. Jasper loved her already and became enamored as she placed a dish of banana pudding on the counter.
“You must be Maggie,” Jasper met the woman halfway and extended a palm. “It’s a pleasure.”
“Silly woman. We hug here.”
Jasper beamed, welcoming a comforting embrace. She smelled of coco butter, mangos, clementines, and brown sugar. She was a goddess and her soft pats were lovely. Jasper didn’t want to let go as goodness and warmth surrounded her.
“There we are,” Maggie held Jasper at arm’s length. “You’re precious, honey.”
“You are about to make me cry.”
“Sometimes a shedding is what we need.”
The woman shrugged and wagged a finger. “Youuuu, are in for a treat. I added more cookies than bananas.”
“How could you possibly—“
“There ain’t much I don’t know. How’s that charm working?”
Jasper cleared her throat and checked the strange, glowing rock hanging above the door. It pulsed with potent abilities. Metallic and sour, it left a bad taste in her mouth.
“Good, I’m guessing. I haven’t seen him.”
“That means it’s working. But—“
“I know, Buck said I can’t leave the store until my ride is here.”
“You don’t have a car?”
“It’s busted at the moment.”
Maggie twirled, her colorful corset dress fluttering. She was a splash of whimsy and delicate on the eyes. An older woman, perhaps, but her spirit and soul were youthful.
Two French braids framed her heart-shaped face and full cheeks. Beads studded her pink and silver tresses while rose gold glittered.
“I know who can help you with that.” Maggie stared out the window and tapped the glass with a long, painted nail. Sparks pinged on the glass as she hummed. “Tre. My nephew can handle anything under the hood of a car. Leave it to him, he’ll have your lemon up and running in two hours.”
Jasper shook her head and checked on the banana pudding. The plastic lid did nothing to hide all that sexy. Whipped cream, nilla wafers, and thick pudding.
She grunted, stroking her chin. “I might have to get his card or something.”
“I’ll give you his phone number.” Maggie pivoted and wriggled fingers festooned with gemstones. “Anyway, I came by cause I wanted to give you this.”
She snapped fingers and a bracelet dropped from the ceiling. Jasper winced and squinted, shocked and in awe.
“What in the Undervell?”
“Don’t overthink it. Huh.” Maggie offered a gold Cuban link. “And never you mind about the price. This piece has been in the back of my sock drawer for years. Can’t remember where I got it. Brasshorne maybe. No. Foster Pier? No. Well, anyway, it’s yours now.”
Jasper accepted the gift and shuddered as power weaved through vein and bone.
“What is this? I can feel its strength.” Jasper studied the links, searching for proof. “This is another magical piece.”
Maggie giggled and nodded. “Yes, honey. Pure, untouched magic. My own spell and charm. I want you to wear this, and don’t you dare remove it.”
As told, Jasper unlatched and slapped the cool gold onto her wrist and clasped it. The gold number complemented her other jewels.
“Thank you, Maggie.” Jasper cleared her throat, unsure of what to say. “Your whole family is an enigma. I’ve never met anyone so kind or giving. After living in Misthill, I assumed most earth dwellers were no better than nightmare demons.”
“It can seem that way when you’re over there in the big ol’ city. They got too much going on for me. Even Carver. Shit, my late husband looooved to travel, and because I loved him, I followed on behind his busy self. I wasn’t flying in no airbus, though.”
Maggie was a jubilant woman, but she carried sorrow on her back. Whomever her husband was, she missed him dearly.
“Well, if you need anything from me, you come running. My place is only a hop and skip from yours. I live on the ranch.”
“Buck said something about that.”
“Papa Buck say a lot. Old rooster.”
Jasper laughed as the bell tinkled. Palison, the pretty half-brother, entered and stalled. He sniffed the air and scowled.
“Witch!”
Maggie turned her nose up and whipped a braid over her shoulder. “And who the fuck is you?! Don’t catch an ass whippin’, boy. You don’t greet people like that. Much more, you don’t piss off a powerful mage. I’ll slap the taste outcha’ mouth, swamp crawler.”
Maggie rolled her eyes and grinned at Jasper. “Don’t you waste a bite of that pudding, now. And remember, never take that off. It’ll keep your past at bay and keep your foes from finding you.”
“Thank you, again, Maggie.”
“Nonsense. I’ll see you soon.”
Her aura and soul had solidified in real time. The exchange was magnificent, and Palison was a man scandalized. Uncertain, furious, curious, and aroused. He watched her grumble out of the door and sneered.
Jasper glowered and knocked on the counter. “Hello?”
Palison inhaled and snapped to attention. “Is Buck around?”
“Nah.”
“Shit.”
“Why didn’t you call him?”
“What makes you think I have his number?”
“Good point.”
He spun and high-tailed it out of the store without so much as a thank you.
“What an asshole.” Jasper hit a double-take and nodded. “Im’a need some privacy for this.”
She rubbed her hands together and hustled for the break room in search of the biggest spoon she could find.

Chapter 32: Freaks and Creeps

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

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

Chapter 31: Fangs and Hunger Pangs

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

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

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

Neon Red: Chapter 12

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.

Chapter 27: Want All’at Smoke

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.

Patchwork & Pitchforks: Tidbits

Chapter 26: A Queen & Her Knight

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.

Chapter 25: A Demonic Dilemma

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.