Replacing his classic muscle fifty-block with a new age engine powered by magical stones was the smartest shit he’d ever done. Buck arrived at Jack’s Real Estate and Legal Services in three minutes. He’d spent almost an hour arguing with that god damned city man about permits and regulations. It was exhausting when suits only smelled money. Omari, their eldest son, was fed up with assholes and called his pappy. Buck was happy to play ref and calm the blue-blooded human down. He was lucky town folk had voted on this project, otherwise, they wouldn’t have shit. Buck didn’t want a three-level shopping monstrosity in their town. It’d be an eyesore and attract trouble. “Hiya, Buck,” Chelsea sang. Her wings fluttered as he removed his hat. “He’s in the bathroom. Got a little too happy with an eldonberry smoothie. I tried to tell him to take it easy but…” “Mom, please.” Jack hung his head, fixed the tie, and exhaled a ragged breath. “Come on, Buck. Let’s talk in my office. Ma, hold my calls.” “I know it.” Buck tipped his hat, making Chelsea blush. She was a spry woodland fairy and didn’t look a day over sixty-five though pushing four-hundred. She wasn’t in the market for relationships, but he knew how Chelsea liked to dip and dive on it. “What you call me for, Jack?” “Close the door, would ya?” Buck grunted as the latch clicked. “This feel like bad news.” Jack settled behind the desk, his stained glass wings twitching. He was a handsome fella but off limits given how the wife and Buck nailed his mama to the headboard once —twice—twelve times at least. He grabbed a seat and waited for some bullshit. Jack tugged on the point of his right ear and rocked in his executive chair. “I’m coming to you because my mother asked it of me. This ain’t typical. Don’t be thinking that I’m running my mouth about everyone, but I thought you should know, the Palison purchased some land. The Carters’ old farm. As you know, Packard died last year. His kids opted to sell. And…” “Why ain’t you say no?!” Buck glared at the man. “Why didn’t you just—“ “Just what? Buckley, I have ten kids.” “We all got kids!” “I’m the only income my family has. When faeries leave Lightbridge, their is no support for us and—“ “I know. Shit god damn it.” “I’m sorry. Maybe it’s a coincidence.” “No. No. Shiland was buried four months ago. I know—I figured—“ Buck cut the commentary and stared at flat, gray carpet. He’d known this day was coming but damn, not this soon. “Thanks for telling me, Jack.” “Sure thing.” “Is the deal closed?” “Not yet, ten days.” “Got it. Thanks again.” Buck gripped wood grain and peeled tires out of the parking lot. He would have stayed in the streets longer, but now, he needed a second alone, in his element. Pushing two hundred horses down the strip of road leading back home, he turned up his comfort tunes. Highway 56 snaked across the continent. From Lightbridge, to Ravensguard, and continuing through Brasshorne. It ended at the tip of the world, Frostwinds Edge. Four territories with four crowns. Buck groaned, parked in the garage, and killed the engine. He cleared the vehicle and sneaked through the side door. Left of the detached garage was the wood. A dense thicket holding his past and dearest of memories. Before crossing the tree line, Buck tugged off his boots and t-shirt. Barefoot and half naked, he entered the dark beyond and whispered hello to the sneaky elm, old oak, and wise willow. “What in the hell y’all been up to? Boy, do I got some crazy shit to tell you.”
Jasper snickered as her brother glared at the plumber’s feet. He wasn’t used to being dismissed, much less by a stranger. Kit fooled many with his fresh face and unrealistic phobias. But demons knew better and feared him, as they rightly should. She looked on while petting a unique blend of threads. It was softer than anything she’d ever used. “Kit,” Jasper warned. “I was merely trying to help, sir. There is zero cause for your attitude or rude introduction.” “That wasn’t no introduction,” Hank muttered from below. “I don’t know you and I don’t wanna know you.” “Damn, man.” Jasper high-whistled, draped the folded quilt over the armrest with care, and jacked to her full height. “I have never been so disrespected. You are an asshole and lack manners. You, sir, would fit well on my favorite pike!” “’Scuse me?!” Hank scrambled from under the sink and rose from his ass like any gravity-defying vampire. “What the hell you say to me, boy?” “Boy?!” Kit seethed. “Alright, alright.” Jasper wedged herself between the men and tried for de-escalation. “Kit, you can’t piss people off then threaten to kill them, its uncouth. But Hank, it’s kinda rude calling a grown man a boy. He’s three hundred years old. You can’t say things like that. My brother, here, isn’t known for his patience.” “Neither am I.” “Hm.” Kit sneered and Hank was no better. “Dearest brother, I have some important stuff to teach you about this world. Come. Let’s leave Hank to his business. “I need supper before I actually murder someone.” Jasper stifled a giggle and a hangry joke. It was funny because he was serious. “There ain’t nothing in that ice box. You’ll have to wait for groceries. Nieema just left.” Sooty puffs of smoke escaped from Kit’s nose as he huffed. “If you that doggone hungry then go on up to the main house. I’ll tell them you coming.” Jasper wagged praying hands and bowed as Kit stomped for the door. He exited with vile words while Hank’s jaw ticked. “Sorry about him,” Jasper said. “He’s not used to fae or land. He’s read a lot about this place but never visited.” “I reckon he’s a spoiled prick who ain’t worked a day in his life.” Jasper grunted and smirked. “Now there, is where you’d be wrong.” “Sure.” Hank let the convo rest there and returned to tightening bolts or whatever. Jasper took his silence as a period and joined Kit on the porch. A vicious wet heat clung to her skin and soaked Indigo Plains. Humidity touched every blade of grass and leaf. She’d moved here for solitude and the promise of peace. The weather was a delightful bonus she much appreciated. “If someone doesn’t ask for help, you leave them alone,” Jasper pronounced, admiring the majestic vista. “It is an honor to meet me, Hank should have been-“ “Up here, you’re a nobody.” Jasper shrugged and cleared the steps in a single bound. “What do you mean? Please explain.“ “Nobody, no one, not a soul gives a damn about you, Kit.” “I don’t know how I feel about this revelation.” Kit matched her stride by power walking and looked as if she’d shattered his heart. “Fowler says land dwellers love demons. These people worship us and beg at our feet.” Jasper laughed and sought a star-speckled sky. “Ohhh, they do love us. He was right. They show up and show out. For those with succubi blood, they’ll do just about anything.” “I’m only half incubus.“ “Don’t matter.” “I say, your vernacular is atrocious.” “You can be two-thirds or fourths, whatever, no one cares. They’ll kill for you, Kit. Some would clip their own vein and pluck every hair from their pretty little head for you.” “That sounds more like it!“ “They want your body, brother.” Jasper skipped ahead and spun, facing Kit. She remained on the path and smiled at his obvious terror. “They care not for your status or the reward of being your bonded.” She stopped dead and clutched his suspenders. “No, no! What they want, brother mine, is your mind, your dreams, and strapping form sheltering theirs and—“ “Enough!” Kit smacked her hands away and blushed. His gray cheeks purpled with embarrassment. He was a prude and no fun at all. Grinning at the man, she flicked a bejeweled loc over his shoulder. “I’m gonna set your ass up with somebody,” Jasper vowed. “What?Wait—no.” She sighed and continued on their journey. Approaching the big ranch house she cackled as Kit stuttered and stumbled. Words never caught purchase on his tongue. “I don’t wanna hear your excuses, bruh. Listen, you need to get bent then bent over.” “I am not discussing this with you! My intimate affairs are none of your concern.” “What intimacy?” “Don’t be crass, Jasper.” She took the steps in twos and side-eyed her eldest sibling. His head and spirit dragged across the covered porch. “I’m sorry, Kit.” Jasper locked an arm around him and squeezed. She wasn’t the biggest hugger, but exceptions must be made. “I know you have fears and… worries. As with most things. I won’t push, but I might make suggestions.” “You always do.” She smiled, kissed his sad, shaved horn then stabbed the doorbell. “Off with you,” Kit snapped. Jasper released him and shoved the fucker. He stammered and cussed. “Who the fuuuck are you?” Jasper pivoted and Kit yelped at the sound of a grating, warped voice. She didn’t know what the hell to make of this perched creature. Ugly as shit and odious, saliva dangled from its crusty beak. “What in the name of death gods is it?” Kit asked, gripping her bicep. “I have no clue.” “Ah!” Buck charged at the unnatural, winged cryptid, wielding a dangerous broom. “You old buzzard! Getchya ass—ah!” “I came to welcome you new guesssts.” The thing squawked and took flight, losing feathers on their ascent. They clawed at bristles and laughed. The hysterical howl was horrifying. Jasper almost smiled as Buck and the spawn of something beyond the depths of hell dueled. Buck held good form with a thick forest green braid whipping about. She often paid attention to details; the makings of a person. Tensing thigh muscles, a calloused iron grip, and the curve of his hips. This was bad business but they offered to help. “Damn scavenger.” Buck stomped, swore, and cracked his gum. “Sorry ’bout that. Dust Peckers are damn hard to shake. I’d rather termites. Come on in, Hank said y’all need a meal.” With Buck missing the hat, Jasper got a better look at his eyes. She nodded in passing and clocked the grin. He wasn’t cute smelling like an unknown sweet wood and cinnamon bark. Their inviting home immediately claimed her attention. The main house was an architectural feat and Jasper didn’t know shit about building things but it was wondrous. Spacious, massive even, and immaculate. She stopped by the stairs and counted three stories. Coated in white and love. The Sunsides residence was nothing like her rotting Victorian. “What a serene environment.” Jasper high whistled and followed Buck through a hallway lined with more odd artwork. She was taken aback by framed embroidery. Various sizes and shapes, the pieces hung from every wall. After a decent stroll, they entered the great room and veered right, into the kitchen. “This is living!” Kit shouted. “You have done well for yourself, Mr. Sunside.” “Buck.” “Buck. What is it you do, exactly?” “They own a construction business.” Kit hummed and meandered. Jasper kept a close eye on the demon. He was prone to touch, handle, and fumble. One might never guess he was a natural-born killer with a specific skill set. Sitting at a table tucked into a cove of windows, she watched Buck rummage. The kitchen with its long counters and shiny appliances filled Jasper with envy. She’d grown up around the same luxuries but had never owned anything until now. It wasn’t the high-end refrigerator or the weird coffee contraption that made her slouch, no. It was the fact that all of this was theirs. No one bought or filched it from a human with recurring debt. This was why Jasper had left the nest. She wanted to make her own way, be her own person, and live by her own rules. Duty, obligation, fear, and corruption brought her here. The freedom this world offered was unmatched. “So,” Buck started. “I got leftover lasagna, roast beef for dips, subs, or ten-layer bean casserole. Don’t ask me what’s in it. I don’t know, my grandson Mace inhales anything with beans.” Kit slid into the booth and pulled a small pad from his pocket. “What is a bean casserole?” “Layers of mashed beans, cheese, meat, and sour cream I think. You wanna eat it cold.” She was curious about Kit’s notes and what he jotted down. He had a love of food that surpassed eating it but she never saw the appeal of preparing a meal. Jasper couldn’t cook for shit. She was told by an ex that a starved stray dog wouldn’t touch her food. She tested the theory of course, and it was true. The mutt gruffed and pawed at the bowl, flipping it over completely. “I will have that,” Kit said. “Would you happen to have hot sauce?” Buck laughed, his husky amusement supplied her with far too much delight. “Do a pig shit?” “What—yes, they do. I think. I’ve never seen a pig in person.” “You’re funny, Kit.” Buck presented her brother with a large bowl of bean muck, chips, and a tub of Reaper Water hot sauce. “I like you.” The gorgeous, dense souled man popped gum and rested his big boot on the bench seat. It was a decent pose, one she often used when trying to court easy prey. His stance and stare would’ve made a daintier person blush. “And what about you, darlin’? What can I get ya?” They’d met hours ago and he went straight for a pet name. Jasper wasn’t a petite damsel, but god damn it, some words turned her into a doe-eyed flower. Some shit wilted her petals and ‘darlin’ was a winner. Not even twenty-four hours since they had exchanged names and she was ready to swoon. Time had never stopped her in the past, but things had changed. A while ago, Jasper ignored her instincts and rode the wave of passion. She lost herself. Twelve months of hard lessons made her hop states, buy a house in a rural town with a population of five thousand, and delete all socials. “Lasagna,” Jasper said, digging into his shadow-laced gaze “And make it two servings if you can. I like to eat.” “We got that in common.” Buck dropped his foot and backpedaled into the kitchen. “And I don’t leave no crumbs behind either.” She wouldn’t bow to this man or fold for him. Not now. Not ever. “This is incredible!” Kit announced. He drizzled more sauce on the goop and scooped. “I can’t name most of the spices but I will research this recipe at a later date. I know a few off the top of my head. Pepper, garlic, sweet chilies, and onion.” Kit paused for a tick then carried on. “Believe it or not, Buck, demons have taken to some of your culinary customs. We adore onion and garlic quite a bit. Though, you are mighty liberal with it. Do you really use them in every dish?” “If my wife can help it.” “I assumed the vampyree were allergic to garlic.” Buck chuckled again, the harmony snaked around her spine and tightened. “It has to be unprocessed. Whole cloves, wild, and grown in cursed soil.” “Ahhhhh.” Kit mumbled and waved his spoon. “I see, yes. Another piece of knowledge fractured by the hands of time and small human minds. I understand. Most think us spirits attached to religious institutions. I’ve never understood the connection. They’re fables.” The moment Buck gifted Jasper with food she let Kit talk the man’s ear numb and dove into the cheesy, meaty goodness. The piping hot tomato sauce was well seasoned and thick. She drifted in and out of the conversation, stuffing her face. Jasper didn’t care how rude it was or how she looked. After such an exciting night, she was starved. Two slices of butter-topped sourdough hit the spot and sopped up leavings like a sponge. “Glad to see somebody likes my lasagna.” A cup of iced tea appeared as Jasper sucked sauce from her fingertips. Now, she blushed… a little. Lifting eyes to Nieema, Jasper nodded. “I love it actually. It’s been years since I had a real home-cooked meal.” The woman scoffed in surprise. “Let me guess you, don’t know how to cook?” “I can bake a mean pop tart and throw together the best cocktails you’ll ever have.” “Now there,” Buck interrupted. “Is something I need in my life. A cold mixer? I can’t get enough of goblin glitter.” Jasper laughed and sipped a chilled sweet tea, heavy on the lemon. She relished it. “Gooood choice. Extra sugar cane, cranberry bitters, and maraschino cherries. I’d never peg you for a glitter guy, Buck.” “Well, see. That’s cause you don’t know me. I welcome a good peg—“ “Get the hell—“ “I’m only playing, woman.” Buck snatched his wife into a crushing embrace and captured her lips. He devoured her on the spot and Jasper gawked. She didn’t mean to but had no choice in the matter and Buck’s cutting eyes caught her dead. Prying his wife off, he cackled. “Don’t you go teasing me now, I gotta go.” “You can stay.” “I most certainly can not. These bills ain’t gon’ pay themselves.” Nieema wrapped his long braid around her fist and yanked. Jasper flinched at the power move. Their foreplay and flirtatious energy clogged the air. As a veteran succubus, she involuntarily fed on lust and carnal desires. Jasper nursed their shared intimacy and nibbled on it. Scents and energies fused, causing her stomach to drop. An unfamiliar brand of desire pooled deep in her belly and settled between clenched thighs. This was about her biology and make. Nothing more. Her demonic soul thrived in this environment. Fighting such urges was futile as they were a testament to her maturity. Nieema shoved Buck and returned. Nieema’s intense, scarlet consideration was worse than her husband’s undivided attention. “Who here wants a tour of our ranch?” Against better judgment, Jasper raised her glass. “I’m for it. What say you, Kit?” The demon shrugged, unsure. “As long as we stay out of the woods.” Nieema bit into a ripe, kingsbury peach and said, “I ain’t making no promises. Those woods hold many magical secrets” “They can keep them,” Kit clipped. Jasper and Nieema giggled. More than ready, she scraped ceramic and rushed to the sink. “Alright, Nieema. Lead the way. I’m anxious to see the grounds.” If Jasper was lucky she’d keep her eyes on the scenery and not, on Nieema’s mouth.
Nieema
Nieema spent the last hour moonlighting as a tour guide. Even for her —somebody who’d lived on this land their entire life— she found the setting sublime. Acres worth of flatland, three lakes, snaking rivers, and a picturesque mountain view left her ass speechless many uh nights. She loved Indigo Plains with its harsh winters and humid summers. Living amongst the stars and the trees was nice. She preferred sketchy woods over echoing catacombs. “I thought most ranch dwellings raised cattle,” Kit said. He gestured to a pasture with grazing sheep and goats. “Where are the bovine and bulls?” Nieema launched an old tennis ball through the air and watched Ringer, one of three, Collies sprint after it. He barked and jumped for it. “Cattle ain’t our brand. Never was. The Haggers across the road keep cows and bison. Goood job, boy!” Nieema crouched and scrubbed Ringer between the ears. “Cows and such don’t take to vampires well. Sheep and goats? We’re best of friends. Ain’t that right, baby?” She snatched the fuzzy, old ball from the pooch and tossed it again. “It’s beautiful out here,” Jasper rasped. “Fresh air and impressive views. I can only imagine what Christmas is like around here. Especially the mountains.” Jasper was a masterpiece if Nieema had ever seen one. She was rough and tumble, but not coarse. Her silver hair short and newly chopped with spoke of rebellion. Nieema knew countless succubi. They never cut their intrinsic cornrows and braids. It was so unlike her people and abnormal, but fitting in Jasper’s case. Restarting their walk, Nieema chucked the ball and checked the time. “Say, how would y’all like to make some deliveries with me?” “Deliveries? What do you make? What is it you do?” Kit was a nosy man with strong opinions and a blunt tongue, she liked him. “Jasper said you own a construction business.” “Yeah, we do. But, we got more bills than you know and as an immortal, hobbies are a must. In my downtime, I make candles and quilts.” “Wait, you’re the one who made the quilts and art, huh?” Jasper smiled, no doubt perceiving Nieema. “I did, and what of it? I’m an old broad who knits and makes sweet-smelling candles. You gonna make a joke? My whole family does.” “What? No, no. I was uh, well…” Jasper peered at the horizon and ruffled her hair. “I cross stitch. I’m great with a needle and thread. Good with my hands. Thought about making blankets and such, but I can’t afford a sewing machine right now.” “Get outta town!” Nieema gasped as they approached her pick-up truck. “Now, why ain’t you just say so? Do you take commissions? You got a portfolio or a website or something?” “I do.” Nieema wagged a finger and plucked keys from her skirt pocket. “This is great! I need some new patches, too.” “Is this how you make money, Jasper?” Kit asked, with more oomf than necessary. He dispatched judgment and Nieema thought it rude. “What you tryin’ to say, sir? Because my little sewing job brings in six figures a month.” Kit tapped his lip with a sharp talon and mulled on it. “Exactly,” Jasper said. “I sell feet content too.” “Feet? What would anyone want with photos of hooves?” “Not all of us have hooves, Kit.” “Well, yes, I forgot you have five strange digits. I suppose your matriarch is to blame for such an unsightly mutation.” Jasper sniffed and frowned at her kin. “They pay out the ass to see my feet, okay. You wouldn’t understand.” Nieema stabbed the fob and started the truck as she worked to steady her heart. Pretty feet made her crawl and kneel. Knowing this here demon had a booming foot business quickened an ancient vampire’s slow beating pulse. Gathering herself, Nieema hummed and opened the passenger door. “After you.” Jasper sighed and shook her head but hopped into the front seat. Kit’s eyes flitted about the cab before hopping inside. “This is exciting. We have a train system and carriages in Undervell.” “Under what?” Nieema asked, putting the truck in drive. “What’s—“ “Hell,” Jasper supplied. “Right, right. I be forgetting hell ain’t the real name for it.” “Hell is better. I like it. Sounds foreboding and dark.” “Everything Undervell is not,” Kit supplied. Jasper laughed, looking back at the demon. “I wouldn’t go that far. We have blackout seasons and nights where it rains acid and molten metals.” Kit drooped and sighed. “Don’t remind me. I love our down season, it’s when we break out the skulls, candles, and give hatchlings treats.” Nieema kept eyes on the two-lane highway and listened as the siblings reminisced about a holiday similar to Halloween. Except Undervell folk had a ball and dined on fine foods for an entire cycle, whatever that meant. With their land skirting the edge of Indigo Plains, the trip into town lasted longer than it should have. Twenty minutes and some change later, Nieema parked in front of Landon’s Home Goods. “I’m still not used to this,” Jasper said, staring at the pink and purple facade. “There’s no skyscrapers, high rises, subway systems, or factories.” “That ain’t true, we have four factories.” Nieema popped the trunk and slipped out. Jasper and Kit followed. She rounded to the backside of her truck and retrieved boxes. “The Petersons own a mill and the largest wheat crop in town. Hell, Maybell’s milking Farm has the biggest factory around and then there’s Jed’s water purification, lab, factory, center place.” Jasper lifted the boxes Nieema tapped and Kit slammed the hatch. “Thank you kindly. And last but not least, you got the blood distribution bank down on Heartlocke Circle, right next to Mace’s barbershop. My grandson owns that spot.” As they started for the store, Nieema smiled at Bonny Kinsington. “How’s the kids, Bonny?” “Great, Miss. Here, let me.“ Bonny yanked open the door and bowed her head. “They’re good. I’m throwing a party for Nathan, I’d love it if y’all could swing on by.” “I sure will. I know Jo will be happy to see Maryanne.” “She’s married now, Miss.” “Oh, well, they’re still friends.” “True.” Bonny grinned, her cheeks strawberry red. “I must be going, gotta put the roast on.” “You go on, honey. Don’t let me hold ya.” Bonny waited until they were inside Landon’s, which gave fancy department stores a run for their money. Indigo Plains kept to their own brands and local shops, they didn’t need no outsider business. One mall was enough. “I bought a few cups from here yesterday,” Jasper said. “The deals are fantastic. It’s not often you can find quality for under five bucks. I was shocked.” “Landon barters with the fairies for his stuff. And, you know, folks bring things in. Like me, I give him these candles free of charge.” “For free?!” Kit shouted, wrestling with a buggy. He rattled the cart loose and beamed. “Oh! How marvelous. I have always wanted to use one of these. I’ve never shopped on my own before.” Nieema sashayed on through the busy store and glanced at Jasper. Her kin seemed spoiled, sheltered, and pampered. She, however, did not. It was interesting. “Do you have those uhm, cards or the paper sort of currency?” Jasper laughed, the harmony pleasant and welcome. “Debit? Yeah. Cash? No. But— wait, what are you trying to ge— Kit, wait, bruh. What—“ “You go ahead, I’m gon’ hand these over to the stock team. And talk with the manager.” “Alright. We’ll be quick.” Jasper bounded after an excited Kit, leaving Nieema to process. Wondering where the woman’s tail was, she went about her business and decided to make this snappy. They had six deliveries to make before closing time.
“I know what you thought, with your fast ass.” Nieema entered their home through the rear patio doors. They were ajar with the air blasting. “Quincy! I swear to hell. It’s only him. The bill will be sky-high. He runs hot, I told his mama he’s about to shift next full moon.” “It’s that werewolf blood, baby.” Buck popped his gum and hustled to close the wide, shutter doors. “And how you mean I’m fast? I see something I like, you know I’ll go after it by all means.” “I know that. I do too, but Jasper seems guarded I don’t think Miss Ma’am is the smash-and-pass type. Which means?” Buck grunted, stomping across the great room in boots he’d patched and polished for eighty years. He loved basilisk skin and looked most dashing in red scales. “She’s not an option.” “Correct,” Nieema stated, on a mission to find their great-grandchildren. “And don’t sound so hurt. We’ve had plenty Succubi.” “True, but it’s been what? Two years since our last. And, Jasper look like she’d ride an angry minotaur real good. She look tough, rugged, and—” “Feminine.” “I don’t think—” “I sensed it. Her energy is strong.” “Well, she got the best of both worlds and I believe—” “No,” Nieema snapped. She spun and faced her stubborn husband. He huffed and scowled. It was his version of pouting. “Strings are prone to tangles, beloved. We went there before. He vacated our home with little care. It was… I don’t ever want to see you like that again. You and I have never been the monogamous sort, but a polycule is too much work, it’s hard. I don’t want anyone with baggage when we have our own.” “Darlin’, you talk too much and I need caffeine before we start in on feelings and heartbreak. Go’on, see about the boys. I’ll get brunch started.” After many years of wedded, bliss she was no longer bruised by his dismissive comments. Buck processed alone and then opened like any night-blooming jasmine. He’d have words but not at the moment. Nieema would never push him, she’d learned such tactics would only harden the old man. “I know they’re causing hell down there.” “Skillet or omelet?” “Omelet, and add the pickled blood peppers, please. Extra!” “Ohhhh, it’s nice to meetchya. My name Buckley what’s yours, pretty lady?” Nieema smiled and waved him off. “Smart ass!” On her journey, Nieema ruminated. The attraction to Jasper was there, and almost immediate. The realization mighta had a hand in her current hesitation. Ever since Li’s departure they’d jumped into beds and disappeared at dusk. No questions asked. Nieema hadn’t loved the idea of monogamy or strapping herself to one gender or race. She was more fluid and free than that. Some in her world would call her filthy for copulating with other species. The bigoted assholes would never say it to her face, they were cowards. After traveling to the West end of her home and descending, Nieema balked at the thick smoke and bass-heavy music. “What the hell are y’all doing? And Quincy, we turned the air down.” “Grandma! I’m hot!” “You’re always hot.” Nieema surveyed the too live crew and arched a brow. How and why had she agreed to this. Four working men used her home for vacations, parties, and retreats. They wanted freedom, peace, or some other nonsense. Only one had a husband, and Tre, the youngest lived with them. He stayed in a cabin two miles north of their home, but it was still on their property. “Hm. Who wants to go grocery shopping?” “I do!” Jo raised both hands. “I do, Grandma! We going to Costmore?” “Yeah, of course.” “Samples!” She shuffled over to Jo and tugged on the elastic at the end of his braided locs. She went to fix the loose whip and eyed Mace, the married one. He shouldn’t be here when his home was a mess. “Granny, I don’t wanna hear it.” “Like hell.” Nieema watched her fingers and said, “You talk to your Mama?” “I did.” Mace kept his red eyes on the video game and shouted a cuss. “She’s moving up here,” Nieema announced. “I know. Me and Pops got into it.” “I hope you didn’t hurt the woodland nymph. He’s harmless.” “He cheated on Mama and now that woman is pregnant. Ain’t nothing harmless there.” “I—Wilma didn’t say nothing to me about that. Are you serious?” “You’re an idiot, Mace.” Tre was the quiet type but spoke his mind more often than not. “Grandma might just kill him.” Nieema growled and snarled, binding the sweet boy’s hair. When his locs were neat and tight, she kissed the top of his head. “Put your shoes on, honey. We leaving in a minute.” With a final pat on his shoulder, she let them boys be. With seven kids, ten grandkids and eight greats, their home was never empty. And she loved the noise. Nieema had been raised in a communal environment and was happier in the company of others. She’d never known a lonely day in her life and hoped she never would. Back on the main floor, she fished for her phone. It was tucked into her corset and cradled by her left breast. After finding the device, she tapped and waited. A single ring and he picked up. “Now why are you bothering me? The night has barely started. I got my paper and my coffee in hand. Gyat! What, Nieema?” Grinning from ear to ear, she entered the kitchen and beelined for her steaming espresso. Nieema inhaled pressed tropical beans, fatty blood, and three tablespoons of cane sugar. “I need you to head over to cabin-c and dust.” “Excuse me? I am not the maid. You call Merry for that shit.” “Dust and clear the pipes. Buck said the water had a tint. I want them washed. Check the water pressure and the heater. And also change the purification—” “If you want to do my God damn job, then say so.” She smiled against the rim of her mug. “Thank. Youuu.” “Kiss my Black ass.” “I loooove you.” “If I was you I’d love me too. Bye!” Tossing her phone on the counter, Nieema studied her busy husband. She clutched her cup with both hands and sighed. “Was that Hank?” Buck asked. “Yeah.” “He still mad?” “What you think?” Buck grumbled, pouring eggs into a sizzling pool of bacon fat. “I’m not sure what he expected from us. That girl was killing folks.” “It’s been a year. I don’t know what else to do.” “Not a damn thing,” Buck said. He added leftover brisket and blood peppers by a heaping spoonful. “You’ve done everything. More than I would have. Sorry for what? For protecting family? Hell.” Nieema loved her man’s ruthlessness but loathed his steely spine. Try as she might, Nieema had yet to break him. No matter the amount of pressure she applied, he withstood it all. “My thing is,” Buck started, “Darlin’. I don’t wanna let Li have the last say. It has been long enough. He don’t got no hold on me. He can’t have me after ducking out like’at. And if we continue to live in fear of getting hurt, then Nieema, it means we haven’t healed. And I don’t know about you, but I’m good.” The baron of lies and mischief was honest with her. His relaxed posture and loose features said he was telling the truth. And it scared Nieema, because maybe in this case, she was the holdout. It wasn’t her blooded mate, who was the problem, it was Nieema. Gulping a mouthful, she scooted into the breakfast nook booth. “Jasper needs work. I can see it. And we don’t even know her or what she likes. We coming on like teenagers. But you’re right. I’m apprehensive because of Li and I hate that. I’ve had enough heartbreak. I’m too old and dusty for this shit.” Buck cackled and dropped a massive six-egg omelet on a plate. He added toast, and knowing what she wanted, he smeared a clot of redberry jam on its fluffy top. O-positive and fruity was her favorite. The moment he slid her the plate Nieema stabbed a mound of cheese and egg. “I tell you what, baby.” Buck groaned cozying up to her. “You ain’t never been dusty. I got great taste.” She laughed and nodded. “You better tell it like it is.” “I always do.” Nieema chewed on a perfect mixture of meat and peppers. “I love you, Buckley.” “Today, that is.” Nieema smacked his thigh and kissed him flat on the mouth. “For an hour or two.” “Forever?” Nieema scrunched her nose and said, “I suppose forever is okay too.”
Kit
,, The odor was awful. Whether inside or out among the animals. Land dwellers lived like beasts. Reeking of excrement and decay. Every twig, leaf, and rock held a scent. Most of it Kit couldn’t name. He was unfamiliar with this world, of course. Birthed and raised in Undervell —hell as humans called it— he possessed meager knowledge of how the surface operated. Textbooks and hearsay were close enough. Kit never wanted personal experience nor had he volunteered for this mission. “Dreadful,” Julep muttered. His disembodied voice breached the sound barrier as a ghostly rasp. They were still in the dark about how his vocal abilities worked when his maw remained shut. “At least they have homes with running water.” “Yes… at least.” “Honestly,” Kit started, “I assumed the absolute worst. This is far better than anything I had in mind.” “They’re primitive and filthy.” Julep surveyed furnishings and leaped onto the fireplace mantle. He sniffed a trinket and swatted at the damned thing. Kit rushed to catch the dainty porcelain creature before it shattered. “I give you four days, tops. We aren’t cut out for the surface, Kit. This is asking a lot of me.” Julep was a pessimistic son of a bitch and Kit’s best friend since phase-one schooling. Though, at that time, Julep was a gangling demon with fur, horns, and hooves. During their time at the university, Julep had bound himself to a cat while visiting Hemshire Netherlands. It was a deserted union within the Lightbridge fairy territory. Days after his accident, Julep moved in and never left. For reasons unknown, Kit was the only demon Julep communicated with. “Four days is all we need.” Kit blew on the green avian-shaped sculpture and situated it next to a bouquet with no scent. “I think those are fake flowers.” “Ghastly.” “Indeed.” “This is my dominion now,” Julep declared, preparing to smack the flying decor once again. “It is of no use to me. I don’t like this vile thing, Kit. I find it offensive!” “No matter. It isn’t yours to break. This isn’t our home. So get down and don’t humiliate me.” “I would never.” Kit deadpanned and snatched his satchel. He rooted through the bag and found incentive. Shaking the canister, he smirked. Julep’s yellow eyes enlarged, making Kit coo. He was so cute when channeling his inner kitten. “Is that nip?” Julep asked. “It is.” “Can I have?” “That all depends on your behavior. No scratching.” “No.” “No biting.” “Understood!” Kit waved the tin from right to left, Julep tracked his movement like a brimstone-born feline. They were three times his size and quite carnivorous, but Julep had stayed in their caves a time or two. It was odd how obsessed they were with the house cat. He was tiny in comparison and lacked proper armor. Fluffy and furry was rare among Vellish beasts. “If you want to mark territory go outside,” Kit commanded. “If your claws itch or what have you, go outside. I don’t see a box. It seems I have to purchase one, so if you must defecate—“ “Outside! I heard you, asshole. Give me the nip!” Kit snorted and cracked it open. He plucked a grainy, greasy ball and tossed it. Julep jumped from the mantel and nabbed his treat in midair. “You are getting good, my friend.” Julep didn’t respond as he attacked the morsel, purred, and flopped about. What made felines lose their minds over nip? Julep was reduced to yowls and mewling. It was pathetic and hilarious. “You have fun. I need to unpack and make a call.” Finding his bag yet again, Kit fetched folded piles and stashed them in drawers. The colors on land were too warm for his taste. Natural and organic, their decor was fashioned from trees instead of stone. He preferred volcanic glass and loved a great obsidian console or a dining table carved from the bones of their enemies. His father had such good taste in furnishings. Humans and fae shared an affinity for dirt and sea. Their shoddy dwellings were least to be desired, but again, it was better than Kit expected. He pointed at the drugged cat in passing and chuckled. Julep was no better than a demon addicted to spiced marrow. “Sad.” With garments and necessities in their rightful place, Kit grabbed the seeker stone from his pocket. “This is good. This is your chance.” His hands shook and heart dropped to the floor as he set the faceted gem on a hideous quilted rug. “Father?” Emerald sparks accompanied an ominous billowing smoke. A repetitive crack and snap caused Kit to wince. He hated ancient technology. The Duke refused to adapt and purchase a phone. Tarot, his father’s moody lover, never let him live it down. “Fat—” “I heard you, child. What—where are you?” Carriont, Duke of the Fourth Seal, Bringer of Turmoil and Strife, appeared within an undulating green smokescreen. He was indecent and disheveled. “Father, you could have at least dressed.” “Bah!” Carriont donned a pair of steel-framed spectacles and squinted. “Have you found Dautina?” “Jasper, Father.” “That is not the name I gave her. Where is she?” Wringing his hands, Kit clicked claws and said, “You see, I haven’t—” “Haven’t whaaat?” Carriont’s sharp, high brows arched. As a child, and even now, the Duke intimidated Kit. “It has only been several hours and I require more time. She’s grown quite fond of this hellscape. It won’t be easy cleaning house, so to speak. She’s purchased a dilapidated home within a town called Indigo Plains.” “Mmm. I know of it. Interesting. Go on.” Kit divulged info about the strange, large insect and how they now resided on a ranch in the middle of nowhere. Kit was worried about the dark woods beyond. Undervell had no such environment. Heavily wooded areas terrified him as a hatchling. Kit had suffered from sleep terrors for eons and had even wet the bed. “This entire situation is testing my patience.” Carriont collapsed into his solid throne and snarled. He looked exhausted and in need of a freshly damned soul. “I want you to bring your sister home. Am I understood? You have seven days, General Raze.” “Yes, Father.” Carriont snapped his fingers, ending their correspondence. The smoke dissipated and the rock went dead. “Well, he was in good spirits,” Kit said, snagging the seer stone. He dropped it into his pocket and rubbed his rumbling stomach. “What do they eat here?” “Meat,” Julep purred, licking his paw. “And by the barrel. They also consume frozen dairy products.” “I think I read about that.” Kit grimaced on the way out. He couldn’t fathom eating frozen foods. He was used to high temps, cozy firestorms, and electric blankets while lying atop a heated mattress. The current season in this world was perfect. Nausea roiled in his belly at the mere thought of frozen meals. He didn’t love the idea of being here or swallowing cold dairy, but he loved the chance to try new cuisine. With his mind and hunger working as one, Kit headed for the kitchenette. “Jasper, have you taken a look at the fabricated artwork?” Kit bent the corner and halted. A pair of cruddy boots and a long trail of denim disappeared into a cupboard beneath the sink. “What are they doing?” Jasper lounged in the living area with her dirty shoes on the coffee table. She was a blunt sword and had never joined ranks. Kit begged her on more than one occasion. The demoness had the build and smarts for it. Shameful how his sister had run from a promising future. “What ar—“ “Don’t know.” Jasper scrutinized a vintage quilt and picked at its threads. “He said pipes. His name is Hank.” Kit sniffed and went to see about this Hank and the pipes. “Hello, there. May I ask what is wrong with the plumbing?” Resting hands on his hips, Kit cleared his throat and kicked Hanks mud =mucked sole. “Yes?!” Hank shouted, cranking something or the other. “What’s wrong wit—“ “Nothin’ now.” “Terrific.” Kit stepped over the man’s legs, stared down the drain then turned on the faucet. “Off! Turn—“ “My apologies.” “Ghat dam—why—shiiit.” Hank cursed as Kit located a hand towel and offered it. Water dripped from thick lashes and streamed from his goatee. “Did I ask you to turn it on?” “No, but I was checking to see if you had in fact, fixed the problem.” “You a plumber?” Hank asked, craning his neck to scowl at Kit. “I don’t need to be a plumber to lend a hand.” “A hand I ain’t ask for.” Hank wiped his face, tossed the terry, and lowered onto his back once more. “Leave me be so I can finish or y’all can drink brown water.” Kit could tell a lot about a person from a ninety-second conversation, and he was certain he’d hate this man.
Gnome in Your Home: A dark-ish romance with a new twist on Santa and the act of gift giving. please read all content warnings before diving in!
Christmas and Other Horrors: A delightful horror anthology filled with Christmassy cheer and gore!
Two-Parts Mistletoe: A short thirty-page queer read about love potions and meeting your anonymous booty call in real life for the first time.
Beneath the Monster: The grinch but for adults!
I read quite a few books over the holiday season, but these held my attention for whatever reason. I’m not apologizing for the smut! You should know me by now!
The brand new chapter for Patchwork and Pitchforks will be live on January 1st. Thank you for reading and happy new year
Helloooo! Yes, I am back with more Patchwork and Pitchforks! I have been writing it, I swear! I’ve just been juggling a lot, like self-doubt and impostor syndrome. I gotta tackle this monster in 2025! I have to subdue it! I must! And I will! Anyway, I want to post more and I plan on doing just that. This story is dear to me. I love these characters and where they’ve taken me so far. The world is bigger than I thought it’d be. Exploring every aspect will be fun, and hopefully, y’all like it too. Have a wonderful day and thanks for stopping by!
Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! And I know! I’m a few days late, but Happy Solstice! I hope everyone has had a fantastical day with loved ones, pets, or alone. However you celebrate, I hope you are happy and relaxed. Please be gentle with yourself in the coming year. It may be easier said than done -in my case- but it isn’t impossible. Extend grace and gratitude to yourself. Thank yourself for the little things. When times are rough, take a breath and do whatever brings you joy. I don’t give a damn what that is. Cling to your hobbies, films, crafts, and/or books. Write what you want, read what you want, and be who you want to be! I am taking my own advice here. I want to be one with my inner child and write, read, and create, with a smile. Let’s be Merry and Bright but in our own way! Have a lovely evening and thanks for stopping by!
These are not recommendations, they aren’t opinions. This is a convention. A tried, true, and CORRECT way of doing things. I know in the writing community we say “break the rules”! But we’re talking about adding more adverbs and gerunds, not BREAKING GENRE VOWS.
Romance has hea. Love story no hea.
A vow is the finding out who the killer is in a whodunit. It’s seeing the creature in a creature feature horror. It’s the hockey player in a hockey romance. It’s an action-adventure WITH action and adventure. The romance vow is a promised and EXPECTED HAPPILY EVER AFTER OR HAPPY FOR NOW. This is non-negotiable. But play with romance readers if you want to. Travel on down the edgelord path and see where it takes you. Good luck, honey. You gon’ need it.
Per usual, SGJ delivers gorey vibes, fun, and cringe-worthy scenes! This being my third title by him in under a month, I have something to say about his style. I don’t hate it, in fact, I think it’s great. But! Don’t jump me! I think his horror is kinda cozy. It feels like it’s cozy, dark, fiction instead of straight horror. Granted, I have a lot more to read by SGJ so my opinion might change. For now, yes, it’s cozy and dark.
Now, onto the book! Let me be clear, Movie zombies scare the shit outta me. The idea of zombies is terrifying and I used to love Resident Evil, Doom, and Zombieland. One nightmare changed that for me. Anyway, this is my first zombie novel in fifteen years and I loved it! I think zombie fiction might bring me back to this world. I don’t know, we’ll see.
SGJ is heavy-handed with them icky vibes. I mean the description of brain-eating is ON POINT.
SPOOOOILERS AHEAD!
I enjoyed the characters and their journey. I knew Johnny T. had to go, and after Kent’s confession, I was hoping for him to have his head lopped off.
I wasn’t happy about Tiny Giant! I didn’t want him to turn or die. I screamed, “Nooooo you poor thing! I hate this so much!” But this isn’t a fuzzy found family romance so I was SOL. I wanted a kiss between Xombie and Terry! Again, as someone who reads romance pretty heavily, I needed it! (a me problem) But, I love the pinch of cute we got from them.
That is my one complaint. Other than SGJ breaking my heart with Tiny Ginat, I have NO NOTES! 4.5!
I am back with my October faves recap! I had quite a time with SGJ as you can see. Since reading Only the Good Indians last month, I have picked up more of his books. I think, from what I’ve read, folks either love his style or they hate it. I am on the love side of things. It’s kinda comforting honestly, to see an author do what the farquad they want I adored It Came From Del Rio immensely, It was compact, dark, and sad as shit. I loved it. The short stories?! I have something to say about them individually, but I’ll save that for another time, y’all.
As you know, my faves list isn’t complete without romance and smut. If you like it, HAY FREEEN. If you don’t, fine but do not judge my taste based on what I choose to read.
Midnight in the Grove is a sexy romp and a sequel. Do not read this cute Black love story if you ain’t read the first.
Last but not least, Horrorstor! Uhmmmmm…yeah, no, I don’t wanna go to an Ikea ever in my life. Grady Hendrix will make light of the most dreary circumstances and think it’s hilarious. I don’t know how many are familiar with Backrooms but Horrstor reminded me of that. And it freaked me the HELL out!
This wasn’t the weirdest moment of her life. And it wasn’t the first time someone had taken her in. When Jasper popped up from hell she was alone, until arriving in Ledisi Tillerson’s backyard. They’d met thanks to a cheap, sketchy rock that opened said gateway. Jasper knew better than to buy keys from a demon selling baggies of ash on the corner, but she was desperate. It worked out for them in the end. Ledisi was a vivacious vixen and a great friend. She taught Jasper how to be a normal land dweller and live without shame. They shared meals, a bed, and laughs for two wholesome years. It was the greatest romance of her life. At eighty-two, Ledisi was a spry freak who liked it rough. “Jasper, you don’t even know these people. You can’t move in with them.” Kit had always been an anxious worrywart who couldn’t whisper to save his life. As they followed the Sunsides along a well-laid brick path she smiled. “Why not? They offered. And free too? You don’t understand how amazing that four-letter word is. I need this. And I’m not moving in with anyone. You heard Buck, they have cabins and…shit, look at this place.” The couple owned a ranch, close to one thousand acres, and the surrounding mountain range. It was nearly 9pm but with the crescent moon aglow and her decent demonic vision, Jasper saw enough. Rolling hills, serene pastures,, and babbling streams. “Ohhhh, I can see,” Kit mumbled. “The copse of trees are particularly frightening and nefarious. It’s dark out here. I don’t have the best night vision as you know. I should have brought the bear spray. Are there lions?” “I don’t think lions live in this part of the world.” “Through my travel research, I read that lions live on mountains. They are encircling us. This is…Jasper…” Kit whined, clutching a beastly creature he called Julep. It was a ratty, black cat with sinister yellow eyes. Jasper was certain a hatch demon possessed the fearsome mammal. She shuddered and clapped her big brother on the shoulder. “You sir, need to relax. We’ll be indoors. Cushy living, great food, and shit.” Kit was three hundred years old, short, and rotund. He had the most adorable dimples and a set of ram horns she envied. But, he was too high-strung and had shaved down his impressive crown. “This is your vacation, dear brother. Enjoy yourself. Let these fine folks spend their money. You don’t know how this world functions, cash is king. And I, don’t have much to spare.” Kit shook his head as the Sunsides stopped at a charming one-story abode. It even had four-pane windows and a porch swing. “You make terrible investments, Jasper. Dad said not to buy property in Wasteland. What do you do? You buy both magma pits and a hoard of expiring souls. He said don’t, buy a hellhound. You bought three and regretted it. This house is just another one of your impulsive purchases. And now, your leading us to our death.” Kit was matter-of-fact, uppity, and judgmental, but Jasper loved every bit of him. “Shut, your mouth, Squeak. Don’t be rude and behave.” “I am older than you. And don’t call me that in front of—” “This is incredible,” Jasper interrupted, reaching the Sunsides. “I mean seriously. It’s a real cabin. With logs and stuff. Wow.” She knocked on wood and laughed. The cabin was private and semi-secluded with a twenty-minute walk from their main house. Nieema grinned and opened the door. “If you like the outside, then you’ll love it in here. I do my very best to make the guest houses homey and inviting.” “Cluttered is the word ya looking for.” “Hush your mouth, Buck.” The smiling gentleman listed against a thick timber column and tipped his hat. “Age before beauty.“ “Does that usually work?” Jasper asked, in passing. She didn’t match his gaze, it was for her own good. “Home, sweet, home.” Jasper made sure to scrub her soles first. After stomping across the threshold, she dropped her duffel and inhaled vanilla. Cookies, cupcakes, and caramel. Every note delighted her senses. She wanted and needed to find whatever the hell smelled so amazing. “Kit, look,” she pointed at an enchanting pebble stone fireplace, “it’s real. I’ve never stayed anywhere like this before.” “Does it have indoor plumbing?” “Kit!” “It’s okay,” Nieema said. “Not everybody likes the vast outdoors. Camping ain’t for me either. If there isn’t a toilet then I’m not staying.” “See.” Kit scoffed, still holding his ugly fucking cat. “She understands. But is there a toilet?” “Yes, young man, there are facilities.” Kit lifted his chin. “Young? I beg your pardon, Mr. Sunside—“ “Buck.” “Mr. Sunside, I am older than most. Young for me was ages ago.” “Welcome,” Buck shouted. “I too, am an old piece of shit.” Kit was set to protest, but Jasper stopped the oncoming rant. “Thank you, again. It’s not often you find such great company. I am in your debt.” “Is that right?” Jasper tweaked a brow and glanced in Buck’s direction. “I can cook, clean, and keep to myself. Kit and I won’t be a bother.” Nieema fluffed throw pillows and straightened a handmade quilt. It looked cozy and plush. Well crafted. Much like the buxom vampire, who was out of place. She belonged in a club, not a cabin worthy of any romantic Christmas film. “No need for all that, now. It’s in my nature to help those in need.” “I wouldn’t say I’m—“ Nieema balked and sashayed into the kitchen. “Your house is ‘bout two shakes and an ogres sneeze away from collapsing. I think you do need us, and I enjoy lending a hand. Or two.” Jasper cleared her throat and tore free of Nieema’s arresting crimson stare. Who was the succubus here? Vampires were alluring but never Jasper’s cuppa. She was obsessed with their aesthetic, sure, but never enough to taste. They were greedy and possessive. Even more, vampires got in your head and compelled people. Demons succumbed to their wiles like anyone else, but not Jasper. She didn’t want any parts of Nieema or her alluring mister. No matter how nice they came off. This was trouble and she knew it well. If Trevor taught her anything, it was that relationships were dangerous. She’d learned a valuable lesson far too late. This realm was not for the faint-hearted. “Later on,” Buck started, “I’ll have somebody bring on in perishables and such. You eat meat, Kit?” “No, I’m a fruit and veggie kind of fellow, and yes, of course, I eat meat. I don’t look this good by accident.” Buck barked in heavy laughter and tested the faucet. “You a feisty bull if I ever done seen one. I think Hank might like you too much.” “I’m sorry, who is—“ “Ground keeper.” “Oh, hm.” Kit frowned at Jasper. “I’m claiming the master.” “No, the fuck you are not!” “Yes, I am.” Kit sniffed and squinted. “I am the eldest by a hundred years. If I—“ “You want me to tell Father you’re here?” “You wouldn’t dare, you love me. I am your favorite.” “Okay, not father. Buuuut, I might tell Venus.” “Oh sweet poison berries. You are unbearable and…” Kit went on his way while the couple chatted about housekeepers. Jasper rapped rings on the dining table to gather their attention. “I don’t need help cleaning. I wanna do it myself.” “You sure?” Buck asked. With his dark eyes fixed, she flushed. “I am positive. I know my way around a mop and bucket.” Jasper quickly clothed herself with cool and collected. As a succubus, the male species tended to her unique needs and riled her innermost desires. She wanted to make him suffer, beg, cower, and crave. Buck appeared strong. He was wide and willing. A soul spiked with magic and malice. She had no idea what ran through his veins but he plucked multiple threads at once. His silence spoke for itself. Nieema sighed aloud and flashed porcelain fangs. “If you need anything, call, holler, ring even. I can send you a bell.” Jasper chuckled and crossed her arms. She peered down at the small, regal woman. “I’m good. Plus, I have your number. Annnnd, we’re neighbors now.” “C’mon mama,” Buck beckoned. “Moonlight burning.” “Are you rushing me?” “Why yes, I do think I am. Come now. I ain’t fooling. I’m starving and I need rising tea. I ain’t had my first sip tonight and I’m about to go hog wild. Do—“ “He’s always throwing a tantrum. Look at him, ain’t he something else? Buckley Sunside stop embarrassing me!” “I’ll show you—“ Nieema hissed and Jasper flinched. The display both amused and terrified her. “Oh, you’re feeling froggy ‘tnight. I’ll be on my way woman.” Buck flicked his hat and nodded as he departed. Nieema was mischievous, trembling with mirth. “I love getting him riled. It keeps the flame bright If you know what I mean.” “I don’t,” Jasper said. Nieema hummed. “Well alright, missy. I’ll be seeing you. If you’d like, supper is at three am on the dot. I’d like the company. I got four grandsons staying over and Buck. I’d love a smidge of feminine energy such as yours.” “Feminine energy?” “Yes, of course. You shine with it.” Jasper stamped out a ridiculous giggle, then canted her head. She considered her tattered hiking boots, torn overalls, and gritty tank. Soft and feminine wasn’t the look she was going for today. Colorful and cute yes, femme, no. Flexing tattooed fingers and her jaw, she nodded. “Sure, why not.” “I knew you’d say yes.” “How so?” Nieema floated toward the door and exited with a wink. “Okay then.” Jasper shrugged, spinning on her heels. She pointed at the ice box and hoped there was something good to ease her frazzled nerves.
J. T. Frost 