After parking her truck in the garage, Nieema followed Hank through the mudroom. They kicked off their shoes, and she dropped her purse on the bench. Keys in the bowl, she grumped and carried onward. Using her vampire will, she turned on the lights and opened curtains along the way. Their ranch house was expansive yet homey. She’d dressed every surface in artwork and lined each console with trinkets from around the world. “I still think you went light on the man,” Hank muttered. “He’s my cousin, sir.” “A cousin who was spying on you.” “Not me, Jasper.” Nieema grimaced as they entered the kitchen, whereupon Hank wrenched patio doors aside. He shoved and pulled until a warm summer breeze greeted them. Nieema loved fresh air. It was far better than underground stank and granite. Minerals and stoneware. Humans buried their dead in the dirt, below ground. Nieema thought that shit was hilarious, given how vampire covens preferred subterranean communities. “Annnd, is that supposed to make it less cruel?” “You’re right,” Nieema stated. “It doesn’t. But I’m not in the business of decapitation…anymore.” She nabbed the decanter resting on the island and poured. An aromatic blended wine made her fangs throb. “Long ago, during sword and sorcery, I woulda’ had his head. You know that. But times are different. I understand the value of life. Community service should suffice.” Hank arched a brow, stealing the second glass of Grand Pa’nidere. He grumbled, lips to the rim. “You just lopped somebody’s head off in cold blood.” “We ain’t talking about her,” Nieema warned. “You killed, Veronica!” “She murdered fourteen vampires, Hank!” Nieema gulped a glorious concoction and threw on some good ol’ fashion city jazz. The kind from back in the day. The music that lived in the very heart of her people. It roused spirits and pleased their ancestors. Percussion, snares, and high hats. She closed her eyes for a beat, letting the music have the moment. “Your soon-to-be bride snaked her way into the coven and gutted our folks.” Her heart cramped, and blood pricked in her eyes. Dry wells stung with a dangerous vow. “How was I supposed to handle that, Hank? Huh? Because you know good and damn well if somebody hurts my family, they gotta die. And by my hand. I don’t play that shit! I would kill anyone who even thought to cross my family. My people. My kin by blood and name. Don’t act like you don’t know.” Heat flared in her chest as she slashed a hand. Daring to send everything on the island crashing to the floor. Bulbs flickered, and the decanter rattled under her boiling fury. “We been through the mud, boy. And now you acting like one person is above us. Don’t you fucking dare. I’m Queen of Ravensguard. It is my vow to protect and defend everyone who calls this place home.” Hank’s steely gaze and curled lip wasn’t a good sign. “What if it was Buck?” “Fuck outta my face with that mess!” Nieema swiped her glass and stomped past her knight. “Get the hell on before I go upside your head.” “You don’t like how them tables turn—“ “Veronica used you.” Nieema gritted her molars and faced her illumine pool. “She poisoned you with a powerful love potion, brotha’. Think. You’d never put anyone above your honor. Not even yourself.” “Ain’t no way,” Hank uttered, disbelief slicing into his anger. “I would have known, I—we were about to get hitched and all—nah. Hell no.” Nieema cleared her throat and shrugged, eyes on her right hand. “I gave your blood to Maggie. She exposed all. It’s gonna take a minute for you to wake up. But the moment Veronica died, the spell was broken. You’ll come around any night now.” “Bulllshit.” Her brother fumed as he traveled elsewhere on the ranch. “Where are you going without shoes on?” “To see a witch!” “I love you.” She didn’t expect Hank to respond, still in his feelings. This entire situation would haunt that old vampire in the months to come, and she’d be there for him when he cracked. Doing away with one problem, she swigged her favorite bloodied wine and cracked her neck. Back in the house, she replaced the glass with a rag and got to cleaning. Jaunty tunes and crooning made her night. She two-stepped, twirled, and dipped to horn-blowing melodies until she grew bored with housework. Her night had just begun, but that didn’t mean she had to stay corset-ready. It was pretty, bedazzled, and hoisted them tiddies, but she was through. That was the beauty of working from home: one got to wear whatever they wanted. Nieema opted for a long, thin, leopard print gown and a headscarf to match. At around nine, Nieema was focused on her patches. Head ducked, eyes on the needle. With quick efficiency, she worked on patches. Her sewing machine buzzing and whirring. It was a comfort she sought during those rough hours. When royal duties had her by the fang. After Veronica, she sat up in her office for ten hours straight. Ms. Corvin was having a baby. Mrs. Briar wanted something for her grandmother, and Francis, the fire chief, needed a quilt for someone in recovery. Music, hot bloodwine, and the humming motor calmed her nerves. After Veronica, she sat up in her office for ten hours straight. Before her, the last person she’d had to vanquish was Maudrin the Sordid. He was a nasty motha fucka who’d tried to kill her father. As General, it was her job to dispatch the Warlock, and she did just that. Three hundred years ago. It was her last battle. Nieema yelped at the feel of hands on her shoulders. “God damn you, Buckley!” He laughed and kissed her cheek. “You were supposed to sniff me out, bloodsucker.” She giggled and patted his hand. “You know how it goes when I’m up here working.” “I do.” Buck squeezed before release. He swaggered over to the tiny sofa, wedged between shelving units. He groaned and plopped down. Nieema assessed and smirked. He was agitated and darker than usual. Her husband couldn’t hide a damn thing. She read the gum cracking for what it was. “What did he want?” He sighed, tugged free his braid. It lay across his shoulder, thick. The bound ends rested upon suede. It was time for a trim, and he’d hate it. “Whatcbu think, Nimmy?” “They can’t have you.” “He knows.” “Then, where we go from here?” Buck flicked his gaze to the window and said, “I gotta take a trip.” “Don’t you mean we?” “Nimmy…” She scoffed and picked thread from the ruined patch. Her perfectionism wouldn’t allow for faults. She cut threads and mused. “We both know I ain’t welcome. But I’ll be damned to let you go without me. That family is unwell. What if they don’t let you leave? Or worse—oh my god. My blood pressure already taking a hit. Oooo chile. I swear—I’ll turn that forest into a marsh.” “Calm down, woman. You gettin’ all flustered, and we know don’t nothing good happens when you’re stressed.” “Baby, if you gotta take a trip, fin,e but I wi—“ “You signed a treaty, Nimmy.” She tossed the thread cutter and cussed. Cooling the fire in her gut, she returned to the patch and sewing machine. Nieema tapped the paddle and steadied her hands. “I’m the one who created that damn treaty, Buck. They get to keep them fifteen hundred acres because I say so. My daddy was due to burn the m, and that was his last option. “If we hadn’t signed that damn thing, we’d be killed by overgrowth and fauna. Listen, if they wanna get to squabbling, then so be it. But I’m going, and we both know that’s the end of it. I gotcha, old man.” Buck affixed his softened, dark stare upon her and relaxed. “You ain’t gotta tell me what I already know. I just don’t want to cause trouble, Nimmy.” “That isn’t up to you. It’s on them.” He sighed while she freed the finished patch and set another on the plate. Nieema situated it just right and muttered. “Other than Palison, how was your night?” “Not bad, I mighta broke the ice with her.” Nieema smiled as he recalled Jasper’s training. She was a quick learner, but had no interest in tools. That was fine cause most folks knew what they were looking for. Nieema completed five patches while they conversed about the mundane. Kids, grand babies, the house, their shop business, and what was on schedule for Friday night in the dungeon. Curls and coils of smoke soothed her better than any Jazzy track. His dusky lilt was the highlight of her night, making her heart swell with gladness. She, the demoness, knocked on wood. Syrupy sweet notes preceded her. Nieema focused on the double stitch and said, “I heard you bought a hammer. What do you plan on doing with that?” “Building stuff. Whenever we actually get to it. I’d love to start breaking shit.” Buck’s raspy, smoke-laden chuckle was delightful. “Day or two, and we’ll get started. You so impatient.” “Not really.” Nieema popped upward and drank in the woman. She’d changed. Silk and twill for cotton. A matching set. Soft, tight, and pink. Nieema had more to say than hello about how she stepped into the space. Buck wasn’t a man with shame. He had no qualms with staring. Neither was on the same page, though her lack of tail irked. Jasper strolled on into the office barefoot, anklets chiming with each step. She went straight for the binder loaded with commissions. “I finished the orc piece.” “Lovely,” Nieema intoned, not giving a fuck about the commission. “Where is your tail, ma’am?” Buck grunted. “I was wonderin’ the same, baby.” “Keep wondering,” the succubus clipped, turning plastic pages. “I might take about five more; the first made me anxious for more work.” “How much you want for it?” “Mmm, fifty—” “No,” Buck hissed on a harsh exhale. “Be confident, Jasper.” “Seven—” “I seen it,” Buck added, eyes locked on the demoness and her thighs. “Your low balling ‘bouta piss me off, ma’am.” “Shit, fine. Two hundred.” “Done,” Nieema chimed, happy to pay the woman. “Nice doing business with you.” “Money well spent.” Buck wagged his pipe at Jasper and winked. “Worth every cent, Nimmy.” Shock and awe, Jasper beamed, and Nieema loved the sultry curve of her mouth. Recalling the plush, pillow-soft kiss, she scoffed. “It’s alright,” Jasper corrected. “Not my best, but decent enough.” “So, what?” Buck sneered, a swirl of lavender clouds framed his menacing portrait. “You calling me a liar? I know art when I see it.” “From now on,” Nieema started, foot on the paddle. She tapped and watched her stitch. “I only wanna hear you speak good of your projects. Because if you don’t believe in them, no one will. Oftentimes, a lack of confidence seeps. Your customers will notice. Now, tell me, Jasper, what is my husband hiding? There’s more to your moment, but he’s being coy. Maybe you can shed some light on your time with Buckley Sunside. Did my man behave himself tonight?”
Y’allllll, I don’t know what happened! I pressed publish on this thing LAST NIGHT! But tell me why I just looked to see how y’all are taking to it, to find that it DIDN’T publish. Also, I tried to publish it without a title… Listen, this is what I get for trying to do shit late at night right after I get off of work. *Crying emoji Anyhoo, I hope you had a great weekend and have an even better week! See you soon, and as always, thank you so much for reading! Byyyyeee.
Bone marrow melted, and the body had transformed into a pyre. She’d never been taken so ruthlessly. Buck was relentless and thorough. Her lips tingled, and pussy wanted to consume him. Every god damn inch. Jasper would damn well let him sleep in it. His soul and desire worked in tandem to destabilize her. To provoke her. It was glorious, though, new and frightening. Their fleeting moment mimicked the minutes she’d shared with Nieema. The Queen coated his tongue; they danced well together. Not only had Nieema’s flavor caused a flurry of sensations, but it had also made Jasper crave Buck. The thought of them pelted her soul with smoldering pleasure. Jasper had almost burst in her slacks from the vision. Did she need a release? Yes. What Buck and Nieema beckoned would be her ruin. Jasper was certain that when this man took her wholly, she’d writhe and wither, sniveling for another. This was cause for hesitation. His heady passion was delicious. It satisfied and worsened her pangs. But she’d never been this bad off. Never so exposed. Wanting a man to such a degree was unbecoming for succubi. Her sisters would’ve tried to bury her in soot and drake ash. “What the hell and highs are doing in my god damn store?!” Leaning against the counter was an oak of verdant waves, freckles, and a fiery opal stare. He was a ravishing creature, Jasper wanted to know. She extended a palm quick, fast, and in a hurry. “Jasper. I run this place. What do you need?” He smelled of honeysuckle and fresh waters. His soul was brighter than the midday sun. He tasted like candy. This was a gorgeous man she’d love to sip on, though his upturned nose was telling. He didn’t trust anyone and definitely not Jasper. She dropped the hand and clapped once, sliding over to a shelf filled with weird shit she didn’t know how to use. She left the men to stare at each other. Bad blood and taut ties. They were family, too. Estranged kin, Jasper presumed. He was the palest man she’d ever seen, so perhaps they were cousins. She would rather not be nosy or eavesdrop, but didn’t have a choice. Noticing unkempt shelves, she decided to tidy up while trying not to listen. “Im’on ask you again, why—“ “You work here?” The man asked, judgment sharp enough to cut his tongue. “Why would the Queen’s consort waste his time working among commoners?” Jasper scoffed, minding her business. She situated boxes of screws and nuts. Counted tubs of putty and swiped a finger through a pat of dust. She took to reading. Fill, scrape, washers, caulk, wrench, drivers. Most of this shit could’ve been written in Rakish. Bored with it, she ventured around the corner and found a row filled with hammers. Jasper perused, looking for something that fit her personality. She spotted a pink one and snatched it. “Oooooo.” Noting the price, she cursed. “Hay!” Jasper grabbed two hammers and stalked toward the store’s owner. “You want to explain this to me?” She showcased the tools, and both men blinked. The interruption had come at a bad time, but this needed sorting. “What?” Buck gritted. “This pink one is twelve dollars, and the other is ten. They’re of the same brand and size. Why is the pink one more expensive?” Buck lifted his chin and nodded. “Funny that. Feel free to change the price. I don’t see the point. Brands be doing funny shit. Our last manager left us high and dry, but they didn’t pay attention to much. Good eye, Jasper. Set the price, and I’ll approve it.” She hummed and smirked. “Thank you.” Twirling on her heels, Jasper listened for a moment. “Palison, there ain’t no need for you come on up here. It won’t change my mind.” “I understand that.” Palison sighed. “Believe me. You’re already a king. Why Her Majesty wants to stay here, in a podunk, middle of nowhere, outhouse of a town I’ll never—“ “Fuck you!” Buck bellowed. “Stupid ass bitch. Don’t run your mouth about my home. I’ll put you through it, Palison. See, you always think you better than everyone else—” “I don’t think, I know I am.” “What a diva,” Jasper muttered, taking her leave. Heading to the back, hammer in hand, she whistled but halted at Palison’s response. “Half brother!” Buck countered. “And I don’t even know you. We met one other time, and it was in Lightbridge for that gala thing.” “Brother?” Jasper whispered, standing near the EMPLOYEE ONLY door. “This is true,” Palison said. “But as our kingdom’s courtier, it is my duty to speak with you face to face. We have two choices here, Myrrhnelle.” “Don’t call me that.” “It’s your namesake.” “Nah. Never been. It’s Buck.” “Very well, Buck…you either ascend or relinquish your crown to Thedius, in person.” “Why can’t we just do a video call or some shit? Everybody doing it these days. I don’t gotta be there.” “A video call? You want to cede through a fucking—Soil of Soul be with me. No.” “Why not?” “There are formalities, and we, as a people, stick to them.” “That’s the whole problem.” “You don’t have a choice in the matter, Buck. It’s one of two things: death. Take your pick.” Jasper tutted and shook her head. More political nonsense. She’d escaped Undervell to avoid this bullshit. Good thing this was a Buck problem and not a them problem. She had little hope. Fucking the Sunsides was inevitable. A good time would be had, but it’d go no further. She’d never again trust anyone to do right or give her heart and soul. It was a death trap that had nearly killed her once. Jasper’s therapist would’ve been upset, but she was free to love or not. That was the beauty of being her own person. It’s the whole reason why Jasper was here and not under her father’s shiny, gold-plated hoof.
Hey y’all, if you recognize the holidays, I hope you had a good Memorial Day weekend! With another holiday over, I present to you, chapter 28. I should know this, buuuuut, it’s a different chapter in MS mode. Anyway, Jasper and Buck have come to that moment. The one where the unwilling gives. Where they meet in the middle. One person takes what’s offered while the other wants nothing more. THIS IS MY FAVORITE PARRRRT! Ugh. I love how Buck and Jasper are damn near evenly matched. They see eye to eye, all the while butting heads. This chapter was short. But the next will be long and SPICY! I can’t wait. Anyhoo, as always, thank you for sparing a moment or two on Patchwork. Your support is priceless. See y’all next week and have a wonderful night. Byyye!
Tuesday’s weren’t for the weak. Nieema hated slow days more than off days. After five hundred years of working, moving, and shaking, she didn’t know how to relax. The only down time she had was in Bucks arms or tucked away in their dungeon. If not for him, Nieema wouldn’t have a reason to sit ass. She was a mother, grandmother, and queen of Ravensguard. This kept her from lazing about. June through August was her least busiest time of year. Come November, she’d be knee deep in charity work, quilt making, embroidery commissions, and festive requests that should have been scheduled months prior. December was all about the Solstice and Christmas. When Nieema jumped from town to city, checking on her people. She had civic duties, paperwork, and housing to procure, not to mention the occasional visit from territory leaders. So, Yeahhhh, holding up in the hardware shop made her feel useless, antsy. She coulda’ been doing something productive. Instead, Nieema reclined behind the counter, scrolling on her phone. While searching for yarn, thread, and other shit she didn’t need, her night brightened. Feet kicked up and ankles locked, she smiled. “What can I get you, fine folks, tonight? I got a discount on sandpaper and caulk.” “What I want ain’t on them shelves.” “I know that’s right.” Nieema glanced at the door as he entered, Jasper trailing. And oooowee, was she a sight. Pressed, slick, and classic. There was nothing more attractive than a person who dressed to impress. She smelled better than a fresh hotty toddy. Cinnamon sweet and dark, their scents mingled. Jasper accompanied Buck’s earthy woods and high allspice so well. Their tangled aromas made her more than curious. She enjoyed the sublime fragrance and wanted to speak on it, but decided not to. Buck’s words echoed in her skull as Jasper avoided eye contact. She hung back and perused. Nieema dropped legs and admired her husband. “Where you been?” Nieema asked. “Dorthy wanted an introduction.” “Hm.” Nieema didn’t have nothing nice to say about the woman, so she wouldn’t address it. “Other than that, what you get into?” “Nothin’.” Buck popped his gum and sniffed, sliding behind the counter. He scooted on over to the POS and tapped on the screen. “Buckley, you got ‘bout two-point-three, and I do mean it.” “He done pissed me off!” Buck piped. “Hawke is a red-beaked vulture, tell you what. He prayed on Jasper’s naivety and kindness. I couldn’t have it.” The drawer popped open, and Buck got to counting the till. Wasn’t but fifty-seven dollars in it. They made the most money on weekends. “You spooked that man. His brother texted me about it. Said he rushed home in tears. Thinks we gon’ have him beheaded.” Buck laughed and said, “Lucky I don’t.” “You hush. Wild boy.” “Damn straight.” Buck cast his gaze downward and lingered. “Where’s my love?” Nieema giggled as he descended. His crushing, breathtaking kiss roused her thirst. Nieema had half a mind to drag his fine ass to the back, but figured it rude, given their company. After nipping his lip, she stole a drop or two. He grunted and pecked her forehead. “Why you so quiet, woman?” Nieema asked, looking for Jasper. She’d ventured off, disappearing between shelves and stacks. “It’d be a shame to interrupt.” “Is that right?” “Nimmy,” Buck warned. Jasper sauntered on over, hands in her pockets. Her sashay was nasty, and so was the wolfish grin. Jasper wasn’t so shy or skittish now. Nieema sensed her draw. Succubi fed on desire, lust, and love. They thrived in a passionate environment. “Dining on me and mine, are we?” “Shhhhit,” Buck hissed. Nieema crossed arms atop the counter and matched Jasper’s molten gaze. She was bold and unabashed, towering. Gold winked and gleamed against her gorgeous red complexion. Jasper was a cold piece and had to know it. Bad as a bitch and sneaky. Arrogance wafted as she peered. “I don’t have much of a choice with y’all. You freaked out.” “You ain’t seen shit yet,” Buck said. Nieema snapped her fingers. “You just told me—boy, shut up.” “Well.” He slammed the drawer and sighed. “You know how to work a register, Jasper?” “Of course.” “Good. Get over here and show me then.” She stalled, squinting. “Say please.” Nieema chuckled at her statement. Buck was the wrong one to try. He’d stroke that ego and make you feel so goooood. Finessing an unprepared dame was light work for the king of Nieema’s heart. “Please,” he drawled, eyes glinting beneath the rim of his dusty old hat. Fuck, Nieema wanted to give him neck right now. Drop the knee and choke. Jasper’s confidence swelled. It was all in her face, in her smile and high chin. Nieema clocked her sure stride and square shoulders. Poor soul thought she’d won. “Well, since y’all are gonna do some training. I’m gonna head out. Got some business to handle.” Nieema snatched her bag from under the counter. “Before I go, Jasper, I wanna apologize—“ “Will you be free tonight?” Jasper interrupted. “Uhhhh, yeah. I can be.” “I’ll see you at the ranch. We’ll talk then.” “We sure can. Ten-thirty?” “Done.” “Perfect.” “Indeed.” Nieema checked on her man, mirth shaking him loose. Maybe he was right about patience and whatever the hell. True, Nieema wasn’t the one trying to smash last week. And yes, she’d been telling Buck not to jump the line, and hell yeah, she was fuckin’ hypocritical. Jasper wouldn’t be ignored. Instincts told Nieema not to forsake this woman. She listened to her gut and intuition without fail. They were never wrong. If a vampire had nothing else, they had base instincts. It was a matter of survival. Life or death. “You two behave, and Buck, I need you to get the collards. I’m not gonna ask again.” “I know.” “You say that, but I asked you on Monday to pick them up. Farris just harvested them for us since yours aren’t ready. Don’t embarrass me!” “Go on, now, Nimmy. Take yourself somewhere. We busy!” “You ain’t busy yet, Moss Balls.” “Nimmy, god damn it.” Nieema cackled as Jasper asked about the term of endearment. On the way out, she eyed the duo, and they smiled. It was a delicious vision. Buck in proximity to Jasper. Brushing fabrics with inches between them. The implication made her shudder and exit. She needed the cool rush of a late summer breeze. With fresh air came clarity, reminding her of what she needed to do before heading home. Strolling down Everrose Street, she plucked her phone. With a tap, she dialed Hank. Folks smiled and waved. Nieema returned their friendliness in kind as her knight and right hand answered. “Huh? What?” “I need you to meet me at Lita’s.” “Are you good?” “No.” “On the way.” Hank had been her blade and shield for centuries. They’d traveled the world and fought; bled together. She’d dug trenches and nearly died beside the vampire. Nieema knighted Hank some five hundred years ago. He hadn’t left her since. He was family, but family didn’t always get along. He was mad about that wild bitch who tried to slaughter everyone in the coven. There was only one way to stop her. Axe and salted rainwater. Hank was pissed, no two ways about it. He wasn’t happy with Nieema or Buck at the moment. It wasn’t his fault, though. Love potions were horrid and had lingering effects even after the victim was cured. Hank suffered greatly at the hands of an unwell necromancer. Soon, he’d come out of this fog and see the truth. Until then, Nieema had to deal with his scorn. Mad as a soaked burrowing bear he may be, the man would come when called. He knew to drop the shit and stand on ten toes. When it was time for knightly business, he was there post haste. It came as no surprise when Hank rolled up and jumped from his truck ten minutes later. Serious as ever, no nonsense and alert. He joined Nieema at the table she dined at. Next door to Lita’s was Indigo’s finest vampire dive. It catered to their kind with a menu vampires appreciated. Blood was the main ingredient. Powdered, spiced, cold, hot, mixed, pure, or tap. The meals were fresh and hot, made to order. “What you got there?” Hank pursed his lips and snagged a corn puff. It was similar to a double-fried hushpuppy dripping with grease. Cornmeal, flour, and coagulated blood. Of course, most nutrients were lost after frying, but it tasted damn good. Nieema got three dozen and a medium, sugar blended a-positive. Frothy and refreshing, she sipped as Hank stole a puff. “You can get your own.” He grumped and chewed. Hank had a grandfatherly air about him, though he had no kids and never married. The thought often caused her pain. He’d put his whole life into serving. Nieema wanted more for him, but they’d argued about it enough. “What’s going on, Majesty?” “Don’t do that.” “You queen ain’t you?” “Hank, you can be mad all you want. But that won’t change what happened.” He garbled and stole his second puff. “You talking to me like I don’t already know. What you call me for, huh? What’s going on?” Nieema punched down her drink with the straw, considering her next words carefully. She didn’t know the whole story and had no intention of running her mouth about Jasper. “Juel might have…been paid to keep tabs on our new house guest.” Hank recoiled and blinked. “Cheryl’s boy?” “Mhm.” Hank stroked his beard and nodded, attention fixed on the bustling crowd across the street. Some new space movie was released two days ago, so the cinema was packed. Free ticket Wednesdays and unlimited popcorn kept Spalding’s in business. Its glittering marquee made her nostalgic for times past. Buck had taken her to the movies for the first official date. Back then, films were silent moving pictures. Nieema refused to give her money to them big theater chains. No way, no how. “What you tryna’ do?” Hank asked, mid-sigh. He crossed his arms and glowered. “I don’t know what we can get him on. He wasn’t stalking.” “How you know?” Nieema snipped, crunching on ice. “He been watching her comings and goings. Off in the cut somewhere, eating sour candy. Sounds like stalking to me.” “You gonna detain him?” “No.” “What am I here for?” “This is official royal business, okay? You gotta be with me.” Hank shrugged and snagged another ball. “Alright now! You gon’ lose two fingers fucking around with my food.” For the first time in a while, Hank grinned. “Hurry up and eat so I can get back.” “What you got going on?” Nieema considered the old vampire. “Why are you in such a rush?” He sniffed and scrunched up his face. “My chickens. I gotta keep an eye on ‘em. That furry devil done killed ‘bout three. Nimmy, it’s bad. That man ain’t got no kinda handle on his beast or friend, I don’t know, hell.” Hank was mighty flustered. “Who’s beast?” He flicked a hand and snapped fingers. “Wushisname, uh, Jasper’s brother. Uh, Kit? His cat is wild, feral, and a pain in my Black ass.” Nieema chuckled as Hank prattled on about the chaos Kit’s cat had caused. Apparently, it was possessed. A demonic kitty. How adorable, she thought. “Well,” Nieema started, “I wish you luck, but don’t be acting a damn fool.” “I ain’t.” He lied. “Yeah, right. Don’t badger Kit and leave his cat alone, you hear me?” “Shit,” Hank cussed again, mumbling about his coops and such. “I’ll try, but Nimmy, I can’t lose no more hens.” “I hear you.” Hank shook his head and sighed. “You almost done? God damn!” “Shut your rickety ass up.” “Don’t make me knock this shit over,” Hank warned. “I’ll do it!” Nieema eyed him and pointed two talons at his mug. “I’ll break my foot off in you—“ “I’m ‘bouta go,” Hank snapped. “You playing with my time, woman.” Nieema laughed and finished her drink. Hank helped her polish off the puffs and even tossed her trash. With their snack date done, she headed next door. Lita’s was one of two hair salons in Indigo Plains. And folks loved Lita’s cause; Marshay braided better than Princess, who had a chair at Wax. Nieema preferred Lita’s, mostly cause it wasn’t so prim. Hot irons and food scented the air. It was a welcoming aroma she found comforting. Every last chair was taken. Folks looked mad and defeated. They had appointments, for damn sure, but time was of no value the second you crossed the threshold. “Look who decided to show they face!” Marshay bellowed, eyes on the hot comb she held with care. “You come up in here after taking them braids out for no damn reason.” The owner of Lita’s, named after her late mother, tapped somebody in the temple. “Girl, you got nerve. You bet not fall asleep in my chair!” Marshay lifted her carmine stare and tweaked a brow. “They were fine, Nimmy. Shit. You be wasting my time.” “Look, here, you know I gotta switch shit up. Don’t know why you mad.” “Tuh, do your own hair from now on, then, Queen.” “You so huuuuurrrt,” Nieema grimaced and pointed at Juel. His chair was second to last. He sat in it, eating. “Listen, imma buy you lunch, Shay.” “I want a bottle of Venwae.” Nieema cocked her head as Juel dragged tail. “Venwae! The fuck who you think I am. That’s top-shelf blood, ma’am.” “Nimmy,” Pat called from his spot by the dryers. “You hear about the mall shit?” “Yeah, of course.” “Huh? You heard about the Voaremont inviting the Chieftain over for supper?” “Juel, bring your behind, now!” “I’m coming, I had to put my food up.” “What you mean invited?” Nieema looked to Pat. The man nodded. “Invited how?” “You know how invites work, girl.” “He can’t enter Ravensguard without my say.” “Wellll, you better talk to the Voaremonts’ and the orcs about it.” “I plan to.” Nieema glanced at Hank, who was already tapping on his phone. “Get that motha fucka on the line.” “Already done.” Her knight exited the salon with the phone to his ear. “Juel, baby, let’s take a walk.” “I didn’t know you were with her, I—“ Nieema clasped a hand on the back of his neck and peered into butterscotch brown. Juel was a good boy and probably didn’t mean harm. But, he was still on the wrong side of this here situation, and Nieema wanted to know why. “I didn’t ask you to talk, quite yet, honey.” Nieema started their journey and released her nervous cousin. “Don’t worry, Juel. I ain’t gon’ bite you. But I will need you to talk, and it’d behoove you not to lie. Start from the beginning and tell me how you got
Hello, y’all. I know it’s a few days late. I am sorry for that, but I wanted to give myself some breathing room. I wrote a few more chapters and don’t feel so…behind? I looooveee staying ahead by a couple of chapters, but I paused for two shorts that I had to get out of me! Anyway, we are back on schedule, and here they are. We have a lot to come, and I know y’all are waiting for Buck and Jasper to have their moment. Soon, I promise. There will also be side quests! As y’all know, I’m a panster. And this panster loves external conflict. I’m still gonna keep stuff low-stakes, this won’t be high, world-ending shit. Nahhhh. But there will be a dash, sprinkle, pinch of political intrigue. I can’t stay away from it…apparently. The Voaremonts’ ain’t shit. I’m going to let y’all know that now. And yeah, the surname is…Mhmmmm. Not an accident. And with their mall comes trouble of all sorts. What else? Oh! Jasper’s cursed house is still cursed as hell, and we will get back to that in a bit. Because it’s FUNNN and I like where this is going. Anyhooo, thank you, thank you for being here with me. Your support makes my day. Have a lovely weekend! And remember, drink water, eat that god damn muffin, and sleep more. Byyyyye.
From room to room, they traveled and talked at length about decor. Jasper had never thought about her space to such a degree. Color palettes, woods, textures, lighting, and focus points. Turns out she knew Jack shit about her own wants and desires. She’d never been asked so many questions in her life. Favorite color, time of day, and animal preference. Was she nocturnal or more of a morning person? Thirty minutes into their walk, Jasper was comfortable and ready for the work to begin. “I don’t want black in here either,” Jasper said, standing in what would become her gaming room. “I want chill vibes but happy. This is where I’ll be spending the majority of my time, so I’m going for comfort. Relaxation, you know?” Dorthy nodded, scanning the space. “Muted shades of purple, blue, and indigo.” “Yes!” Jasper pointed at her and said, “Exactly. Blackout curtains and sexy art.” “What you mean by sexy?” Buck asked, arms crossed and booted foot propped just so on a ratty box. “Artistic nudes.” Jasper pinned her sights on the man and advanced. “Neons, paintings, and whatever else Dorthy can cook up. I love the female form.” Buck scoffed, chewing his cinnamon gum. “Guess you and me got somethin’ in common.” Jasper smirked, inches between them. She sighed and flicked his hat. Buck’s fixed attention called her bluff while his scent and soul tempted a starved succubus. He was thick on her tongue, sweet, smoky, and nutty. All things she didn’t need. As his gold fangs gleamed, Jasper shoved both hands into her pockets. She met his molten gaze. “I fear we have too much in common, Buck.” “I know exactly who to call,” Dorothy tapped on her phone and muttered. “No hologons. I’m thinking sconces. Straddling the hearth. Focal lighting will be perfect.” “Rugs,” Jasper announced, snatching free of his enchantment. She spun about and sauteed towards the exit. “I want fluffy rugs. No carpet. Just area rugs and shit.” “Perfect,” Dorthy piped from behind. “I’d love to keep the old personality of this home. Woods, sitting areas, and the sun room! What would you say to stained glass?” “Isn’t it colorful?” “Indeed.” Jasper stopped on the main level and shrugged. “Whatever you think is best, I’m down for, as long as we stick to no black. No stone. And natural light down here. I want cozy, not drafty, lived-in, not sterile. I wanna feel like I’m walking into my place of peace and happiness.” Dorthy beamed, nails clacking against her screen. “It’s been sooooo long since anyone has given me this much decorating freedom.” Jasper leafed through Dorthy’s portfolio, loving the work. Her home was in good hands. “I trust you, Dorthy.” Buck grumbled, and Jasper grimaced. “What the fuck? You’ve been doing this all day.” “You got enough, Dorthy?” Buck clipped. hands on his hips. He stared out the bay of windows and sniffed, clearly annoyed. “We gotta get going.” “More than enough, I’d say.” Dorthy extended her palm, and Jasper shook her delicate hand once again. “You are a dream client, Jasper. It will be my pleasure to bring your vision to life. If you’d like, feel free to e-mail me pictures, art, or decor that speaks to you.” “You’re going to get sick of me.” “Doubtful. The more you find, the easier my job will be.” Dorthy gathered her briefcase and purse before heading out. She cleared her throat, and Buck gave a stiff nod in return. Blood was cold and sour between them. Jasper was curious,s but it wasn’t her business. “Glad she’s gone.” Buck shook his head, watching the woman get in her car. “She cheated on my great-grandson.” “Ohhhhhhh.” “Mhm.” “It makes sense now.” “She ain’t no good, but what do I know?” “Why did you want her to help if—” “She’s still family and the mother of my grandkids. Two of whom are still in school.” Jasper wanted to speak on how his emotions faded from gray to blue to pink. He was proud and protective of his family. She found his unabashed display of love and how he wore it on his shoulder refreshing. “You adore your grandchildren.” “Every last one.” Buck cracked his gum and stomped for the door. “Let’s get on.” “Where are we off to now?” “To see your realtor.” Jasper winced and followed the man to his car. She thought he was joking until they pulled up to Hawke’s office ten minutes later. “You’re serious.” “As a god damn digger bear in spring.” “Oh shiiiiit.” Jasper hopped out of the vehicle and kept with Buck’s pace. “You think he knew about the state of my place?” “Yup.” Jasper’s face heated, and the base of her horns itched. Clenching her fist,s she bit her tongue. There was no need to barge into his business and start a scene. It wasn’t that big of a deal. She didn’t want to inconvenience anyone or— “You got three seconds to start talking!” Buck stormed into Hawke’s office and loomed. Jasper waited beside him, keeping her lips sealed. Hawke’s big yellow eye flung to her as he dropped his phone. “What uhm—what can I—uhm, what do you need Bucko?” Buck planted palms on Hawke’s desk and growled. Jasper’s breath hitched, and stomach caught fire. She flushed with heat and grinned as Hawke grew anxious. He was ripe with apprehension and fear. “He’s scared,” Jasper added. “What you scared for Hawke?” “I—I—what can I do for you, Ms. Marrow?” She scowled, ready to flay this man. “What can you do for me? How about you start by telling me why you let me buy that cursed fucking house?!” “Cursed?” Hawke showcased his sweaty palms and trembled. “I don’t know nothing about a curse. That house has been—” Buck leaped over the desk and landed in front of Hawke. He smacked the man’s ruddy cheek and kicked his chair into the file cabinet. “You fixin’ to lie to me, boy?” Buck hiked his chin. “I can smell them tall tales. Lie again and see where it gets you.” Hawke was a mess of fried nerves as he stammered. “Look, I don’t know who they were, but somebody left me a note!” “A note?” Jasper queried. Bile rose to the top and bubbled. Hawke nodded, glasses slipping down his nose. “Yeah. A note and ten thousand in cash. They told me to email you the listing directly.” “Shit.” She cursed, rubbing her forehead. Jasper knew damn well who gave him the note. “This can’t be happening. I thought it was a normal notification from another realtor site.” “It was, sort ot. I just sent it to you personally.” Buck situated the tip of his boot on the chair, between Hawke’s legs. The man blanched and stuttered. “Why was you looking to sell that haunted piece of shit anyway?” “It’s easy money!” Hawke squeaked, eyes glittering with a promise of tears. “People love flipping houses. They love a project, but they never stay there long. In the end, I still get paid and always have a listing. But I swear, Buck, I don’t know nothing about a curse. On my Mama’s life, I didn’t know.” It was important to note how humid the air surrounding Buck had become. Jasper sensed his roiling nature and tapped his shoulder. He shoved the chair, making Hawke yelp. “You will give Jasper that ten grand you got. Every fuckin’ dollar, you hear me?” “Every cent.” Oddities persisted as he sneered. She clocked them quickly. Thorns on the pads of fingertips, the vine-like tattoos twisted and slithered beneath thin cotton. Jasper’s interest piqued as the potted plant on Hawke’s desk wilted and died as Buck vacated the office. “You’re an asshole,” she asserted in passing. “And I want it by Friday.” He nodded, and she snapped her fingers, forcing the gentleman to take a nap. He wouldn’t even wake to piss. It was payback for being a creep. Jasper exited the establishment with confidence and unstable emotions. Buck leaned against his big old car and puffed on a pipe. It was quite the dignified sight. Where she came from, males who mattered smoked from pipes. They held themselves to a higher standard and dared not roll their own ashleaf. “Smells good,” she said. “What is it?” “My special batch. Dusts, powders, florals, magical minerals, and my wife’s hot honey.” Jasper folded arms atop the roof of his gorgeous ride and observed. “I’m sorry? Did you just say—” “I like how she settles at the back of my throat. The smoke brings out her flavor real good.” Buck’s easy, cool response and dominance disturbed her. Jasper should have been the one in control, taking the reins and telling Buck where to go. It was quite obvious he wasn’t her usual case. Claw clicking on metal, she observed. His attention wasn’t coy or playful. Smoke swirled and framed his ravishing, strong features. “What’s on your mind, Jasper?” Speaking to that would’ve been a dire mistake. One she was unwilling to make. “You’re disgusting.” Buck smirked. “I don’t wanna be nothing else.” “I’m sure.” Jasper huffed and opened her own door. After slamming it shut, she fought to steady her pangs. She was famished and craving as if she hadn’t nibbled on the man for hours. Undervell gods, be with her. Buck was dense and full-bodied. His desire ripe, dripping with want. She could appease, play him well, and satisfy without touching, but the intimacy of it all scared her. “Where are we going now?” She asked, voice rising above the loud, rumbling engine. “The store. We gonna do a little training and see if you got what it takes.” “For what?” “To run shit. We need somebody who does well under pressure. Someone who can provide excellent feedback and communication, service when time calls for it.” Buck’s eyes drifted from the road to Jasper. He held firm and switched gears. The air was taut and humid. Jasper would not be swayed or pushed. “We talking customer service or something else?” His smile and smoke lingered. Jasper liked every base note. Cherry, vetiver, and something unique. She snickered, knowing the undercut’s source. One thing about Buck Sunside, he cherished and adored his wife. This important detail, among others, rs made him the sexiest man she’d ever met. “Thank you.” “For?” Bucked asked, annoyed. “Helping with Hawke. I didn’t think it was actually this bad, but—” Thinking about Trevor left her flushed and cold. “You didn’t have to, but you did.” “Funny how you think coming to your defense was a choice. As a grown man with status, means, and might, it is my duty and honor to help those who are unable. Not that you aren’t capable, Jasper. “It’s just, I know succubi intimately, and you, darlin’, are warm-hearted. Strange. Unlike your sisters in many ways. Hawke preyed on your goodness. That old bird is, in fact, a vulture shifter who can’t wait for some easy pickings. I ain’t gon stand for it.” His conviction and potent lust worked against her. Jasper didn’t want this man or any other. This was the fallacy she’d repeated to herself daily. It was to keep her afloat. The hunger in his eyes was more than she could bear. Jasper set her gaze beyond the window and decided on silence. If Jasper dared to speak another word, she’d make Buck pull the car over and bury himself between her clamped thighs.
“You can take it, darlin’.” Buck put his weight on Nieema, stealing her will to breathe. “Yeeeeah. That’s it. You like it heavy!” Buck growled as the missus moaned. “I dooooo. Ohh—Bu—uck! There, baby. Right theeerrre.” He focused on her sweet spot and she whimpered as bones popped. “Yes,” Nieema groaned. “Crack my shit, baby. Stomp on that bitch! I said harder, old man.” “I’m doing it.” “You ain’t.” Buck rolled his eyes and stepped on her spine. She hollered in pleasure. “A vampire your age shouldn’t have back problems or any physical ailments at all. Them babies fucked you up, darlin’.” “Yeah! And who put them, babies in there?” An ugly belly laugh bubbled up from Buck’s gut as he stamped on his wife’s back. Buck spent twenty minutes, once a week stepping on Nieema’s spine. Most vampires who conceived had some small physical issue. Pregnancy was hard even on immortal folk and orcs alike. “And I’ll do it again,” Buck vowed. “I know that’s right,” Nieema said, hands tucked under her chin. “Fill me up, daddy!” “Nasty mouth.” They laughed as Buck continued his business of jumping on her. She was a sturdy gal and loved about three or four hops. When something popped, she moaned once more. “Darlin’,” Buck started, pressing the ball of his foot into her shoulder, “you heard from Jasper yet?” “Uhhhm. No.” “She ain’t come out the house yet, and I’m getting worried.” “Buckley, we don’t know her well. Maybe she’s a homebody.” “I mean, yeah, but after the other night she disappeared.” “Hm. Weirrrd.” Buck paused and squinted. Her response was short and squeaky. “Nieema Desiree Falerie Sunside, what did you do?” “Why do I gotta do something?” “‘Cause you did.” “You don’t know shit.” She didn’t even look up at him. The betrayal. Buck cussed, lowering to the floor. He joined Nieema and lay on her body. She was more comfortable than hardwood. Though his wood was now pressed into her dimpled ass. Buck ignored the tempting juggle and cushion for the moment. “Nieema.” The woman smacked her teeth and said, “We were having such a good time, and I figured—she was into it and me. Jasper was interested, earnest, and assertive. She gave proper consent and everything.” “You did not.” “Shit, she was quick putting a hand down my pants, and I wanted to taste her. So, you know, naturally, we ended up downstairs. After our climax, she vanished. I think I spooked her.” Buck knew it had something to do with sex. Nieema was an intense, impulsive vampire with a high sex drive. He’d been dealing with her pangs for a hundred years. They had their ways and proclivities as a couple, but Buck didn’t always think with his dick. True, he wanted to make it flex with Jasper. Cut the demon down for about an hour or so, but he had a feeling she wasn’t ready. “Nieema, baby. Why you have to go and do that?” Buck rolled off of his wife and eyed her. The woman knew better than to meet his stare and didn’t. “She was celibate. You heard her just fine.” “Yes, but you weren’t there. Jasper was about to take lead on the matter. I had to calm her down, shit. That’s not how this show go. Not yet, at least. That woman was on fire. Just sick about it, baby.” He stood and marched on over to Nieema’s vanity. He snagged the scissors, pulled the chair, and short whistled. She rose with vampire agility, defying gravity as if it didn’t exist. After sprinting over, she sidled up, and sat down. Buck snagged a twenty-four-inch braid and snipped the end. With practiced ease, he unraveled and loosened the thick strand. “I know how you feel about wanting to bed her down, but I think, you jumped it.” He discarded the hair into the plastic bag that waited in Nieema’s lap while she mumbled curses. The old woman knew she was wrong, so he didn’t have to say it. “Sweetpea, Jasper moved out here to get away from drama.” “And we ain’t bringing none to her.” “Maybe to you this ain’t drama, but for her, it could be a lot.” “I thought you were in a hurry, Buckley. You the one making bets and shit.” “That was for a nice dinner, not no thick dick!” “Well, that’s what I thought.” “Of course you did, freaky.” Nieema chuckled, clipping the ends of a braid. They used the next ten minutes to take down her hair with normal chit chat about the family. Norma was on her way, Mace was in marriage troubles, and Trey had another baby on the way with his ex-wife. That was some mess for your ass, but that was his life. Couldn’t tell him or them anything. Buck tried to steer their babies and grand babies right, but after a certain age, there wasn‘t no changing their minds. “Jo tell you Trevor wants to press charges?” Buck asked, raising a brow. “I know he does.” “That was a love tap! Pussy.” “I doubt it.” “Who side is you on?” Buck asked, checking the wife’s reflection, making her giggle. “Mhm. See what I get? Disrespect.” “That man got what’s coming to him,” Nieema said, pulling free another blue strip of hair. “Monroe is in Misthill now. He can’t seem to get an appointment with the Mayor. He’s indisposed. I sent him a summons.” “Mm. Had to put on the crown, huh?” “Unfortunately.” “At least you look good wearing it.” She smiled, and Buck kissed her thick, natural mane. “I’m sure we’ll get this settled nice and easy.” “The Voaremonts aren’t known for rolling over, Buck.” “We ain’t either.” “I know that’s right.” After cutting a few more ends, he loosened braids as Nieema breached the Jasper subject yet again. “I gave her a job at the shop.” “I mean, we need the help, but do you think she’ll be okay? I still don’t wanna let her outta my sight.” “I told Maggie about it,” Nieema reassured. “She’s willing to charm the store.” “That’s quick thinking, my love. On your toes!” “Aren’t I always?” Buck barked in laughter and trashed his last batch of hair. “Hell nah.” “I know you better hush.” “What? I’m supposed to lie? You said there ain’t to be no lies or secrets between us. I will hold to the vow we made allllll them manymanymany years ago. I know you probably don’t remember. Senile self. We gotta get you to bed, it’s late, Grandma!” “Shhuuut uuuup.” She cackled right along with Buck. “And it’s you who gon’ put me to bed.” “Damn skippy!” As always, Nieema and Buck found solace in each other. There wasn’t a quiet, dull moment between them. After decades, ten and some change, they’d become the best of friends. Marrying the person who made him laugh was the best decision of his life. The night they’d met, he’d made her chuckle and vice versa. Within hours, Buck had become enamored with some Ravensguard soldier he was likely to never see again. After a passionate day in bed, Buck had said goodbye. He promised to find her someday. Turns out he didn’t have to look hard, because ten years later, Nieema showed up at the tavern wearing his favorite smile. “Ooooooo baaaaby, listen!” Nieema relaxed as Buck scratched her scalp. He focused on the middle of her head and the kitchen, just how Mrs. Sunside liked it. “You know how to use them hands… mmmm, yes you do. Little to the left, litt—ooop!” Buck cackled and carried on with their routine, which led to the bathroom. These times, the few they shared with such busy lives and a large family, he cherished. They were his priority. Taking care of his dame wasn’t always top of mind. Buck regretted them days, when he didn’t put Nieema first. She belonged on the pedestal he’d built only for her. After washing, rinsing, and stripping down to nothing, he covered Nieema’s conditioner-soaked tresses with an extra-large shower cap. “Thereeee you go.” Buck popped the elastic, and Nieema flinched. “Now come here and get what’s coming to ya.” She giggled as Buck plucked her plush behind off the tile and carried her right on into the shower stall. Steam laced with lavender and chamomile soothed the mind while Nieema’s lips roused every nerve. Scolding hot water pelted his back and cascaded, dripping from his tight braid. With little finesse and impatience, Buck set his woman on a stone bench and loomed. “Well,” Nieema prompted, “go on and satisfy your vicious sweet tooth.” Her crimson stare provoked several emotions. Buck had never been one to beg or snivel for pussy. That was until he’d met Nieema. He’d snuff the sun if it’d bring this woman peace. He’d vanquish all evil and become the worst version of himself if it pleased his queen. Nieema spread her delicious thighs and blessed him. Plump and glistening, her southern lips beckoned a motha fucka. She wept for a kiss, and he’d never deny Nieema a thing in this world. Buck’s knees gave as he was enchanted by velvety brown softness and glittering blush pink. Nieema presented herself and dipped a finger between what he knew to be sopping wet walls. Buck growled and bristled, snatching her hand away. “Hands off my goods, old woman.” She laughed and undulated, cupping her buxom bosom. Nieema’s scent drew him closer. Buck kissed her flesh, and she hissed. He sniffed and grunted, growling as the beast within longed to devour. Her wetness coated his lips as he circled her large clit with his nose. His wife was insecure about her precious rosebud. For a time, she hated how it protruded and swelled with her arousal. It took time, care, and reassurance. Buck loved to suck and tease her large clit. “Mmmm,” Nieema moaned with every kiss and nuzzle. “Babbbee, pleaaase.” “You so fuckin’ wet, woman.” Buck clutched his dick and flicked her with the tip of his pierced tongue. “I need another batch for my tea. I’m almost out.” “You know what you gotta do.” He responded by suckling her button and mashing his god damn face into her pussy. Buck worked her clit. Around and around while Nieema rocked slowly. She sang his favorite melody and melted with every lazy lave and lap. He sipped from her with gladness and appreciation. Buck swallowed her rich decadence and vowed once again to be her last devotee. If there was no one left to bow, he’d be the queen’s final hand to bend the knee. If there were none to adore her, he’d be there to shower her in affection. He’d be the last to obey the Ravensguard queen. His final breath would be that of dedication! Of his love, in this life and the next. Until the goddess called him to the Soil of Soul Buck promised to stand tall at Nieema’s side. Mating be damneed. In truth, he didn’t need it. His lifeblood was hers the second they spoke. “Oooo shit!” Nieema keened. “You like how I taste, love?” He responded by gripping her hips. Buck yanked Nieema forward and gorged on his favorite meal of the night until she thrashed, on the cusp. It was in the tremble of her words and curl of her chubby toes. Buck studied her body, inside and out. Her arch stiffened and lip curled. Buck stopped, and Nieema roared. Panting, she pulled his braid and cursed. “You had better have a good reason, fairy boy!” He only laughed and stood, taking her with him. Leaving her no room to complain, Buck hoisted Nieema high and flipped her ass. Nieema cackled as she dangled upside down. This woman loved her some vertical sixty-nine, and once she got to sucking, so did Buck. With her pussy at home on his tongue and thighs framing his face, he lapped with fierce edge. Nieema’s nectar turned a decent fae feral. As her soul mate, fated, and begging fool, he dove headfirst. And his queen was no slouch, taking him deep. Buck stumbled and leaned against wet tile, locking himself in place. He lashed at her clit and drank from her blessed fount. Nieema coughed and cussed. “Ooooo shit! Bite it, baby! Bite—“ Buck tensed as she swallowed him down from root to stem. There was nothing left to do but deep throat. He came up for air and shouted to the Goddess. His eyes rolled as Nieema sucked him down and continued, nuts and all. Her jaw unhinged, and she devoured. Claimed and choked. “Youuuuu devilish slut!” Buck roared. He growled, thrusts meeting her sinful rhythm. “I’mmmm—ooweeeee…” Needing to shatter and release, Buck screwed his eyes shut and penetrated her with his thickening tongue. The pierced muscle caused her majesty to squirm and writhe, body slick and plush. Buck tightened his hold and fucked his beloved in quickened fashion. He curled the tip and twirled, twisted, tasted. She moaned and bobbed, using that neck for the greater good. Sweat and water collected between them, dripping from toes and nipples. Nieema clung to him, scoring his thighs. Buck grunted and lavished her with his love. Nieema pumped and rolled as he punched. Their shared desire and passion coalesced and seeped through bone. It pooled in the marrow and heated, setting his soul to a rolling boil. Buck clutched her ass and drove his tongue deeper. He was set to tear this woman apart until she bit down and let him loose. His spine steeled, and thighs burned with the effort to remain standing. His fight and refusal to fold were futile. Nieema pulled an orgasm from the body, leaving him for dead. Euphoria sprouted from every cell and limb, enveloping him completely. She wrenched it from the root, and he attacked her gushing pussy without delay. The woman howled as Buck lost the use of his legs. They’d turned to moss and were unable to bear his weight. Before his ass collided with the floor, Nieema belted his name and flexed them vampire skills by righting herself in half a second. When his behind greeted wet tile, Buck laughed, allowing his queen to straddle. “You ain’t tired?!” Nieema kissed his neck and cupped his stiffening dick. “Damn woman, you gon’ put me in the coffin one day.” “And I will be right there with you, old dog.” They shared a bout of laughter and reconnected. No matter the time, day, or year, there’d never come a moment when Buck Sunside would ever get enough. She was the mother of his children, the beat of his heart, and the rich soil nourishing his soul. .
“You can take it, darlin’.” Buck put his weight on Nieema, stealing her will to breathe. “Yeeeeah. That’s it. You like it heavy!” Buck growled as the missus moaned. “I dooooo. Ohh—Bu—uck! There, baby. Right theeerrre.” He focused on her sweet spot and she whimpered as bones popped. “Yes,” Nieema groaned. “Crack my shit, baby. Stomp on that bitch! I said harder, old man.” “I’m doing it.” “You ain’t.” Buck rolled his eyes and stepped on her spine. She hollered in pleasure. “A vampire your age shouldn’t have back problems or any physical ailments at all. Them babies fucked you up, darlin’.” “Yeah! And who put them, babies in there?” An ugly belly laugh bubbled up from Buck’s gut as he stamped on his wife’s back. Buck spent twenty minutes, once a week stepping on Nieema’s spine. Most vampires who conceived had some small physical issue. Pregnancy was hard even on immortal folk and orcs alike. “And I’ll do it again,” Buck vowed. “I know that’s right,” Nieema said, hands tucked under her chin. “Fill me up, daddy!” “Nasty mouth.” They laughed as Buck continued his business of jumping on her. She was a sturdy gal and loved about three or four hops. When something popped, she moaned once more. “Darlin,” Buck started, pressing the ball of his foot into her shoulder, “you heard from Jasper yet?” “Uhhhm. No.” “She ain’t come out the house yet, and I’m getting worried.” “Buckley, we don’t know her well. Maybe she’s a homebody.” “I mean, yeah, but after the other night she disappeared.” “Hm. Weirrrd.” Buck paused and squinted. Her response was short and squeaky. “Nieema Desiree Falerie Sunside, what did you do?” “Why do I gotta do something?” “‘Cause you did.” “You don’t know shit.” She didn’t even look up at him. The betrayal. Buck cussed, lowering to the floor. He joined Nieema and lay on her body. She was more comfortable than hardwood. Though his wood was now pressed into her dimpled ass. Buck ignored the tempting juggle and cushion for the moment. “Nieema.” The woman smacked her teeth and said, “We were having such a good time, and I figured—she was into it and me. Jasper was interested, earnest, and assertive. She gave proper consent and everything.” “You did not.” “Shit, she was quick putting a hand down my pants, and I wanted to taste her. So, you know, naturally, we ended up downstairs. After our climax, she vanished. I think I spooked her.” Buck knew it had something to do with sex. Nieema was an intense, impulsive vampire with a high sex drive. He’d been dealing with her pangs for a hundred years. They had their ways and proclivities as a couple, but Buck didn’t always think with his dick. True, he wanted to make it flex with Jasper. Cut the demon down for about an hour or so, but he had a feeling she wasn’t ready. “Nieema, baby. Why you have to go and do that?” Buck rolled off of his wife and eyed her. The woman knew better than to meet his stare and didn’t. “She was celibate. You heard her just fine.” “Yes, but you weren’t there. Jasper was about to take lead on the matter. I had to calm her down, shit. That’s not how this show go. Not yet, at least. That woman was on fire. Just sick about it, baby.” He stood and marched on over to Nieema’s vanity. He snagged the scissors, pulled the chair, and short whistled. She rose with vampire agility, defying gravity as if it didn’t exist. After sprinting over, she sidled up, and sat down. Buck snagged a twenty-four-inch braid and snipped the end. With practiced ease, he unraveled and loosened the thick strand. “I know how you feel about wanting to bed her down, but I think, you jumped it.” He discarded the hair into the plastic bag that waited in Nieema’s lap while she mumbled curses. The old woman knew she was wrong, so he didn’t have to say it. “Sweetpea, Jasper moved out here to get away from drama.” “And we ain’t bringing none to her.” “Maybe to you this ain’t drama, but for her, it could be a lot.” “I thought you were in a hurry, Buckley. You the one making bets and shit.” “That was for a nice dinner, not no thick dick!” “Well, that’s what I thought.” “Of course you did, freaky.” Nieema chuckled, clipping the ends of a braid. They used the next ten minutes to take down her hair with normal chit chat about the family. Norma was on her way, Mace was in marriage troubles, and Trey had another baby on the way with his ex-wife. That was some mess for your ass, but that was his life. Couldn’t tell him or them anything. Buck tried to steer their babies and grand babies right, but after a certain age, there wasn‘t no changing their minds. “Jo tell you Trevor wants to press charges?” Buck asked, raising a brow. “I know he does.” “That was a love tap! Pussy.” “I doubt it.” “Who side is you on?” Buck asked, checking the wife’s reflection, making her giggle. “Mhm. See what I get? Disrespect.” “That man got what’s coming to him,” Nieema said, pulling free another blue strip of hair. “Monroe is in Misthill now. He can’t seem to get an appointment with the Mayor. He’s indisposed. I sent him a summons.” “Mm. Had to put on the crown, huh?” “Unfortunately.” “At least you look good wearing it.” She smiled, and Buck kissed her thick, natural mane. “I’m sure we’ll get this settled nice and easy.” “The Voaremonts aren’t known for rolling over, Buck.” “We ain’t either.” “I know that’s right.” After cutting a few more ends, he loosened braids as Nieema breached the Jasper subject yet again. “I gave her a job at the shop.” “I mean, we need the help, but do you think she’ll be okay? I still don’t wanna let her outta my sight.” “I told Maggie about it,” Nieema reassured. “She’s willing to charm the store.” “That’s quick thinking, my love. On your toes!” “Aren’t I always?” Buck barked in laughter and trashed his last batch of hair. “Hell nah.” “I know you better hush.” “What? I’m supposed to lie? You said there ain’t to be no lies or secrets between us. I will hold to the vow we made allllll them manymanymany years ago. I know you probably don’t remember. Senile self. We gotta get you to bed, it’s late, Grandma!” “Shhuuut uuuup.” She cackled right along with Buck. “And it’s you who gon’ put me to bed.” “Damn skippy!” As always, Nieema and Buck found solace in each other. There wasn’t a quiet, dull moment between them. After decades, ten and some change, they’d become the best of friends. Marrying the person who made him laugh was the best decision of his life. The night they’d met, he’d made her chuckle and vice versa. Within hours, Buck had become enamored with some Ravensguard soldier he was likely to never see again. After a passionate day in bed, Buck had said goodbye. He promised to find her someday. Turns out he didn’t have to look hard, because ten years later, Nieema showed up at the tavern wearing his favorite smile. “Ooooooo baaaaby, listen!” Nieema relaxed as Buck scratched her scalp. He focused on the middle of her head and the kitchen, just how Mrs. Sunside liked it. “You know how to use them hands… mmmm, yes you do. Little to the left, litt—ooop!” Buck cackled and carried on with their routine, which led to the bathroom. These times, the few they shared with such busy lives and a large family, he cherished. They were his priority. Taking care of his dame wasn’t always top of mind. Buck regretted them days, when he didn’t put Nieema first. She belonged on the pedestal he’d built only for her. After washing, rinsing, and stripping down to nothing, he covered Nieema’s conditioner-soaked tresses with an extra-large shower cap. “Thereeee you go.” Buck popped the elastic, and Nieema flinched. “Now come here and get what’s coming to ya.” She giggled as Buck plucked her plush behind off the tile and carried her right on into the shower stall. Steam laced with lavender and chamomile soothed the mind while Nieema’s lips roused every nerve. Scolding hot water pelted his back and cascaded, dripping from his tight braid. With little finesse and impatience, Buck set his woman on a stone bench and loomed. “Well,” Nieema prompted, “go on and satisfy your vicious sweet tooth.” Her crimson stare provoked several emotions. Buck had never been one to beg or snivel for pussy. That was until he’d met Nieema. He’d snuff the sun if it’d bring this woman peace. He’d vanquish all evil and become the worst version of himself if it pleased his queen. Nieema spread her delicious thighs and blessed him. Plump and glistening, her southern lips beckoned a motha fucka. She wept for a kiss, and he’d never deny Nieema a thing in this world. Buck’s knees gave as he was enchanted by velvety brown softness and glittering blush pink. Nieema presented herself and dipped a finger between what he knew to be sopping wet walls. Buck growled and bristled, snatching her hand away. “Hands off my goods, old woman.” She laughed and undulated, cupping her buxom bosom. Nieema’s scent drew him closer. Buck kissed her flesh, and she hissed. He sniffed and grunted, growling as the beast within longed to devour. Her wetness coated his lips as he circled her large clit with his nose. His wife was insecure about her precious rosebud. For a time, she hated how it protruded and swelled with her arousal. It took time, care, and reassurance. Buck loved to suck and tease her large clit. “Mmmm,” Nieema moaned with every kiss and nuzzle. “Babbbee, pleaaase.” “You so fuckin’ wet, woman.” Buck clutched his dick and flicked her with the tip of his pierced tongue. “I need another batch for my tea. I’m almost out.” “You know what you gotta do.” He responded by suckling her button and mashing his god damn face into her pussy. Buck worked her clit. Around and around while Nieema rocked slowly. She sang his favorite melody and melted with every lazy lave and lap. He sipped from her with gladness and appreciation. Buck swallowed her rich decadence and vowed once again to be her last devotee. If there was no one left to bow, he’d be the queen’s final hand to bend the knee. If there were none to adore her, he’d be there to shower her in affection. He’d be the last to obey the Ravensguard queen. His final breath would be that of dedication! Of his love, in this life and the next. Until the goddess called him to the Soil of Soul Buck promised to stand tall at Nieema’s side. Mating be damneed. In truth, he didn’t need it. His lifeblood was hers the second they spoke. “Oooo shit!” Nieema keened. “You like how I taste, love?” He responded by gripping her hips. Buck yanked Nieema forward and gorged on his favorite meal of the night until she thrashed, on the cusp. It was in the tremble of her words and curl of her chubby toes. Buck studied her body, inside and out. Her arch stiffened and lip curled. Buck stopped, and Nieema roared. Panting, she pulled his braid and cursed. “You had better have a good reason, fairy boy!” He only laughed and stood, taking her with him. Leaving her no room to complain, Buck hoisted Nieema high and flipped her ass. Nieema cackled as she dangled upside down. This woman loved her some vertical sixty-nine, and once she got to sucking, so did Buck. With her pussy at home on his tongue and thighs framing his face, he lapped with fierce edge. Nieema’s nectar turned a decent fae feral. As her soul mate, fated, and begging fool, he dove headfirst. And his queen was no slouch, taking him deep. Buck stumbled and leaned against wet tile, locking himself in place. He lashed at her clit and drank from her blessed fount. Nieema coughed and cussed. “Ooooo shit! Bite it, baby! Bite—“ Buck tensed as she swallowed him down from root to stem. There was nothing left to do but deep throat. He came up for air and shouted to the Goddess. His eyes rolled as Nieema sucked him down and continued, nuts and all. Her jaw unhinged, and she devoured. Claimed and choked. “Youuuuu devilish slut!” Buck roared. He growled, thrusts meeting her sinful rhythm. “I’mmmm—ooweeeee…” Needing to shatter and release, Buck screwed his eyes shut and penetrated her with his thickening tongue. The pierced muscle caused her majesty to squirm and writhe, body slick and plush. Buck tightened his hold and fucked his beloved in quickened fashion. He curled the tip and twirled, twisted, tasted. She moaned and bobbed, using that neck for the greater good. Sweat and water collected between them, dripping from toes and nipples. Nieema clung to him, scoring his thighs. Buck grunted and lavished her with his love. Nieema pumped and rolled as he punched. Their shared desire and passion coalesced and seeped through bone. It pooled in the marrow and heated, setting his soul to a rolling boil. Buck clutched her ass and drove his tongue deeper. He was set to tear this woman apart until she bit down and let him loose. His spine steeled, and thighs burned with the effort to remain standing. His fight and refusal to fold were futile. Nieema pulled an orgasm from the body, leaving him for dead. Euphoria sprouted from every cell and limb, enveloping him completely. She wrenched it from the root, and he attacked her gushing pussy without delay. The woman howled as Buck lost the use of his legs. They’d turned to moss and were unable to bear his weight. Before his ass collided with the floor, Nieema belted his name and flexed them vampire skills by righting herself in half a second. When his behind greeted wet tile, Buck laughed, allowing his queen to straddle. “You ain’t tired?!” Nieema kissed his neck and cupped his stiffening dick. “Damn woman, you gon’ put me in the coffin one day.” “And I will be right there with you, old dog.” They shared a bout of laughter and reconnected. No matter the time, day, or year, there’d never come a moment when Buck Sunside would ever get enough. She was the mother of his children, the beat of his heart, and the rich soil nourishing his soul.
Zion My mouth was tacky and bladder aching, I couldn’t get back to dreamland. Sleep deprivation was the quickest way to piss me off. If there was one thing I hated more than okra, it was the lack of sleep. Kicking sheets, I mumbled curses and planted both feet on the floor. Thank gods for night lights and the mister. My skin wasn’t itchy or flaky. I basked for a few more seconds as tepid water graced my face. Frustrated with my pushy bodily functions, I plodded to the bathroom and got the job done. After a brief wash and rinse, I checked the duffel. Whatever was in there had weight to it. Papa was gonna owe me for this. Then again, I was living in their house, tax-free. I didn’t even pay for food. Maybe this was my way of kicking in. Slouching thanks to terrible posture and exhaustion, I shuffled from the washroom in search of hydration. Halfway to the kitchen, I stopped dead and stared at an empty couch. I didn’t see another body in his bed, and—Scraps clothes were on the floor. I knew for damn sure he wasn’t in the bathroom. I crept forward but kept eyes pinned to the floor. Walking in on a naked man was rude, but my tongue was stickier than normal, and I had problems swallowing. Water called for me like a starving siren. Licking parched lips, I inched closer and halted at the sight of a twitching beaded tail. Oh, hopping locusts, this was fucked up. I tracked the rattle and widening tail straight into the refrigerator. This was worse than catching a glimpse of lazy dick or pert ass. A whole hell of a lot worse. Because I, Zion Armani Horner, developed a snake kink in two-point-five seconds. It was specific to the male lamia. Maybe the one with his head in the ice box. Curls cascaded, tickling his wide, muscular back. Cords tugged with tension and flexed while I slumped. He sat on his coiled, iridescent tail, snacking on food I wished to become. Scrap had filled out. He was at least a foot taller and toned. His human half was husky and thick, soft-bellied with a sexy amount of jiggle. It was a thing, and I loved it. This was—he really was two-faced. I coughed to get his attention and regretted it. Scrap whipped around so fast I winced and stammered. “Did I wake you up?” he asked. I heard nothing. Motor functions ground to a halt thanks to his overt beauty. At forty years old, one might assume they’d seen everything. And you know what? They’d be wrong. I’d never been this close to a lamina. I had never shared space with them, and I ain’t never stared one in the face. “Oh, shit, right…” Scrap slapped his forehead and scrubbed. “Uhhhh, I can shift back. I gotta put my clothes on though, soooo…” Even his voice dropped a few octaves! I was impressed and overwhelmed. Scrap was heavy with them reptilian eyes, fangs, and bawdy. Fuck I was changing colors… green so fucking green. Neon, bright, highlighter shade. It was chameleon-speak for ‘fuck me’. A mating color. I was begging at this point, a fellow chameleon would have had me on the floor by now. I didn’t give a shit about my mother’s disappointment. I was overgrown, and if I chose to pause my standards for the night, I could! Scrap didn’t know about our mating display, though he might clock the sauna between my thighs if his tongue came out to play. The large man glided to his clothes and reached. “No!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, startling him. “No. I mean, this is your house. If you want to slide or wriggle around, so be it. I won’t put out—put you out.” My stomach gurgled as I rubbed it. I didn’t wanna toot in front of him again, but I was getting nervous. “You sure? I might get hungry and you…never know.” I wish you would. An ugly snort escaped, making my tummy roll. Once an awkward geek, always! “I just wanted some water. I can’t even swallow.” “Shame,” Scrap rasped, slinking into the kitchen. My color faded from green to pink. His joyful chirp did nothing to hide the sexual undertone. I was in deep shit with this man. Scrap was younger than me, sold bones, and was like a happy-clueless— Scrap offered an open bottle of water and lingered at my side. His low-lidded gaze shimmered and flexed. I smiled and nodded. It was all I had. “Thank you, uhm…” I tipped the Arctic Spring and gulped every drop. After swigging sixteen ounces, I burped. “I needed that. It’s always weird waking up after getting blitzed. I remember when my ex-husband and I used to sneak weed into our dorm. What a time.” I sighed and dragged attention back to a scary quiet Scrap. He stood in the kitchen, gripping the exposed pipes above his head. What a fucking pose. I only saw such debauched things in movies. Healthy brown skin tapered at the waist where scales caressed him. And because I loved shiny things, I was drawn to their shimmer. With no thinking on my part, I advanced toward the stocky Rattler and almost touched his scale-painted hands. “I’m sorry… can I—“ “I want you to.” A bit bashful and gassy, I set the empty bottle on the breakfast bar and grasped his claw-tipped appendage. Two of mine equaled one of his. Palm down, I admired the elegant pattern and stroked his delicate, festooned fingers. The shining star swirling within my bosom was hard to ignore and name. “How long were you married?” Scrap asked. “Ten years. He left.” “Sad.” I smiled at the sarcasm and flipped his hand. I poked and traced life-lines. Scrap’s palm was gray and smooth, like the delicate underbelly of a cobra. “Were you happy?” “I was happier with him gone. Buuuut, I couldn’t pay the tax, utilities, or groceries. Hell, I couldn’t even afford a bag of fast food schlep.” Sighing again, I righted the man’s hand, splayed fingers, and sized him up. The tips of my digits met his second knuckle. “Because I was your standard, happy and grateful traditional mate,” I went on to say, trying not to mount this man. “I had no job, and my thespian dreams meant nothing. Thanks to our government gasping its last breath, theater is dead. So, I moved back in with my folks. Were you ever married?” “No,” Scrap rasped. “And good thing too, ‘cause if I was, I’d be somewhere else. Bored and probably miserable. You wouldn’t be touching me right now, and I wouldn’t be hurtin’ to make your legs shake.”
F(40) AITA for dragging this stranger M(35) into my botched thieving mission? Listen, I got a bounty on my head, and I have a mystery package to deliver. I don’t even know what I’m doing. I work at a burger joint and live with my parents, but I wanted to do something HUGE for the family. Halfway into this thing, I now realize I wasn’t cut out for this criminal street life shit. I don’t have the stomach for it! He offered to help me! Is this life or death? Maybe. AITA for wanting protection, a free ride, and sexy times as well?
Something spicy, silly, and adventurous is on the horizon! Two idiots fall in love and try not to die in the process. This story is where monster romance, steampunk, and fantasy meet. I am super excited to introduce these two weirdos!
“A quart of beef stock? What in the Undervell is that?” Kit read the recipe for a common stew and was confounded by three ingredients. “Stock, corn starch, and russet potatoes…Perhaps I can research each ingri—“ “Or,” Julep shouted from his post on the windowsill. “Forgive me because this is a crazy idea, but how about you ask someone!? Maybe Nieema. I like her. She’s vampyre and quite sensual. If I weren’t cursed to hold this feline form I’d make her mine.” “She is betrothed you whore.” “Semantics.” Julep’s tail flicked and rolled as he watched chickens peck the soil searching for grubs. He was intent on killing them for how they’d treated Kit earlier. “My suggestion stands. Ask her. Land dwellers seem amiable and dare I say, kind. Encouraging even. I hate them.” “I suppose you’re right.” Kit removed his apron, hung it on a hook shaped like a kind of nut, and grabbed his journal. He stopped to boop Julep’s nose. The testy cat hissed and tried to fight him off. “I hope to have lunch, supper, what have you, at least started before we leave. I’m rather excited about this demolition business.” “Yes, you ache for violence.” Julep lapped at a paw and brushed it over his ear. “You and I are such alike it scares me at times. Say, on your return would it be alright if I took a walk?” “Why?” “I’m bored.” Kit blinked at his friend, who stared with indifference. “Julep, you are a liar. You bring me rodents when I’ve expressed how foul they are. You tell me they attack you. Lie. You leave refuse in my bed and say you were ‘sleep shitting’. Lie. Youuu, want at the chickens.” “I do not!” “I counted fifteen hens. And I will come back to the same amount or I’ll give you a bath then fit you with a leash!” Julep hissed once more and lunged at Kit. The bastard took chase and clawed at his ankles. “You’ll bleed, demon! If you even dare, I’ll fill your shoes with mice!” Kit yanked open the front door, and Julep escaped in skittish, feline fashion. “You had better run, petulant beast!” The sun shone in a clear blue sky and mammals bleated. One could say it was a lovely day if not for a seething gentleman blocking the exit. “Ah, you,” Kit intoned. “Yeah. Me. I know you touched my eggs.” “Were those your eggs?” Steeling his spine, Kit sneered. “I didn’t know. I was sure they belonged to the chickens that laid them.” “Don’t get smart with me, jack!” “My name isn’t Jack, it’s Kit.” “Don’t you ever go digging for my eggs.” Kit growled as Hank’s red eyes sparked. He was within range to catch his death. Clove and bergamot swirled about. The scent was oddly comforting and contradictory of his boorish behavior. “They are everywhere!” Kit pronounced, holding his ground. “I don’t give a shit, they’re mine.” “Surely you’re not using all of them.” “I am.” “Liar!” Hank hissed like the uncouth cave dweller he was and begged for a fight. Kit was born for battle, molded by it. He’d won many wars and made a name for himself. In Undervell, he’d have ripped Hank’s tongue out, pureed it, then spoon-fed him the mush with glee. But this was Indigo Plains, Ravensguard territory. He did not need to kill this man. Done with the whole conversation and Hank’s dewy complexion Kit stomped across the porch. “I have nothing more to—“ “Don’t you walk away from me! I ain’t done. Don’t bother my chickens or my eggs, do you hear me?” Hank blocked Kit’s path for the second time. “Get out of my way or I will be forced to cause bodily harm.” “There you go, threatenin’ me again.” Hank huffed and hiked up his trousers. “You sho’ you wanna ride this stallion, boy.” “I’m sure Granny not gonna like you pestering her guest.” The disembodied voice turned Kit around. There, on the overhang, sat a fellow with magenta locs and a bag of crisps. His legs dangled as he smiled and looked to the sky. “This guest is too god damn nosy!” “And you too grumpy,” the roof-sitter claimed. “Indeed.” “You hush,” Hank grumbled. Kit pivoted and faced his nemesis. “You have no authority here. Good day.” “You heard him, Hank. Get goin’.” “Jo, I wann’t talking to you.” “You know I do not give a fuck. I will tell Granny.” Hank resigned and mumbled expletives on his trip down the stone path. With the cantankerous vampire on his way, Kit watched him go. He was a brute with the stature to match. “Whyyyy, are you on the roof?” Kit asked. “I was bored, didn’t have nothin’ pressing to do so I figured why not say hi.” “Hello.” “Where were you goin’?” Kit shifted his gaze up and over. “To ask your grandmother a question. Nieema, right?” “Mhm. Yeah. But she ain’t up yet. ‘Bout another two hours.” “I’ll wait. But, again, why are you sitting on th—“ Jo laughed, swinging his legs. “’Cus it’s the best place to think. Where you do your best thinking?” “In the bath.” “I can see that.” Kit yelped, clutched his journal, and slid from the landing zone. Jo had jumped from the roof and touched down with unnatural agility. He was rangy and wolfish. His smile remained, showcasing more than several fangs. Kit was unsettled by his friendliness and pointed features. He’d never seen such a thing. “You have quite the pair of wings,” Kit said, noticing the subtle twitch and flit. “Your grandmother is a vampire, no? As would be your mother or fat—“ Jo stuffed an orange colored crisp into his mouth and said, “We all mixed up ‘round here. My Mama wasn’t even all vampire. The only one who is, is Granny. My Mama is only half. I got fairy blood mostly. As you can tell from the lifts.” “Lifts?” “Another word for wings.” Jo looked to the winding walkway and laughed for whatever reason. “You wanna come with me somewhere?” “Where?” “To see a witch.” “Yes!” Kit gasped. “Let me get my satchel first.” After running inside for his bag, he filled it with his journal, a bottle of water, and two cashew butter and blackberry jam sandwiches. “I’m set.” “Why you look like a hobbit on their first adventure?” “A whaaat?” “You got the sweater, purse, and hairy hooves.” “What is a—“ Jo cackled and started their pleasant journey through the field. It was hard to believe this entire stretch of land belonged to a single family. Of course, Carriont owned a manor with thirty-five rooms, a botanical garden, and an amphitheater but to Kit, it felt more like a soggy shoe box. “Who was the fairy?” Kit asked. “My dad. He still in Lightbridge. The classless fuck. Got my mama pregnant and bought her a train ticket home. Fairies don’t much like melting pots if you know what I mean.” “I do not, unfortunately.” Jo smiled and dragged his feet, the strange coverings slapped the ground in annoying succession. They were hardly useful with the bit of plastic between his toes. Kit shuddered at the sight. Five digit freaks. “Most folks up north in fairy land don’t mess with vampires.” “Ahhh, I understand. In Undervell, many don’t like sleep paralysis demons. My father calls them ruffians. The general population ignores them. They’re labeled lazy trash by the media.” “That’s fucked up.” “I suppose, in a sense.” Kit kept a wary eye on the woods. He’d kill a lion and make quick use of its hide. If one even dared try a surprise attack, he’d throttle them. “Are their lions here?” “Lions? What, like Simba?” “Who?” “Damn, what y’all be watching in hell?” “Lions, you know? Big golden cats with impressive claws and—“ “Oohhhh, shit!” Jo laughed, and his wings fluttered. “Noooo, no. We don’t got them here. That’s like down south, across Pearl Gulf. Nahhh. No lions. But we do got like, Ore bears, bear shifters, Burling bears, Dust peckers, Harpies, and uhhh spiders. Them big ones.” “I saw one.” “Whaaaaat? And you still breathin’?” Jo tsked and crumpled the empty crisp bag. He slipped it into the pocket of his checkered shorts and smirked. “You’re a bad, bad man, Kit.” “I was shoved into a closet. I didn’t even get to fight.” “Ohhh, you know what? Grandaddy said something about that.” “I’m sure.” If Jo never spoke, one might be frightened of the young man. He was covered in tribal ink, draped in gold jewelry, and his claws were the darkest shade of red Kit had ever seen. As if he’d dipped them in blood. The color faded at his third knuckle, where an amber, sun-drenched brown shimmered. Faeries were hideous creatures. “I’m quite excited to meet a witch,” Kit said. “You ain’t never seen one?” “No, never.” “My grandpa was a witch. Warlock, really. It’s why I got magic in my bones.” “Sooo, you’re the Sunsides, great grandson.” “Mhm. Yup.” “Where’s the rest of your family?” “Hell if I know.” Jo shrugged and waved at the sheep. The poor devil was insane. “Not everybody set up for town living, and most don’t wanna die here.” “What nonsense. Indigo Plains is magnificent!” Kit inhaled a deep breath, enjoying the outdoor stench. “It smells terrible, but even I see the beauty here. It’s peaceful and bright. Magical. After sunset, the moon casts an incredible light upon this land. I didn’t want to come here. I mean, I did. But not this soon, and certainly not under these circumstances.” “What circumstances?” Kit stopped himself from saying too much. He still had six days to get Jasper home and he was no closer than he had been hours ago. “My sister, I came to help her with the dire living situation when we were attacked by the spider beast.” “Riiiiight, right.” “Young man—“ “Whoa, I’m forty-five.” “I have trousers older than you.” The fairy laughed again and shoved Kit’s shoulder. He stumbled into the grass and tried to hold his own chuckle, but failed. They followed the path for another thirty minutes. During such time, the loquacious Jo had stated facts and opinions. He tossed rocks, twirled sticks, and skipped along. Every so often, Jo stopped to speak with sheep and a huge fucking blue goat with an immaculate set of horns. In that moment, Kit wished he hadn’t shaved his. He touched the bumpy, raised edge in need of a touch-up and sighed. The Duke had said wild horns were improper for a general with status. “Why are we going into the wood?” Kit asked, stopping in his tracks. “This ain’t no forest. Calm down.” “Woods.” Kit looked from the snaking road to an amused Jo. The damned stones vanished into a void. Twisting the strap on his bag, Kit took a step back. “I can’t.” “I told you it’s not a forest, woods, whatever.” “Not the same thing.” “This, is a garden.” Kit scowled. “A garden?” “Yeah, swear it on my Mama’s heart. Maggie keeps plants and shit like Papa Buck.” “Wait, he has a garden?” “Yeah. You saw it on the tour.” “The greenhouse is his?” Jo nodded and waved a hand. “Let’s goooo. Got things to do, geezer.” “What’s a geezer?” Jo giggled and extended a palm. Kit stared at it, not knowing what to do. “What would you like from me?” “You somethin’ else, demon man.” Kit flinched as Jo snatched his hand and gripped it with cold fingers. It’d been a while since anyone other than Jasper had touched him. Shocking and strange as it was, Kit needed the support as they inched forward. It was fact, he’d led an entire army into battle sixty-four times and had the scars to prove it. Yes, he was known as General Raze the Great Impaler and yes, he saved all of Undervell four years ago, but by gods, the woods turned him into a hatchling. A cowering wee thing on the verge of pissing themselves. His heart thudded. He couldn’t hear Jo’s prattle over his own chattering teeth. Towering trunks and creaking boughs. They were going to eat him alive! Swallow him whole and dine on his entrails! A golden light bobbed, causing a brief distraction. Kit sucked in a breath as the tiny being landed on the tip of his nose. “What—“ The insect buzzed away and Kit tracked its winding movement until it perched atop a luminous flower. “Oh my, it is a garden.” Flanking their path was an unfathomable amount of blossoms, bushes, and vines. He didn’t know what any of them were called and dared not ask. Miniature winged insects fluttered about while frogs lazed on lily pads in a nearby pond. Sculptures, fountains, and sitting areas gave the area personality. “Yeah,” Jo said, sighing. “She’s a pack rat. Like, bad. Almost bad as Old Man Joyner. I been telling her they’d make a nice couple.” “I don’t know what a pack rat is, but it sounds lovely.” Jo snickered and knocked on a pink oval door. He released his hold and hugged a portly woman with coral-hued curls. Kit appreciated her bespangled hair, studded with beads, both colorful and dissimilar. “Come, my boy, come. And you’ve brought a friend! Welcome, Kit.” “You know my name? We have never met how—“ “I know everything that happens on this ranch. I’m Maggie, honey. Now come inside so I can feed you.” He smiled on a nod and entered the witch’s home. It was a storybook cottage and smelled of freshly baked bread. Kit was pretty good with flour and yeast as well. Though no one had ever tried his loaves except for Jasper. Herbs hung from the ceiling and above the wood-burning stove. Jars, tea cups, and pottery cluttered every surface. Bowls of fruit and veggies straddled a large tome. Kit was awestruck. Her home was everything he figured it to be. Witches weren’t the neatest bunch. They had spells to complete, wards to cast, and medicine bags to fill. He’d done research on them, too. Kit had been fascinated with witchcraft its wielders for many years. Powerful beings who pulled words from a page with intention and purpose. “Sit, sit.” He obeyed and settled on the sofa next to Jo, who lounged upside down. Feet kicking, he crunched on something and erupted in a squeal of laughter. “How’s the house business going, Kit?” “I can’t say. We’re supposed to do the demolition tonight.” “Yeah, right. Leave it to Grandma Nima. All she wanna do is swing that hammer. There are things you gotta do before the actuarial construction begins. I’m sure Papa Buck is handling it as we speak .” Kit twisted around to examine the witch. “Are you a relative?” “I was married to their son, Carter.” “Was?” “He caught the travel bug,” Maggie said, cutting into a cake Kit would devour in seconds. “Went off to fight in a war that was no business of ours. Trolls. Quarrelsome. Bah! Anyway, Carter transitioned some twenty years ago. I’m Jo’s grandmother.” “Ohhh, this is getting rather confusing.” “I can see how it would. We got ‘bout four generations of Sunsides in this town. Be prepared. Not everyone stayed, but I got more cousins than I can shake a stick at. Here you go, baby.” Kit hurried to accept the gift of sugar. “Thank you, this looks divine.” “Divine? You flatter me.” “Never.” Maggie blushed and slapped the fairy’s foot. “Jo, sit your behind up. Every which way on my couch. You lost ya mind. Huh.” “Oooo. Cake!” Jo hunched over his plate and smiled. “Grandma, is there extra raisins in it?” “You damn skippy.” “Mmmm. Carrot cake is the only cake I eat.” Kit didn’t know what carrot cake was, but the moment bits of carrot, dried fruit, and cinnamon greeted his tongue,e he understood Jo’s comment. It was unlike anything Kit had ever tasted. Soft, moist, with a slight crunch. “What is that toffee-like morsel?! What brand of heaven is this? Ohhh, Maggie, I have been gifted food from a skilled god of fare!” Maggie exploded in a crackle of giggles and clapped her hands. “Take that Culinary Arts and kiss my Black ass!” “Yes!” Kit whooped and raised his fork. “Kiss her Black ass Arts of the Culinary.” Jo hollered in laughter and choked. He hacked while Maggie patted his back. “Slow down, baby. I told you, chew before you swallow. You know, he came out of the womb with a spoon in his hand.” “Seriously?” Kit gasped, and Maggie waved a hand. “You’re hilarious. Not many demons are. I like you, Kit.” He perked at the compliment, as no stranger had said such things to him before. After scraping crumbs, Maggie ordered him to have another slice. Of course, he agreed. “Jo, you know them Platter boys stole two more pumpkins from Mr. Carol again.” “Come onnnnn, Grandma no work talk.” “No, you gotta do somethin’ about ‘em.” “I already did, I—“ “You gave them a stern talking to. That ain’t gon’ cut it, this is the third time. You know Mr. Carol is getting his patch ready for the fair.” Jo finished his last bite and groaned aloud. Kit didn’t see what the issue was. “Are these ruffians?” Kit asked. “Barbarous thieves?” “They’re teenagers,” Jo said. “Seventeen and eighteen. Kids. They have an obsession with pumpkins. I don’t know.” “Are you their ward?” “What? Nah. I’m the Sheriff.” “And as sheriff,” Maggie piped, braiding strands of ribbon dangling with charms, “its your job to stop crime.” “I got deputies for that shit.” “Boy.” “Sorry, ma’am. But why I gotta do it?” Maggie hit Jo with a telling side eye, one even Kit evaded by looking at a stack of thick books on the coffee table. Herbs, stones, and trees. He’d love to read each volume for research purposes. “You wanna go on a ride-along with me tomorrow?” Jo asked. “A what?” “Do you want to ride with me while I’m working. Doing boring sheriff stuff.” “Absolutely! I’d love the chance to dish out laws and orders. And rid Indigo Plains of all tomfoolery.” Kit waggled his brows and nudged Jo with an elbow. he snickered. “You not doing none of that. But I love the enthusiasm.” “Aw.” Kit slouched into the sofa. “Can I at least arrest someone?” “I can’t remember the last time I arrested somebody. Maybe five years ago?” “Wait, but you’re a land-dwelling patron of order, as we call those with authority in Undervell, you must detain and judge.” “Our courthouse is for like, property cases. Civil suits. There’s virtually no crime here.” “Save for them Platter boys,” Maggie mumbled. “Grandmaaaaa.” “How odd. Jasper said crime is a huge issue in the capital.” “I bet,” Jo chimed. “And Johnny Law makes it worse.” “How?” “I don’t got it in me for a talk like that. Grandma, more cake!” “You want another piece too?” Kit tapped his lips and scrunched his nose. “Do…uhm…do a pig shit?” Jo cackled, stomped his feet, and smacked Kit in the arm. “Lords,” Maggie rolled her eyes and said, “You sound like Buck already.”
J. T. Frost 