Chapter 19: Once Bitten…

CW: SMUT. I’m not being funny here. SMUT is below. If yall have been waiting for it, here you go. Annnnd, there is more to come. A lot more.

This is for you. The one who loves women with horns and fangs.

From 12 to 1 am they settled in the shop, talking about drawings and patches. Quilts and patterns carried their conversation, and Nieema was fine with it, for a spell. Until Jasper’s blood enticed and entrapped. Nieema wanted a taste and a nibble, a long sip of her rich demonic blood. Their’s was unique and worth a few gold bricks. It was thick, fatty, and filling. With every jump of Jasper’s pulse, Nieema swallowed and clenched her thighs.
The small office didn’t do shit but make her agitated. In proximity, Nieema inhaled her scent, gulp after greedy gulp.
By 2:30 in the morning, they were drunk on wine and comforting chit chat. Nieema downed a bottle of Pink Potion and loved the buoyancy in her step. Something light and bubbly with ab-positive droplets had her lit and loose.
At around 3 am, they skipped on downstairs and sashayed through the game room, hooking a quick left. Nieema pressed her thumb to the reader, and it beeped upon entry.
“Welcome to the Lush Room,” Nieema slurred, twirling into the mess of blankets, pillows, and furs.
Dim, blue bulbs ushered them into an intimate setting. One with soundproof walls, fluffy handcuffs, and feather ticklers. It was the testing room, so to speak. The place she brought new friends before heading out to the barn.
An appetizer before the main course.
As the door closed, Nieema collapsed onto a mound of throw pillows and tugged at her tie. Jasper was already crawling on her hands and knees, giggling like a minx. Her ripe, red berry complexion glittered with goldenrod speckles. From the column of her neck, they swirled and dipped. The blouse drooped as Jasper settled on her side.
“Where are we?” Jasper asked, the soft white wine claiming her tongue. “It smells good.”
“Incense, love.”
“I like them.”
“And I, like you,” Nieema admitted. Keeping space between them, she lounged behind the demoness and snatched the tie free. Nieema tossed it aside and hummed. “What you got to say about that?”
Laughter caused her soft belly to ripple. “I don’t know.”
“A coy succubus? That’s some shit you don’t see every day.”
“I…you don’t come across vampire queens every day either.”
“True. But I don’t think shyness is your thing.”
“It’s not.”
“That’s what I’m saying.” Nieema loved being tipsy off her ass, but she loved pussy more. And she enjoyed this woman’s scent too much not to speak of it. “You intrigue me, Jasper.”
“You already said that.”
“I want to taste you.”
The succubus rolled onto her stomach, propped on her forearms, and smirked. “I bet you do.”
Nieema purred and popped the first three buttons on her shirt. “There she is. Where have you been hiding?”
“It’s cause I’m drunk.” Jasper pushed upward and made her way over. Nieema wasn’t one to hesitate. She threaded claws through Jasper’s short, white tresses, avoiding her horns.
“Will you let me savor you, deary?” Nieema asked, tightening her hold. Forcing Jasper to meet Nieema eye to eye. Between her legs, she whined with glassy eyes and parted lips.
Arousal wafted, nestling and growing within. The moment Jasper nodded, Nieema flexed below the belt and growled.
“Please.”
“Begging will get you nothing. Not with your inebriation. We gotta sober up, love.”
“How?”
0Nieema grinned, staring into Jasper’s blazon desperation. Using her mystical will, she called forth the vial tucked behind a pillow on the far wall. The cobalt bottle flew across the room. Nieema caught it without an upward glance.
“This,” Nieema began, shaking the vial, “is your sobriety. It will wake you right the fuck up and revitalize you. Clarity in seconds. Would you like a bit, Jasper?”
“Are you—you’re not taking advantage of me?”
“Of course not, I’m a bitch, a killer, and often a meddling grandmother, but I am never a piece of shit predator. I know how they portray us in the media, and to that, I say, fuck you. Your consent and autonomy mean something in this house.”
Jasper nodded again and licked her lips. “Yes, I want some.”
“Open for me, love.”
Jasper’s pupils shrank and elongated; it was a characteristic Nieema knew well. It was a succubus on real life demon time.
The woman showcased her long, ridged red tongue, and Nieema squirmed. She loved its pointed tip and prehensile nature most.
Nieema twisted the cap and pinched the rubber top, filling it with a single, potent drop.
“You ready?”
Jasper rumbled her displeasure, and Nieema laughed, releasing a magic liquid pearl. The shimmering jade bead was absorbed on impact. Not a second later, Jasper gasped.
She bolted upright and placed a hand on her chest as Nieema administered her own.
Closing her eyes, she let magic have its way. Weaving through her nervous system and washing them veins. The powerful liquid attacked her motor functions and brightened the world. The Lush Room was still blue, but Jasper’s eyes were vibrant, and the gold trailing her limbs called for a closer examination.
“I’ve got to be more than sober,” Jasper said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this awake or energized in my life. And that’s after dining on some heady masculine soul.”
“Perfect, that’s exactly what I want to hear.” Nieema shoved the bottle behind a pillow and asked, “What you wanna do? You’re free to go, or stay. But my proposal stands.”
Sitting back on her knees, Jasper considered Nieema for a cool minute. Her fixed, molten copper attention was welcome.
“All you want is my blood?”
Nieema took to onyx cufflinks and smirked. “No. Not even close, but it will suffice.” She rolled up her sleeves and beckoned Jasper with the deliberate flick of two fingers. “You will satisfy me, demon.”
Jasper lifted her skirt and inched forward on her knees, locked into their visual connection.
“Be gentle with me, you’re my first vampire.”
“It is an honor,” Nieema rasped, pulling Jasper in by her luscious waist. Pliant and plush, she was divinity in motion.
Hiking up, Nieema grinned and brushed Jasper’s smooth cheek with an adorned knuckle. She searched for cracks and fissures as the demon looped its arms around her.
An incredible warmth settled on the skin and penetrated, bone deep. Nieema sighed and grazed her lips upon Jasper’s shoulder. Her scent thickened in the sweet spot. Behind the ear and in the blessed crook, Nieema inhaled once more, unable to pinpoint her blood type, and that alone thrilled an old, seasoned bitch.
“You are rare indeed, love.”
Jasper reared back with her chin high and silver brow arched. The jewels at her neck and ears winked under the blue hue. “Are you going to talk the whole time or take what you need?”
Nieema cupped her nape and kneaded her plump, dimpled hip.
“Needy, impatient, and overcome with desire. You are wearing my favorite perfume.” She yanked Jasper forward and stopped centimeters from her parted lips. Nieema growled. A whisper of contact was enough to make her ache and swell, yearn for Jasper’s supple flesh. “Be of care, sweet flame. Wish not for what you do not understand.”
Her resistance was futile.
Jasper jumped the line and kissed Nieema first, fighting for the dominance Succubi love so god damn much. Their fervent, hot-headed nature and mounting desire were a call to action.
An intense pressure coiled in Nieema’s belly and settled between soaked walls. Dark fragrant woods, blood orange, and cocoa provoked her thirst.
Jasper straddled Nieema, teased and tested, wanting the underhand. She wouldn’t find it here.
To prove a point, Nieema bit Jasper’s bottom lip, drawing a razor-thin line of blood to the surface. The demoness winced and recoiled, fingers to the healing slit.
“Take it easy, honey. You don’t got no status here. I run this shit, understand?”
“For now,” Jasper snarled.
Her warped, guttural response made Nieema shudder and groan. Hands clasped on either side of Jasper’s face, she went all in for a second time and consumed the daring devil.
They were enraptured, undone, and pining for more of what the other wanted to give. Nieema demanded entrance and sought to plunder as Jasper surrendered.
This moment was familiar, yet unlike the other Succubi Nieema had lain down. Their carnal connection claimed the very breath in her lungs and threatened obliteration if she didn’t find release soon.
On the dangerous precipice of bliss, Nieema severed their physical tether and nibbled her way down to the golden pulsating vein. Nieema kissed and nipped at her hot, cherry-red flesh.
“Do it!” Jasper commanded, her demonic will shifting the pressure and oxygen level. It’d have no way with Nieema; she was an old, craggy vampire with power of her own.
“You demand nothing of me,” Nieema whispered. “But I will take all from you.”
With growing hunger and marrow boiling, Nieema snapped Jasper’s head to the side and punctured her throat with fangs longer than a tea finger.
Her willing donor scrambled for purchase, claws ripping Nieema’s shirt to tatters. Scratching and moaning, Jasper gasped with them, body to body.
Nieema held tight to Jasper’s sturdy feminine frame and purred as decadent blood squelched her hunger. Well-rounded and evenly spiced, Jasper’s blood was full. It surpassed melted chocolate, sugar cane syrup, and honey butter. It satisfied Nieema’s massive sweet tooth. She was a delicacy.
“You feel so goood.” Nieema yolked her, still pulling from her healthy vein. “Oh god, what—what are you doing to me?”
Jasper keened, claws digging into Nieema’s back. She took the pain willingly and longed for her to go deeper, to pierce sinew.
“Touch me,” Jasper begged, with the roll of her hips. “Please, Nieemaaaa. Stroke me. Fuck me!” She pleaded like all the rest, and Nieema was happy to oblige. As she chuckled, sucking down what this woman was so intent on giving, she released her hip.
Nieema slowed and sipped as she hooked a finger into Jasper’s waistband and pulled. Her nostrils flared, scenting her precious arousal. A thick, sweet musk made her grunt at the demon’s neck.
“I’m so fucking close,” Jasper said, words running together, sticking to her tongue like honey.
Nieema reveled in this and her blossoming arousal. It was thick enough to drink and swallow. Succubi desire stained the air and quickened one’s libido. Nieema may have been aged like fine, fairy wine, but she wasn’t immune to all succubi’s wiles. This proved fact was the second she shoved a hand between Jasper’s trembling thighs.
Her pussy was bare, soaked, and plump. Ample lips pleased Nieema so much she moaned and swallowed another ounce of blood and breathed in her lucious scent. It caused Nieema to buck and find the demoness’s big, swollen clit. She slapped it twice before rolling it with two fingers.
Wide open and streaming, Jasper’s waters flowed, dripping down the inside of her thighs.
“Nieema, please!”
Without delay, Nieema traced her puffy, hot entrance and pushed inside. Two fingers deep, she sucked on Jasper’s neck as her own pussy clenched and stomach tensed. Her nipples hardened, and lungs worked overtime.
“Yesssss, right there, baby.” Jasper slumped, and Nieema took all her weight as she let the feel of this woman’s demonic pussy take her away. Succubi were tight and slick, with walls made for massaging.
Jasper tightened, and Nieema pulled hard at her throat and undulated. They writhed against each other, breast to breast, panting. Nieema sank into Jasper and added a third finger.
“Fuck! Yes, shiiiiiit,” Jasper rasped, pumping her hips to meet Nieema’s motion. As her desire replaced the oxygen, Nieema purred louder and locked onto her jugular. With fingers working the inside of Jasper’s gripping pussy, they moaned as one and rode an erotic, humid high.
Nieema growled, feeling a hand on the outside of her pants.
With a final, long gulp, she detached from Jasper’s throat and roared.
“Get me off. Make me nut right on your hands, love.” Nieema mewled as Jasper quickly unbuttoned her pants and dove inside. The fingers on her clit, the ones in Jasper’s pussy, and the blood in her veins sent Nieema into a fit.
She stroked between the succubi’s walls, the melody of her wet, sopping pussy delighted Nieema’s senses and tipped the scales. She shouted curses as red exploded behind her eyes.
Nieema collapsed onto a bed of pillows and undulated. While Jasper rode her fingers, she arched into a filthy fucking clit twirl and purred aloud. With the world on fire and her lungs stalled, Nieema came apart at the seams. She strained, hooking legs around the sexy demoness.
“My Undergods!” Jasper heaved, her face into a pillow. Fluttering and leaking around Nieema’s fingers, she cursed yet again. “Shit!”
Nieema scrubbed her face with a blanket and chuckled. “You sure know how to make a first impression, girl.”

Once again, I want to say thank you for reading my little story. Without y’all, I wouldn’t keep doing this. So just know, I am grateful for each and every one of you. I hope you are healthy, happy, and HYDRATED! If you have any questions about the characters, the story, Indigo Plains, or in general, please don’t hesitate to comment or email!

Chapter 18: Of Teas & Curses

Buck

“Goddog,” Buck mumbled, missing the mesh bag by a whole hell of a lot. “Get off it, old man.” After the pep talk, he nabbed his pipe and puffed for a moment, glaring at a wooden box filled with bags. The festive months lifted his spirits, and typically, getting a head start on Chrismassy things made Buck happy. Of course, the women had ruined his favorite hobby. “Shiiiiiit.”
“What’s wrong, buttercup?” Totti asked, patting her ruffled skirt. “You love working on holiday specials.”
“I do, but it’s our house guest that’s got me in a tizzy. She’s working my last nerve, too.”
“He wants to fuck heeeeeeer,” Torti sang.
“I do. He ain’t lying. Thing is, she ain’t available.”
Totti shrugged and said, “Well, there’s other bees on the bud, honey. You know this.” The wee betty landed on the mushroom-shaped bowl of his pipe and placed hands on her narrow hips. “Y’all are mighty generous with your bed, never too picky either. Go find someone who is available.”
Buck canted his head, brows knitting. “But I don’t want nobody else right now. She’s my fancy at the moment, Totti. And you know how I get when someone grabs my attention.”
“True, but if she’s not into it, then you have no choice but to accept it.”
“You ain’t lying either.” Buck took to his pipe, and Totti pushed off, then flitted about. “I gotta respect her wishes, and I do, but she lost a bet.”
“What a fucked way to go about getting what you want,” Torti said, jumping into a pile of crackly mint leaves. “You’re an asshole.”
“And you a cunt.”
“Thank youuuuu, I love you too, Buckley.”
The mini man and miss wore the same attire at all times, preferring tunics and fluffy dresses. Because Nieema loved them more than most, she made their cute garments. Other sprites thought them weird for adopting “primitive fashion trends”. They were nudists by nature and didn’t see the point in covering their bodies.
Buck didn’t care, but not everyone shared their love of running ‘round the forest booty naked.
“She agreed to this bet,” Buck amended, setting his pipe on the table. “Jasper could’ve said no.”
“You could’ve not offered,” Torti said, grinning like Carl’s raggedy ass. The sprite ducked into the pile of leaves and popped up, tossing them in the air. “Ugggh, I love fresh mint. This shit clears my skin and guts.”
“I don’t need to hear ‘bout your guts, Torti. Please do shut the fuck up.”
“As much as I don’t want to agree with the village bitch,” Totti chimed, “I must say that was mischievous of you.”
“Would you look at that, I’m living up to Mama’s expectations.”
Torti and Totti spat in their palms and flapped their wings three times. “No, no. We shall not speak of her in our sanctuary. Don’t go there, buttercup.”
“Sorry,” Buck muttered.
He quieted and let nature speak for him. The homey treehouse was a living entity, groaning and shifting as Buck shuffled from shelf to shelf. He hummed and two-stepped as soft, deep lofi played from the small speaker on the kitchen counter. It was wedged between canisters, candles, and teacups.
The art of tea making soothed his spiraling thoughts. One-hundred sachets later, Buck yawned and scratched the base of his left antler.
“These ‘bouta shake loose. Another week or so.”
“Yaaaay!” Torti circled Buck and clapped in his line of sight. “You hear that, T? We’re getting new mattressessss.”
“That is lovely, mine is getting lumpy. I can barely sleep.”
Buck was all about resource and reuse. Nothing in nature goes to waste. Even the velvet on his antlers. It made for great bedding materials. The sprites loved how soft it was, and he didn’t need it after a time. Hank, on the other hand, hated how he gave it away for free… and to sprites of all people.
A repetitive tapping at the door made his mouth and ear twitch. “Come on in.” The visitor chirped and wobbled on through the revolving window pane made for avian and sprite folk alike.
“You late,” Buck snapped. The colorful bird didn’t pay him any mind, chasing Torti around the tree house. One day, they’d stop flirting and be done with it. Chessie was married but free to fuck. He was polyamorous; his husbands were not. Two men shared Chessie; they didn’t even live together. It wasn’t no shit Buck would volunteer for. Their polyam structure was completely different. They were on the same highway but in two different lanes.
Buck surveyed the spice wall and pulled a shimmering purple blend. Magical spices added a kick to his tea, and he thanked Maggie by giving her twenty percent of his earnings. Crystal powders carried magic well and were often safe to consume in small, measured doses.
“Chessie! Stop foolin about, now. I got shit to do.”
The twittering tropical sea bird trilled and flapped his wings until they were no longer visible to the naked eye. The frenetic motion helped the man shift. Watching his transformation was kinda like staring at the sun. Glaring and powerful, an impossible glowing orb evolved into Chessie Tideway.
He was a short, lanky gentleman with burnished brown skin and white freckles. His curly hair and eyes resembled the island waters in which he was born. Warm, shallow tides had been kind to him, giving his complexion a dewiness most paid for. The personable fellow had been his best friend for almost three hundred years.
“Woooo doggie, I tell you!” Chessie ambled on over to the icebox and grabbed them both a chilled longneck. He cracked them open with his sharp teeth and chucked tops into the bin. “Bruh, that house is a piece of shit. I mean, it’s ready for a nice wind.”
“I know it.” After sprinkling the powder over the basket of tea bags, he accepted the frothy, autumnal hops. Clove and Creme were his favorite. “Hawke gon’ catch his death one day behind his trickery.”
Chessie swigged and burped, sitting his bare ass down on the couch nearest to Torti. There wasn’t shit a sprite could do for him, at least nothing Buck could figure.
“So, what you find?” Buck asked.
“What didn’t I find? A charred wicker spider out back, your construction buddies milling about, writing shit down. Then, sometime after sunset, people start peeking into the house. You know that weird white lady who be giving vendors at the farmers market a hard time? Wushuname…uhuh—”
“Sissy Perkins.”
“That’s her, yeah. She was looking all in the window with some other folks. That didn’t seem odd to me until I noticed how all of them was wearing the same bracelets with scribbles on them. Prolly some cult shit.”
Buck snagged his pipe and added the magic powder, clove, Pixie Dash, and dried bubble flower to the bowl. He stuffed, struck a match, and puffed.
“What about the curse?”
“Ohhhhh,” Chessie tipped his beer and tapped Torti on his tiny head. The man screamed and bit the tip of Chessie’s finger. “Tell me you love me.”
Torti made a gagging sound, and his teeny body shuddered. “Even if I liked giants, you wouldn’t even make the top fifty on my To Be Fucked list.”
Buck leaned against the counter, arm under his elbow, holding the pipe to his lips. Smoking was another hobby, one to soothe and mellow. It softened the mind and body, allowing him to create in peace.
“The house got about five curses on it, I’d say. Residuals from the last done spoiled the soil and water. I took a sensor charm up in there, and that motha fucka turned red instantly. Ain’t nothing good ever happened in that house.”
Chessie scoffed and sprang to his feet, heading for the icebox a second time. He threw away the empty bottle, plucked another, and some fruit.
“Back in the day, a warlock lived there. They ran his unhinged ass outta town, but still, don’t nobody know what he did in there. For a while, the mayor wouldn’t let citizens anywhere near it. If I was Ms. Marrow, I’d bulldoze the whole thing, start fresh, and ward the grounds.”
Buck grunted at the thought of all that work. It’d be hell, but quite possibly worth it. Jasper’s safety was important, for whatever reason he’d yet to scrutinize, but refused to ignore what he felt when in her company.

Neon Red: Chapter One

“Okay, but caffeine is a controlled substance at this point, teetering on the edge. Let’s be for real. It should be just as, if not harder to get, ‘cause it’s strong as hell, I ain’t lying now, and you know this chile.”
Max stared at the sketch she’d been working on for two days and hated it. She hated a lot of her work. It was never bright enough, perfect enough, or even slightly artistic. At least, in her humble opinion.
“I love it when you talk like a grandma.”
Max smiled and put pencil to paper once more. It was tough to concentrate on the mermaid slash steampunk piece with Can’t Stop by After 7 blasting.
“That’s ‘cause I am, a grandma, Ndari.”
“No the hell you are not.” She chuckled and said, “You’d have to be a grandmother for that. And you don’t even have kids.”
“Annnnd I never will,” Max sang, meaning every word. Kids were a scary, sticky fingered bunch, plus the idea of growing another body inside of her own was revolting. She shivered, blew a huge Bubblicious sphere, popped it, and examined the girl’s face etched on white parchment.
“She looks like Gary Busey.”
“You always think they look like Gary Busey.”
“’Cause they do, bruh. Like, swear to god. Look!” Spinning the heavy book around on the glass counter, she shoved it at Ndari. The girl stopped with her broom work and glanced at the buxom mermaid.
“Nothing like him.”
“Lyin’ ass,” Max muttered.
Ndari giggled and returned to sweeping the two- hundred-square-foot waiting area. A high-gloss black floor meant everything was visible, and Ndari never missed a speck. Little miss was a bona fide neat freak. She peeped allllll dust, dirt, and debris.
The girl swept about twenty times a night, and the entire shop smelled like Lysol. Which, was actually a good thing considering their specialty.
Snagging her three-hundred-page drawing book, Max got back to business and shaded in her tail. The fins were adorned with bolts and wires. She loved mermaids, sirens, and the ocean. The mermaid thing was borderline obsessive.
“I have no appointments!”
“And here he goes…”
Max slammed her book closed, threw the pencil, and watched as Jordan stomped from the back and fell onto a fancy sectional.
“And whose fault is that?” Ndari barked.
His enormous frame filled a five-seater without issue. The six-foot-eight, two hundred and ninety-pound mountains Doc Martens stretched well past the arm.
“Shut up bitch, I am boooored, okay,” Jordan cried, while Max cocked a brow.
“Seeing as it’s June 3rd,” Max said, “you are ‘bouta be crying in two weeks. ‘Cause our shop will be booked to hell. So look here heffa, don’t come hooping and hollering now. Take this time, ‘cause yo lazy behind will be the first one moaning about how you’re tired and overworked.”
The man bolted upright and gasped, full on drama with a hand on his broad chest. “Why do you have to drag me like that, honey?”
“’Cause I love you,” Max chimed.
Jordan blushed and waved a hand. “And I love you, boss lady.”
“Move!” Ndari yelled, shoving at his foot with the broom.
“You know what? You can stop yelling at me, Cinderella.”
They both giggled while Jordan lifted his feet. Big mister had a voice like Barry White, a beard he kept braided Thor style, and perfectly tailored. Folks often assumed he was in a biker gang or a motorcycle club, whatever they was calling it these days.
“Can we play something newer?” Ndari groaned as she sprayed large, spotless windows with stank glass cleaner. “Like, Nsync.”
“Nsync?!” Max balked, recoiling at the audacity. “You know better Ndari, this ain’t an Nsync safe zone. It’s New Kids on the Block, or Backstreet Boys. Mint Condition and shit. Nsync is not welcome, and that ain’t news. You showing your age, now.”
Ndari cackled as she swiped and polished. “I am only forty-nine.”
“Girl, we got cougars up in here.”
Max ignored Jordan and his eighty-two-year-old ass. Pointing at her best friend, Max snorted. “Honey, forty-nine is edging fifty; you are almost a senior citizen.”
“Shhhh, don’t.” Ndari snickered and threw a paper towel across the room. It landed on the floor, she ran for the thing, and snatched it quick. “If any of you drop even a crumb my floor, you’ll have to see me in a duel.”
Of course, there was a clatter of metal on granite. Jordan emptied his pockets. He threw a handful of change and mints at the girl’s feet. Ndari screamed, jumped on his dumb self, and put him in a choke hold. She’d taken four years of Jujitsu and was not to be trifled with. Jordan, on the other hand, ain’t never been in a fight.
Standing behind the counter, Max booted the POS and clicked until finding their ordering database. She checked what was low and restocked, two of everything.
“Incoming!” Jordan shouted and hopped to it. Ndari went with him and hung from his neck like a pendant. “I’m ready! Move girl. I need to make some money.”
“Yes, you do.” Max peered through tinted double panes as two men approached in a hurry. They looked stacked from afar. “Damn.”
Ndari dropped the broom and ran behind the counter. She tended to her job, as a receptionist. Max slid in and leaned beside the woman who readied her tits and fluffed a cute pixie cut. It shooolll was a setup.
Heavy spice and blood wafted at the exact moment two fine men entered her tattoo shop. Ohhhh, yeah, those two would turn a girl out and into something nasty.
“Hay, you takin’ walk-ins?” The brunette asked, in a Goodfellas accent.
Ndari nodded. “Indeed, you lucked out. We don’t close ‘til four.”
The testosterone-heavy boys admired their high wall covered in art and drawings Max personally sketched. People liked her shit… ‘shit’ being the main word there.
“Cool, ‘cause we stopped on South Beach, at The Tatt-”
Max snapped her fingers, cutting off the insult. “We don’t say that name around here.” She smiled, showed and teeth ‘cause them was vampires staring at her.
“Oh, my fault.” That one was naughty as eyes found both sets of cleavage. Sex sells, okay. They’d booked so many clients after a glimpse of tiddie meat. “Anyway, they were closed, so we asked around. We were told, Ink In Hell was the next best thing.”
“I should turn you away for that, Paulie.” Max tsked playfully as the big ol’ hunk of muscle smirked. Those baby blues sparkled as she swung attention to his buddy. A spicy red he was. Taller too, six-five, maybe six. Wide, thick, and tatttted.
She clocked a couple of clovers weaved into ornate markings on his forearms. He was obviously Irish. As if his brazen, long mane wasn’t enough evidence.
Red nudged Gotti and whispered in his ear. They cracked in heavy masculine laughter. “Alright, alright. I don’t know what I want. Fuck outta he’.”
Jesus, he was a bold cliché.
“So, what do you two have in mind?” Ndari asked, in her ‘tryna fuck’ voice. “We have plenty of options.”
“I don’t know.” The Italian Job shrugged and went on. “I never even had a tattoo before. I’m old school, body is a temple, and all that. You know. I was raised Catholic. My Gma is gonna have a stroke if she finds out.”
Big Red turned and pinned eyes on Max. She wiggled a little. He was fine. Like, handsome in the extreme. A full-grown ass male like that was not going to bark up her tree.
Then he spoke.
“I’m hoping to pop his ink cherry.” Sex, his voice was a lengthy four rounds of deep and sweaty.
Max laughed and slapped the counter. “’Nough said, come here, church boy.” She gestured for their company and snagged another full sketchbook. Good lawd, they smelled nice. Cologne, aftershave, weed, and soap…male vampire. The latter got her carpet wet, honey.
“Okay, so you’re Catholic and Italian.”
“How’d you know, I—”
“Lucky guess, it’s your sense of humor.”
He grinned and tapped his buddy’s chest. “Look at this youngsta here. She got a mouth, don’t she?”
“I am ninety-eight years old, Frankie.”
“Aye, Frankie is my cousin, I’m Ines.”
Her brows popped. “Wow, not what I assumed at all.”
“Yeah,” Ndari hummed, considering Ines. “Thought you more of a… Giraldo, maybe.”
“That’s terrible, I’d slit my own jugular.”
Their quad chuckled as Jordan appeared and cleared his throat. “I’m ready when… ever. Hi…” He waved at Ines and…
“What about you? What’s your handle?” Max asked the handsome fellow. He dragged a low-lidded gaze over and smirked. Like a nasty Sphinx.
“Jaxon.”
“Ohhhh, kaaaayyy.” Jordan chimed in from behind and did everything to shove his big ass between them. Max brushed the wall and giggled. “That’s rustic and rugged.”
“I think it’s classy, my mom has good taste.”
“She does.” Jordan nodded and twiddled his braid.
“Okay, back to you, Ines.” Max pushed at her cock blocker… that was funny. No way in hell. “You’re Italian, catholic, and have a grandmother. So, I’d say, medium-sized, and nothing too flashy.”
“Yeah, yeah, exactly.”
Max chewed quickly and blew a bubble. She flipped plastic pages with vamp speed and stopped on an Italian flag number. The words, ‘Chaoi bella’ in cursive, were etched under it.
“Dai nemici mi guardo io, dagli amici mi guardi Iddio! I will protect myself from my enemies, may God protect me, from my friends.”
Max recited the words, and Ines tapped Jaxon again.
“You know Italian?”
“I do.”
“Il tuo un breve asno intelligente.”
“You are right on both accounts, I am short, and I am a smart ass.” Max shrugged and sighed. “Thanks for noticing.”
Another bubble emerged and exploded while he cackled.
“I like it, I wanna get that one. My Gma will approve, and it’s not so big.”
“Perfect,” Ndari said. She started the formalities of payment and such. “Have you fed within eight hours?”
“No.”
“Okay, great.”
“Alllrighty.” Jordan had to say something. “When you are done, Ndari will bring you into my office.”
The male spun on his heels, happy as hell. And so was Max, this guy was their third customer of the night. Summer was a pain in the ass. They had roughly five hours to work with, and humans weren’t allowed…sort of, so they were short on time.
Max watched them exchange money for services, and hot damn. They were a duo made for GQ or Vogue. Ines had a rough quality, handsome and dark, tanned. His other half was pretty, runway-ready, and fuckin’ seductive.
Being escorted, neither took a second look, and yeah… story of her life. Males like that never gave Max the time of day.
Ndari shuffled back in her Crocs and met Max face to face. “I am sweating… everywhere.”
“Shhhhh.” Max grabbed the girl’s hand, her vape, and ran out the door. They giggled into the night and flopped down at one of the small bistro tables. “I cannnot,” She blurted. “Honey, I—two?”
As Max turned on her pen, Ndari squealed. “Two purebloods at once. My god, did you see Ines and those shoulders? I swoon.”
“Okay, but that ginger boy?”
“Makes you think, does everything match the drapes. You should shoot.”
Max chuckled, expelling a light mist of smoke. “I know you fukin’ lyin’. Big boys like him do not fool with women like me, a lowly halfbreed. I know my lane, ‘aight. And I stay in it.”
Her best friend knew nothing about living as a six, seven on a good night. Ndari was fabulous, a classic beauty queen from Indonesia. Lithe and athletic. By no means did Max hate herself, but she preferred to call a spade, a spade.
“Not this again,” Ndari mumbled. “You’re always so humble… and self-deprecating.”
“I am not self-deprecating.” Max paused to suck down cherry-scented smoke and spoke on exhale. “I’m a realist, I ain’t ‘bouta set myself up for humiliation.”
She wasn’t no dummy and wouldn’t play the town fool either.
“Tuhuh, not I. Aye, did you see how high he was?”
“Yeesss.” Ndari slouched in her chair. “Mr. Jaxon was baked. Flying.”
“Must be nice. Weed makes me nervous.” Hitting the pen one mo’ gain, Max nodded. “Give me a bottle of brandy, and I’m straight.”
“Old ass. You sound like my aunt.”
“I am an auntie, hell. Got on cotton briefs to prove it.”
Her girl cut up, and they cackled at the self-burning. But hey, at least she wasn’t delusional about her geriatric status.

Annnd we made it to publishing day! I know it’s late, but I didn’t give a set time for a reason, because I know me. Also, I wanna let y’all know that this almost didn’t happen. I almost made a post stating how I was too sick to edit it. But you know what? I pushed through this flu I got. It’s bad y’all. About six days of hellll on earth, you hear me? Anyway, I said fuck it. No excuses. So I got my lap desk and did what needed to be done. I figured I’d have days to do all this, but I was extremely unwell there for a spell and couldn’t even sit upright. I am now on the mend and felt good enough to get it done FOR Y’ALL. I set a date and I wanted to stick to that. I wanted to prove it to myself that I could do it, no matter what. I’m proud of myself and I’m excited that y’all get meet the Chaotic Trio, as I have called them for a few years. With that said, happy reading, and as always, thank you so very much for stopping by!

Neon Red (A Dark MMF Paranormal Romance): An Excerpt

Jaxon Aubrey

After a final hit, he pinched the glowing cherry and stashed the blunt behind his ear. AB then snatched his shirt tails free, unbuttoned, and let the tank work some heavy overtime.
Emerging from the vehicle, he noted a blonde out front who stiffened by the very sight of him.
“Sup?”
She smiled. “Hellooo.”
The tattoo shop was packed with vampires, no doubt. Miss Mini Skirt looked like an employee. Music was loud as he entered goth heaven. Black on black. Everything, save for the counter space and white desktop.
“Oh wow, you’re back…uhhh…” The tall brunette with a short cut squinted. “Jaxon?”
“Nice memory.”
She smirked and nodded. “Come for one yourself this time?”
“Nah, nah. I was wondering if the other,” he lifted a hand to his torso, and she snickered, “short one, is around.”
“Yeah, actually. She’s in the back, getting her stuff.” Pixie Cut turned, then looked back at him. “We’re about to close up.”
“I feel you. I’ll wait.”
The person on his radar returned from wherever she had been.
Ample hips and thighs made him stare. God damn her! Ab thought.
He didn’t know what she was looking for in that bag, but hopefully it was her number.
“Ndari, baby, have you seen my phone?”
“In the POS.”
“Shit, right.” She halted and glanced at her buddy. He couldn’t tell for sure, behind the dark frames. She had Sunglasses At Night fetish, obviously. “Look who it is, Ginger Snaps. I’d love to offer a session, but we are done for the night.”
She marched forward, and he observed a slight limp.
Rummaging through the register, she snorted. “You know wh—giiiiirrl, I don’t remember putting it in there.”
Scatterbrained…unattractive.
Slamming it shut, she said, “So anyway, feel free to make an appointment, Lucky—”
“I fucking dare you to finish that sentence. My Mama doesn’t even call me Lucky Charms.”
Eyes darted as the blonde sashayed behind the counter, and the tall one shook her head.
But Shorty recoiled and said, “You, are a customer in my establishment, and I can refuse service at any time, Irish Cream. I will tase yo big ass. I got one in my purse. You should find someone safe to play with.”
Unclear on how to respond, AB laughed. Her Napoleon complex was strong as fuck.
“Damn, I didn’t come to get tased shit. All I wanted was your number.”
She made an odd croaking sound, looked at her employee, then dove into her purse again. “Why you want my number?”
“So I can text you. Or FaceTime.”
“Fuck FaceTime, I hate Apple.” She paused with the digging and lifted her gaze. “You wanna call me?”
“If that’s okay, I guess. Or not.”
“I—” She sought her girls’ approval, shrugged, and giggled. Ah, insecure. Strike two. She was racking them up quick, but Miss Ma’am didn’t have a thigh gap, and that was his weakness.
Smash and dash. Lick and flip, etc.
“You know what?”
A rude as hell male with no sense of personal space leaned on the counter and smiled at Shorty.
“Wus good, baby. You ready?”
“Yeah, yeah. Uhm…”
“Ohhh, you have a boyfriend.” AB sniffed and threw up his hands. “My fault, you coulda just said that.”
“He’s not, my boyfriend.”
“I ain’t,” the guy blurted, eyes tracing AB’s frame line by line. “You tryna holla, feel free. Let me mind my business, over here.”
He slid to the sitting area, and Jaxon looked back at his current fixation. “Like I was saying, name and number.”
“I think I’ll pass. Oh shit, my Monster.” She scoffed. “I’ll be right back.”
As the female scurried away after rejecting him like a trick, AB admired the wagon.
“Damn, bruh, she curved you quick.”
“You are all up in my space.”
The weird male had crept in beside AB for a second time.
“You don’t own me or the shop.” He chuckled. “The fuck.”
“If y’all aren’t together, what’s the problem?”
The rude gent smiled and checked him yet again. AB snarled. “You got one more time, halfbreed.”
“Aye, bruh, relax. I was just looking, and she ain’t gon’ let you hit…” Licking his lips, the male met AB in the eyes. “But, if it’s back shots you want, I can ease that pain, you feel me.”
Jaxon side-stepped and recoiled. “I’m sorry?”
“Damn, thought I got one. You old as shit, from the smell of it. I assumed—”
“It’s your lack of tact that has me floored, not you making a pass.”
“I didn’t hit on you, Red. I asked if you wanted to cut. Different shit.”
“Okay, I’m ready.” The woman AB had come for briefly considered him, then the other male, who cackled and pushed off the glass.
“Let’s go, baby, we gotta buss some corners before sunrise.”
As she came around, AB stared her down.
Blushing and grinning were good signs.
“So you’re gonna give me nothing?” he asked, as her friend exited. “No. N.O., damn. I know you heard me the first time. Bye, girls, be sure to lock up. You have ten minutes, Jack… or whatever your name is. Shit or get off the pot.”
Her ass and attitude left. With it, Jaxon’s patience. Humiliation and rejection were uncomfortable. It happened, but maybe three times in his whole life. And yes, she would come to regret this. For now, he’d find a willing soul who’d crawl through shards and salt to suck his dick.

Chapter 16: Futile Efforts

CW: Anxiety from recalling past trauma.

Jasper

“You got one more chance!” Nieema yelled, standing at her husband’s side. “Better make it count.”
They were smug and beautiful. Two masterpieces. Two gods sent to smite Jasper.
A tiebreaker was needed here. Buck was a man about his business and bowled like a professional. Hell, perhaps he was. Jasper wouldn’t know, because she didn’t know them. They were still strangers. Intense and Irresistible strangers who had crept into her dreams.
Jasper exhaled, pinned her sights on the three holes. She hoped upon some magical star and prayed to the undergods. Jasper didn’t want to give him a chance. It was in her nature to be a tease, to poke and knead weaknesses. Anything that delivered optimal nutrition, she went for it.
And the ounce of lust swirling from Buck at the moment made her dizzy. The Sunsides were powerful on their own. As individuals, their potent desires had become a problem within days. Together? Jasper was full. She was satisfied yet, starved for more.
“Get it over with, dear,” Nieema said, her chin too goddamn high.
“Even if I lose, that doesn’t mean you win, Nieema.”
“Take your turn, Jasper,” the vampire demanded.
“Fine.”
Without delay, Jasper plucked her ball and stepped to the line. Neon lights, music, and the smell of food were strong distractions. She shook nerves, cocked back, and released. The heaviest ball weighed nothing as it rolled.
Jasper held her breath and gripped her chains. The orb inched to the right. She cussed as pins teetered, leaned, and toppled.
“Ghat damn!” Buck shouted. “What a game. You played well, girl! I gotta hand it to you.”
Jasper sighed and threw her head back, peering at the ceiling. “I don’t enjoy fancy food.”
He laughed like a man pleased with himself. “Glad we on the same page about that.”
“I tried to tell you,” Roe cut in. “Don’t bet the Sunsides. You didn’t listen. I can’t save you now, child.”
Jasper adored Monroe. He was a suave two-stepper with impeccable fashion sense. There was a frenetic air about him, but she had come to find that it was a vampire thing. They were dark and daring. She liked it on him and Nieema.
Buck, on the other hand, was different. Nieema’s raven-hued soul was threatening, sensuous, and sultry; her betrothed was terrifying. Even as Jasper studied her rainbow polish, his inky gaze seared her flesh.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Roe snapped up his long woolen coat and headed out, “I have a train to catch.”
“You don’t want to get a bite with us?” Jasper asked.
“I eat solids twice a week and never on Fridays. Have a good evenin’, y’all.”
As Monroe hugged his siblings, Jasper went to retrieve her shoes. She didn’t wait around for the couple to gloat. After a quick trade with a fairy named Kay, she slipped into her sandals and headed for the exit.
“Jasper,” Nieema warned. “What did I say earlier?”
“Riiiight, I must stick with my babysitter at all times.”
“It’s for your protection.”
Jasper might have pouted and stomped her foot if not for Buck’s serious tone. They were kind enough to be the barrier between her and Trevor’s crazy ass. It was an undeserved service, and Jasper felt like an asshole for griping.
“This is going to take some getting used to.”
“Understandable,” Nieema said, waiting for her husband to open the door. He did so with a flourish. “This same treatment grated against my hide at one point. So, just know, how you feel is not lost on me. After you.”
Muggy summer air was better than the Sunsides’ shared eau de and fried food. She inhaled a steady breath and exhaled the ounce of lingering irritation.
“Since I get to choose the spot, I want the nearest bar. It’s been a minute since I had a cold one.”
“Perfect!”
Buck clapped once and scanned the parking lot as they started walking. His mood simmered for a tick, fading from a playful rouge to a concerned gray.
“What’s the matter?” Jasper inquired.
“Hm?”
“You’re miffed about something.”
“Tell you after a beer.”
Nieema slapped Buck’s arm. “What in the devil is goin’ on? I could tell the moment we hit the door. You actin’ like you done somethin’, Buckley.”
“Woman—“
“Oh, I just know you ain’t fixin’ to lie to my face.”
“He is.”
Buck recoiled and canted his head. “Damn, I don’t believe she was talking to you, ma’am.”
“I don’t need permission to speak.”
Nieema whooped and nodded. “You’re damn right you don’t. Now come on, I want some wings. Buck, when we sit down, you got ninety seconds to spill them baked beans or swear on D—“
“Okayyy! Hush now, unhinged dame.”
“I’ll show you unhinged, moss balls.”
“Don’t get me started, you vintage bag uh bones. Moss balls? You like to hold these hairy balls in your sleep. That’s weirdo shit, Nieema!”
Jasper chuckled at their delightful and entertaining bicker fest. Buck was always two steps behind Nieema in terms of wit. But he put up a good fight, and the vampire let him win with a stolen kiss. One Nieema tried to dodge. Their sweet nothing and affection were bubbly, refreshing, and easier to digest. Carnal desire and love were a four-course meal. Jasper always needed a nap afterward.
Leaving vehicles behind, they strolled onward, down a busy street. Most waved in passing or tipped hats. Some stopped to talk and introduce themselves. Everyone greeted Nieema in some fashion, and now, Jasper knew why. She was queen of Ravensguard—royalty: a celebrity.
The thought caused Jasper to have a minor panic attack on their way to the nearest dive bar. She gnawed on the inside of her cheek and stifled a groan. Jasper had just escaped a life of status. Twice! She knew what came with the title of queen, king, or noble. It meant traveling, social and class wars. Eyes on you at all times and expectations.
Those surrounding the king must act in a certain manner. Carry themselves differently, speak differently, and look the part of an ass kisser.
In Jasper’s case, she was expected to become a soldier and a concubine until instructed otherwise. Succubi in Undervell were bargaining chips to be won and used. Though, as Carriont’s daughter, she was to be a sword or an object married off to a wealthy demonic sire. Another unfortunate soul who was told when to eat, sleep, and shit!
“Jasper?” Hearing her name required a response. Buck held the door, waiting. “You good?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded and cracked his gum. “One thing to know about me? I don’t like liars.”
Jasper snarled and snapped in passing. “I don’t have to express myself to you or anyone else.”
“You right, but you’re under a lot of stress. And to be frank, I like to see you smiling.”
“Why?”
Buck scoffed and headed for Nieema’s table. The tiny booth was tucked into a shady, dim-lit corner. Jasper grew excited by the idea of sloppy wings, a foamy dark lager, and decent music. According to reviews, Mio’s had better fare than Fat’s Tavern. She’d be the judge after a spicy twenty-piece.
On a busy Friday night, the bar and grill was packed. Sports highlights or whatever made fans holler and hackle. The compact dance floor was crowded, and long bar lined with boisterous, happy drinkers.
Jasper settled across from the deviant couple and snatched a happy hour menu. “Wings and something dark sounds nice. I want the extra spicy. Twenty piece. Annnnnd the Muddy Highlands cake. Make that two slices.”
“You tried Fat’s yet?” Buck asked, throwing an arm over Nieema’s head. The tiny woman relaxed into her man’s safe embrace. “They got better wings.”
“They don’t,” Nieema countered.
“We go through this every time, and I’m telling you—“
“You don’t tell me shit, Buck. Now start talking.”
“When can I order?” Jasper asked. Her hollow gut growled as she rubbed it. “I need food, solid food.”
Nieema grinned and said, “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means, you’re majesty,” Jasper placed the menu in its spot between them and leveled her gaze on Nieema. “My succubus-related hunger pangs have been sated for now.”
“Shit,” Buck whispered, playing with his wife’s neon braids. “Who said you can taste me for free?”
“Buckley.”
“I’m just fooling, beloved.”
He wasn’t joking, and Jasper wasn’t stupid. Buck wouldn’t take cash as payment.
“You know how succubi work, I’m sure.”
“I do.”
Their gazes clashed as tension shifted and coiled. Jasper wouldn’t allow this man to intimidate her, and oh, how he tried. With eyes smoldering, his smile was unkind. Pine and creamy mint percolated.
Buck’s lust replaced booze and cigar smoke. She nipped at it, clamping her legs shut. The sudden swell and deluge between her thighs was unsettling.
Jasper flinched as glasses were planted on the table with an audible thunk.
“Hey there, new girl.” A busty blonde with gleaming brown skin and silver tattoos winked. “How you liking Indigo?”
“It’s lovely.”
She nodded and blew a fat pink bubble. It popped as she yanked a pad from her apron. With no wings, a telling aura, and red eyes, it was safe to say their waitress was a vampire.
“Names Irene.”
“Ja—“
“Jasper, I heard tons ‘bout you already.” Irene glanced at the Sunsides and scrunched her nose. “We ain’t got no double-dip patties, Auntie.”
“Girl, what? How? It ain’t nothing but blood, cornmeal, flour, and spices, how do y’all not got any?“
“Frankie didn’t order the shipment of cornmeal on time.”
“God damn that boy. I come in here for one thing, an—fine, shit. I’ll take braised marrow and fried cabbage.”
Irene wrote everything down and pointed to Buck with her pen. “Them short ribs gon’ be a minute, Unc. It’s Friday. You know how it is up in here.”
“I do. Bring me two baskets of fries and cheese dip.”
“Gotchu. And for you, Red?”
Jasper smiled at a fine woman in tight shorts and a thin tank top. She was tall and thick as hell. It was a wonder how she got those shorts on.
“I’ll take the inferno wings. Twenty. A side of ranch and the darkest beer you got. Chocolate cake, too. Two slices.”
Irene smirked and scribbled. “You sure about them wings? Frankie don’t play. The heat might make you sick.”
“I’m from Undervell, sweets. I’m good with spicy.”
“I heard that.”
Buck cleared his throat, and Irene giggled on the turn around. “Imma be back.”
Jasper propped elbows up on the table and watched her sway. A distinct tapping, like nails on glass, pulled her away from Irene’s assets.
Buck deadpanned and Nieema grimaced. “That’s our niece.”
“I thought calling an elder aunt and uncle was a term of endearment.”
“It is.”
“Then—“
Nieema squinted. “My brother’s daughter.”
Jasper sniffed as the heat upon her cheeks flared. It was a tad foolish, but old habits never die for a succubus. She was always on the go, on the prowl for potential… or used to be. It’d been close to a year since she even touched another person intimately. Of course, she survived on scraps here and there. Meet-ups with no physical contact.
“Sorry about that,” Jasper said, scanning the rustic establishment. “I can’t help myself sometimes.”
“Anyway,” Nieema piped. “Buck, I believe you have something to say.”
“God—okay, alright. Fine.” The mysterious fae removed the hat and smoothed his hair down. “I spoke to Trevor.”
Jasper winced, hearing his name. She flushed as fear tackled her. “What did he say?”
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“Oh, well, I punched him in his liver. It’s hard to talk with a low-blow like’at.” Buck snagged his beer and peered over the rim. “I can’t help myself sometimes.”
Floored and rendered speechless yet again, Jasper stared at the dark man. Her motor functions sputtered and squealed. She didn’t know what to say to Buck. He’d come to her defense without hesitation. What the fuck was she to do now, with her soaked panties and hammering heart?

And there you have it, another chapter DONE! What do you think is going through Jasper’s mind? She’s never actually had a partner stand up for her like that. Her siblings? Sure. Father? Meh, not when it counted. The thing is, Buck is about his business, as we have seen in the last chapter. He’s got guts and spine. That man ain’t scared of anyone, and now Jasper knows it. The monster under her bed, waiting in her closet, isn’t so big or bad after all, Buck proved it. For Jasper, what he did spoke volumes. She’s befuddled and maybe a little turned on at this point and can’t find her tongue… until the chapter. Once again, I want to thank you all for reading my web novel! You don’t have to, but you do, and every read means the world to me. Have a wonderful day!

Coming Fall 2025!!

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!

Here is a cute little moodboard!

MF steampunk fantasy romance moodboard depicting a Farris wheel, gold and blue eggs of some kinds, steampunk attire and the wide-open trail

Chapter 11: Steeped In Blue

Content Warnings:
Talk of domestic violence, attempted murder, and abuse
Please keep yourself safe, and skip this chapter if you must. And if you or anyone else needs help, please know that you are not alone. The National Domestic Violence website is available if you can’t access the Internet for any reason. The hotline number is 1-800-799-7233.
I am not here to preach, but I am here to let you know that I have been there. Here. In Jasper’s shoes. And they are not fun or comfy. I don’t write about DV with a light heart, it’s something I take seriously and handle with care because I have experienced it. Again, this chapter isn’t heavy or dark, but it isn’t fluffy; it’s sad and heartbreaking.
I will leave you with this:
All MCs who are hurt, maimed, and/or assaulted in my books will get their revenge. One way or another, the villain will not see peace.

Buck

Bunny’s wasn’t anything Buck hadn’t seen before. The tea room was peaceful with meditative music and mellow lighting. Harrison, the owner, made certain that whoever walked into his establishment felt welcome and lighter, stress-free upon departure. Tea was top three for Buck. Best way to take the jagged, rusty edge off was Nieema, skipping in the forest ass naked and tea.
He’d entered the tea room hundreds of times and thought nothing of the atmosphere or decor. Sipping with a newbie made him appreciate the fine establishment even more.
Jasper was in awe. As they lounged in his favorite room within the multi-floored space, she smiled into an orange blossom blend.
“You like it?” Buck asked.
She nodded and sniffed a bouquet of tea roses. The Verdant Suite was a haven for those who preferred the greener side of life. Comfort and calm surround them.
Fiddle Leaf, Monster, and Ferns cradled the cushy, well-used couch Buck slouched into. It seated four, which gave Jasper the space she required.
“I’ve never had tea so good.”
Buck shrugged, curling a finger into the dainty ring of his favorite porcelain. Bunny kept the customer in mind and offered cups in various shapes and sizes. Buck liked the mushroom set best.
“They got tea in hell?” Buck asked.
Jasper relaxed into the cushions and canted her head. “Not in a traditional sense. Not like this. We make mineral tea from rocks, bones, and teeth.”.
Buck coughed and dribbled his good bit of Slatewall Tea. He cussed, wiping his chin. That god damn royal jelly was going to waste.
“I’m sorry, you say what now? Teeth? Bone—okay, we do a ceremonial thing with ashes, but it’s not an everyday typa thing.”
“Weellll, you have your customs, we have ours.”
“Fair enough.”
The melody of trickling water filled a momentary silence while Buck watched her contemplate.
The urge to soothe Jasper frothed deep in his guts yet again. He imagined kissing the tip of her horn and forehead. To be that shoulder, the one she obviously needed but didn’t have.
“Jasper, can I ask you somethin’?”
Her inferno-like gaze found his, and Buck almost moaned. The flame danced on his soul and laved his skin. Mischief and madness lay behind her eyes. She smirked as steam billowed, framing such a fine portrait.
“Was my refusal not enough for you? Where is the respect you claim to have?”
He laughed and nursed a specific blend fit to squelch his desire better than sticking his dick in an ice bath. Not that Buck didn’t trust himself. He just knew how seductive her kind could be, and oftentimes, it was unintentional. But more than that, there was something about Jasper he couldn’t place.
It made him desperate.
Buck was a simple man who’d fall headfirst in a matter of minutes. Slatewall tea slowed the blood and brain.
“Contrary to what the world done told you,” Buck started, “we don’t always think with our second head.”
“You’re wasting your breath. I have a doctorate in manspeak. I’m a Succubus, I know men and know for a fact y’all are obsessed with hot holes. It’s all you think about. How to mount, get between, and behind.”
He smiled against the rim of his mushroom tea cup. “Alright, okay. It had crossed my mind a while ago. Once or twice. But no means hell no! Now, back to my question. This is serious, so stop trying to cast spells on me, demon.”
Jasper placed her unicorn cup on its saucer and snagged a finger sandwich.
“I’m not a witch.”
“Spells aren’t a witch thing. It can be taught. Now—”
“Wait, what?”
“Spells and charms are about intention. Pulling the magic from this very land and making it your own. Some, like me, are born of magic. It’s in my bones. Magic ain’t ‘for faes’ only.”
Jasper’s smile was so bright that Buck wanted to shield his eyes. And damn it, did elation look good on her.
Nibbling on a filthy cucumber and olive morsel, she hummed.
“What?” Buck asked, curiosity biting him in the ass.
“Can you teach me? Magic, I mean.”
“I can teach you some things, but Maggie is a master at spells.”
“Who?”
“My daughter. She lives on the ranch.”
“When can I meet her? After tea?” Jasper was cute and innocent as hell.
Buck knew she wasn’t, not really, but right now, she was doe-eyed and filled with wonderment. He couldn’t deny her anything.
“Whateva you wanna do, Jasper. But, you gotta answer my question first.”
She shoved the lucky corner of bread into her mouth and nodded. Buck was chillin’ thanks to the tea; he didn’t glance at her lips once.
“Go ahead. Ask.”
Getting real for a moment, he put his cup on the tiny plate and faced the woman. She recoiled a tad, but didn’t move.
“When you said, ‘again’. What did you mean by that?”
She shrugged, blinked, and set her mask in place. Jasper locked up that second and sighed.
“Three years ago, I met a guy. He turned sour. I lost myself. The piece of shit was a demon hunter who wanted my limbs, horns, and heart. I took off. My friends told me not to worry because he was rich, handsome, and connected. I was raised by a connected male, it seemed fitting. They didn’t understand, though.”
Jasper paused here, staring at a thriving fringed fern.
“He wanted me in the ground,” she continued. “I couldn’t tell my siblings or my Dad. I severed relationships and now I’m here.”
Buck scratched his denim-clad thigh, knowing it’d create a hole. He reached into his pocket, retrieved a piece of gum, then unwrapped said strip of cinnamon. Chew and snap. He popped and glared.
“Is he still alive?”
“Of course.” Jasper chuckled, though clearly nervous. “He knows too many people. I was terrified. And like I said, I couldn’t tell my dad. I thought this sorta thing was…It’s humiliating, shameful. But I’ve gone to therapy. I’ve even forgiven—“
“What’s his name? Curious is all.”
“Buck, I can read your soul like a paperback. You’ve gone from gray to black. What’s wrong?”
Dark fae, at their core, were wicked. Tricksters, murderers, or pests. They were untrustworthy and spiteful. Buck landed somewhere in the middle. Thanks to the tea, he was placid. Any other day, he’d slide into a dashing Teflon vest and load his Ruger.
He smiled, folding the flimsy aluminum wrapper, and pinned all of his attention on Jasper. Brows tight and mask gone, she was concerned.
Good for her.
“If you don’t wanna tell me, fine.” Buck cracked and popped during a pregnant pause. “But I’ma find out either way. Nothing online is truly erased. I’d rather not go snooping about your affairs, but I will. Ask Nieema. I’m stubborn as I am kind. My grandbaby, Mace, is a tech god, fuck genius. He can find anyone whether breathin’ or not.”
She sniffed, thought to speak, then huffed. Jasper’s resolve faltered as she pinched another sandwich between her claws.
“Trevor. Trevor Voaremont.”
Buck grunted and dropped the paper in his tea. What a shame, wasting such a nice cup, but this churned his stomach.
“Fortuitous,” he said, staring at a dazzling fern resting in a cow planter. “Chance in hell.”
“What is it? Talk to me.”
Clearing his throat, Buck turned to Jasper. “You hear me, and I mean good. No one is going to touch you while you reside here. Indigo Plains ain’t just any ol’ place. You will be fine.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“It’d be irresponsible if I didn’t tell you that the Voaremont family is fronting the bill for the new mall in town.”
“Holllly!” Jasper shot to her feet and paced.
Hyperventilation was around the corner, and he couldn’t have this woman fainting. Buck rose and stopped Jasper mid-stride. He grabbed her hands and spoke the truth.
“Nothing and nobody will bring you harm.” He met her frenzied, blown stare and said, “I won’t allow it. The ranch is protected.”
Jasper wanted to refuse, but he wouldn’t let her.
Buck dropped the woman’s palms and cradled her face instead. “You with the Sunsides now. Which means, you are untouchable. My grandson is the mayor, Jo is the sheriff, and a good friend of mine is a lawyer. I know we’re a small town, but you’d be surprised by what we can do. And to be frank, Nieema is the one who runs Indigo Plains.”
“What do you mean?“
“She owns Ravensguard.”
Jasper’s jaw touched the floor. “Are you saying she’s—“
“Yeah, she’s more than just my queen. But she’s queen of Ravensguard and the vampire species.”
Buck let his pride talk for him, and Jasper gobbled it up. She showed teeth and fangs again, a smile returning. He liked this look better. It complemented her angular features and plush, blood red lips.
“I knew she was royalty.”
“How so?”
“Because my Dad is a Duke. We are close with the King of Undervell, which is split into five sects. Our king owns two. He wants everything. War and politics bore me.”
Buck nodded, trapped in her smoldering gaze. She was warm-blooded and beautiful. He wanted to reassure her with affection and gifts.
With a kiss.
And Jasper was well aware. The pretty girl pulled away and went for her satchel.
“What about my house?”
“Oh, we’re not gonna stop living because of this pig. But, you ain’t going no where by yourself. We don’t know who done saw you in town. Anybody coulda run back and told him.”
“True. I just…I thought demon hunting was against the law.”
Buck nodded, opening the door for Jasper.
“Alotta thangs are against the law. Humans don’t give a damn about them. They never have. Most fae don’t, either. A law don’t mean nothing to somebody who got greenbacks to buy what they want. Like a free pass and silence to do dirt. But, this ain’t necessarily a true democracy. And I bet, Nieema will have something to say about all this and some. The governor of Misthill is gonna need a lawyer at some point.”
Buck would let Nieema handle the political end while he, introduced himself to the Voaremont Boys.