Chapter 14: The Raven Queen

CW: Talk of domestic violence and attempted murder. There is a little rehashing, but not much. As always, if you have to skip this bit, please do. If you’d like a summary , feel free to let me know,

Nieema

Catching Monroe Thornbill with his pants down wasn’t new. Nieema didn’t bat an eye as his favorite piece of arm candy hurried from their spot between his legs and scrambled to their feet.
Nila was a whip-thin young vampire who smelled like vanilla bean and clove. Cheeks flush and lips glistening, they squared broad shoulders then bowed.
“Majesty.”
“Nila honey, how’s your mother?”
“In good spirits… considering.”
“Send my love.”
“I will.”
With that, they scurried off and closed the door behind them. A muffled thud gave Nieema the go-ahead.
“You ain’t working too hard, I see.”
“Girl, you know the shit I deal with down here. Please. I need something to take the edge off.”
“You’re supposed to be working, not getting head on the clock like some raggedy, uncouth dungeon troll! I aughta tear your hide, Monroe.”
The male scoffed and flipped his apricot, hip-length tresses. The boujee knowitall kept his hair flat and straight like an uppity Lightbridge faerie trollop. Nieema hated how the lovely shade made his dark skin glow. She’d never get away with orange. Copper, hell yeah. Clementine? Never.
The man was prettier than she but not too bright. That’s why she was queen; Monroe being ten years older didn’t mean shit to their daddy.
“Yeeees, I’ve missed you too, Nimmy. How are you? How is Buck? It’s been a while.”
She softened hearing her nickname. “I’m serious, Roe, what kinda example are you setting?“
“Please, Mother lectures me enough.” He smoothed lapels and scooted forward, focusing on what appeared to be blueprints. “I don’t need this shit from you, too. Besides domestic quarrels, drunken fights, and blood lust fever, I have nothing else to do. We are good down here, Nimmy. I got shit covered.”
“And what about beyond these walls?”
Monroe’s brows creased as he pinned a quizzical gaze upon her. “What about it?”
“There are demon hunters on the loose in Misthill.”
“Bullshit!”
“I wish it was.”
Roe’s derisive laughter was a joy to hear. It meant he was now in a foul mood, and given how his red eyes flared, someone would pay for their crimes.
“Do we have proof?” Roe asked.
“A witness, first-hand account.”
Nieema gestured to Jasper, and Roe glanced in her direction. He wasn’t the sort to know or keep demonic friends. Being burned rather badly by one turned him off completely, and every demon wore the face of his greatest regret. Nieema expected Roe to bristle at the sight of Jasper’s smile, but the exact opposite happened.
He smirked and spoke directly to a demon for the first time in probably fifteen years.
“RedMothStitch.”
“Oh my goood,” Jasper whispered, eyes now on the floor.
“Red what?”
“She’s a gamer,” Roe supplied, still smirking. “My son follows you.”
“You are?” Nieema asked.
As Jasper’s cheeks darkened, she twiddled with her necklaces. Nieema wanted to soothe her somehow. She was an anxious dame, and for good reason.
“Sometimes. It’s nothing big. A hobby. I only have two hundred followers and haven’t streamed since… well, you know.”
“I’ve seen your tips, Red Stitch.”
“I collect coin easy cause I’m pretty.”
Roe’s arched brow spoke to his amusement. Nieema grunted, unwilling to watch him reel Jasper in.
“We need to talk about this hunting business, Monroe.”
“Indeed.”
Nieema crossed the expansive office any staunch bureaucratic snake would love and dropped anchor on an uncomfortable leather sofa. Roe had old-world tastes, habits, and desires. He was obsessed with crystal decanters, aged scotch, and oil paintings. He didn’t own a phone or a television.
Roe still read the paper and loved classical music. He was stuck in the past, but refused to ride a horse.
As Jasper settled next to her, Monroe offered Nieema a warm glass of spiced blood.
“Thank youuuu. This the cinnamon one?” Nieema asked, scenting clove, cardamom, and luxe spice.
“Of course, imported from Southern Bruex.”
“Ohhhh, them desert fairies know how to blend, don’t they?”
“Always.”
Roe sat in his favorite high-backed chair with its worn cushions and scratched frame, swirling his glass.
“I apologize, ma’am. All I got is blood.”
“It’s fine. But I prefer Jasper over ma’am.”
“Noted.” Nieema sipped while Roe relaxed and Jasper fidgeted with her skirt. “So, tell me, what exactly happened and who tried to kill you?”
By the time Jasper finished talking, Nieema wanted his head. Trevor Voarmont was a piece of shit. A controlling, manipulative bastard. In her sleep. He’d tried to snuff her flame during a peaceful slumber. How cruel and cowardly. The only reason Jasper survived was due to her biology. The human hadn’t worn his protection charm that night, and Jasper had careened into survival mode.
After kicking his ass and scarring him for life, she vanished in a puff of smoke. This unique, involuntary fleeing response saved Jasper’s life.
Nieema stared at the raging fire nestled into a massive hearth. It was for aesthetic purposes only, lacking both heat and sound. Seemed harmless in such a cozy state. Some folks might think it was now safe to touch. Wrong! Complacency was a disease. For many moons, people like Trevor watched their step around Nieema. They respected her rule and dared not cross Her Majesty The Raven Queen. But time and shit had softened her a bit.
She didn’t wear armor, a cape, or wield a flaming axe anymore, but Nieema was still a fucking threat. As always, they’d learn the hard way.
“Nimmy, this is… sensitive. As you know, the Voaremonts are not your everyday citizens. They have connections from here to Brasshorne. They own the largest shipping company in the world.”
“They own half the rail line, too,” Jasper added. “This is why I just said fuck it. Trevor is the youngest of five brothers, but he is the smartest. His father won’t allow him to be—“
“No one allows me to do anything, my dear,” Nieema asserted. She dragged attention from Jasper to Roe.
“I don’t give a right fuck who they are, what they own, or who is in their pocket. I am the queen of Ravensguard, and when I declare law, I expect all to follow. It is in our Right of Life creed. No one is to hunt on Ravensguard soil, ever. If convicted, it is punishable by death. Without exception.”
White hot fury boiled in her veins and forced Nieema to her feet. She slammed her glass on the mantle, fixed her tie, and growled. The thought of anyone bearing arms and hunting turned her ferak, foregoing civility,
More often than not, Nieema ruled from afar. She didn’t meddle in her people’s business and gave them the freedom to be whomever they wanted to be. She kept them fed and healthy. It was stressful and difficult, but she had a great team. They had a competent council and expendable funds for a thriving nation.
But what she would not tolerate, under any circumstances, were hunters.
Vermin, pigs, vile beasts.
“When that god damn seal broke…” Nieema glared at a black and white family portrait. The Thornbill line was large, at one point, with well over one hundred members and six generations. There were only twenty-five of them left now. “When the human world went to shit, they decided hunting us for sport was a good idea. A lucrative business, their leaders said. We lived in peace with them for a millennium. When worlds collided, everything changed for the worse.”
Nieema faced her brother and let it be known. “I will not allow it! I refused to have anyone hunted like game in the very land our family rebuilt. I will not stand by and let a faction rise. Not as I live and breathe. I swear to Desidion, I will kill every last one if need be. You gotta get ahead of this, Roe. Because they don’t want me on they ass, I’ll cut ‘em down to the quick.”
Her brother lifted a hand and nodded. “I’ll go to Misthill and speak with the governor first. You sit tight til I get back. And I mean it, Nimmy. A war with the Voaremonts could bring Indigo Plains and Ravensguard to its knees.”
Nieema huffed, shaking her head. “I don’t want a war, Monroe. I need to find whoever is killing the supernatural in my kingdom and send them to the gallows.”
“Gallows?” Roe chuckled and crossed his legs. He watched Jasper and fiddled with his rings. “She says I live in the past.”
“I don’t want to make trouble for anyone,” Jasper said, picking at her claws. “I only wanted a quiet, lonely life. Where Trevor would never find me. I don’t want anyone else getting involved.“
“You don’t worry about us,” Roe supplied. “We know how to disarm the masses without making a mess.”
“I don’t want to create a mess either.”
“You, didn’t,” Nieema stressed, heading for a fully stocked wet bar. She refilled her glass with Golden Barrel Batch blood and went on. “Trevor and his bitch ass raggedy friends did. Do you know them by name, his friends?”
“Yeah.”
“This is good,” said Roe. “We can stop them and their affiliates.”
After a brief stir, Nieema returned to Jasper’s side.
“These events would have reached me somehow. If not you, then somebody else. I got eyes everywhere. And Jasper, I’ll put money on you not being the first or the last victim.”
The air around Jasper shifted, hardened. Nieema tasted her vexation and loved how sweet she smelled because of it. Syrup-soaked black cherries came to mind. Resolve sparkled within her ember gaze.
“You’re right.” She nodded and perked. “You’re so god damn right, and I hadn’t even—shit, I never even stopped to think about the others. Trevor is middle-aged. There’s no telling how many have come before me and disappeared?”
“Exactly,” Roe whispered.
“Let’s do it. I want to take him down. Let’s kill the mother fucker.”
Nieema laughed, set her glass on the end table, and matched Jasper’s stare. “Don’t worry, we will, but in the meantime, I need you to stick to my ribs. Stay close to me. Can you do that, dear?”
“Depends on where we are. I like my space and solitude. But if we’re out? Exceptions can be made.”
“Good, I like you by my side.”
Jasper scoffed, her brow arched. “You are not clever, Mrs Sunside.”
“That’s what they all say, until…” Nieema smirked while the succubus’s jaw ticked. “Roe?”
“Yes, Nimmy.”
“You wanna go bowling?”
“You want an ass whooping tonight?”
“Fuck you, tramp,” Nieema piped. She sought her brother’s wide smile and stood on ten toes. “I’ll wipe the floor with you. Hows ‘bout we get in a couple of games, winner buys lunch.”
Jasper stood and rubbed her hands together. “I do love a free meal.”
“Ha!” Roe grabbed his suit jacket and led the way. “You gon’ learn today, demon.”

The End!

So, I finished another MS and thank the Green Goddess because, y’all! I was struggling for a while there. I wrote two 70k novels last winter, and they aren’t finished. Which is unlike me on so many levels. When I start a new MS, I finish it, post-haste. No excuses, no distractions. Somehow, I got mentally cockblocked. By what? I don’t know. This was the reason I started writing novellas in the first place. I figured, let me dip my pretty big toe into another pond and see what happens. Wellll, y’all, it worked. I typed, ‘THE End’ on a 100k Historical Fantasy. And I gotta say, IT FEELS SO GOOD TO BE BAAAACK!

Now I can carry on with my paranormal romance series. It’s ten books deep, btw, and nowhere near the finale. I breathe easier knowing I can move forward with Patches and maintain. I was worried there for a second, babes. Not that I don’t already have an end ready to go for our slutty trio, because I do. I was more worried about hitting an insurmountable wall. Fear of sputtering out midway through caused me to back away from lengthier projects. But, I am happy to say, I have conqured this titty-fucker of a writing demon. They have been banished! And hopefully, I won’t hear from them ever again.

SN: PW&P Chapter 12 is due this Sunday! Once again, thank you for reading! Have a lovely day, beautiful human!

Chapter 8: Brunch and Buck

Jasper

Waking at 2pm wasn’t bad. In fact, Jasper loved it. She figured later was best when on vampire time. After a lovely bath in a clawfoot tub, she marched out onto the porch and settled in the adorable swing. Typically, she listened to music and stitched, but with a natural symphony, she opted not to. This new kind of peace was jarring and yet, wonderful.
No matter the time of day their land enchanted her. Sheep, goats, and chickens of various sizes grazed as their canine wardens played with each other. Jasper focused on her project and fed the needle through crisp linen. She poked and pulled with a light hand, listening to birds sing their favorite tune.
It was beautiful up here, above ground, on land. Undervell didn’t have blue jays or robins. They had Tarlickers, Scorgefolls, and Stingburrs. The avian creatures resembled lizards more than anything else. The dust bird thing from last night reminded her of them, only without feathers and beaks.
Jasper smiled at the hint of sweet and woody. She drove the needle through and looked up to find Buck Sunside to her immediate right.
He leaned on the railing and laughed. “Well I’ll be god damn, that’s a unicorn riding a phallus.”
Jasper showcased her artwork and said, “It’s a commission.”
“Ain’t the wildest thing I’ve seen.”
“I bet.”
“So it’s true. You got the sewing bug, too. Shiiit. Some nights I wake up with a pin in my hair and thread in the crack of my ass.”
She stifled an ugly giggle and considered Buck for half a second. Sleeves rolled high like slut, Stetson tilted just so. He belonged on the red carpet, congregating with movie stars who looked like him. Burnished brown skin, full lips, and a black silk stare probably pulled them all within minutes.
“I wanted a hobby and found one,” Jasper said, petting embroidered knots. “You have no idea the type of shit people ask me for.”
“Oh yes, I do.” Buck slapped solid wood and set his sights beyond. “One time, somebody asked Nieema to make a quilt using their own hair and snake skin.”
“Whaaat?”
“Yeah. Old man Joyner. He live up in the mountains. Hermit. You know the type. Few bolts loose but sweet.”
“Ah.”
She hadn’t met a hermit and never wanted to. Refocused on her stitch, Jasper heard his heavy boots climb steps and clomp across the porch. She held her breath as he plopped down next to her without asking. This was, technically his house. His property.
Jasper wasn’t shy, especially around men, but Buck’s soul was dark, whereas his scent was sweet as cane sugar.
She’d like a nibble.
“I hear you lived in the capital?”
“I did.”
“For how long?”
His voice was a problem all its own.
“Nine years.”
Buck high whistled, snatching her attention. She checked on the smiling man and bit her tongue. He lounged with arms splayed and legs wide open. Arrogance wafted, and Jasper nearly took the bait, but she was stronger now. Staring wasn’t going to do a damn thing but piss her off a bit.
“I suppose,” Jasper chimed, “people fawn over you. They trip and fall. Maybe even faint. But you’re not as sly as you believe yourself to be. Have you forgotten that I’m a succubus? An old one who can sense your arousal half a mile out.”
Buck chuckled and shook his head. “Well, since you know then we clear on what is I want.”
“The answer is no. You can’t have it.”
“Fair enough.” He tipped his hat and reached into his pocket for a pack of gum. “I respect boundaries and I respect people.”
Jasper watched him shove a strip of cinnamon between his white teeth and wanted to bite him.
He respected boundaries?
She was befuddled by Buck’s quick acceptance. Men, especially male demons, rarely gave a shit about womens boundaries.
“Listen, I came by cause there’s some business you gotta handle. Papers and contracts to sign. I’m gonna take you on down to the office.”
“Oh, nice. Let me—“
“Jasper?” Kit called, stepping outside in an apron covered with flowers and flour. “Brunch is served. Hello, Buck. What a pleasant surprise. Would you like to join us?”
Buck snapped gum, checked his watch, and laughed. “I mean, sure, you’ll never see me turn down free food. But sir, you’re a few hours late for brunch.”
“Seeing as Jasper and I just woke, I’d say it’s a perfect time.” Kit clapped and ran inside. “This is exciting!”
Buck looked to Jasper and squinted. “How scared should I be?”
“In Undervell, he’s pretty good with a brick oven, but some of our ingredients are… weird. This is his first time making land dweller food.”
“Shit,” Buck grumbled. “I already committed, so I reckon there ain’t no turning back.”
“You can change your mind.”
“Hell no. I’m a man of my word.”
Jasper followed Buck inside, though in no hurry. She put her project in the basket near the sofa and examined the table. It didn’t look bad. Most of Kit’s offerings were standard.
“What we have is French toast, peach and cream crepes, fatty meats, and eggs from those chickens outside. I did have quite the adventure trying to collect them from various hiding places. Some of the ladies attacked me. They are quite feral.”
They both found a seat at the table and grabbed a plate.
“This looks amazin’, Kit,” Buck announced.
“Why, thank you! I don’t understand your measurement system well, but tutorials helped.”
Jasper adored how Kit straightened and beamed with pride. No one had ever cared about his mess in the kitchen. Their father said cooking was for lesser demons, not a Carriont heir.
After loading her plate, Jasper cut into the French toast and sampled it. Kit rushed over with his journal and bumped his knee as he tried to sit.
The old coot was nervous and at the ready with a pen.
“Tell me. You hate it? What’s bad? Does it taste bland or rancid? I tend to enjoy a fermented bread soaked in onion juice.”
Buck coughed, and Kit gasped. Jasper giggled, noshing on a thick slice of the best French toast she’d ever had. And that wasn’t an exaggeration.
Buck sipped his milk and said, “Folks ‘round here don’t go talking about onion juices during breakfast. That’s sick. But I gotta say, this here is some mighty fine toast. Thick, coated just right, and sweet. Mm! I need me a plate to go.”
Kit scribbled in his journal and nodded. “What of the eggs?”
“Oh, uhhhhh.” Buck made a face. “Too salty, and you gotta take it easy on the pepper. We like spicy shit, but the eggs gotta be left alone.”
“Got it. No salt and—:
“Hold on now, I didn’t say that. I said, less, salt. There’s a difference.”
Jasper ran another piece of bread through a pool of maple syrup and said, “I agree. Too salty, but otherwise fantastic. You have outdone yourself, brother.”
“Also,” Buck cleared his throat and dabbed his lips with a napkin, “those ain’t our chickens. Them hens belong to Hank. And he’s not gon’ like you touching their eggs.”
Jasper smiled with a mouthful. Kit’s slate gray cheeks darkened as he frowned. “I didn’t see any in the chiller and I—“
“It’s in the storage bin on the bottom shelf, left-hand side, probably. Nieema loves to keep shit overly organized. Don’t ask me why. She buys a box or container for everything.”
“Sooooo, is that why none of the foodstuffs have packaging? Because I believe it’s a waste of time and actually—“
“I think it’s tidy,” Jasper interjected, defending Nieema’s organizational skills. “Labels would help, though. Last night I had a rough time finding the cheese.”
“That’s what I said,” Buck hollered. “But she don’t like labels. Says they’re ugly.” He shrugged and went in on his victuals.
For fifteen minutes, their trio chowed and finished every bite of Kit’s fare. Even the crepes were perfect. Jasper didn’t think her brother had been at the cooking thing for long, but perhaps she hadn’t paid enough attention.
Several burps and grunts later, Jasper slipped into a pair of sandals and fixed the bow on her head. She’d decided on a crocheted crop top and a fun ruffled skirt. After adorning each horn tip with rainbow caps, she grabbed her phone and skipped out the door.

Buck

Gods and devils, Jasper was the prettiest little thing dressed in purple and red. She had a smile that’d make the sun jealous, prancing toward him like a happy, carefree dame. One moment, Jasper stood tall as an impenetrable fortress; the next, she was soft as spring clouds during April showers.
“I’m ready,” Jasper said, twirling from side to side.
Buck laughed and started their journey back to the house. This woman was a doozy to read. He’d thought they wanted the same thing, and was wrong. Buck assumed he had this demoness figured out when, in fact, he didn’t. Nieema was spot on with Jasper. She was complex.
Environs shifted when they shared the same space but something gave her pause. Jasper’s eyes glittered and sparked talking to Nieema. Buck hadn’t imagined their interactions and attraction. It was there, but Jasper laid the cards flat and was honest. Full stop, she pumped the breaks and they had to accept it.
Nobody said they couldn’t be friends, though. Jasper looked like the kinda fun Buck enjoyed.
“What papers do I have to sign? Hope it’s not my soul.”
Buck cackled as their long legs gobbled up the trail. In no time, he spotted his car. “Isn’t that your thing?”
“Sometimes.”
“Seriously?”
He wiggled keys free from his pocket and stabbed the remote, unlocking doors.
“We only kill other demons. Make soul contracts with other demons. Not every demon can make someone give them jewels or wages. To be honest, most can’t do it.”
“You can.”
Jasper laid a sidelong stare on him and smirked. “Sure, but I don’t. Life’s no fun that way, trust me.”
He sighed and opened the door for her. Jasper was cute as a button and lived honorably. She was far too adorable, and he understood her hesitation. Succubi sniffed out souls like he tracked mint leaves. Buck wasn’t delusional about it, he was not everyone’s cup of sweet sun tea. And you couldn’t hide from a succubus.
Jasper saw straight through his countryside charm and manners.
“Click that belt, darlin’.”
“Cut the pet name shit.”
“Fine by me.”
He knew for a fact she liked it, but wouldn’t press. With Jasper tucked and secure, he revved the engine.
“Ohhhh, my goodness.” She giggled and cupped her mouth. “Do that again!”
He smashed the gas and Jasper exploded in more laughter. The minute he hit the highway she was gasping for air.
“I-I’ve never been in an old car.”
“Had her for seventy years.”
“Seventy?!”
“Mhm. Just swapped the block, tuned her right on up. Got some heated crystal core pistons under the hood now. Some say it kills the transmission, but I haven’t felt no change. Grant it, I ain’t no mechanic, but I know how Ursala rides.”
“I have no idea what the hell you said, but I love your car.”
Buck gripped the woodgrain and added twenty to the dash. Jasper’s smile remained for miles, and he was happy to be the cause. She liked his tunes and complimented his driving. Jasper was a chatterbox, and Buck had always been the listening sort.
“When are we going to start the demolition thing?” Jasper asked.
“Demo—woman, I don’t know what Nieema told you, but we won’t be doing that tonight. We have to survey first. Get an idea of what we can salvage and take a few measurements.”
Jasper deflated and pouted. She muttered and faced the window.
“Yeah, I know. Everybody gets excited about them sledgehammers.”
“I wanted to destroy something. It’d be a good stress reliever.”
“It sure is, but let’s handle the boring stuff first.”
She cocked a brow before rolling her big copper eyes.
Buck hit the exit and rumbled into town. Folks were out and about, mostly human. They got an early start to the day, nocturnal fae were just waking or sleeping in. Buck got about three-four hours, his Drendt side kept energized.
“Okay, here we are.” Buck parked in a near empty lot and locked up. “This shouldn’t take long. ‘Bout twenty. After, we’ll head to the house with Nordizach.”
“This is no fun at all.”
Buck snickered, allowing her entry first. Their construction firm was a two-story glass house. It looked like your everyday city office. Omari took charge some years back and redecorated. Buck thought it was pretentious and stuffy. They even had uniforms and company colors. It was bullshit but not his circus anymore. Yes, Buck and Nieema owned it but neither wanted the job after ten years of running the show.
Blue-collar gigs were not their bag, though they tried for some time. Good thing they had other, more lucrative streams of income.
Omari was quick on his feet with eyes fixed on Jasper. The ever-busy career-oriented male didn’t have time for a lady. According to his ex-wife, Omari was emotionally unavailable. Given how he tripped and stumbled from his office, he was up to no good. Buck quirked a brow as the man-child ran at them with his hand out.
“Hello, hi.” Omari’s smile touched his ears. Buck sighed as he tried to put on a show. “I’m Omari Sunside. What can I do for you?”
Jasper smirked, shaking the boys hand. She exchanged glances with them and hummed.
“Sunside, as in…”
“Hay, Pop.”
She giggled and reached for the glittering gold chains at her throat.
After a quick embrace, Buck got to the introduction.
“This here is Jasper, she just moved into that spot on Great Oaks.”
Omari smacked his teeth and said, “Cold-blooded. Hawke the Realtor?”
“Yeees?” Jasper posed the question, letting Buck know she’d been swindled.
“I bet Jack doesn’t know about this. That house is a death trap and is cursed.”
Jasper flinched. “Cursed? How?”
“No one who moves in stays.”
Buck nodded as she looked to him for confirmation. He didn’t think it was cursed, but rather a shit hole built on shit land. Most of the houses in that neighborhood needed foundational work year-round.
“It ain’t good land, is all. Hard upkeep.”
Omari sniffed and shook his head. “Jasper, if I were you, I’d hire pest control and go to a hotel.”
“Oh, no need. I’m staying at the Sunsides Inn.”
Buck caught her wry grin and popped brows. Omari, the tramp, slouched at the news. He knew damn well when folks found their way onto the ranch they were either going to fuck or had. Unless they were dignitaries or political figures from across The Frothing sea, of course.
Jasper was neither, so she was free to share sheets and sweat with Omari if she wanted. She blushed as if impressed. They yammered about the town, and Jasper asked him about places to eat and where to get fabrics. Nieema was the best to ask for the latter.
Buck cracked his gum, interrupting the fast friends, and said, “We came to see Yardi. Jasper got papers to sign, and I have a house to survey.”
“Alright, Pop.”
Buck embraced his son in a tight, comforting hug and ran a hand over his waves.
“Stop!”
“They need some love, my boy.”
“Leave me be. I’m losing sleep over this mall business.”
“I know it.”
Omari focused on Jasper and said, “It was nice meeting you, Jasper, and welcome to Indigo Plains. Watch it with this one, he’s trouble.”
“So am I.”
Jasper arched a brow and grinned. She was mischievous and sly. Buck knew it by how her eyes stuck to him. She might not want to, but she had thoughts. He was damn certain about that.
With a final wave, they separated, and Buck started the short journey. He banked right with Jasper at his side, still smiling.
“He’s your twin.”
“Ya think so? I always been told he look like his mama.”
“I see her, but he has your eyes and… air.”
“My air, huh?”
Jasper nodded, keeping them eyes ahead. He hummed, cracked gum, and scratched his jaw in confusion.
At their destination, Buck knocked on the glass, spooking Reese Yardi Muckerton. The fine fella was reading the contract he’d drawn up last night for what was sure to be the fifth time. Meticulous and detail-oriented, Yardi was an excellent project manager who memorized every word he typed.
“Hello, there.” Yardi shook Jasper’s hand and ushered them into his office. “It is great to meet you, Jasper. And welcome to Indigo Plains. I hope it’s treating you well.”
“Better than expected.”
“Love to hear it, please have a seat.”
Everybody grabbed a chair, and Buck removed his hat. He placed it on top of the man’s desk. It earned him a glare. To be funny, Buck left it there. Yardi snatched the folder from under the brown brim.
The human fiddled with his wire-frame glasses and said, “I’m sorry about your home. I don’t think anyone would have agreed to buying it if they were made aware of the damage.”
Jasper shrugged. “I went in knowing it was a fixer-upper. I just didn’t know to what degree. I overdid it. I do that sometimes, you know.”
Buck scoffed, and Yardi snorted. “Even so. We know Hawke. He saw easy prey and dove for the kill. He took advantage of you.”
“That’s what I keep hearing.”
Buck ground his molars at the show of Jasper’s nervousness. She went for them chains and gnawed on her lip. He wanted to pat her knee or rub her back, but it’d be wildly inappropriate. The urge was strong, though.
“That’s why we here,” Buck said. “To fix what we can.”
Reese wagged a finger and nodded. “Exactly, and Buck here knows how these things go. Jasper, you will here a bunch of construction talk, but don’t you fret, it’s to keep you safe. It’s to keep our workers safe and to ensure everyone can do their part. We will be going with a time and materials contract on this one.”
Buck propped a booted foot up onto his thigh and grumbled, “I know it. The place is a hellhole. Alls good. Tell me where to sign and I’ll start writing checks.”
“Wait.” Jasper butt-in. Her molten eyes sparkled and bulged some. She was shocked as hell. “What checks? You said it was free.”
“For you, yeah. But materials and labor ain’t free. I gotta pay these people. We’ll be doing most of the structural work, but I’m not an electrician or a plumber. I can pound nails, sand pine, and install drywall all day, but that’s far as I go.”
Jasper was set to refuse, but Buck saw it in her hardening expression.
“The Sunsides do this,” Yardi added. “You’re not the first. They take on a lot of projects and pay for them out of pocket. You’re one of hundreds they’ve saved, financially speaking.”
Reese gulped his coffee and sighed. He made great progress with Jasper. Her shoulders drooped, and so did her resolve. She still flicked at her jewels, but Buck knew they’d won.
“Trust me, Jasper, you want their help. The house, just from what I’ve seen in passing, tells me you’re looking at ten-twenty grand minimum. And I can only guess what the inside looks like.”
Jasper dropped her hand and said, “Fine. I don’t have two thousand, let alone twenty in my account. I’m not going to refuse. But I will figure out a way to pay you back.”
Buck chuckled and popped his gum. “Sure you will.”
“I will and don’t you dare doubt me.”
“Oh I don’t, but I didn’t ask for no reimbursement. And good luck getting that by my wife, she’ll blow a gasket.”
“I don’t care. It’s a lot of mone—“
“Moving along.” Buck stopped her there and inched forward, reaching for a pen. He’d started the business and knew most contract blabber well enough. “We gotta meet Zach at the house. Give her a quick rundown, Yardi. I’ll start signing.”

Chapter 7: Lemondrops

A little word before we begin. I want to add a few content warnings. This chapter is loaded with degradation and masochism. No, I am not an authority on BDSM but I have done my fair share of research. Which, I strongly encourage. Yes, books can be used as learning tools, but you will not find that here! Do not take anything I write to be law, it is fiction. And while yes, this is a fabricated world I cooked up, I want to say, I take consent seriously and in this case, without exception. BDSM isn’t about getting off on beating people. It’s not abuse, and it isn’t dark. It is meant to be something profoundly intimate between consenting adults. This lifestyle is about trust and communication. So, if the CWs didn’t scare you away, then by all means, read on. If by chance it’s not your thing, please skip this chapter. I will not take it personally.

Buck

Buck entered the house barefoot and smelled food. He gave thanks to the wife and found his plate in the microwave. Before stabbing start, he read the note she’d slapped on the fridge.
Meet you in the barn.
“Well shit, it’s my lucky day.” With his priorities set in stone, Buck wolfed down meatloaf, home fries, sage sausage, and cabbage. He chased every bite with a swig of honey beer and swallowed two slices of pistachio butter cake. “Imma need my strength.”
Full as a tick and feeling much like himself again, Buck crept into the early morning warmth and made certain to set the alarm. He wouldn’t be coming back. Still barefoot and indecent, he jogged across green pastures and headed for the barn. Buck waved at the sheep, hopped over micro goats, and nodded at James, the stubborn mountain goat.
James was a crotchety old fucker and loved to kick folks in the nuts. Why Hank put up with his shit was a mystery.
“What ya looking at, James?! Huh? Jealous?” He bleated and charged. “Get on with the bull!”
Buck sprinted for the rustic barn door and shimmied inside. He hooped in victory and slammed the barrier shut.
“Whew. What an asshole.”
“Go wash up and make it snappy.”
He grinned on the turn around and spied his lovely bride. Their barn wasn’t for animals or the sheep, but it was away from the house and out of earshot. It also provide them with enough room to play. They’d flipped the space twenty years back, turning it into a loft some called a dungeon.
Buck and Nieema knew what a dungeon felt like, smelled like, and had personal trauma tied to the cursed place. They would never call their love nest such a thing.
Buck eyed the regal woman who posed as any tyrannical queen might. She was impatient on her throne made of core timber and rattling steel. Nieema’s frigid stare promised overtime.
“You lucky I need some TLC.” Buck glared until he reached the bathroom. “Five minutes.”
“Three!”
He smiled and started the shower. Steam pillowed as Buck scrubbed rich soil, moss, and groundwater from his skin. He picked dirt from his claws and washed thorns from his hair. Sweet notes of the land never abandoned him, but he did his best. Not everybody enjoyed the smell of nature.
“Whatchu got for me, beloved?”
A man about his business and confident in his step, Buck exited the washroom, booty naked, and excited as ever. Like a good boy, he waited for instruction.
“Come sit,” Nieema said, patting the throne she’d vacated. “Let me nourish my love.”
Buck sighed and settled into the hard, pockmarked chair.
The punishment chair.
“I got your text.”
Pleasure sparked in his veins as hot droplets pelted his shoulders. Buck relaxed the moment Nieema touched him. Her deft fingers and strong grip loosened knots and kinks. Closing his eyes, he surrendered. It’d been a long night and he deserved this. While Nieema kneaded, she purred.
The familiar melody lulled and soothed. He’d grown to need it over the years. A song to usher him into heightened states of being. Nieema added pressure and caressed his throat, coating it in oil.
“I won’t let them take you from me,” she rasped. “If they even dare, I’ll pick them off, one by one. I swear it, on my soul. And those of our children. I will turn this valley red and sully the rivers with their viscera.”
Buck laughed at her dramatic ass.
“Ain’t I special?”
“You most certainly are. And everyone will know just how much if they cross me.”
Nieema nibbled on his ear, his jaw, and his clavicle. She kissed his nape and raked her nails over his scalp.
“Look at me,” Nieema demanded, circling around to face him.
Buck knew better than to disobey his queen. And matching her intense scarlet stare made him shiver. Dressed in her favorite gown from times past she was dignified elegance.
A choke collar, corset, and chandelier earrings. Maroon velvet, supple leather, and silk ruffles.
It’d be hell to remove but he’d rip that god damn bodice from her back when allowed.
Nieema lifted her sharp chin and sneered. He’d already told her what was on the menu this morning. His dick jumped and thighs spread in anticipation. Buck gripped armrests and squirmed. Her scent alone tempted a weak old man. She was soaked below the waist, and they both knew it.
“Pathetic,” Nieema chided, fishing for a treat between her breasts. Heavy and soft, they undulated as she dug. “Eyes front, Buckley! You vile worm!”
Buck whimpered and bit his bottom lip as she pulled the goods free. A cobalt glass glinted beneath humming overheads.
Nieema plopped down, her dress ballooning. She growled and popped the top as Buck rolled his hips, inviting the woman to stroke him. She scoffed and poured a potent mixture into her palm.
The blend of oils, dusts, and herbs scented the air. Allspice and rich, it pooled in her hand. Buck hissed the moment she clasped his bobbing length. He’d tried not to focus on it, delaying it was best for both parties.
Nieema’s tugging grip warmed. Buck moaned, watching her work him with lazy pulls. She was smart, keeping the head tucked away. Buck appreciated her skill and motion.
“I bet you want me to choke on it don’t you?” Nieema asked.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?!”
“Your majesty.”
“Too bad. You haven’t been good enough for that.”
She smirked, sliding from tip, to base, to balls. Nieema cupped them. She slathered slowly, massaged, and crushed.
Buck yelped and opened his legs wider. Pleasure and pain popped off, ricocheting from toes to crown.
His eyes rolled and asshole clenched. He went for his nipples and Nieema smacked his hand.
“You bet not! What a disgusting, disrespectful cunt you are!” He grunted as she added another hand and pressed two fingers against his taint. “How dare you try to touch yourself. I did not grant permission.”
“I’m sorry, your majesty.”
“All you want is a nut, you ain’t really sorry.” Nieema laughed, releasing his balls. “Yet.”
Buck panted as she snatched ropes and tightened knots. On his wrists, ankles, around his shaft, and his throat.
The oil soaked into his skin and forbade an orgasm. It halted the inevitable. Ever so close, lodged in his pelvis and stuck, he dropped into a realm of perpetual ecstasy.
The only cure was for Nieema to feed from him. She’d suck the magical substance from his blood and it’d be her turn for about an hour. It had the opposite effect on her, however, and thank gods.
“I want to hear you say it,” Nieema commanded. “Say, ‘I’m a vile wretch who deserves punishment’.”
“I—I—“ The promise of an orgasm wrenched his sac and evaporated within seconds. “I’m—“
She slapped his thigh with the cane, causing endorphines to flood his system, only to be smothered. Buck writhed in his favorite chair and peered into his wifes seeking eye. Nieema Struck Buck again, and he belted a curse.
“I’m a vile wretch who deserves punishment!”
“Sickening how you blither and bow at my feet.”
Nieema flicked his nipple and ventured across the barn. He watched her rifle through drawers and groaned as another almost orgasm rocked his brain loose.
“Ya Majesty, please. Gimme somethin’ anytin’. A kiss a—“
“Hell nah!”
He tried to arch and failed. The magic was working up into his ass now and dear gods he moaned her name.
“Pig!” Nieema belted, whacking him with the cane yet again. The pleasurable streak of pain sent a heat flare to his core. Buck gasped, eyes darting to the back of his head. Sweat beaded on his skin as Nieema pinched his nipples with her needle-like claws.
Buck barked a cuss. “Yes, your majesty! Gods! Pleaaaase.”
“You look quite sad and small doing all this begging.” She yanked each nipple until they split. Hot blood dripped and streamed down his belly.
“Shiiiiiit, I—“
Nieema added clamps to the bleeding nubs and licked him clean. Buck lost all sense of self. The pinch and throb worked quick, calling a would-be release to the surface. He shouted and yanked at the restraints when it scurried away.
“God damn, gooood damn.”
“Foul mouth gets you nothin’. Piece of shit peasant.”
“Unnghhh…”
Degradation, humiliation, and masochism was his balm. Buck had lived for many, many years with folks tiptoeing around him. He didn’t sit on a throne or attend balls, but he was born from gold and crowns. To the public, he was more than just a construction worker, a handyman, a gardener, a stable boy, or a dishwasher. He’d never asked nothing from nobody but they acted as if he’d hung the stars.
Folks never said nothing bad about Buck and treated him like tissue paper. He was surrounded by yes men who had the same holes in their shoes as he did.
Something about pain and humiliation set him straight. His dark sided nature begged for it.
Nieema was the first woman to accept such vulnerability, and as she smacked him with the cane, he fell in love with her for the thousandth time. There was no one he trusted more than the lady who insulted him.
Blow after blow, Buck shivered and shouted for more. Nieema often made him beg for ten welts. He relished in her control and attention.
She inched down to her knees and bit the inside of his thigh, never drawing blood. She wouldn’t drink, only tease. Nieema degraded Buck and scratched his chest. He loved the fuck out of her and growled the moment her fangs penetrated his slick flesh. He moaned at the feel of lips and screamed his obedience.
Sweat cascaded and gathered in his thick thatch of forest green curls, settling under his ass.
When the room grew too chilly and his nuts hiked for the tenth or fifteenth time, Buck roared.
“Lemondrops! Motha fuckin lemon…drops!”
He laughed and sniveled as Nieema dropped the cane. She hurried off and returned bearing gifts. Buck sat there as the wife kissed his forehead and removed clamps with a gentle hand.
“Awww, look at my man.”
“Yeah, you fucked me up.”
Nieema giggled, massaging his nipples. She added a numbing cream and kissed the scratches on his neck. Her aftercare was top-notch and above reproach. She dried him and untied knots. The lack of rope and pain did nothing to douse his need for her.
Nieema was careful with his hardened shaft. She uncoiled the length of hemp and nylon slowly. He grunted at the freedom and the desire to come.
“You smell like you want somethin’ nice,” Buck said.
“I don’t know what that could be, Mr. Sunside.”
She lifted that heavy skirting and straddled him. with Nieema perched on her knees, warmth and fuzz grazed his dick. She rocked, and Buck dipped under and then between. He clutched himself and tugged, revealing his weeping tip.
His damp head kissed her lips.
Buck shifted and winched under her strength. Nieema sunk fangs into his throat and sucked. She pulled at his vein and with it, lust. Undiluted and untamed a fire of desire blossomed in his soul. With zero finesse, he punched hips upward and impaled his wife.
Her muffled scream was glorious, and so were her tight walls. She clothed and bathed. Nieema’s body fit around him like a fine-tailored suit. He had girth more than length and she was often sore, but god damn he took care of her aches afterward.
Buck wrapped arms around her soft, pliant form and rutted.
Nieema detached from his neck and cussed his name. She was soaked through. Her luxurious honey coated his nuts and created a mess. Their connection was obscene. A symphony of quick claps and leaking waters.
“Buuuuuck,” Nieema cried as she clung to his shoulders. “You—damn—ugh!”
“I know it,” Buck panted. “You right there. Let it go for me, baby. Gimme what I come for!”
He dug her out and wasn’t to keep a lady waiting. He shifted and arched.
Nieema belted his name again and scored his shoulders. Pleasure coursed through him in waves and battered his senses.
Blood, vanilla, and moss entered his lungs with each sawing breath.
She cast a spell on him and clenched. Buried to the hilt and pummeling her, he was eager.
Nieema erupted, but Buck continued onward as she gushed. He fucked her raw. Growling and yanking on her perfect braids. Buck snapped her head to the side and kissed the supple curve of her breast.
“Agaiiin, Buck, I’m bouta—fuck me babyyy! Yes!”
His control vanished with the taste of her skin. She was decadent and pure. Gentle yet deadly.
Grace and power.
Her pussy convulsed, snatching Buck by his soul and sac. They howled like starving beasts in the night and came as one.
Buck collapsed in his chair while Nieema trembled against his chest. He covered her damp forehead with kisses and rubbed her back. She laughed, which in turn made him cackle.
“I like the pathetic worm bit,” Buck said, holding tight and pulling out.
He could and would sleep inside of her. They’d done it on more than one—two—ten occasions.
“I wanted to get creative.”
“That you did, baby. I loved it.”
She sighed and wiggled. “This dress is so goddamn bothersome. You know what? I dusted it off and thought it’d be nice, you know? Why in the hell did we ever wear this shit?”
“I think you look fine as wine. Mm!”
Nieema sat upright and tweaked a brow. “How are you gon’ get me outta this thing? I got about five layers and my habits keeping your from these luscious tiddies.”
Buck went at the velvet and leather like they’d pissed in his grits. He tore the fucker loose and her marvelous breasts jiggled, thanks to Nieema’s crackling laughter.
“Now, if I wanted to ruin it, I woulda done so. You old fool!”
“I need these tiddies free.”
Buck held a generous breast in both hands and latched onto her nipple. His wife shouted, and he stood, heading straight for the bed upstairs.

It Feels Sooo Good To Be Baaaack!

Well! What a month March was. First, let me say this: I didn’t intentionally vanish. I lost my ac adapter for my laptop! I had nothing and could do nothing for three whole weeks. And I was miserable. No writing, no posting, nothing. Okay, that’s a lie; I brainstormed and wrote on my phone. Short stories (ones that never see the light of day), but stories I had fun writing.
Anything pertaining to PWAPF or blogs, however, was on hold. Everything is on my computer. With zero storage left on my device, I don’t have IG or WP on it. Obligatory work apps take up a lot of space on my phone. So, I was stuck for weeks and loathed every minute of it. But WE ARE BACK, and I hope to push out a new chapter on Tuesday.

Coming Spring 2025

Born into an apocalypse, The Huntsman knew a little something about death…but nothing, about babies.

On any other night, Carver would finish the bounty and get ghost. This was not one of those nights. After fulfilling a small contract, Carver stumbles upon a wailing child. In need of help and a babysitter, he seeks advice from the only decent person he knows. It just so happens that person is his closest friend and maybe, his greatest desire.

This is a 25k MM paranormal romance. We got spells, small conflicts, vampire feedings, wizardry, and adorable found family fluff. There are grey themes such as the death of a spouse, blackmail, and contract k–lings.

Spring 2025

My Day My Way

Daily writing prompt
Describe your most ideal day from beginning to end.

I wake up and brush teeth cause no one likes stank morning breath. After I’ve scrubbed my mouthbones and gargled with hellfire (yellow Listerine), I make tea and eat a balanced breakfast. Four eggs, sourdough bread with extra butter, and some form of sugar.
When I’m fat(er) and happy, I’ll sit down to write and bang out 5k. With me feeling smarter than everyone else (because I didn’t misspell narrcisssstic the first time) I watch a movie.
Mind you, choosing a film will take from ten to eighty minutes, depending on my mood. I loveeeeee movies so this isn’t anything new. By 2 I’m laughing, crying, or reciting lines. Possibly all three because I’m watching Tombstone for the 40th time.
At around 5 I log into Roblox or COD Warfare. Now folks, here’s where time gets really tricky. From the moment I load up or choose a game time begins to sprint. We’re not playing with regular, excruciatingly long work days here. Noooooo, these are video game hours so, one hour is actually ten minutes.
At 12 am I look at the clock and shout, “Yo what the fuck! It was just five!”
And thus ends a beautiful day where I do what I want and when!