Neon Red: Chapter 15

Low did not want to  kill this man and run ass out through the back. But if he started jaw jacking, his dome was about to get knocked off. On top of that, they had to move quickly. ‘Cause this big, fine, ginger was ancient. He was bound to have skills beyond their own.
Swift, strong, and cunning.
Underestimating meant death. Jaxon had every advantage. He’d clap them both without wasting a breath. But Low had eyes on everything. The vampire’s flexing hands and tense thighs said he wanted to act.
“Pulling that trigger would be the last mistake you ever make.” Jaxon smirked and said, “This house is crawling with vampires who’d gut you and her for it. You’d never make it off the property.”
Calm and remote, Jaxon didn’t give a fuck, but as Max shuffled inside, his low lidded stare remained.
“You not innocent as I thought.”
“And you ain’t no accountant,” Max proclaimed.
“Yes, I am.”
She sneered while Low’s gun stayed pressed to Jaxon’s skull. “You want money or what… how much you want?”
The male chuckled. “There you go again, assuming shit. Oh my god, this is like a huge issue with—does she always—”
Agile, strong, and calculating.
Jaxon rammed his temple into the barrel. Distracting Low gave him the upper hand. Red grabbed his wrist and twisted.
Low hollered from the assault.
His arm nearly snapping it right off, he dropped the Glock. Red kicked it under the bed. Max moved mean and punched Jaxon in the diaphragm. Her fast thinking forced a release.
Low lunged for the gun and was still too slow. Jaxon snatched his shirt, but Maxi was at it again. She growled and bit the males forearm.
After another release, she dove for the pistol herself and Red recovered. “You a fast one ain—”
Low yanked the alphas hair and gave shorty enough time to clutch that .45.
Using their natural speed, she popped up, aimed and let one hit. Max tossed the hot steel instantly. She was a brave female, but she’d never shot anyone before.
Two seconds later, men barrelled through the door and ran in from the patio. Low threw his hands up because yes,  they were out numbered. Four green dots speckled his stomach and five were aimed at Max.
“Oh fuck, you’re gonna kidnap me…oh god, Low he’s gonna want a ransom. Oh shit. I meant to kill you, though.”
Low groaned. “Girl shut uuuup. Please, baby, just hush for a minute I really can’t take—”
“Don’t tell me to hush. I am really stressed right now.”
“I know, me too, the hell y—”
“This man is gonna kill me, Low.” She was terrified, and yeah, Low was finna shit himself. Typically, he wasn’t scared of anyone except for the IRS. But damn it, the mere thought of losing Max polarized him.
“Sir, are you okay?”
Jaxon cut to the man in black and nodded. “I’m good, it itches.” Flaring, red eyes darted around the room.
“You’re not good, AB. Ya bleeding for christ sake.” Another guy made his way into the room and sniffed.
“Back up off me, blood.” Low growled as his fangs elongated. “I’ll kill you before they get me, I promise you that, bruh.”
“What we gonna do in here, AB?”
“Get out.”
The male with a rough accent scoffed. “You can’t be serious.”
“I said get out, Ines!”
His thundering demand made them move and post haste. The last ninety seconds flew by and felt like an eternity. Low just had them thangs on him, now they were alone again while Wus Good played in the silence.
Awkward.
“My dad can pay you.”
“Listen, listen, I need you to shut up.” Jaxon made a request, and Low eyed her. He mouthed, ‘calm down’. She frowned, but crossed her arms and flopped into the armchair. Low, however, watched Red as he growled and sauntered past her.
Max shrugged and stabbed a finger at the door.
Low gave the cut off signal then stopped, noticing Jaxon’s leery red gaze from the bathroom.
“You won’t be able to leave until I allow it so…” The door slammed and running water followed.
“What are we gonna do?” Max whispered.
Low deadpanned. “Baby, he can still hear you.”
“Right.”
She lifted a finger, grabbed her two-ton bag, and wrestled with its contents before plucking out her phone. He nodded and fell on the chaise when a text came through.
Little Mermaid: We gotta figure out how to leave.
He stabbed keys and replied quick.
Cold Blooded: You see how tight his security is?
She nodded then typed.
Little Mermaid: What does an accountant need with security?
Low pointed and wondered the same thing. He lied, ain’t no way Red crunched numbers for a living. In the process of hitting her back, the bathroom door swung open.
“Seriously? Are y’all texting each other right now?”
Jaxon stomped from the washroom and ripped Max’s phone out of her hand.
“You want me to shoot you in the head next?”
Jaxon grunted. “Y’all are fuckin’ nuts, certifiable.”
He threw the android in her lap, and poked at the hole in his shoulder. He may as well take the tank off, it had blood on it… and it was hot. Low grimaced. What the fuck was he thinking?
“And you, Maxine. You all of five-two, but had the gall to square up with a pureblood. I’m six-six a-”
“No you ain’t.” Low snickered, and it might have been the wrong time, but his ass was lying…again.
“Yes, I am.”
“You more like six-four. Don’t do too much.”
Jaxon’s jaw fell. “What is wrong with you? Are you not grasping the totality of this situation? I could kill you, right now.”
“Nah, I am.” Running a hand over his beard, Low shrugged. “But don’t be height fishing. You good, no need to lie.”
Easing into the chaise, Low admired Max while she observed Red and said, “We have millions.”
“I don’t want your daddy’s little  money.” Stalking his big self to the wet bar, Jaxon frowned. “And I don’t wanna kidnap you. Fuck. I need ice.” He spared a moment of silence to pour Henny and swig.
A second helping followed.
“I wasn’t gonna snitch or whatever the hell. You jumped to conclusions, as usual. I’ve known you for all of a week, Max, and I see your negative personality traits loud and clear.”
The female crossed her arms with an eye roll. “Yeah yeah, I’m working on it.”
“No you not,” Low spat. “Why is everybody lying right now?”
Jaxon snapped his fingers and continued, “I was just bringing it to your attention. Tracy is one false move away from going to prison. Unless…” On the turn around, he leaned against the bar. “I can cook his books.” Hitting the liquor, Jaxon peeped over the rim.
Max frowned and said, “I’m not the one you need to be talking to.”
“I know that, don’t you worry your pretty head about it, Maxine.” He hissed her name and snarled. “I will handle the rest.”
Shorty sighed and said, “Well, we should go. This was fun, but it’s about that time.”
Red slammed his glass on the mirrored side table, and faced them again. “You shot me for no reason. This shit escalated too quickly. You went from accusing me of stalking you, to accusing me yet again. Only to put a hot slug in my shoulder. You owe me another apology, mama.”
Low fought a smile, ‘cause Red was telling facts and had a major point. But Max hated being wrong and she wasn’t perfect. Never one to admit she fucked up or take accountability, was a huge problem. They got into it about this very same thing a bunch of times. Low was no better, though, and two people who wasn’t shit, being not shit together, made for a happy couple…an almost happy couple.
“This is kind of bad,” Max nodded. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. I overreacted.”
Low scoffed. “Oh, I know you are not folding that easy.” He stabbed her with a narrowed gaze. “After all the times you—wowwwww. Okay, damn, you wild, shorty.” Feelings hurt and all he pouted.
“Low, I shot him,” Max pointed out, as if he didn’t see the whole thing. “It’s not like I drank the last of his limeade.”
Low jacked to his feet and gasped. “I knew you did it! Tried to make me look crazy, thinking I drank all my shit.”
Max looked up at Red. “This was two years ago. He stores grudges for a rainy day, it’s sooo bad.”
“It don’t matter how long ago it was, shorty. Ten years we been rockin, and you play me like that. Damnnnnn.”
“You drank the last of his favorite juice, I presume? Then you lied about it.” Red smirked. “That’s cold.”
Low clapped and said, “Thank you, thannnk you. Eccczactly.”
“Fine, I’m sorry I drank your juice. I’ll buy you some more.”
“I want ten cartons! For damages and distress!”
“I hear you.”
Spinning around, he eyed the Glock and swiped it. Low shoved the piece back into its holster and pointed at Max.
“Let’s head out, we done here.” Shorty got busy, gathering her things while Low stepped to the bar and clocked cognac.
“Is this all you drink?”
“Hell yeah.”
He chuckled, fashioned himself a half glass and smashed it. “I ain’t never had Hine before, it’s  smooth.”
“I can’t find my glasses.”
“In the chair, baby.”
She searched, skipping right over the damn frames. “I don’t see them.”
“Behind you,” Low muttered.
“Oh.”
Red sighed in passing and stopped at the nightstand. He snatched open a drawer and pulled out…gummy worms?
“You want some?” He shook the bag and Max rounded to his side.
“Yeah, are they sour?”
“Nah, I shoulda got some sour ones.”
She dug into the bag with him and Low scratched his head, perplexed.
From guns to fucking candy?
“I got Jolly Ranchers, too.”
“I’ll take one,” Low said as he joined the duo and was given a handful of blue. “Man if you don’t take all these nasty ass blue things.”
Red chuckled. “You don’t like them either?”
“Hell nah.”
“I got cherry, watermelon, and peach left.”
“I’ll take cherry.”
“A man with good taste.”
Max smiled. “I want peach.”
This wasn’t exactly how Low saw the night going. But, he still ended it by sucking on something sweet.

This had to be the weirdest night of her life. Max went from shooting someone, assuming she was about die, to eating gummy worms. They were good though. With her palm out, Red dispatched a few peach Jolly Ranchers.
“Thanks. Now I really feel bad about shooting you. I didn’t mean to though.”
“You distinctly said you aimed to kill me.”
She snorted. “I mean yeah, sure, but people say a lot of shit in the moment.” Max peeped his boredom and tried not to laugh, but failed.
“What’s so funny?”
She was small and they were too close, which meant, her neck almost cracked looking up at Jaxon.
“Nothing, mind yours.”
“Give my damn candy back, since you wanna be rude.”
“No.” She frowned and backed up, “It’s mine now.” she twirled the peach candy open and grinned.
“You ready, shorty?”
“Yeah.”
She heard Jaxon sigh as his larger than life frame plopped onto the chaise. Popping the treat in her mouth, Max couldn’t help but notice his eyes. The spooled gold glinted as he stared at her. Or studied them more like it. She shrugged and glanced at Low who nudged his chin towards the door.
“What happened to our plans?” Jaxon asked, in a deep guttural tone that garnered her attention.
“I’m sorry?” She clacked her tongue ring against hardened sugar and sucked on it to keep from talking.
“What about you, Low?”
She cut to her lover as he smiled with a mouth full of golds. “Uh, I don’t uh…I figured that was off the table. Cause you know…”
“Because?” Red smirked. “Because I got shot? Thing is, about that, it ain’t real if somebody don’t bleed first.”
Max’s breath hitched. She hacked and swallowed the candy by accident. Oh god, he was a nut job, sexy as shit, kinda scary, but not. Those arms…he should be in the woods, swinging an axe. And why was his nose pierced like that?
Jaxon bore into her as his broad chest awakened her curiosity.
“Low, maybe—”
“You a special kinda horny, Red. And any other night I’d maybe—”
“Why you acting like a pussy all of a sudden? You’ve been talking a lot of shit, Elliot.”
Low chuckled and relaxed against the wall, eyes narrowing. “Don’t go there with me. You an old male who can’t keep up with this here.” Licking his lips, Low shook his head. She needed popcorn and glass of wine. “Plus, I doubt you’ve even been with a man, you’ve ignored every pass I have made. I don’t need no curious dick in my life. I been there with straight men, and ain’t never going back.”
Jaxon shot to his feet. Max backpedaled, clearing a path.
He pointed at Low and beamed. “Outta you two, I thought she was the hardest to convince. But it’s you, ain’t it?”
They met eye to eye damn near and stood inches apart. Max swallowed, tingling with envy.
“You’re reading me all wrong, Low. Yes, I am old. Very. So it should come at no surprise that I have never been or will be, straight.”
Oooo come on now. Jaxon yanked up Lows shirt and snatched the gun free. His scent rolled in waves, and overwhelmed the humid murkiness from outside.
It pulsated and thickened as he shoved the pistol under Low’s chin.
“Uh oh.” Max whispered. She had to do something, what if Jaxon lost it.
“I’ve sucked more bureaucratic dick than years you have been alive. I’ve fucked more men than you have, and that’s a certainty. If you ever, put a gun to my head again, it’ll be the last thing you do on this earth.”
Her breath came in pants, and thighs trembled. She watched, wanting what they had. Max inhaled a lung full and swayed. Their scents were an aphrodisiac. Low’s stoicism, and unwavering eye contact made her pine for some attention. Max had always been greedy and needy, this wasn’t their first threesome. They had them all the time. Men, women, shit…all genders, no genders.
It was open season and she hated being left out.
Jaxon smirked, his free hand tunneled around and Low hissed. “Violence is the vampire equivalent of Viagra, is it not? And you, Ms. Bissette!” She flinched when he turned around, pistol aimed at her. “What you wanna do to me now?”
“I dont know.”
“Liar.”
“I just—”
Jaxon stood before her; the tallest of redwoods. Thick, aged, and majestic. Arms like fat boughs and tresses of burning fall leaves.
“The only thing you need to understand, Max, is that I want you. Not later, not tomorrow. But right now.”
His scent invaded, coiling within the walls of her swollen pussy. She wanted to ask why and what made her so special as a lowly halfbreed.
Fuck allat.
Max dropped her bag and whimpered. “Whatever you say Re—Oh shit!” Jaxon picked her up with one arm, and next thing she knew her back met the wall so hard a panting fell.
He growled and snarled, “You got a loud ass mouth, and I wanna hear that shit too.”
“What?”
Lord knows how, or when he removed her pants, but he had. And god damn, they lied! Everybody who said white boys were small, they were liars straight from the pits of hell! Max gasped only for her lungs stall as he broke through and slipped…better yet, rammed his dick into her guts.
“Oh my god!”
“Yeah, I am your god now.” His lips whispered against hers. “Now say sorry.” He purred, starting a deadly motion. “Tell me you sorry, Max.”
“I’m so—”
He didn’t let her speak, using those lush lips, Jaxon kissed her like a furious, starving beast. The force came second to the ache between her legs.
Sensations erupted as he filled her out.
Flexing around him, her pussy stretched and accommodated. Nipples tingled and skin tightened while she tasted and teased.
Max begged for it, and mewled, arching and opening.
As he tore away, she stared into a golden lake of desire and heaved.
“You want it now, huh?”
“Yea.”
One thrust and she bucked.
“Fuck!” Max cried.
“Hold on tight, now.”
She should have taken his word for it, ’cause not even a second later, he gripped her thighs and ravaged Max up against the wall. Mean, and thorough, he eased in and pulled out in such a way that everything shook loose.
Her brain rattled, lamps dared to tip over, and her pussy creamed around his girth. Digging nails into his shoulders, she clutched with pangs of lust riding her raw.
“Oh shii—waiiii—I’m ’bouta cum! I’m gonna cum I swa-” He choked her. Blocking airways, the slut tore her shit down. He was unkind with knitted brows, fangs, and a bitter snarl. She wasn’t used to this at all, but on the cusp of a release eyes rolled.
He touched her ribs and grunted.
The marrow-melting friction intensified and twisted into a prickling ball that threatened her sanity. His claws scored her flesh as thrusts quickened, causing her hold to slip.
Jaxon used Max’s pelvis as a stress reliever.
“I’m sorrry, I’m sorryyyy, shhhit! I’m sorrrry,” she wailed.
He destroyed her insides and mixed them guts.
Max was about to go ape shit.
Ready to beg and plead, pleasure consumed her.
Mind and body were held hostage by an orgasm, a reckoning that made her scream. She wanted mercy and for him to keep going. “Ughnnghh-uhhhhgghghh-” She growled through growing fangs and moaned. Max returned his ruthlessness with a vicious eye. The ass hole was grimey with his dick. He didn’t even know her like that.
Motha Fucka.
“Put. Me. Down.” She gritted the words because this wasn’t right. The male was flush, and reddened by what he’d done.
Prick.
“I sa—”
He rolled his hips and she whimpered.
“I think we understand how things go now, don’t we?”
“Yes! Now let me down.” She snapped and wanted to spit in his face. The big fine red-haired monster withdrew and hissed.
“Why the hell are you so tight, ma’am?”
“Kegals and vinegar, bitch.”
He growled and wrapped a big hand around her neck. “You wanna do this again?”
“Not yet, share the wealth. God damn. Up off me”
Sliding down the wall, she landed on the floor, and leaned. Max stumbled into the nightstand; he helped her upright.
“I’m fine.” Max had to have some dignity here. “I can walk.” She retrieved her pants, looked at Low and tried not to blush or cry. Her man was undone and fidgety. His leg bounced as he gave a tight smile.
“Woooow, look at the time.” Low feigned a yawn and stretched. Max giggled while he punked out.
“I know you are not…” She sputtered as Red turned and stared at her homie, lover, friend.
Low shook his head. “It’s late, it’s getting late—you wanna go, Max?”
She was unimpressed. “No.”
“I think I’m tired, though. Feel a headache coming on.”
“Don’t look like it.” Red added. Low’s strong man was standing at attention. If Max had to suffer a god damn beat down then it was only fair if he suffered with her.

AB couldn’t think straight, the room went on a little spin and there were two men sitting in the chair instead of one. Her scent was on his tongue. It stained his skin while her cream was left to rest upon cooling flesh.
His heart rate decreased and body stiffened. After such a sublime release AB should have been ready to pass out, but nah. He wanted the other half.
His hunger hadn’t been sated quite yet. Low’s cocoa brown lips and stormy eyes beckoned.
“You running from this dick already?” AB asked.
“Fuck you, bruh”
“By all means, please.” AB hissed.
Low covered the smiled that curled his precious mouth. If he didn’t move quick, AB was about to lay the little one out ‘til she collapsed from overexertion.
“You know what? I don’t even got no glide on me. I don’t eve—”
“I got it,” Max cut in with the save. She hefted her satchel and rifled through it. What she pulled out made AB happy as hell.
“What were you saying?”
Low’s lips thinned, glaring at Max. “Baby, why you got that in your purse?”
“Cause you never know when you’ll need lube, and look. We need it.”
She smiled and gave a thumbs up. This woman had nerve, being so god damn sexy and cute at the same time. AB shrugged and rounded to the other side.
“Excuses aren’t gonna help you here, Low.” AB pulled a hair tie from his pocket and did what he had to do. With tresses bound, he smirked. “How about I help you relax?”
Low’s brows popped. “Uh, I mean, yeah. Sure—if you comforta—ooooookay.”
AB wasn’t a perfectionist per say, but he figured, if you were gonna do anything, give it your absolute best. And in many avenues of his life, the motto acted as motivation.
Dropping to his knees, he shoved Lows legs apart and clawed at his waistband. “Boxers, seriously? You’re wearing gray sweat pants.”
“I’m Conservative. I ain’t out here being a slut, okay.”
AB snarled and yanked on his pants, boxers followed. Classless. He’d never wear a second layer with grays. Irritation faded when Low’s solid shaft bobbed free.
AB’s own dick danced again at the sight of this males blessed endowments.
Low grunted and scooted forward. “Go ‘head and ease my stress.”
Velvety and thick. AB clutched him and watched the response with bloated arrogance. Low bit down on his lip and bucked. His excitement glistened on the blunt head, tempting AB like another type of candy.
He flicked at it with the tip of his tongue, making Low grunt. The musky, earthy flavor lingered and he wanted more. He started at the base and laved.
There was a lot of ground to cover. Teasing the spot just below his head made Low groan and grip the fluffy armchair.
Glutinous and impatient, AB kissed the tip and devoured him slowly.
He jutted, encouraging action. Cradling his heavy set, AB worked with caution. He improved suction and massaged the males heavy sac.
“Ohhh fuuuuuck,” Low choked out a response. The sound pleased AB immensly. He wanted to hear it again. Committing to the motion, he used skill and speed. Simultaneous actions created a rhythm most couldn’t keep up with. The twist of his neck, an embracing tongue worked in unison with a tight grasp.
AB added flair and swallowed the head. He slid down, into his throat. “Shit!” Low’s bark would have made him smile, if his mouth weren’t full.
AB put in that work. Up and down, deep and suffocating. His gag reflex was non existent. Eons, fuckin’ centuries of giving head secured his status as a deep throat champion.
Spiraling and tugging, caressing and sucking, AB kicked it into fifth gear, forcing Low’s head to fall back. Pleasure raked through them both. Watching someone cum because of him—a hand.
Oh shit!
A warm palm wrapped around him and worked vigorously. He moaned with Low deviling deeper and didn’t stop. Pressing on, AB performed to perfection. Thanks to Max, his neck game grew nasty as she jerked him the fuck off. Slick and heated, he saw stars as Low’s nails scraped his scalp, the male grunted and used him up.
With Max down below and Low taking control, he fucked his throat and came with a curse. A nano second later, AB’s desire boiled over and erupted. His body listed, and if it wasn’t for Low, he would have melted into the floor.
“Get the fu—”
The male withdrew with a pop and shot upward, pulling AB with him.
AB smiled, spun around, and fell face first onto the mattress.
Ass up and face down, he spread wide and enjoyed the sensation of the gel on his booty hole. Max appeared in his line of sight, grinning. “Hope you enjoy this.”
“I want you in my mou—Ohhhh, yesss!”
Low stretched him with ease. No prep needed, AB old and well versed. The glorious sensation sent chills through his body. Spurts of pain paled in comparison to striking bolts of pleasure. He shivered and arched until Max appeared.
And dear heavens…her pussy was fat, sloppy, sexy as hell and wet as rain. She opened and flexed her pretty pink slit.
“Damn it!” He shouted at both her plump petals and Low’s dick, stroking him just right.
AB hissed and plundered her folds. Slippery as fine as silk, he ran over her clit with his eager tongue. Her preening flooded airways, and amplified his heightened nerves. “God Low, you fuck like a grandp—“ He slapped his ass and impaled him.
AB gasped and received a second thunder clap, then third.
Dining on Max had become difficult once Low’s motion began. He rocked the boxspring, the headboard, and peeled his fuckin’ guard back. AB ground his molars and welcomed the beating.
Low growled like a full grown vampire and yanked on his hair. That was a no go and he’d pay for it later. AB was too busy with trying to breathe as his head dropped, resting on Max’s thigh.
The female tweaked her own pearl and rolled her hips.
Oxygen stalled as his body tensed and Low pummeled his prostate.
The world vanished.
All AB heard was Max come while Low’s release spilled inside of him.
His orgasm came with white hot rage, AB roared. Shaking bottles on the bar, they exploded as he was immersed into another round of delirium.
“My turn!” Max yelled. Shirts and her bra flew across the room. In a haze, AB admired the tat on her chest. It was fucking beautiful. So was the skull covering the expanse of Low’s back.
On the verge of coming again, he watched as the male stretched her supple walls. AB was prepared to sleep in the wet spot if need be. HFS, what he received was unfamiliar and uncommon. After many years of fucking, he knew every sensation. Before, during and after. The shit rarely changed, but this felt weird, different even. He wasn’t too sure if he liked the startling realization.
With marrow running hot and legs shaking, he was left to cool.
To harden like a well used wash rag.
Low peeked over his shoulder and said, “Gimmie what she got.”
AB chuckled, though unsure. “I don’t know if she can—”
“I’m a goddamn vampire, too! Put it—put—oh hhhhh, Lowww, I want it! Put that weight on me.”
She cried as the male stirred them guts.
“Fine with me.”
After grabbing the lube, he did the honor of covering Low’s fat ass. Oh god, he had stretch marks. AB made a disgusting noise as he played in the silicone-based liquid. “Neither of you will leave here in one piece.”
They ignored his promise, but would soon realize how serious he was.

Neon Red: Chapter 3

What an unfortunate circumstance. Robbed, someone tried to rob him. For the first time in ten years, Elliot had to save Tracy’s life. Well, Hollister helped, too, and he appreciated fast thinking. On their toes and ready for battle. Best to have someone around who can defend his honor. Tracy would rather not engage in a fight, unless it was with a pen.
Mayhap a game of chess, but he wasn’t too good, truth be told. His father reigned as king in chess and often berated Tracy for losing so viciously.
As they puttered along, 826 -and putter was an apt description- Elliot drove like an old man. Granted, he was an old fellow. He stayed in the slow lane and kept it at sixty-five. Their trips always took longer than necessary. Tracy knew Elliot was only being safe, but good god, this was ridiculous. He should have been home by now.
They were on the highway, but dealing with Elliot, a fifteen-minute ride turned into twenty-five. Annnnd, it was 3 am, no one was on the road, save for three other cars that sped on by moments before.
“Thank you again, Elliot. You are a true marksman.”
“I didn’t even get to use my gun,” he said, sounding incredibly dejected.
“Maybe next—well, you know what? No.” Tracy shook his head. “I don’t want a next time.”
Elliot glanced at him and smirked. “You sure? It’ll give that old heart a jolt.”
“No, no. I hope to never go through something like that again.”
“Me either, I don’t wanna make getting stabbed a habit.”
“So, you said you’ve been hurt worse?”
Elliot nodded, keeping eyes on the road and two hands on the wheel like a seventy-year-old human named Henryetta, “Yeah, been stabbed. Set on fire, shot, disemboweled, and lost a leg once. Nearly got my head lopped off… You know, stuff like that.”
“Noooo, I don’t know.” Tracy scoffed. He couldn’t imagine any of it. “Dear god. You never disclosed such information before.”
“Irrelevant.”
“Fair enough.”
As silence settled in, Tracy took a gander at Elliot’s wound and gagged. The sight of so much blood was unappealing, even for a vampire. Seeping and oozing, glistening.
Was that white meat?
He dragged attention away from the hellish display and stared out the window instead. When 56th merged into Millers Street, hunger pangs returned, and with vengeance. They drove by an assortment of eateries, and his stomach howled. The long stretch of asphalt and stop lights became a new brand of torture.
Mr. Paella, Bamboo Miller, and McDonald’s—where Tracy would never eat, because he was vegan and not trashy—looked like a grand idea; he was starved.
“Are you hungry, Elliot?”
“Uh, sorta. I’m really tryna keep from throwing up right now.”
“Ohhh, does it hurt?”
“It tickles, Tracy.”
“Right, dumb question.” Checking on him with obvious reluctance, Tracy noted the sweat on Elliot’s brow. “You know? Jaya can stitch that for you.”
“No, no—”
“It’s the least I can do. She’s great with a needle and thread.”
Good thing he nodded; it was unlikely Elliot would make it home in this state. “We can have it sewn up and get you a pint.”
“Yeah, sure.”
He agreed just as they made a right onto 60th, where streets were narrow, and homes were shielded behind high brush. Each house, manse, or abode was gated and secure. Tracy loved this neighborhood and its timeless beauty. The homes were older, built in the early 2000s, but were charming, and his was no exception.
Elliot pushed a button on the remote on his keyring before reaching the gate. Tracy gave him free access to pretty much everything. After ten years, he trusted Elliot beyond measure. They’d gone so long without one hiccup.
Seconds later, thank god, they embarked on the roundabout drive and stopped at the front door.
“Finally,” Tracy grumbled.
“Something wrong with my driving?”
“No, no… I mean, if I required urgent care, I’d be dead, but great job.”
Hopping out with his backpack, Tracy heard Elliot chuckle, and he smirked. Being home felt nice, and when he walked in, he smelled a lovely aroma. Wine sauce and plant-based butter. From the foyer, Tracy swerved right, paced through the formal dining, and arrived in the kitchen.
“What do we have here?”
“I thought I heard the door,” Jaya said, stirring whatever bubbled and boiled on the stove.
“Chickpea and potato curry.”
“Wonderful, you are talented with a spoon, Jaya.”
The woman blushed, and he spun around. “Uhm, Elliot has suffered an inj—”
“Oh my god, Elliot.” Jaya dropped the spoon, snagged a dish towel off her shoulder, and wiped her hands. “Come here.”
“Hay.”
“Hi bud, how are—oooohhhh.” She flinched and examined the wound. “Got a deep one, huh?”
“Yeah, and I need to sit down.”
“Come, come.” After tugging Elliot along, Jaya placed him at the breakfast bar. “We’re gonna go in the bathroom first, and then, I’m gonna fix you right up.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“You know better than to ma’am me.” She smacked him with the towel, slid behind Tracy, and smiled as he tried to take a bite. “Don’t you even think about it, mister.”
“Damn it.”
“Yeah.”
His shoulders drooped. “I’m gonna put my things in the office and—”
“Oh, uhm, Tracy? You had a visitor tonight.”
“I did?” His nerves rattled in a way. “Who?”
“Yeah, who?” Elliot asked, only with more suspicion. Jaya grabbed a fresh bottle of blood—not his, they were labeled—and offered it to the bodyguard.
“An auditor.”
“Shiiiit.” Tracy was unsettled. “Human, orrrr…”
“Monarchy.”
“Oh shitm,” he uttered again and nodded. “Okay. I’m— damn it. I am going to handle this.”
“I hope so. Have you been paying your taxes?” Jaya asked.
“Yeees.” He lied, the IRS, yes, he paid those on time. But the monarchy, no. And the thing was, he had a few years to make up for. Tracy may have seen this coming and chose to ignore it, being that he was far too busy. He had many things to worry about, and it wasn’t like the king needed money.
“I’m gonna get right on it.”
Spinning around, he nearly mowed down his daughter. “My god. Make some noise on your approach, child.”
“Sorry, what happened?” she asked. “I smell—” The girl side-stepped and shrugged. “What happened to Elliot? What happened to you?”
“I got stabbed.”
“What?!”
Tracy frowned. “Use your inside voice. What have I told you about being loud?”
“Leave her be, Tracy,” Jaya cut in.
“How did you get stabbed?” She looked back and gaped. “Dad, did someone try to kill you?”
“Apparently, they were trying to rob me.”
“Holy sh—shoot.”
“Cursing is boorish for a young lady. Why do I have to remind you of this every moment of every night?”
“Does it hurt?” his daughter asked, in an amused tone. A fiendish smile exposed her delight.
“Yes, it does.” Elliot was not enthused with her response.
“Jaya, are you gonna stitch him?”
“I sure am, you wanna watch?”
“Absolutely.”
Tracy rolled his eyes. How was the girl he raised obsessed with gore? “I’m going to freshen up and be in my office until supper is ready. Max, don’t poke at it.”
“Dad,” she huffed. “I’m not gonna poke it.”
“You poke everything.”
“I bet it’s squishy,” she said.
“You are not touching me,” Elliot interjected, “it’s on fire.”
Max laughed as Tracy took his leave.
Wheeling around, he departed and banked right. On a mission, he kept straight ahead, through formal living, and dashed down the hall. He loved the portraits straddling his path. There were various photos from the past and present. The passage of time is told through frozen memories. Vintage frames protected old, blurry black-and-whites. Maxine’s baby shoots, class photos, or candid snaps in color.
1.7 million was a lot for some, but in Miami, it was a drop in the bucket, and got you four bedrooms. Maybe three thousand square feet. Tracy had four thousand and owned the largest home in the neighborhood. He lived lavishly, with marble floors and twenty-foot ceilings.
At a dead end, he glared at the doors leading to his quarters, then to the left, and decided. His office beckoned. This shit was not going to be fun. On his way, he glanced in Max’s room and grunted. Slob. Clothes were scattered about, canvases on the floor, and old paint coated every surface.
He moved on with a sigh and entered his workspace. She got it earnestly. Tracy dropped his bag and closed the door. Papers swamped his desk, books lay on their backs, and leaned on shelves. The file cabinet wasn’t even closed. Folders cocked and protruded, daring to escape drawers.
Stress ailed him.
Tracy didn’t know where to begin, and his burden grew heavier when he opened the closet door. File boxes and overflowing plastic tubs screamed obscenities. Those were his finances. Somewhere in this mess was six years’ worth of financial garbage. Shit that made his brain explode lurked within the heap.
“Well, let’s get to it.”

At Jaya’s place—the guest house—Max stood behind his nurse and watched. Low sat on the bed bench while the lady worked with skilled hands.
“That shit went deep, bruh,” Max said. She stared in awe as his skin pulled with the thread.
“You think?” Low asked, clearly annoyed.
“I put a topical anesthetic on it. You shouldn’t feel anything.”
“I don’t, it’s not the first time I been skewered.”
Jaya’s Cinnamon gaze flared. “Is that so?”
“Nah, but it don’t never get easier.” He flinched, and Max winced. The asshole chuckled.
“That ain’t funny,” she scowled.
“It is to me.”
Max grimaced and mumbled, “You irritating, like hella bothersome.”
“Back at you, sir.”
She flipped him off and got a smile in return.
“I love how you two get along like angry siblings.”
Max coughed and gagged. “Don’t say that, Jaya!” Shivering, she glanced at Low who couldn’t have been more disgusted.
“Okay.” His nurse clipped the last stitch and said, “That should do it, kid. Let me dress it with some gauze, and you’ll be good to go.”
Making herself useful, Max snatched a pack of sterilized cotton stuff. The wound was nasty but healing already.
“You ain’t much older than me, Jaya.”
She shrugged. “Older is older.”
After handing the squares over, Ms. Burke slapped the material on a three-inch gash. Surgical tape was next.
“I am donezo, Elliot.”
“Can I put my shirt back on now?”
“I don’t know, can you?”
Low rotated his shoulder and nodded. “I think so.”
“By all means.” Jaya ripped off her gloves and sighed. “Tomorrow, I’m gonna need to take those out.”
“It’s good.” Low grabbed his shirt and winced again. Max grimaced at the brief display of distress. “I know how to do that. I done it a lot.”
“I can only imagine, you’re a big guy. You’ve undoubtedly seen your fair share of victories.”
He smiled in a hideous, flirtatious manner. But Jaya rolled her eyes and gathered trash.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Don’t ma’am me, Elliot!” Bouncing up, she smirked. “I’ll punch that shoulder in a heartbeat.”
He laughed then hissed. “I think the numbing agent is wearing off already.”
“That’s what yo ass get, bruh,” Max said, sneering. “Tryin’ to be a hero.”
“Shut the fuck up before I throw you through a window.”
“I heard that!” Jaya yelled from around the corner.
Vindication.
“Now.” Rolling her neck, Max twirled and followed the woman’s voice. She skipped into the galley-style food room and used innocence to get what she wanted. “Hay Jaya, can you make some scones? Blueb—”
“I know what kinda scones you want, honey. And yeah, it was on my to-do list.”
“Yessss.”
“Can’t believe somebody tried to steal Dad’s money.” She slid across the tile in her Ariel socks, plucked a pear from the fruit bowl, and hopped up on one of two countertops. Max bit into its flesh while Jaya twisted her ear.
“Get your ass off,” she slid down and laughed nervously cause it hurt, “my clean counter. Have you even taken a shower yet?”
“Hell nah, she cutting onions. Ol’ fonky ass.”
Max hissed too, but like a vampire, and snarled, “Mind your business. And yes, I did take a shower.”
“Doubtful.”
“Byyyyyyeeee Elliiiiiooot!”
He shot a narrowed gaze her way and smacked his lips. “Bruh, you buggin. See if I ever give your yappin ass another treat.”
“Fuck off, four eyes.”
The male was six-foot-three, and his waves nearly brushed the ceiling. He was a grown ass man but sensitive as hell. Low stomped his foot as Max chomped on her fruit.
“Why you always gotta go there?” he pouted. “You know how I feel about my weak eyesight. Man, Jaya, she ain’t right, that’s not okay. It’s a disability! You can’t say that.”
“You a crybaby, blood,” Max murmured.
He lunged, but hiding behind Jaya’s six-foot, thick frame saved her. “Boy, you better back up. Don’t touch my baby. Go on now, go home. You look exhausted.”
“I am.”
“I know.”
“For real,” Max agreed. She rolled the green to find a crisp, white, meaty part. “You look tired. Get some rest.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Low stalked out and slammed the door on his departure.
“Why do you hate him so much?”
“I do not hate him.”
“You do, you’re like a pissy cat ready to scratch his eyes out.”
“He’s annoying, Jaya.” Scraping the core, she sucked on juice then ditched it’s corpse in the trash can. “He’s an elderly crotchety male whose favorite pastime is making me mad.”
“That’s cause you have a bad temper, Max.”
“I don’t, though.”
“You’re a terrible liar, too.”
She giggled, scurried from the kitchen, and hopped on Jaya’s bed.
“No feet on my bed!”
“I didn’t put my—”
“You did, I watched you do it.”
“You’re in the kitchen, how do you know?”
Falling into a cross-legged position, Max smiled and snagged the remote. “What have you been—gross. You and these god damn documentaries. It’s a sickness.”
“You want popcorn?”
“Yes.”
Docs were out, American Gangster was in. When the movie started, Max got nice and comfy. Per the norm, Jaya brought popcorn and hooch. Seagram’s Escapes were actually the best. Black Berry Fizz got them right every time. Just when Frank showed his face, Jaya chose to talk.
“I think you should get laid.”
Max dribbled and stabbed her with a side eye, “I am not talking about this with you. I can’t, it’s… ick. You changed my diapers.”
Jaya threw an arm around her and smiled. “Awww sweetheart, sex is natural. It’s healthy.”
“Oh, my god.” Max stared at the TV and nodded.
“It helps with stress and anger. If you can’t find a man, then hay, buy one.”
“What?! What do you mean?”
“From Adam and Eve, they have a great selection of toys.”
“Noooooo, Jaya, I am begging you, please. I love you and your concern. But I don’t need to get laid.”
Her only motherly figure observed in silence. Jaya’s lips pursed as she shrugged. “I suppose, but I’ll find you something cute anyway. I have a few recommendations.”
Max sipped her beer and snickered. Toys were nice, and she had a few, but little did this lady know they were useless, and no substitute for real peen. Skin to skin. Shit, Max was lucky as hell to get dick on the regular, even if its owner was forbidden.

Hello, y’all, I hope everyone is doing well, and your Tuesday is halfway through. I want to say thank you for the love this story is getting. It’s round two of trying to publish it. No one, and I mean, not a soul, read it on Vella. But, you’re here now, and I thank you! Onto chapter notes.
First of all, I already know y’all are going to hate Tracy, but when I wrote this, I felt as though his pov was important. Please, don’t skip his chapters; they will be needed later on.
This is an mmf paranormal romance first, yes. But it’s also a family drama filled with secrets, trauma, and healing generational wounds.
The person Max is has a lot to do with her father, and in the coming weeks, you’ll see why. If Max seems a tad childish, playful, and even annoying, that’s on purpose. This is only the beginning, and my favorite girl is in for some GROWING PAINS! So, sit tight, and enjoy the ride.
Oh, and one more thing, I wrote and finished this series about five or six years ago. I’ve written so many books since, and the universe in which this one exists is VAST. I’ll add notes as needed. If you have questions, please don’t hesitate to ask. And as always, thank you again. Have a wonderful week, y’all.

Chapter 18: Of Teas & Curses

“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.