Across town and underground, Nieema admired lofty stacks. She’d been in the castle’s library for a minute, reading shorts to kill time before her guests’ arrival. Not in a particularly romantic mood, she went for comedy. Slapstick, irreverent, or absurd. She wanted to laugh without thinking much. Nieema didn’t like staying in the subterranean castle for long. It trudge up an unsavory batch of memories. Those darkened by the past and present. Nah, she would rather not dwell within these stone walls. Though it wasn’t an ideal meeting place, she loved the grand, three-story library. It’d been her haven as a child and a stressed adult. She’d called it home once and had even fallen asleep on the same sofa she lounged upon now. Lemon wax, citrus oils, and parchment made her feel safe. It provided a hefty dose of nostalgia as well. Nieema smiled, recalling the early, adolescent years. Her mother would read to her for hours. It was a fleeting time she remembered fondly. Nieema settled with another book and relaxed on tufted velvet. She cracked the spine the moment her brother spoke. “Come on down here, Your Grace.” Monroe beckoned, and she slapped the hardback shut. “I know you up there.” “Don’t rush me, boy.” Tossing the book, Nieema took her favorite form. She exploded into a chattering, squealing colony of bats. Her magic hummed, and psyche split. Twenty sets of eyes and ears. She saw all and heard every motha fucking thing going on in the castle. The keep, kitchens, and chambers. To the dining hall and courtyard. Nothing was a secret when she grew wings and clawed feet. Not only was this the quickest way to travel, but it tended to scare the shit out of everyone. Including the beady-eyed mayor who shrank and yelped. Nieema circled him and swelled; she undulated. Swirling around the man until he cowered in his seat. “Stop playing with the poor soul, Queen.” She snickered and dropped into her full form. “Mayor Gloomfhut. It’s so nice you could be with us today.” Preston Gloomfhut was a fifth-generation ghoul. Which meant he liked raw meat and looked like a god damn dead fish. He was the type who lived up to his name. A thin-lipped, sharp smile was enough. Nieema noted them shiny shoes and the gold signet ring on his sixth finger. “I am sorry about that,” he said, crossing his legs. “The mayor’s job is never done, Your Majesty.” Nieema unbuttoned her suit jacket and sat, adjacent to the uptight, sneaky ghoul. “I know, but we needed to talk.” She gestured to the waiting fixin’s. “I had a little something prepared for you. Some raw cubes, aged cheeses, and dipping sauces. There’s also spiced blood. I know y’all can live without it, but I think it’s a fine treat.” “No, no. I will not turn down a chance to have some premium blood.” Monroe was more of a listener than a talker. Especially during times of political strain. This talk wasn’t a big hoopla, but he remained stoic, swirling his full glass. He stood near the wet bar and sipped. “Good god,” Gloomfhut rasped. “This is divine, Your Majesty. I can’t say I’ve ever had Moores Wind port. Can I uh, well, may I take a picture of the bottle?” “Be my guest.” Preston grinned, fishing his phone from his breast pocket. Those fingernails had seen better days. Blackened and chipped, Nieema grimaced at the filth. He was put together, but his complexion was off, and he hadn’t bathed in some time. Whatever the Mayor was into had him cracking and peeling on the surface. Ghouls had come a ways thanks to human intervention. Yeah, they fucked humans, and so what? That wasn’t the problem at hand. And while his shook while taking the photo, Nieema clocked the threadbare scent of decay. “Splendid,” Mayor Gloomfhut drawled, stashing his device. “Now, what is this about? I asked Monroe, but he was light on the details.” “How well do you know the Voaremont’s?” The ghoul canted his head and glanced at her brother. He crossed his legs once more and tugged cuffs. The question unsettled him. Nieema was shit outta luck reading his pulse, ghouls didn’t have a heartbeat. They had working parts and a magic in their veins, but lacked a fully functioning heart. “Of course, everyone knows them. They’re one of the wealthiest families on the planet.” Nieema wasn’t about to play in this man’s face. She snapped up a glass of blood and swigged. “Glad to see you think so highly of them,” Monroe added. “What is this about?” Mayor Gloomfhut asked. Nieema slammed her glass onto a rose gold platter. “What does my decree say about hunting?” “It’s forbidden.” “No.” “It’s against the law.” “Continue.” “If anyone is caught hunting or conspiring with hunters, then the punishment is death.” “Public execution,” Monroe corrected. Nieema exhaled and smirked, but she was unamused. “Someone is hunting in my fucking city. Misthill. The one you are in charge of protecting and providing for. So, tell me, Mayor, how has this slipped by you?” Bloodfhut stammered and hiked up. He shook his head vehemently. “Your Majesty, I would never—“ “Don’t fix yourself to lie up in here.” Nieema scooted forward, resting elbows on her knees. She peered into the man’s unnatural, averting gaze. “I’m gonna need you to speak your next words with care. We brought you here, to this library because it is charmed. If you twist your tongue to lie to me, it’ll be the last thing you ever do.” Mayor Gloomfhut screwed his eyes shut and coughed. His knuckles turned white as he gripped dark, Chellian wood. “I can’t.” “You can’t what?” “You don’t understand.” “Make me.” “Your Majesty, the Voaremonts will kill me. I can’t—I can’t. You must know that it was never my intention. I trieeeed to stop them. I swear to the Greats, I did. But—but their father, the patriarch.” Mayor Bloodfhut snapped his head up and stuttered. “He’s—he’s—honestly, I don’t know what he is, but I don’t think he’s human. And—AND—they’d kill me if—I ain’t saying they’re doing it. But I am not saying they aren’t.” “You know why they’re doing it?” “I have no idea.” Nieema huffed. He hadn’t melted yet. This told her one thing: the mayor wasn’t lying yet. Though he’d chosen to omit. “You not talking?” Nieema whispered, anger flaring. “I can’t rat!” “Okay, but you’ll be staying with us until you sing, Preston.” “Your Majesty, if I could do any—“ “Speak.” His head dropped, and his spine loosened. Gloomfhut sagged and blubbered. “He’s got eyes on my whole family and me. If he finds out—maybe he already knows I’m here.” Preston coughed and wiped his mouth with a trembling hand. “Do whatever you want, but I can’t risk it.” “Hank.” Her knight appeared as a swirling mist and solidified behind Gloomfhut. “Let’s go, son.” “How long have you been digging?” Nieema asked. The mayor lacked a proper nose, but he scrunched it nonetheless. After threading waxy, four-knuckled fingers through his greasy hair, he sighed. “Four months.” “You’ll get a year for grave robbing.” “Fine. It was only for a while anyway. I’m so god damneed stressed. The Crack Mage Gang is fucking up the city and the Voaremont’s—whatever.” “Take him,” Nieema demanded. Hank was gentle with the slouched ghoul. Their limbs were prone to pop off like a scared gheko. After the duo vacated the library, Monroe cussed and jacked to his feet. “This some buuuuullll shit I wasn’t prepared for, sis. You gotta give a god damn minute. Shit.” Her brother headed for the bar and chuckled. “He don’t wanna rat, but he is one.” “That’s fucked up, Roe. Come on now, they hate being called rats.” “Well…” Nieema plucked a few cubes of aged Gouda and smoked goat. Chewing and thinking, she only grew frustrated. “I figured him involved, but not like this. The Voaremont’s aren’t taking authority seriously, even going so far as to threaten them. Hunting in my kingdom will not be tolerated!” Nieema kicked the coffee table, knocking allat shit over. She wasn’t about to let this slide. Trevor had hurt Jasper. In ways Nieema couldn’t fix, and his entire family was running amok, hunting in Ravensguard. “I don’t need Preston to tell me shit.” Nieema stared at stained glass panes and snarled. Blood-boiling rage caused her fangs to lengthen. “I know what they doing cause I believe Jasper. And if Trevor is at it, then I know his brothers are too; the only question is, who are they giving these parts to?” “If they not keeping them as trophies.” “Motha fucka,” Nieema muttered. On her feet, she adjusted her jacket and buttoned it. “I think it might be time to meet with the wealthy Voaremont brothers. And Roe, I want Peaches and Mookie on deck when we do it.” “Understood.” “Ain’t this a bitch.” Nieema headed for the exit and grumbled. “There are hunters living and breathing in my town. Never thought I’d see the night.”
Happyyyyy Monday, and good evening, y’all. I hope everyone had a great weekend! You’re in recovery mode now, I know. Fourteen hot dogs and a barrel’s worth of soda’ll fuck you up good in your late thirties. Annnyhoo, here we are! Nieema has confronted the mayor, and I tell you what, she ain’t happy. The Voaremonts’ are a hunting family, and she knows this. Most of the world knows this, but they have their hands in everything. She didn’t need a gravedigging ghoul to tell her, but his omission was enough. So! We shall see where this takes us in the coming chapters. Remider, you and me find shit out TOGETHER! I am a proud panster and love a challenge. I have been struggling, though, y’all. Keeping this light and easy has been rough. I’m trying not to be heavyhanded with darker themes (I LOVE DARKNESS). That’s not what Patchwork is about, and I will keep it as such until the very end of season one. I do have an ending in mind, but who knows if it’ll go my way. HEAs are a vow, but how do we get there? Who knows. Soooo, with this week done, I want to bid you farewell, bookie. Until next time, stay hydrated, stay cool, and stay outta folks’ business. Thank you so much for stopping by. You’re a grand human. Byyyyyeee.
Low didn’t know which way was up as he yanked his boxers off the floor. He couldn’t focus or form a single coherent thought, and the male’s scent made it worse. Assssss hole. What was Low supposed to say now? Nothing, not a god damn word. Low grunted and pulled on his underwear. Halfway decent, he located his sweats. The shirt was harder to find. “Where is it?” He dropped to the floor, confused as to how it had crept under the bed. After dragging it out, he donned the cotton. Next, his glasses. Low squinted, hoping to find them quickly. “My glasses? Man, what the—” “Nightstand,” Red supplied. Low whipped about, spotted and plucked them. Sliding his frames on, the world appeared with booming clarity. He didn’t appreciate it. “You going to hell with that suit on,” Low murmured. “Pardon?” “You heard me.” “I assumed red was your color.” Low frowned and patted pockets. “What you mean?” “The Pirus tattoo on your arm.” There were several things wrong here. Red’s attention to detail was attractive. Low loved the suit and, yes, it was his color. Red, however, was getting a tad too close, and Low didn’t trust himself not to punch the elderly vampire in the face. Lastly, that chapter in his life was closed. “I turned over a new tree. Fuck a leaf. I ain’t banging no more. I haven’t since ninety-eight. Not that it’s your business.” In a pocket, he felt for the waiting blunt and fished it out. Low ignored the male’s closeness and opened the oversized window. He needed air, and Florida offered nothing stepping onto the patio. It was too damn hot for this shit, even with more rain in the near future. Precipitation gave no reprieve. Low’s lips hugged the blunt happily as he found a lighter and lit the tip. Stress-free and hungry coming right up. As Low inhaled, Red disturbed his nightly ritual. “You look like a French toast man,” Red stated, like he knew him or some shit. “Wrong. I do waffles.” The hell was his goal, after hearing their whole discussion. To humiliate Low further. It wasn’t being a bottom that bothered Low. Nah. He wanted to fuck and get fucked, otherwise, for him, a proud verse, there’d be no point. Low’s problem was how thoroughly Red obliterated him. At the end of the night, Low was a vampire. Halfbreed, but still a bloodsucker. Biology and instinct ran heavy in their species. He felt manhandled and small. Dominated. Low shuddered and pulled from the wood. “If it makes you feel any better,” Red sighed, “we are in the same boat.” “It don’t.” It did. Knowing Jaxon felt like a cum slut, too,o made his chest swell with pride. It meant Low had laid some mean pipe. “Maybe a little,” Low murmured. He extended the blunt to Red as an olive branch. “I’m working. The hell do I look like?” “No need to get smart.” Low snorted. “Uppity ass.” “Oh, okay. Mr. I’m working, don’t talk to me.’” Low chuckled, expelling a cottony white cloud. Warmth coated him from head to toe, promising a good night. “I can’t be distracted,” Low added. “I do real shit. I don’t be sitting behind a desk all night like you.” “You think you got everything figured out, huh?” Red asked, facing him. Low minded his eyes and lifted them to the sky. “Yeah.” “Where’s the food and blood? I’m really starving. Like, I’m about to throw up.” Low giggled as Max’s voice brought him back down to earth. He ditched the roach on the turnaround and watched as she searched for something. “Your phone is under the pillow, baby.” “I dont remember putting it there.” “You always do, though.” “So what?” Max tossed pillows and squealed. “There you are. Okay, purse, glasses, and phone. We move.” Low did the honors and grabbed her fuckin’ trash bag. Who needed a bag this big? She might as well carry a duffel. “Huh.” “Thaaank you.” Of course, she paid Red no mind. They never did this, stayed after a threesome. It was weird, and she was nervous. Low knew every look, fidget, and tell. “Alright.” Max donned her large, round hippie frames. “Solids, liquids? Where are they?” “Why are you so flustered, Maxine?” Jaxon asked. The grin on him was devious. She wrenched the door open and said, “I’m trying not to hurt you in some way, asshole.” “You already shot me. Is that gonna turn into a habit?” “I don’t know, depends on how you act.” Low snickered as they filed into the hallway. Max had a mouth and an inexhaustible need to use it as a weapon. But so did Red. “Play around if you want to, Maxine.” The male dropped down to her level and snarled. “I will snap your fucking spine in half next time.” Shorty had them shades on, but Low saw peeped her glower. Jaxon tried to intimidate, and in a different setting he’d get lucky, but the spell done wo’ off. “You mighty presumptuous, Jaxon. Assuming there will be a next time. As you heard we,” she gestured between them, “don’t do that. You know how it goes. This was fun…you seem great….so on and so forth.” Red snapped back to his full height and spun on a chuckle. They followed, close behind. Low needed a bite immediately. Their journey down an empty hall remained quiet, save for Red’s noisy shoes. The man was a force. His walk and talk demanded attention. And in a red suit, bruh had a way about him that made Low reminisce…Max slapped his arm. “What?” “Don’t,” She gritted. “I ain’t do nothin’.” She showcased a hand and shook her head. He wanted to assuage his girl with a kiss until they halted. “I never seen a kitchen so dark, damn bruh. It’s like a mausoleum. Too much black.” Low hopped three steps and jogged to the flat, matte island. “Oh yes.” Sitting down, he snagged a plate, and Max did the same. Low ran out of space, loading up on eggs, sausage, and potatoes. So, of course, he grabbed another and dropped on it. “You hate waffles,” Max said, too god damn loud. Not minding her own business, she popped her brows. “What are you doing?” “Girl, you know I lo—” Laughter punched from his chest. “I love waffles. Mmmm. Yum.” Low stole a quick glance. Red leaned ever so sexy like against the counter, handling a mug. “I have never seen you eat them,” she added. “You like French t—” “Shhh, shut up. I’m flipping it. Trying something new.” Max shrugged. “Okayyy. I’m telling you, they’re good.” No, they weren’t. Low hated them truthfully. Waffles got soggy quick with syrup pooling in soppy cubes. It wasn’t a horrifying experience. Never one to back out or cower, Low poured the sticky shit and shoved wet napkins into his mouth. He gagged. It was a textural nightmare. “Why don’t you just eat the French toast?” Red suggested. Low hesitated, but surrendered. Fuck it. Without looking at the man, he pushed the waffles aside. On a third plate, he stacked it with his tried and true. They went down easier because he lovvvved the mouthfeel and taste. When a glass of grapefruit juice magically appeared, Low downed it. He went in on eggs and sausage next. “You do this for everybody?” Low asked. Making sure to set a keen eye on the male dripping in red. “Yeah, it’s a common courtesy,” Red admitted, much to Low’s surprise. “Y’all not special. And Max, we are in agreement.” Biting into a danish, Red shrugged. “You don’t go back for seconds, and I didn’t ask for it. I’m good.” “Cool.” Max snipped, focused on her food. Low scraped up his French toast that held the bitter aftertaste of rejection. Double-dipping was against the rules. Their rules. And Low never overstepped. Individually, they were allowed to do whatever, but if by chance either found someone, then it was fair to let the other know. Low never met anyone worth enough to let Max go. Nobody made him yearn for more, aside from her. Saluting with his glass, Low smirked. “Glad we got it sorted.” “Feel free to let yourself out.” Red checked his watch. “I’m done with Tracy’s financial business, so…see you around, I guess.” Max considered Red for a beat and tilted her head. “Not likely.” “You two have a good evening.” Low nodded and scooped the last of his potatoes. Max giggled, but neither spoke for a minute. They left the house and were in his car on their way to the tattoo shop when he sighed. “That was weird,” Low said. “Riiiight? Talk about awkward. Jesus.” Max retrieved her vape and puffed. “I’m so glad he wasn’t needy about the whole thing, you know.” “Yeah, yeah. Me too, but at least we ain’t never gotta see him again.” “Who you tellin’, honey?” Fun as it was, a recurring threesome was bad news for all parties involved. And Low, for one, didn’t have time for that shit. He had kids at home and bills to pay.
*All predators catch their death in my books
Hours later, AB found himself wandering about in a shoe box. It was an apt description for Joel’s house. The low ceiling was less than an inch above his head. He examined cabinets overrun by ants. They scurried to and from boxes like busy little soldiers. He didn’t have much. Flour, baking soda, and salt. A blanket of dust coated everything, aside from one counter where a thick layer of grime waited to be scraped off with steel wool. The house wasn’t in bad shape,e structurally speaking. It had good bones but needed to be bleached. A pungent aroma of mold and rotted flesh made for one helluva cocktail. It added to the ambiance Joel’s nasty ass was going for. In the sink, dishes waited, and had been for a while. Creeping around the tiny four-burner stove, AB grew nostalgic. A quaint, one-bedroom abode with low-hanging beams and plank floors. Candlelight, instead of bulbs, and the smell of freshly baked bread replaced decay. AB and his mother lived in dozens of hovels and holes. But every so often, they lucked out. Acquiring enough coin for an actual home or cottage, with a fireplace and a roof. Where AB rested on a soft palate and not the ground. Squeezing through the hall, the floorboards squealed until he reached the living room. A lawn chair, a mounted forty-inch, and an empty beer can weren’t exactly inviting. AB hit a one-eighty and sprinted upstairs, where death settled on his skin. He stepped into a room that should have housed a bed, a dresse,r or even a desk. Being dangerously close to eight hundred years old, AB had seen it all and done enough. He didn’t have aversion to blood, gore, or homicide. But even he had to hold his breath and turn away. Caked layers of Lysol, Lyme, and baby powder didn’t help. “Fuck,” he whispered, taking in the scene again. AB growled. Vampires, at best, were decent, and some had the balls to do something compassionate, like save lives. Thanks to decades of dilution, humanity helped calm and tame their inner proclivities. AB worked hard to control his own issues. Massacres and serial killings were frowned upon. Most vampires didn’t give a shit about who they killed. AB only snuffed two women, and he had to, ‘cause they wanted to harm his mother. Two Behld witche,s soaked in black, blood magic, wanted his mother dead. He couldn’t let it be. AB didn’t have a code or nothin’, but he was raised by a woman, and held them in high esteem. He tried not to kill innocent men, but they tasted the best. In his days of overindulgence, brutality, and debauchery, he happily dined upon plump dignitaries with fat pockets. They were drained of blood and funds. AB used his dick and addictions to make the most of this life. But children were always off limits. No amount of money or blood was worth vanquishing a soul so young. His dark past was a safe space for nightmares, but AB never, ever touched kids. Dropping to a crouch, he stared at the little bodies, ill-wrapped in tarp and tape. They were so tiny. Decomposing toes and hands. There were twenty-eight missing children in this room. “He’s downstairs,” Ines said with a bite. The male had kids of his own, grown and in the world doing adult shit. He refused to look inside. AB shot upward, crossed creaking woo,d and snatched two duffels off of the floor. Pacing out, he coughed as the odor stuck to him like bad cologne. When he reached the bottom, he tossed the heavy bags in front of Joel. Mr. Liston sat in the lawn chair, as his legs had a motor attached. He chewed on fingernails with pupils big as dimes. Sweat beaded on his waxy, tight skin. “You lookin’ bad, Joe.” “I’m—I was only taking a little. You’d never notice.” Ines took residence on the last step and paid witness. “But I did. You must be smooth out your rabbit ass mind if you think I wouldn’t notice when five bricks of Brown Sugar go missing.” Lowering to his haunches, AB looked up at Joel and smirked. “I keep note of every ounce, because it’s mine. And stealing from me won’t be tolerated. Furthermore, your ass is high as a kite.” Standing tall once again, AB leered. “If you use my shit?! You pay me! You polished off two ounces, so where’s my motha fuckin’ money, Joe?” “I don’t have any money an—” He looked back at Ines, but AB slapped the bitch back around. Blood splattered all over his shirt. “This is Gucci, you sick fuck.” AB growled, shaking his head. “You stole my product, refused to pa,y and now… You ruined my favorite shirt. Bitch…” He chuckled and studied the mess. “You know, humans have one life, and don’t live past a certain point. But us, we are so much fun, ‘cause no matter what you do, we breathe. We are sturdy, solid. I mean, unless you cut our head off…or have halo bullets on-hand.” Ab strolled over to the four-pane window and peered at the moon. “Torture ain’t no fun with humans. You push too hard, they break and wither. Not us, though.” “Please, AB,” “Four years you’ve been on my payroll and I,” AB purred, pinning Joe with a searing glare, “paid you well. I give everybody raises and shit to avoid situations like this. But youuuu Joe, are greedy. So, we’re gonna see how much that stomach can hold.” AB nodded at Ines. He hopped to it and sprinted out the door. Staring at Joe, AB smiled. “I’ll kill you for stealing from me, but I’ma have some fun for what’s upstairs.” “Don’t you judge me. You’re no be—” “I what? I ain’t never hurt kids.” “They wanted it, they begged me to love—” Ab’s backhand found Joe’s face. The assault sent him careening. On his side, the male choked on his own blood. “You the worst kinda vampire there is. We don’t have many taboos, as you know.” He rammed a Nike boot into the asshole’s stomach, making the prick heave. “But we all agree that children are out of the question. No siring, no feeding, no killing…and definitely, no…touching! Ah, Ines, you’ve come with gifts.” His old friend entered, carrying a box full of things that made him happy. “What do we have? Boric acid, sulfuric acid, pliers, drills, and hammers? Nice! Arsenic, molten silver. Oh shit, I can’t touch that. Uhmmm, ooo mercury! You know, I’ve taken a sip of this. It’s got a citrus tinge. Oh! Bella Donna. Ines, you shouldn’t have.” Keeping a fanatical eye on the sick bastard, AB dropped to the floor, punched through his mouth, and ripped out that slick pink muscle. “I don’t need you screaming.” Gurgles and moans filled the silence. “Drill.” He pushed Joe’s lanky body over, popped the button on his jeans, and unzipped. Ines handed AB a Craftsman,n and once the males member was free, hands tried to intervene. “No! No. You weren’t shy with those kids. Why be bashful now? Move!” AB smacked his drunk fingers. “That’s why you got a small dick, Joe! Open wiiiiide.” The head of him winked just as Ab kissed it with an auger bit and pulled the trigger. Joe worked hard to holler, but Ines held his mouth shut. Mr Liston thrashed as the spiral bit dug deeper, shredding skin and muscle. Blood oozed over AB’s knuckles as the drill worked like any food processor might. Eating him raw and tearing his urethra to shreds. Ab enjoyed the carnage and freedom. Droplets whirled, and mangled pieces landed on his face. Tiny chunks of meat covered clothes and speckled the floor. “Look at that.” AB giggled. “Pate.” He removed his hand and sucked the pureed fixin’s from each digit while Ines yanked Joe’s molars out. Just in case. He went for fangs, and his green eyes disappeared to the back of his skull. “He tastes like shit,” AB admonished. He spat and grunted at the foulness of tainted flesh. “Yeah, all those drugs. Now you’re gonna be high, dumbass.” AB laughed. “That’s the least of my worries. I wanna work him over slow. Like a pot roast. My dogs will love the bones. Chauncey has a thing for femurs.” “I thought he liked tibias,” Ines said as he popped the cap on a tub of bleach. “Yeah, that one dude up in uhhhh, Tallahassee, who robbed you.” “Ohhh no, yeah yeah. Chauncey did like his tibia, god. He gnawed on it for weeks. I’ve gotta flay em’ good this time, though, and roast the bones so there’s no residuals. No bad stuff for my babies. Okay, down the hatch, Joe.” Ines poured bleach into his pie hole until it overflowed. He’d wake and drink it eventually, but a little Bella won’t hurt. At least not yet. This was another all-nighter, but of the bloodiest kind. It gave AB something else to focus on. Because the alternative irked his fucking nerves. AB dropped Bella into Joe’s mouth. It mixed with bleach. Soon after, odd fumes percolated. “Maybe we should wear masks. Where are you taking Char for your anniversary? “Oh shit, you’re right. Last time we passed out. I still got some in the trunk. And as for Char, she ain’t getting nothing. I’m taking her co-worker, Tonya, out instead. The bitch has got knockers like you wouldn’t believe. Hair platinum and legs for days.” “You’re a piece of shit, Ines.” “Eh, it takes one to know one.” “You are most certainly right.” “The wife ain’t going nowhere. She knows I get curious. We’ve been married for eighty god-awful years. Her yakking about money and whatnot cost her another anniversary. Maybe the old bag will shut the fuck up from now on.” The male cackled in his crackly, husky manner and ran outside. Ines was a four-hundred-year-old Bostonian. He smoked like a chimney and used pomade in his hair. His style remained in 1960. If Ines didn’t wear a knitted shirt and trousers, something was wrong. His buddy, as if he was auditioning for the next Scorsese mob picture, was proud as hell of it too. “Okay, here. I got a whole box of N-95s from—” “Don’t speak it, please.” Ines grimaced as they put on masks from another time. Years Jaxon wanted to forget. Humans weren’t the only beings who had a shit time. Set and ready, he and Ines got busy. This was a great way to end a night.
Interviews were tedious work; Tracy had a time researching bothersome, intrusive questions. His only concern was whether this male had the means and skill to fight. Perhaps some sort of marksmanship. He didn’t care to know who the person was or where they came from. Nevertheless, he pried and weathered on with asinine queries. Going down the list, he tapped on another. “And what makes you qualified for this position?” Tracy asked. The male was of grand stature with a decent amount of weight on him. He was brawny rather than muscular, with a wide build that could block and slam people into things. “Uh, I was sired three years ago by my ex-girlfriend. Before that, I was a boxer in the human world. I’ll be forty-seven forever, but I’m in great shape.” Tracy held back a gag. “Splendid, I can use someone like you. I find your history to be a plus, Russell. Before we wrap up, do you understand the dangers of this job?” He nodded. “I do, Mr. Bissette.” “Tracy, please, and that’s wonderful. I assure you, it’s slow around here. But if I need transport or some other services, you’ll be called in. You’ll work a minimum of four days a week.” He paused to wet his whistle with the finest espresso in Florida. “I don’t need you for everything. Most times I use my main guard, but even then, he only works four to five nights a week.” “I’m not sure if this is what I’m looking for. I’m taking care of my mom and-” “The pay is thirty-five an hour, and there is room for a hefty bonus at the end of the year.” “Holy hell, that’s a lot of doe.” “Yes, it is.” Tracy nodded. “And typically, you will get a full eight hours doing various things. Elliot is in charge of tasks. I am sure he’ll find you work.” Russell beamed, and Tracy felt accomplished. This was the second person he interviewed, and the first failed. This male, however, even with his sickening human past, was personable and eager. “I’m ready whenever you need me, Mr.- er, Tracy.” “Good man. I want to hire you now, but unfortunately, you still need to pass one more interview. In truth, Elliot will be your superior. I’m not one to handle trivial things of this nature.” Tracy shoved his chair back and rose. He was over the dreary process. Russell took heed and followed him to the front door. “I will wait for Elliot’s decision, but I’m sure he’ll agree. You are an excellent fit. Until then, you’re free to go. Don’t stray too far from your phone.” Russell smiled once again and extended a steady palm. “I’ll be waiting for his call.” “You do that.” Tracy opened the oak as Jaxon arrived. “Oh, look at our timing. How are you tonight, Jaxon?” “Very well, thank you.” “Glad to hear it.” When he entered, Russell made an exit. “Stay safe, son.” “You too, Tracy.” Upon his departure, Tracy shut the door and met Jaxon in the kitchen. “That, sir, is top-shelf espresso. Jaya just made it.” “She is a master at work. Her coffee is divine.” Tracy agreed with a tight grin. “How is everything coming along? I wasn’t aware you’d take last night off.” He sighed. “I’m done, actually.” Tracy was delighted to hear the news as he poured himself a small cup. “Damn, I didn’t think you’d be done so fast. When can I expect a bill?” “Tonight,” Jaxon muttered, stirring the blond bean batch. “But I need to speak with you about something first.” The sentence slipped from his mouth like a threat. Tracy wedged a bit of distance between them. “What is this about?” “Your finances, of course.” Jaxon faced Tracy, sipped the hot beverage, and pinned a glinting stare on him. “Won’t you have a seat?” Gesturing to the breakfast nook, Tracy slid into the same chair he’d sat in mere moments ago. Jaxon appeared across from him with a cup and saucer. He was dressed to the nines in formal attire. A red three-piece suit and tidy hair pulled back, away from his face. He seemed young, personable, friendly even. But in his gaze, Tracy noticed something else entirely. This dandy accountant wasn’t who he put into the world. Tracy had known many men like Jaxon. Righting the crooked mat and off-center charger, Tracy nodded. “What is it you seek, Jaxon?” “I think you should be asking what I, can do for you.” Cutting eyes upwards, Tracy cocked a brow. “I’m not following.” “As you already know, I’ve found some discrepancies. Rather substantial ones. You’ve got a lucrative business that makes too much money, Tracy.” Jaxon tipped his silver chalice and shrugged. “My job is to find these things. Review financial dealings and provide advice. And mine for you is, either stop what you are doing, or hire me to cook your books.” This wasn’t threatening at all. He was offering a way out of a major fuck up Tracy didn’t even know existed. God damn it, he should have hired someone to do this years ago, like Jaya suggested. “Okay, sure. You don’t have to twist my arm. How much do you want?” “I don’t want money.” Confounded, Tracy canted his head. “I am missing the mark again, I fear.” “I want resources, I want transport, and I want more space.” Now his demeanor made sense; the true beast underneath making his debut. “My god, which part of the business are you?” “Pharmaceuticals.” “You’re a fucking drug dealer?” Jaxon relaxed, crossed his legs, and snapped crisp, white cuffs. “If you wish to be formal, then all right. Yes, I’m a drug dealer.” To think he came referred. “But you’re an accountant.” “Yes.” Jaxon nodded and gulped down the rest of his coffee. “I am, but accounting as a hobby. It’s something I like to do. I like numbers, have a knack for organization, and adore meaningless tasks. The stuffy job humbles me at times.” Tracy ran a hand over his waves and looked out the window. “Florida…” Rain was year-round, and as it came down with promises of a flash flood somewhere, Tracy didn’t know what to make of his confession. “I don’t have resources.” “Don’t lie to me, I read everything, Tracy. Your construction business is over 20,000 square feet. You’ve got that house in Doral. Not to mention, if I open a contract with you, I can build whatever I want without it looking too shady. As it stands now, I own a deli, a wing joint, and a god damn ice cream shop.” Jaxon stood and marched back to the coffee. Tracy got the gist, but wasn’t sure about any of it. After topping off his tiny cup, Jaxon added an awful lot of sugar. “I have my consulting business and two residential properties. I’ve only been here for eight years. I can not risk another buy without an audit. And I can’t afford that.” “Just hire someone else.” “I don’t trust anyone enough.” “Why trust me?” “You have shit to lose, Tracy.” As Jaxon pivoted, he shrugged. “And a daughter so deep in, she’d get ten years for every grand earned.” Panic caused him to wince. “How did you come by this information?” “I told you, it’s my job. Now, the way I see it, you’ve got something I need, and I have the means to make your financial hiccups go away. Plus, I have ships.” “Ships for what?” “Your raw meat business, I overheard you in your office. Listen, I got ties overseas and people who need a man on this side. If you help me, two for the price of one. You get more bodies and clean books. But in return, I want your basements and housing developments. I need more places to stash my inventory. It’s getting hot with my shit, and I need to move. Yesterday.” Tracy ruminated. This was huge. Selling drugs and running humans was a biiiiiig operation he never signed up for. But with Matthias on board now, maybe another person on his team wouldn’t hurt. Someone he could trust. Matthias was not that person. “So what?” Tracy looked up at him and frowned. “You wanna be partners?” Jaxon stared into his cup and grimaced. “Yeah, I suppose so. I have more than enough room at my Brickell office. There’s even a second executive suite.” “I’m not okay with being a middleman. I’ve done this on my own for a while now. I hire people to find me bodies, and I sell them. What are they willing to pay me? I want no less than ten grand on delivery for my services, and twenty percent of the sale.” Jaxon hissed. “I don’t know if you’ll get that. But I’ll see what I can do.” “I’ll agree to a partnership only after the paperwork is handled. I will be the one to draw up a contract, and we will both sign it.” Jaxon acknowledged with the tip of his cup and said, “Looking forward to it.” “There will be a fee, Jaxon.” “I expected as much. We’ll talk numbers a little later.” Returning to his seat, Jaxon’s friendly smile made a comeback. But Tracy would never see him the same again. “For right now, tell me more about your business.”
Max worked hard not to wake, but her internal alarm clock wouldn’t allow that. Wiggling around reminded her of the day’s activities. She scooted across the empty space and threw an arm around Low. Max loved being the big spoon. Kissing his nape made the male groan. “What time is it?” Low rumbled. The sexy, dusky tone echoed in her chest. “I have no idea, nighttime.” He sighed long and heavy, then faced her. His eyes, the color of slate, greeted her. “Wus good witchu?” “My coochie hurts.” He cackled, and Max tried not to, ‘cause it wasn’t a joke. “Honey chile, I ain’t lying. Y’all wrong, for real. I think I need a walker.” “Shit, say that then. You know I love a good stroke.” Max smacked him on the forehead. “Yo breaff stank, hoe. Get out my face. All that dick sucking you did.” “You’re one to talk, sluttin’ out all hours of the day. You love my fonkie breath anyway, shut up,” “I do not.” She refuted, but his smile and proximity kneaded Max into mush. Low moved in and kissed her once, twice, a third time. “Yes, you do,” he whispered, getting fresh under the sheets. “Hol’ up, I ain’t got nothing for you.” Letting Low have his way, he pushed Max onto her back. And she was prime for it. Thighs lax and body willing, her pussy flexed as their lips touched. Gentle and slow, he entered her once again. It was nothing like the rough and tumble during those wee, early morning hours. There was no place more comforting or familiar. With him between and slipping inside, her body accepted the rising pressure and pleasure. Max knew every dip and curve. Low’s frame weighed heavily, offering her shelter and intimacy. Languid but steady, he dug her out, taking it easy after using her up hours prior. Low played it safe while making the bed bounce. When he pulled away from her kiss, she locked arms around his waist. “Oh baby—Lowwww. Yes…” Her breathy plea urged him onward. “I feel you, bab—oh shiiiit. I fee—make me—uggggh.” The way he fit with his body pressed against hers left no room for oxygen. Max adored this and what he gave. With legs around his waist, she moaned his government title and dared not to cry as her breath hitched. Toes curled, spine locked, and eyes rolled. She snapped. Warm, lazy waves of ecstasy weaved its way through her. An orgasm woke Max proper as Low came down on her mouth once more. Soft and sweet, he grunted, carrying her through his own release. Low collapsed, and Max took the male’s pounds. Hugging him tight, she closed her eyes as reality crept into their space. Why did this have to hurt? Feelings weren’t involved; allowed. She couldn’t even lie to herself anymore. The silence after their sensual descent had long begged for words neither dared to speak. Both denied its existence. Too scared, too broken, and scarred from past traumas. Feeling him withdraw, Max shivered and laughed. “I’m done, shorty.” He snickered and flopped onto his back. “I ain’t got nohtin’ left. I’m tapped out.” Just as he said that, a hand found her tiddie. She slapped it away. “That’s enough, Low! God damn. You’re finished, ‘member?” “I know, it’s just your tiddies hanging out. I gotta touch ‘em at least one time.” She laughed again and shook her head. “I gotta let you know one thing. Baby, that big bitch blew your back out.” Low smacked his teeth and shot up out of bed. “Don—why you gotta bring it up?” He whined and dashed down the hall. Max followed him into the bathroom and couldn’t help but poke. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I get my shit broke all the time.” He reached into the stall and turned on the water. “I do the back-breaking, okay?” “I kowwww, I know. But you screamed his n—” “Shut the hell up, Maxine Bernice, ‘fore I tear off into your ass. I’m not even gonna be able to look him in the eye.” Max pushed him into the stall and stepped in. “But you fucked him up as well. His legs were shaking, remember that?” “I do, yeah. You’re right. I held it down and wasn’t playing no kinda games. But you did, too, babe. I love how you held his balls. That was a good technique, shorty. I’m saying. You broke him doooown. But you know what? He’s mean as hell in them sheets. I figured that, but damn.” They grabbed the soap and rags, lathering in a hurry. “I didn’t think white boys were carrying weight.” Max shook her head and scrubbed. “I was bamboozled, lied to, and tricked. I watch porn, but I never thought, like, it was real life.” Low stood in front of the spray and giggled. “That’s a misconception. I‘ve been with enough white men to know. Not every Black man is well hung, and not every white man is small.” . “Don’t I know it.” She scoffed. “But look here, I have had some small ones that still gave me an orgasm through penetration. Them the ones to watch out for, ‘cause they know what they’re doing.” Low smiled. “You not wrong, baby. But uhm, you think he wanna do this again?” “No, no, I doubt it.” “We’ve never had a threesome with the same person twice, Maxi. It’s against the rules.” Max circled around and was pelted by lukewarm droplets. “Damn, Low. You don’t have it hot enough.” “Shorty! Why you always gotta burn my skin?” “It don’t even be hot like that.” “It do too.” He frowned as she turned the heat up a little more. “How can you get clean with cold water?” “It’s not—” “It is! Now get my back.” Low grumbled and snatched the cloth out of her hand. “Stop yelling, with your big ass forehead.” “So, you like it.” He giggled again and washed her back because her lover was sweet like that. “I gotta go to work,” Max whined. “I’m supposed to open the shop.” “You probably late.” She nodded, rinsed, and stepped out of the stall. “I surely am.” Running for the hanging terry, she heard the door and froze. What to do, what to do. In a state of panic, Max twirled and jumped back in the shower. “What in the—” “He’s back,” she whispered. Low’s dumb ass ducked and crouched. “Oh shit, go out there, Maxi.” “You go. You’re the man, handle this shit.” They quieted at the sound of approaching loafers. Low hunched, like that was gonna do something. “Are y’all hungry?” Jaxon asked. Max smelled his fine ass through the door. She bit her tongue to keep from cussing. Low elbowed her, so she shoved him. He slipped and dropped to his ass. “Uh, nah, nah.” He shrugged. “We good, for now.” “You sure? I ordered out from GreenStreet cafe. I got eggs, country potatoes, and what else…” Max slid to the tile, threw up her hands, and mouthed a true statement. I’m so hungryyyy. Low shook his head. “I got waffles, French toast, and Cinnamon pancakes; those are my favorites.” Her stomach hollered,d and Low snickered. She made a pinching symbol then moved onto praying hands. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Uh, a little something. But I uh, we, got shit to do so, a lil’ sumn’.” She nodded as Low stood and grimaced. They stilled, waiting for a response. “No problem. I’ll be in the kitchen.” “Yup.” Low shrugged again, nd nobody spoke until the door closed. “What the fuck we gonna do now, Max? Hm? You want me to sit up here and have breakfast with that man? Damn, bruh.” Low stomped out of the stall and snapped a towel. “After last night, hell nah. Plus, we never stay afterwards, Max. That’s our rule. Even more, he brought me outta character. I don’t like that. My spirit can’t handle it. I wanna fight him. To assert my dominance.” Max dried and stared at Low. “Baby, there ain’t nothing you can do. He’s—” “Don’t say it. Please don’t. Because I know.” He snapped the soft cotton for a second time and wrapped it around his hips. She just held her’s closed, ‘cause they weren’t made for fluffy people. When they marched into the bedroom, Low yelped and smacked the wall. “You a nosy muh’fucka!” Max was aghast as Red leaned against the wall. Looking reeeal pleased with himself. “And you’re a liar,” she spouted. “That was an invasion of privacy, asshole!” She stormed for her clothes, gathered articles, and turned her nose up all the way back into the bathroom. Max slammed the door and whined. He looked great and smelled—No, no. Her life was complicated enough. Red was an animal, a ferocious beast who ate pussy and fucked like sex provided the very oxygen in his lungs. There was no room in her life for something or someone like him. And the way shit was going, she wouldn’t even have space left for her own thoughts.
It’s two days late, and I am sorry for that, y’all. Summer is a sad time for me. Nothing drastic happened; I just don’t like it. Lol. Most come alive during the summer months, I DO NOT. I am my least vibrant self. I litterly call it sad girl summer because I am in such low spirits. I can’t wait for fall and winter. UGGGH. Anyway, here is chapter 16! Where we get to witness the aftermath, the night after, the POST NUT CLARITY hits hard here. And you know what? I loved how honest they were about the whole ordeal. Max and Low aren’t afraid to talk about the awkward things, and I love that most about them. Their communication could use some work, but I think their transparency played a major part in the relationship. Now, let’s hope they continue this trend moving forward. Until next time, loves, thank you, and have a wonderful week. Byyyyeee.
A suit was one thing, a mussed dress shirt was another. But this, the lack of formal wear, suited Jaxon well. Max’s thoughts were in a continuum. Visually, he overwhelmed her. The heady cologne waged war with its high, dark notes and a sweet musk riding low. She’d lost her tongue in the car and battled an impulse to moan. “Where are we anyway?” she asked, as Low helped her out of the car. And, oh yeah, him too. “What she said.” Low smiled deliciously. What had she done in her past life to be tortured so ruthlessly? They were thick pieces of vampire male, and standing between them, waiting, Max never felt small or delicate. And she was a far cry from demure. Low was Jaxon’s speed, so it was good if he wanted in on that. Elliot Collins often used his sensual elegance to get what he wanted most. “So…” Max cleared her throat. “I heard you the first time.” Jaxon lowered a lidded gaze and grinned. “We’re going to my friend’s house. You remember Ines?” Smoke swirled in murky, mid-June air and framed his perfect features. “Of course, the Italian from Boston, not New York.” “Nice observation. Let’s go.” Jaxon started their journey, and they fell in line willingly. What would a man like him want from her? Nothing was the answer; that’s why Max knew his interest was a farce. He had a fluid gait and voluminous waves. The color of an irate Venus sky and adorned with thin strips of spooled gold. It was gorgeous. Unnatural. Max felt sleazy, gawking like a swooning teenager. She focused on Low, who was no better, and jabbed him in the torso with her elbow. “Don’t stare,” she whispered. As they marched down a quiet street, Max gathered from high brush and gates that this was a classy neighborhood. These people made more than her father, median easily in the multi-millions. Mansions towered behind stone and ivy. “I would have liked a heads up, bruh.” Low pulled from his blunt and purged smoke. “I typically like to look better for a kick back, you feel me.” “It’s not that serious.” “Still, I prefer it.” “What you searching for?” Jaxon glanced back at them with a nasty smile. “A compliment?” Low shook his head when the male faced forward. “If I was? You up here in the latest and greatest. Balinchi-gaga and shit.” Max frowned at her lover. “Don’t do that, you know better than anyone how good you look. Name brands mean nothing.” He cocked a brow. “Says Shorty in Chanel.” They embarked on an incline that turned into a winding drive. At the tippy top was a decent home, if you loved dreariness and glass. The house was nothing more than tinted windows and steel beams. “Wow, I dig the architecture.” “No, you don’t.” Max dismissed Low’s lie. He loved inviting and warm. Wood and greenery. Nothing too bright or clean. Whereas Max enjoyed modern, architectural wonders. After taking the shallow stairs, Jaxon didn’t knock before opening the door. When he barged in, they followed, and Low grabbed her hand. Oohhh, how she swooned over his protective streak and attentiveness. Entering the house, various scents and sights captured her attention. The cool air was a jarring contrast to the sticky summer heat. Creeping through a narrow foyer, they brushed shoulders and squeezed past kissing, grinding couples. Bodies on top of bodies. Music drummed in her ears, and she appreciated the vibe. Glass Animals was a good choice given the intimate atmosphere. Zaba was a great Album, their best, to be frank. The foyer opened to a three-way street; Jaxon banked left. Max was grateful for wider halls and the breathing room. “Damn.” Low chuckled and said, “I like this party.” Standing slightly above the crowd, Max giggled. “Me too.” Their trio stepped into the sunken living room, doubling as a nightclub,b and eyed some goodies. “Aye,” Jaxon shouted, nodding at someone. A female, a woman, a human. Max licked her lips. The girl bounced over and stopped in front of Red, as Low called him. “Hay AB, I got some left, you want a sip?” Jaxon didn’t respond, but his actions were swift and visceral. He yanked the woman by the back of her neck. She dangled three feet off the ground as fangs penetrated. There was growling, slurping, and carrying on. “My third leg finna start walking,” Low whispered into her ear. Max choked on laughter. “I’m serious. Look at him.” Oh, she was looking alright, and trapped in hell too. Little Miss was happy when her feet touched the hardwood. She sighed, as if he hadn’t almost killed her. “Y’all want some?” “Sweetheart, do you know where you are?” Max yelled in the girl’s face and clutched her shoulders. “Have you been drugged? Abducted? I can get you outta here, my taser is my bag, honey.” The wee one let a high-pitched laugh slip. “No. Why would I wanna leave? I’m making money. And my mortgage needs to be paid somehow.” “Oh.” Max relinquished the bitty and nodded. “Ohhhhh okay, I get it. My bad.” She shot a glance in Jaxon’s direction and regretted it. The male sucked on a digit and licked the tip. “I thought, you know.” “You have a problem with not reading the room,” Jaxon clipped. Low giggled and added his commentary, though no one asked. “She do. I tell her all the time.” “Shut up,” Max growled. “Nobody asked.” With Red leading the way, they weaved through a tasty crowd and landed on an enormous sofa. “Every human you come across is being paid to be here.” “Damn,” Low muttered. “Like that?” He was astonished, and Max shared his view. “Yeah, and if you partake, tip them.” “What you mean, tip?” Low grimaced. He was a cheap, penny-pinching grandfather at times. They didn’t go to strip clubs often ‘cause of it. Despite Max begging for a trip to K.O.D., he remained a Scrooge. “For what?” Low queried. “They are providing a service, sir. So it’s only fair if you tip. They have a half pint minimum; if you go over that, it’ll cost you a blue note.” “God damn,” Low snarled, sitting on the arm of the couch. “What kinda scam you running up in here?” “I don’t have anything to do with this. Do you want anything?” “Nah, I’m good.” Max bit her tongue, knowing he only liked cold blood. For valid reasons, but still. “Nothing? We have about twenty humans up in here.” “No Red, damn, stop asking me.” “He don’t like hot blood.” Low hissed and shoved her. “That wasn’t any of his business, yo big ass mouth, bruh.” Jaxon’s stare raked over Low, disgust riding his pretty face. “Oh, so you weird, weird. This is extremely odd behavior for a full grown vampire. You know how it looks, right?” “Listen, calm down with tryna fit in, talk white,” Low spouted. Jaxon cackled, and Max wanted to dip her tongue in those dimples. “What does talk white mean? I speak how I want, how I have for over a hundred years. You don’t like it, kiss my ass.” “Ooooo.” Low chuckled and diverted attention to some ugly girl. She was lanky, bowlegged, and her hair was dry. “There you go, being uppity again. Don’t make me break yo ass in, bruh.” Max gasped and smacked his shoulder. “Be nice, Low. Don’t be doing too much, now.” “I don’t give a damn, and I need a drink, I know that.” Jaxon threw both arms over the couch and watched as Low ascended. “What gives you the impression I need to be broken in?” Another gasp punched through her mouth. Though Max kept her hands to herself this time. “Y’all are getting mighty candid. Should I give you two a moment alone?” Low snorted. “Please, he don’t know what to do with a king like me.” “Can you bring me back something?” “I don’t think they got no brandy, baby.” “Then tequila on ice.” “Ight, don’t get fresh, Red… unless she lets you. But I wanna watch.” “Get the fuck!” “The bar is upstairs,” Jaxon smirked. “You can bring me back a glass of cognac. Neat.” Low ran off with a giggle, and that ass bounced with him. Jaxon glanced at Max and leaned into her. The action made her melt. “Are you into that weird shit too?” “Me? No, but I need a ripe one.” Scanning the room, she took in the droves of men and woman. “I want her.” Max pointed to a stacked, tall dame in a corset. She filled out the top and bottom. Jaxon high whistled. “Carmen!” “Of course, you know these women by name,” she mumbled, not surprised because he exuded ‘no good ass man’ arrogance. His attitude and demeanor made that shit clear as day. Carme used her bountiful hips like weapons. “Hay big daddy, how you doing?” “I been better, she wants a nibble.” Carmen held a warm smile as she sat next to Max. Her blessed map of veins illuminated beneath glowing mahogany skin. Ambient lighting was her best friend. God damn Black women were gorgeous. “They treating you good?” Max asked. Carmen recoiled. “They always do, and they pay, okay.” “You so pretty, and you smell nice, too.” “Awww, thank you.” Max admired her corset, growing more envious by the second. “Where did you buy this fit, though?” “Torrid or Fashion Nova…I can’t recall, but it was one of the two.” Max nodded but stared at Carmen’s main, pulsating artery. It taunted and tempted her empty stomach. Licking her lips, Max noticed how her fangs had come on down to play. “Well, where do you um… You know, wrist or wherever?” “Right,” she laid a hand on the curve of her breast, “here.” “Okay.” Max agreed, quick and without deliberation, she growled. Sinking fangs into Carmen’s flesh, she gripped onto her waist. Digging deeper, Max gnawed. Max hadn’t taken a fresh vein in five years. This shit was a narcotic, addicting, and soooooo much better than drinking from a cup. Max would rather not stop, but knowing she must, and when to, she paused. Her forehead rested on Carmen’s shoulder as the heart slowed and the body went ape shit. Pleasure and euphoria worked like any vice. She groaned and settled into a cloud. “Oh my god, Carmen,” Max smiled. “You are sweet and full-bodied, baby.” “Thank youuuu. I work hard for that.” “I can tell, shiiiiit.” The music reverted into something slow, chopped, and screwed. “You gotta a uhhhmmm,” her mind buzzed with feel goods. Lazy and dragging, her thoughts came together, “Cash app? Zelle?” “I sure do, honey.” After sifting through her heavy bag for what seemed like eons, Max found her phone. “You deserve a nice tip, Carmen.” Tapping numbers, she giggled. “Three hundred should do it.” “No, no I—” “Shhhhhh.” Max waved at the chit chat and sent her funds. “There you go, doll. Us big girls gotta support each other, okay?” “Thank you, baby. You want anything, AB?” “Nope, I’m good, love.” Carmen rose with them thighs, and Max sighed. “I enjoyed that very much.” She giggled again and said, “I can’t even think straight. It’d be nice to get that every night…” “Why can’t you?” Jaxon asked, his buttery timbre casting a naughty spell on her. “’Cause it’s unnecessary, Red.” “I’ve never let anyone call me that.” “Until Low? Yeeeahhh, I get it, but you need to watch how you talk to him. He comes on friendly, but in truth, Elliot is as nice as a rattlesnake in a box.” “Noted. I still want your number, though.” Lifting a heavy gaze upward, their eyes met,t and she had issues with talking again. “No, you don’t. You only wanna pity me and make jokes.” He chuckled. “What the hell are you talking about?” “I told you already. There is a pecking order; we both know how it goes. I am not a pureblood.” “I give no fucks about no league or vampire etiquette or class. I’m not into none of that dated shit. I don’t adhere to things like pecking orders anymore. And I haven’t for a very, veeerrrry long time.” Drifting to his full lips, the tips of his fangs made her shiver. This was lust, unbridled and unhinged. “Don’t let me interrupt.” Max inhaled and tore his attention away from the Pureblood as Low handed her a cold glass. “I wouldn’t say you were interrupting, Elliot. Where’s my drink?” Low cackled, sitting on the armrest nearest to her. “Muh’fucka, you are more than capable. Fetch your own Hennessey, shit.” Max shook her head and said, “I told you.” “Told him what?” Low gripped the back of her neck. “You running your mouth behind my back?” “Yeah, now get off me!” Slapping his hand off, she sipped the bitter alcohol once, then gulped. “Oh, this is my song.” There was no way Max would sit down while Janet was on. Getting to her feet, she held out a hand. “Low, get your fat ass up and dance with me.” “I don’t want to.” “Are you telling me no?” Her eyes narrowed. “Girl—” She grabbed hold of his t-shirt and pulled him down to her level. Smiling, Max flicked his ear and hissed. “Be good, and I’ll let you taste it in the bathroom.” “Fine, you wanna dance, let’s dance. Damn, baby. All you had to do was ask.” She snickered and looked at Red. “Watch my purse.” “You not giving me orders.” “I just did. Unless you plan on letting someone steal my shit.” He snarled, and with that, Max dragged her man to the middle of the living room.
The show put AB in a mood; their two step wasn’t so PG. Moving ass and hips, they were in sync. It was an erotic waltz AB appreciated. Max had soft curves Low handled with finesse. Frothing with jealousy, AB growled, wanting them. It was a familiar sensation he remembered with fondness. For a time, bedding two or three at once was commonplace. Prey excited him, up until getting what he wanted. This pair would get two or three nights tops before AB called it quits. At the moment, he wanted to touch something. To wedge himself between them and make music of their own. Low took Max from behind while she did the impossible;twearked with jeans on. The tight denim barely stayed on her ass. Ohhhh, how he filled with glee knowing she was real. Every inch supple and untouched. Dimples and cellulite. He grunted as the vision gave his dick a start. AB had to get the hell away from them before coppin’ a brick. Rising, he yanked the female’s handbag and pushed people out of his way. In a foul state, booze and a blunt would do him well. He cleared the steps in a single bound and trekked back toward the foyer, but kept onward. Ines had bleak taste in decor. Grays, blacks, and polished ash. On the way to where he slept on occasion, morbid, monotoned paintings of mutilated bodies winked at him. Grotesque shit. To be fair, Ab killed many. He occupied various jobs in his lifetime, and not all were above the line. Some required homicidal acts. As a pureblood, he welcomed a carmine-soaked chaotic profession. Alas, the wonder and joy turned to static, as did everything else. Food, sex, money, and shit had long ago become white noise. Though he did love a lengthy shopping spree annnd okay, getting his dick sucked brought about massive doses of pleasure. Plus, yeahhhhhhh, his dogs made him happy. Okay, maybe AB wasn’t that broody, but life grew stagnant on occasion, god damn it. Stopping at his bedroom door, something sparkled against the high gloss floor. “Ooooo.” He plucked the small button and gleamed. “I like this one.” The brushed metal had a shimmery quality he adored. “I did it.” AB stashed the button in his pocket, and Ines showed his face. When AB entered, he crossed the vacant womb of a well-dressed guest suite. “You did what?” AB asked. Tone scalpel sharp, he tossed Max’s bag in an armchair. “I got you a meeting with Paola.” “Good.” He smiled and wheeled around, making sure not to touch the Afghan with his soles. “That’s great news, bro, it’s your fucking job after all. What she say?” “You think she talked to me?” “Where am I going?” “She’ll be at your place on Saturday.” Stupid bed whench was throwing her annual fit. “Sure, I’ll be there.” Willing the glass wall open, he wished for a ripple, a whisper of cool air, but there was no breeze to be had. At least the crescent moon grinned from above. Ab sauntered onto the patio and longed for company. “Aye, go get my guests.” “You’re really gonna bang the fat bitch?” Facing Ines, with his turned-up nose and judgment, Ab sneered. “Why do you have to be so disgusting? Why does she have to be a bitch?” “She’s fat too.” Ines grimaced. The male had a preference, fine, cool, whatever, most people did. As stated once before, AB did not. If there was a hole, he’d fill it. What they looked like mattered naught. In passing, he frowned. “When has a woman’s size ever mattered to me, Ines?” “Yeah, you love pounding the fatties.” Ab meandered down a hallway flanked by his-hers walk-ins. He peeked in his, then stepped into the washroom. “Do you feed them when you fu—” Snapping his fingers, AB killed Ine’s prattle. AB was done. “Shut your god damn mouth and do what I said. Now!” Towels, tissue—whipping around, AB glared at Ines, who had yet to move. “Okay, okay.” Palms raised, the bastard retreated and left him alone. This space looked nothing like the rest of the house. Light gray instead of black, plush instead of flat. He preferred lighter hues and comfy over style. Although the twain met at his place of residence. AB slipped back into the room and found himself at a tiny wet bar. Hennessey, Remy Martin, Courvoisier, Gautier, Pierre, d’Ussé, Frapin, Hine and Martell. There were over two hundred brands of cognac; he had a lot to choose from, but four at present. He went with Hine. Just as drops of brown trickled down, the door flew open. “I know you better have my purse, I specifical—oh, thanks.” Max had a baaaaad habit of speaking before thinking. “Wooow, this is nice. What is that cherry blossom? This ain’t nothing like whatever funhouse shit he got going on out there. Dark and moody. I like it in here.” “It smells and looks like Home and Garden vomit,” Low added. “This is a middle-aged suburban mom’s wet dream. I’m getting heavy Cape Cod vibes.” “That’s what I was going for,” AB said, turning on the sound bar. Zapp and Roger. “You don’t know nothing about Slow and Easy, white boy.” “You’d be surprised by what I know, Maxine Bernice Bissette.” With derisive laughter, she ambled toward the revelatory. “Yeah, I’m sure you do, pop pop. You got on those leak barrier depends tonight?” Low cackled from outside, as a thick cream curled in the night. Of course, he threw in his two cents. “Got some Fixodent in your pockets, granddaddy?” “Nah, but I got a heavy dick you can suck.” Max re-entered and ripped her shades off. “Well, god damn, you are feisty. You right, Low.” “I told you, baby. One can’t be gentle with a muh’fucka like him.” Their back and forth sparked curiosity. “I love how you talk me about when I’m not around. Please do go on.” Max settled into the armchair, while Low filled out the chaise. Her eyes traced AB’s frame; he relished the attention. In their imperfection, her eyes were unique and fiery. “So Max…” After knocking back the rest of his liquor, AB set his empty glass on the bar and started. “You mind answering a question for me?” “Depends.” Giving Ms Bissette his full attention, he crossed his arms and asked, “Did you know your father is laundering money through your tattoo shop?” Kindling lust evaporated. “Wha—I don’t—I don’t understand.” Her lids peeled as she diverted to Low. “No, no. He’d never do that to me.” AB shrugged and sighed, venturing toward the chaise. He claimed the spot next to Low, who shared her disbelief. “I’ve been digging for days now,” AB continued. “It’s not hard to figure out. Your father is a year away from jail time. He hasn’t handled whatever it is he does well. “Shady property buying, the businesses that aren’t making enough money. I mean shit…” Dragging his gaze to Low, AB bit his bottom lip and wasn’t sure if they’d stay after this. “There has to be another explanation.” “Nope. A shit ton of money is coming in, and not enough going out.” Max dropped her purse on the floor as the mood soured with her expression. Now he felt kinda bad. The uncomfortable sensation intensified when she choked. Head falling into her hands, Max sobbed. “I can’t take anymorrrre. Oh…oh, my goddd.” AB grimaced and tried to think of something worth a damn to say. Think, think, stupid. ‘Haaay, there there’ no, fuck. ‘Let’s not be punk about—no! While he ran through several responses, her wails intensified. She turned hysterical. Sobs spun out of control and almost resembled laughter. Yeah, like giggling? Max lifted her head and dropped the act. Max cackled like a lunatic. Confusion racked his brain until she stopped on a dime. Her pristine arched brows knitted. “You thought you did something, huh?” “Wait, what?” “My Daddy is laundering money through my shop, because I let him.” AB recoiled. He would have never suspected such a thing. “You couldn’t leave well enough alone.” The female stood and closed the distance between them. Her short ass loomed in front of him. “All I wanted to do was fuck,” Max said. “Why you have to go and ruin it?” She shook her head and stepped outside. “Now that you figured us out, what you plan on doing with this information?” The muzzle of a gun grazed his temple. “Are you serious?” AB growled at Low, who held the steel steady. He definitely used it, more than once. “Deadly,” Low said. “Ain’t nobody finna pull my shorty card, Red. And I like you, I do. It’s sad, and wasteful, ‘cause you fine as hell. But I got a full clip of halo bullets, and wouldn’t think twice about putting your pretty ass in a motha fuckin’ casket.”
Nieema’s red, shimmering attention and emotional rise stoked more than an inner flame. Their combined presence stirred environs and Buck’s evergreen lust. As always, the meshing of their souls called to her darker proclivities. She wanted them open, vulnerable, pleading for mercies she’d edge them with. Jasper propped her ass up on the desk and hummed. She swiped the binder and leafed through it to keep herself busy. “What I want from everyone is transparency. I want open communication and mutual understanding.” “Pertaining to?” the vampiress inquired. “Us.” Nieema’s laughter was nefarious in nature. Jasper smirked, spotting a fantastical piece. A nude figure astride a unicorn. The latter was adorable with fangs and an even sharper horn. Having a dastardly idea for this one, she plucked it. “I was afraid I’d scared you off,” Nieema said. “In all honesty, you did.” Jasper glanced at Mrs. Sunside. She concentrated on the patch but nodded. “I like to gather myself before jumping headfirst. I am apprehensive, not unwilling. After Trevor…” She snarled and cocked a brow. Jasper flipped another page and studied linen squares. The artist had a skilled hand. Talented, they created mosaics. Buck cleared his throat. “You were saying?” “Yeah, sorry. Uhm, thanks to him, I’m not in the mood for titles or monogamy. I don’t want long-term. Moreover, I don’t want any part of your high-profile lifestyle.” Jasper sighed, pushed off, and clapped the binder shut. She tossed it on the desk and decided to peruse. She clocked the tub labeled THREADS and pulled it out. Jasper cracked the lid and whistled. Meticulously organized and colorful. “Can I borrow a few?” “If you keep talking.” Jasper snickered and went on, “I know royals and the expectations that come with them. Whosoever steps foot into your chamber is expected to carry themselves to a certain standard. They are watched, followed. I’m done with that shit.” Jasper nabbed various shades of blue, purple, and red. Pastels were next. She was heavy-handed with them, but Nieema didn’t show interest in her haul. “I’m gonna tell you just like I told your husband, I don’t want drama, chaos, or anyone in my business.” Nieema sucked her teeth. “If that’s all you want, I gotchu, but let’s be clear, there will be times when we are unavailable. You understand? We are not beholden to you. We aren’t exclusive,e and with that, for us, come boundaries.” “Speak them,” Jasper demanded, meeting Nieema’s sanguine stare. “Buck and I put our marriage first. If, for any reason, we feel the need to slow or cut you off entirely, that is our right. We will communicate such things, but we expect the same from you. We are grown as hell. Ain’t no ghosting shit over here. If you’re not in the mood, say that. If you want a moment with one of us, alone, text in advance. We got a lot going on, as I’m sure you are aware. Expecting time without notice is not how we operate.” Jasper approved. There were no strings to snap or knots. No room for questions or concerns. Nieema laid everything bare. Without negotiation. How Jasper chose to take it was a personal matter. She respected it. “And what about you, Buck?” She set her sights on the man and shrugged. “What are your guidelines?” He pulled from his pipe and lounged. “She told you already.” “I like it.” Jasper bit her lip and grunted.”Plain and simple. We have an accord, your Highness.” Nieema peered, claws thrumming on wood. “Good. I’m glad. But you still didn’t answer the question.” “Which was?” “You’re cute,” the Queen said, grinning. “If I kissed you right now, would I taste my husband on your tongue?” Heat stroked her spine and swelled. Jasper matched Nieema’s faceted fixation as the scent of burning cherry wood perforated. “You tell me, Your Majesty.” From sitting to standing in a single breath. Jasper didn’t flinch as the vampire snatched the box and slammed it on the desk. The tiny woman was fierce. “They say vampires are impenetrable. Unbreakable and solid. Shall we put it to test?” A concerning growl pulled her to attention. Jasper snapped to Buck and his aloof demeanor. “What was that?” He smoked and stared. Cool fingers gripped her chin. Nieema forced Jasper to lock in. She met the Queen’s ruby glare and purred with satisfaction. Nieema wasn’t one to be teased or played. The kiss cracked Jasper wide and tugged on soaked coils of desire. Pressure and pleasure mounted as their lips fused. Jasper put her tongue to use. She twisted, tasting every delicious drop of lust this vampire offered. The cloying notes were almost overwhelming. Her want was thick, nearly tangible. Falling into and under her spell, Jasper grasped Nieema’s heavy ass. Plump and dimpled, it enticed. The woman yanked on her shorts and nipped. Jasper flinched and cut their contact. The slight sting made her walls ripple and sweat. Nieema licked her luscious brown lips and asked, “Do you enjoy an audience or would you prefer he participate?” Jasper clung to Nieema and cast her gaze to Mr. Sunside. Unfazed and collected on the surface, he burned below. His soul was agitated. Tasting his want and vexation, Jasper hissed. “Until I want your company, you can watch. But you should know that won’t be tonight.” Nieema laughed, her lips cool and grazing. Jasper kneaded all that ass and enjoyed how the queen lingered at her throat. “I got nothin’ but time,” Buck rasped. “Good to know.” With patience dwindling and hands full, Jasper hoisted Nieema high. The woman scoffed but didn’t protest, wrapping legs around her waist. Nieema captured Jasper’s lips for a second time and worsened the ache. She roiled an old succubus. Her plush form and lips weren’t enough, and as their kiss tapered, Jasper hissed. “Where to?” “Follow him,” Nieema ordered, nuzzling a scorched spot behind the ear. Buck was up and leading their journey. Jasper tracked the man by way of soul. His darkened desire and irritation was delicious. “You lucky I’m in the mood to be handled,” Nieema drawled, pecking and nipping. “The luckiest woman in Indigo Plains.” “Don’t sweet-talk me, demon. I don’t need that shit.” “Understood.” Jasper slapped her ass. Nieema yelped and bit her lobe. She giggled under the playful assault and kissed her flat on the mouth. Nieema moaned and groaned as their troop halted. Her majesty snipped their affections and dropped to the floor. She pranced across the room and attacked her husband. While they went at it, Jasper gulped, taking her fill and a moment. She assessed their marital chambers and shivered. Love overflowed. It drenched every surface. Staining the duvet and cal king bed, their shared lust enchanted the space. Jasper meandered, seeking to understand. To know them. To delve into what made the Sunsides unavoidable. Their room was packed. Floor to ceiling, wall to wall. Greenery and art surrounded them. Ivy scaled and twisted around four posts fitted with iron rings. The canopy was a nice touch. No headboard, only a mirror. “What are these for?” Jasper asked, flicking metal. She tugged, testing it. “Who likes to be tied and bound?” “You stalling?” Nieema asked, approaching. Her predatory gait made Jasper want to bite. Scratch and score. The vampire shoved, forcing her backwards. “I wouldn’t call it stalling. I was starving. And y’all are good fare.” Nieema yanked Jasper’s shorts. The small, alluring woman was as impatient as her husband. “Is she always like this?” Jasper asked. Buck was tucked off into an inky corner. Lavender-hued smoke and gleaming gold fangs were the only indication he was even there. She smelled him, guzzled his arousal. A blast of cool heat caused Jasper pain. She gasped and stumbled. Fingers graced her pussy. “Let me taste it.” Nieema convinced her with the slow dip and arrival. A single finger made Jasper stagger and collapse on the bed bench. Legs spread and claws clenching curls. Jasper had nothing as Nieema pulled her shorts off. She kicked the fabric free and scooted. Offering herself. The vampire knelt and kneaded her inner thighs. “Flex for me. Let me see her drip.” Jasper did as she was told and panted. She licked her dry lips as Nieema patted her mons and belly before teasing. “I love how y’all look when ready. Reds, pinks, and purples. Ain’t nothing so pretty as succubi pussy. I swear it.” Nieema grunted and glanced two fingers against her pulsing slit. “Look at you. Greedy.” “Nieema, please.” “Please, what?” “Taste me, kiss it.” Nieema snarled, eyes ablaze. “You don’t gotta beg when I’m this hungry, baby.” Jasper keened the moment Nieema set lips upon her. The wet heat made lids flutter and head loll. It’d been so god damn long. She caught a fever and melted beneath her lashing. Nieema was a skilled queen. She was careful, giving, and sweet. Taking her time, she lapped and circled in slow, torturing strokes. She tugged, sucked. Licked and slurped. The obscene melody worked to tighten the inflamed knot in Jasper’s belly. Nieema was a master at her craft. Too damn good. She drew her pleasure and stalled it. Edging with ease. Jasper heaved, pulling the woman’s hair. She cussed and rocked against her. “God damn, Nieema.” Fire encapsulated her as the vampire used her abilities. She was better than any vibrator or toy. It’d been a long while, but Jasper remembered. She never had this. Never had another find the clit and dance with it. “Shiiiit!” Jasper hollered, seeking oblivion. She tensed, thighs shaking. Heady spices, blood, and lust provoked her demonic instincts. She wanted to take and claim. Plunge and demand. “Oooooo, damn girl. You, you—oh, fuck!” She arched and allowed Nieema to hike her up. The Queen cradled her ass and feasted as if it were her last supper. Jasper gritted her teeth and watched the show. Lungs seizing, she rode Nieema’s face and bore into her gaze. She was vicious and powerful. Unforgiving, fangs penetrated at the same moment Jasper erupted. “Ohohohooooahh!” Because she was a succubus, her pussy creamed and sucked fingers clean. A golden deluge streamed and painted Nieema’s lips. Lacking finesse and with little civility to spare, Jasper yanked Nieema to her feet. She rid the woman of all layers and latched onto her breast. Jasper explored the soft planes of her supple form and pulled her in. She locked arms around her waist and lavished Nieema with kisses. She squeezed and groped, loving her lush body. “Turn around,” Jasper commanded. Nieema arched a regal brow but smirked. She spun about and blessed her. That ass was gorgeous. Sitting, wide, and round. Jasper had no shame. She bit her left ass cheek. “Ah!” Nieema rubbed bite marks and peeked over her shoulder. “You sneaky devil.” “I’ve only just begun. Touch your toes, Majesty.” She didn’t hesitate to bend over and present herself. “Open up to me. Spread them.” Nieema widened her stance. Blush pink and sable had never looked so divine. She glistened and wept. Leaving any and all worries at the door, Jasper unraveled her tail and flicked it. “Is this what you want?” Jasper snaked her way between Nieema’s legs and tapped her clit with the tip. “You want me to fuck you now?”
After parking her truck in the garage, Nieema followed Hank through the mudroom. They kicked off their shoes, and she dropped her purse on the bench. Keys in the bowl, she grumped and carried onward. Using her vampire will, she turned on the lights and opened curtains along the way. Their ranch house was expansive yet homey. She’d dressed every surface in artwork and lined each console with trinkets from around the world. “I still think you went light on the man,” Hank muttered. “He’s my cousin, sir.” “A cousin who was spying on you.” “Not me, Jasper.” Nieema grimaced as they entered the kitchen, whereupon Hank wrenched patio doors aside. He shoved and pulled until a warm summer breeze greeted them. Nieema loved fresh air. It was far better than underground stank and granite. Minerals and stoneware. Humans buried their dead in the dirt, below ground. Nieema thought that shit was hilarious, given how vampire covens preferred subterranean communities. “Annnd, is that supposed to make it less cruel?” “You’re right,” Nieema stated. “It doesn’t. But I’m not in the business of decapitation…anymore.” She nabbed the decanter resting on the island and poured. An aromatic blended wine made her fangs throb. “Long ago, during sword and sorcery, I woulda’ had his head. You know that. But times are different. I understand the value of life. Community service should suffice.” Hank arched a brow, stealing the second glass of Grand Pa’nidere. He grumbled, lips to the rim. “You just lopped somebody’s head off in cold blood.” “We ain’t talking about her,” Nieema warned. “You killed, Veronica!” “She murdered fourteen vampires, Hank!” Nieema gulped a glorious concoction and threw on some good ol’ fashion city jazz. The kind from back in the day. The music that lived in the very heart of her people. It roused spirits and pleased their ancestors. Percussion, snares, and high hats. She closed her eyes for a beat, letting the music have the moment. “Your soon-to-be bride snaked her way into the coven and gutted our folks.” Her heart cramped, and blood pricked in her eyes. Dry wells stung with a dangerous vow. “How was I supposed to handle that, Hank? Huh? Because you know good and damn well if somebody hurts my family, they gotta die. And by my hand. I don’t play that shit! I would kill anyone who even thought to cross my family. My people. My kin by blood and name. Don’t act like you don’t know.” Heat flared in her chest as she slashed a hand. Daring to send everything on the island crashing to the floor. Bulbs flickered, and the decanter rattled under her boiling fury. “We been through the mud, boy. And now you acting like one person is above us. Don’t you fucking dare. I’m Queen of Ravensguard. It is my vow to protect and defend everyone who calls this place home.” Hank’s steely gaze and curled lip wasn’t a good sign. “What if it was Buck?” “Fuck outta my face with that mess!” Nieema swiped her glass and stomped past her knight. “Get the hell on before I go upside your head.” “You don’t like how them tables turn—“ “Veronica used you.” Nieema gritted her molars and faced her illumine pool. “She poisoned you with a powerful love potion, brotha’. Think. You’d never put anyone above your honor. Not even yourself.” “Ain’t no way,” Hank uttered, disbelief slicing into his anger. “I would have known, I—we were about to get hitched and all—nah. Hell no.” Nieema cleared her throat and shrugged, eyes on her right hand. “I gave your blood to Maggie. She exposed all. It’s gonna take a minute for you to wake up. But the moment Veronica died, the spell was broken. You’ll come around any night now.” “Bulllshit.” Her brother fumed as he traveled elsewhere on the ranch. “Where are you going without shoes on?” “To see a witch!” “I love you.” She didn’t expect Hank to respond, still in his feelings. This entire situation would haunt that old vampire in the months to come, and she’d be there for him when he cracked. Doing away with one problem, she swigged her favorite bloodied wine and cracked her neck. Back in the house, she replaced the glass with a rag and got to cleaning. Jaunty tunes and crooning made her night. She two-stepped, twirled, and dipped to horn-blowing melodies until she grew bored with housework. Her night had just begun, but that didn’t mean she had to stay corset-ready. It was pretty, bedazzled, and hoisted them tiddies, but she was through. That was the beauty of working from home: one got to wear whatever they wanted. Nieema opted for a long, thin, leopard print gown and a headscarf to match. At around nine, Nieema was focused on her patches. Head ducked, eyes on the needle. With quick efficiency, she worked on patches. Her sewing machine buzzing and whirring. It was a comfort she sought during those rough hours. When royal duties had her by the fang. After Veronica, she sat up in her office for ten hours straight. Ms. Corvin was having a baby. Mrs. Briar wanted something for her grandmother, and Francis, the fire chief, needed a quilt for someone in recovery. Music, hot bloodwine, and the humming motor calmed her nerves. After Veronica, she sat up in her office for ten hours straight. Before her, the last person she’d had to vanquish was Maudrin the Sordid. He was a nasty motha fucka who’d tried to kill her father. As General, it was her job to dispatch the Warlock, and she did just that. Three hundred years ago. It was her last battle. Nieema yelped at the feel of hands on her shoulders. “God damn you, Buckley!” He laughed and kissed her cheek. “You were supposed to sniff me out, bloodsucker.” She giggled and patted his hand. “You know how it goes when I’m up here working.” “I do.” Buck squeezed before release. He swaggered over to the tiny sofa, wedged between shelving units. He groaned and plopped down. Nieema assessed and smirked. He was agitated and darker than usual. Her husband couldn’t hide a damn thing. She read the gum cracking for what it was. “What did he want?” He sighed, tugged free his braid. It lay across his shoulder, thick. The bound ends rested upon suede. It was time for a trim, and he’d hate it. “Whatcbu think, Nimmy?” “They can’t have you.” “He knows.” “Then, where we go from here?” Buck flicked his gaze to the window and said, “I gotta take a trip.” “Don’t you mean we?” “Nimmy…” She scoffed and picked thread from the ruined patch. Her perfectionism wouldn’t allow for faults. She cut threads and mused. “We both know I ain’t welcome. But I’ll be damned to let you go without me. That family is unwell. What if they don’t let you leave? Or worse—oh my god. My blood pressure already taking a hit. Oooo chile. I swear—I’ll turn that forest into a marsh.” “Calm down, woman. You gettin’ all flustered, and we know don’t nothing good happens when you’re stressed.” “Baby, if you gotta take a trip, fin,e but I wi—“ “You signed a treaty, Nimmy.” She tossed the thread cutter and cussed. Cooling the fire in her gut, she returned to the patch and sewing machine. Nieema tapped the paddle and steadied her hands. “I’m the one who created that damn treaty, Buck. They get to keep them fifteen hundred acres because I say so. My daddy was due to burn the m, and that was his last option. “If we hadn’t signed that damn thing, we’d be killed by overgrowth and fauna. Listen, if they wanna get to squabbling, then so be it. But I’m going, and we both know that’s the end of it. I gotcha, old man.” Buck affixed his softened, dark stare upon her and relaxed. “You ain’t gotta tell me what I already know. I just don’t want to cause trouble, Nimmy.” “That isn’t up to you. It’s on them.” He sighed while she freed the finished patch and set another on the plate. Nieema situated it just right and muttered. “Other than Palison, how was your night?” “Not bad, I mighta broke the ice with her.” Nieema smiled as he recalled Jasper’s training. She was a quick learner, but had no interest in tools. That was fine cause most folks knew what they were looking for. Nieema completed five patches while they conversed about the mundane. Kids, grand babies, the house, their shop business, and what was on schedule for Friday night in the dungeon. Curls and coils of smoke soothed her better than any Jazzy track. His dusky lilt was the highlight of her night, making her heart swell with gladness. She, the demoness, knocked on wood. Syrupy sweet notes preceded her. Nieema focused on the double stitch and said, “I heard you bought a hammer. What do you plan on doing with that?” “Building stuff. Whenever we actually get to it. I’d love to start breaking shit.” Buck’s raspy, smoke-laden chuckle was delightful. “Day or two, and we’ll get started. You so impatient.” “Not really.” Nieema popped upward and drank in the woman. She’d changed. Silk and twill for cotton. A matching set. Soft, tight, and pink. Nieema had more to say than hello about how she stepped into the space. Buck wasn’t a man with shame. He had no qualms with staring. Neither was on the same page, though her lack of tail irked. Jasper strolled on into the office barefoot, anklets chiming with each step. She went straight for the binder loaded with commissions. “I finished the orc piece.” “Lovely,” Nieema intoned, not giving a fuck about the commission. “Where is your tail, ma’am?” Buck grunted. “I was wonderin’ the same, baby.” “Keep wondering,” the succubus clipped, turning plastic pages. “I might take about five more; the first made me anxious for more work.” “How much you want for it?” “Mmm, fifty—” “No,” Buck hissed on a harsh exhale. “Be confident, Jasper.” “Seven—” “I seen it,” Buck added, eyes locked on the demoness and her thighs. “Your low balling ‘bouta piss me off, ma’am.” “Shit, fine. Two hundred.” “Done,” Nieema chimed, happy to pay the woman. “Nice doing business with you.” “Money well spent.” Buck wagged his pipe at Jasper and winked. “Worth every cent, Nimmy.” Shock and awe, Jasper beamed, and Nieema loved the sultry curve of her mouth. Recalling the plush, pillow-soft kiss, she scoffed. “It’s alright,” Jasper corrected. “Not my best, but decent enough.” “So, what?” Buck sneered, a swirl of lavender clouds framed his menacing portrait. “You calling me a liar? I know art when I see it.” “From now on,” Nieema started, foot on the paddle. She tapped and watched her stitch. “I only wanna hear you speak good of your projects. Because if you don’t believe in them, no one will. Oftentimes, a lack of confidence seeps. Your customers will notice. Now, tell me, Jasper, what is my husband hiding? There’s more to your moment, but he’s being coy. Maybe you can shed some light on your time with Buckley Sunside. Did my man behave himself tonight?”
Y’allllll, I don’t know what happened! I pressed publish on this thing LAST NIGHT! But tell me why I just looked to see how y’all are taking to it, to find that it DIDN’T publish. Also, I tried to publish it without a title… Listen, this is what I get for trying to do shit late at night right after I get off of work. *Crying emoji Anyhoo, I hope you had a great weekend and have an even better week! See you soon, and as always, thank you so much for reading! Byyyyeee.
AB worked a lot as late and through the weekend. He stayed home last night to regroup and relax. Tonight was fully booked, with plans aplenty. Ones that called for black on black. Givenchy broken logo joggers, a tank, and Balenciaga speeds. Monotones made sure an assortment of gold pieces became the highlight of his outfit. Neck, ears, fingers, nose, and wrist. He was dripping in twenty-four carats and wasn’t shy about it either. Sex was pretty close to wearing fine fabrics and jewelry. Acquiring luxury brands damn near made AB orgasm in any given boutique. The high he received from shopping was intoxicating, and it didn’t stop at Kiton. No. AB just loved buying shit. He was an impulse shopper. Tupperware or Dior. Brand made no difference. Especially during long trips to Five Below. He needed an intervention for his addiction. Such wonderful things he found at TJM. God, the priceless doodads. A box made from recycled barn wood? Yes! He desired it. A mirrored owl figurine? Yeah? Big-eyed dogs embroidered onto a pillow? Fuck yesss! Sucking down a lung full of a Moonrock blend, AB checked mirrors. Was he being ghosted? It was a date or anything, but common courtesy and all. He’d been parked under his place of work for the last thirty minutes. A text came through at around 4 pm, agreeing to an outing. AB hit back with a location. Seeing as they were still strangers, he offered to meet at Brickell Condominiums. Low texted thirty minutes ago. How long did it take to…well, he had no idea where the man lived. Holding a creamy cloud, AB clutched his phone, eager to send another text when a rumbling engine and bass-heavy music alerted the senses. I’m Da Man? Yeah, E-40. Releasing smoke, he noted a sedan six spots down as Low parked beside him. Before hopping out, AB grabbed his FOB, device, and blunt pouch. With everything in hand, he emerged from the great value ride. “Well, God damn, Red!” Low’s size was a surprise, to say the least, being a halfbreed and such. They were neck and neck, almost. Non-threatening, he considered AB and smirked. “I shoulda wore my Give-inchy too. Tryna look cute, tuh. You can’t see me, though, on your best night.” Low rounded to the passenger side and listed against the classic big bawdy. AB couldn’t speak with a blunt between his lips. He observed smoke streaming from his nostrils. AB didn’t want to laugh in the guy’s face, but he was clearly delusional. Poor soul. It don’t get any better than Jaxon Aubrey. Was Low ugly, unseemly, or drab? No. Absolutely the fuck not. Even in a t-shirt and sweats. Gray. Pulling the backwood, AB signaled to the chunky boy downstairs. “You plan on using that?” Low reeled. “You checking my shit already? I usually like some conversation and—” “The gun, dumb ass.” “Aye, watch yourself. And only if I have to.” He shrugged, opening the door. “Can’t be too careful with headhunters running about. Let’s go, Red. That summer moon is shy.” When Low slid in, AB stepped to the driver’s side and eased behind the wheel. “Whoooa shit.” The woodgrain was smooth and crisp white interior butter soft to the touch. Smelling like flowers. “Wait.” “Boo!” AB flinched like a pussy when the female sprang up. He gave Max and Low more than enough to amuse them. “Oooo, the salty, sassy alpha be skittish.” She was a delightful sight, but her glasses were an irritant. After a quick hit, AB smirked. “Maybe it’s your face,” he said in good humor, ‘cause she wasn’t ugly either. Far from it, actually. Max had silver screen old Hollywood beauty on lock, but those tattoos launched her into the ethereal. AB loved ink on everyone. As he glanced at a snickering Low, Max hollered from behind. “Don’t be messing with me, Irish Spring,” she hissed. “I am not in the mood. I’ll shove my taser right up your ass.” AB stabbed the dash in search of good music and took her ‘threats’ with a grain of salt. She was five-two, maybe three. “You hella annoying, to be honest.” “I aim to please, Jaxon,” she chimed. “You better believe her.” Low paused to light his own wood. “She done tased me a few times.” While AB messed with Bluetooth shit, she yammered on. Cautionary tales or whatever. Max had a pleasant, silvery voice, so he tolerated her loquaciousness. “There we go.” AB grinned. Max screamed in celebration, and Low coughed, spewing smoke. “Muh’fucka! Is this Whitney Houston?!” “I know that’s right!” She clapped. “Low only plays rap garbage all night. This is real driving music.” Max giggled on all in his ear. “You like Whitney, Big Red?” “I love Whitney.” AB glanced at Low, putting the Chevy in reverse. “I dare you to speak ill of my late queen.” With the blunt back in his mouth, he turned up I’m Your Baby Tonight and floated onto the street. The Monte Carlo SS was a magic carpet ride. “Listen, I ain’t got no issue with Whitney, but damnnnnn.” Low toked, then spoke on release. “You a cold-blooded alpha, bruh. How and why are you cruising around bumpin’ this? And, you white.” “I’m Irish.” He cackled, but AB grimaced. “Where can I…” Low tapped underneath the stereo and revealed an astray. “Thank you. And what does my complexion have to do with anything? All that shit is inconsequential. Music is universal; it’s for anyone who wants to listen. There ain’t no restrictions.” “That’s true,” Max added as a foul, manufactured blueberry odor assaulted him. “What is that?” “My vape.” AB smacked his lips. “It stinks.” “I hate it too,” Low muttered. The city was alive with those coming and going. It was 10:30 pm, and most were on their way home or off to get into some shit. They were the ass end. “You live in Brickell, with all those other rich folks?” “No, I work there.” “Ooooh, right, right. Your accounting office?” “We call it a counseling office,” AB corrected, but had zero intentions of talking about work. “I have to hand it to you, she rides great. Smooth as silk.” Low chuckled and puffed for a minute while Max sang along to Mark Morrison. Music was AB’s first love as an adolescent. That’s why he liked everything; hell, Vivaldi might play next. Perhaps Stevie Nicks, Korn, Nat King Cole, Michael Bolton, Etta James, or The Beatles. His playlist was on shuffle. “Low built this car.” “For real?” AB asked, fully invested in Low’s response. The male’s wry smile spoke before he did. “Not built. I restored her a little. You know, put something fresh on the body, and got up in them guts…” His glittering storm gray eyes swung over right on time. “I fixed what was broken, but I’ma replace the block in about two years.” AB nodded, ignoring the sexual undertones in his statement. Smashing for Coconut Grove, he hit a few lights, but kept things nice and easy. “Aye, make a U-turn right quick,” Low suggested. “What?” “Just do it.” Once able, AB doubled back and whipped the bitch. “The hell going on.” “What’s wrong?” Max asked. “I have no idea, but we being followed. Seriously, I’ve watched them tail us for the last ten minutes.” Retrieving his blunt, AB laughed and made another U-turn. “What you doing?” “Don’t worry about it.” Low bolted upright, looked at Max, then pegged him with a hard stare. “I don’t know you, and ain’t nobody finna put my shorty in harm’s way, fuck you mean.” “They’re with me.” “The tail?” he blurted. “Yeah.” “The hell you have them fa’?” AB inhaled his Moonrock skittle mix and entered Coconut Grove. No need to divulge sensitive information this early on. He wasn’t even sure if it’d go past tonight, but who knew at this point, right? His passengers were a desirable hodgepodge of gardenia, Bergamot, and Shea butter. The aroma was erotic and enticing. It’d been years since he had a menage. God willing, he’d have another soon. Max appeared in his peripherals and stared. “How old are you? Where are we going and why are people following us?” AB snorted and said, “You ask too many questions and haven’t answered mine.” “You ain’t asked me nothing.” “I will.” “Okay, how old are you, whe—” She lurched forward as they came to an abrupt halt. “You ‘bouta go on my list, Irish cream.” “I’m seven hundred and twenty-three, and getting older every night.” Low hacked and leaned forward once again. “You the oldest vampire I’ve ever met. Holy shit. I thought you were like, three-fifty, four hunnit or something.” His eyes traveled from north to south. “I mean you well kept, though, Father Time. You are older than this country and the Declaration of Independence. You’re older than this whole state. The dirt we walk on, you older than—” “I get it! Oh my god.” AB snagged his blunt, killed the engine, and tossed keys to Low. “Oh fuck! You almost hit my dick, be coo’, bruh. I know you don’t need yours no more, ain’t no way it still works, but mine is fine.” Max cackled like a hyena. He found the sound unappealing yet adorable. “This shit will get old, fast.” “Awwww.” She patted his shoulder, and he loved the contact but shrank away in irritation. “Poor alpha feeewings hurrt.” She giggled again. “Move, so I can get out.” “Ask me, nicely,” AB growled. “No, move.” “I said, ask me nicely.” Low jumped out of the car, groaned, and pushed his seat forward. “Let’s go, baby, I ain’t got time.” “Ha!” Max cocked a brow as her ‘friend’ offered a helping hand. Ab followed, intent on setting some motha’ fuckin’ boundaries.
Goooood evening, y’all. I hope you’ve had a phenomenal week! I’ve been editing mostly and adding to Patchwork. If you don’t know what that is, it’s my fantasy serial. It’s lighter than this and lower stakes. Anyway, this week we get a glimpse of The Troublesome Trio. I had A time writing their story, and you’ll continue to see why. I know this chapter was short, but you’ve got quite a bit coming in the next two weeks (maybe sooner). A little action, SMUT, and Maxi antics. Once again, I’d like to thank you for still being here. Stay amazing and hydrated, y’all. See you next week, bookies. Byyyye!
Bone marrow melted, and the body had transformed into a pyre. She’d never been taken so ruthlessly. Buck was relentless and thorough. Her lips tingled, and pussy wanted to consume him. Every god damn inch. Jasper would damn well let him sleep in it. His soul and desire worked in tandem to destabilize her. To provoke her. It was glorious, though, new and frightening. Their fleeting moment mimicked the minutes she’d shared with Nieema. The Queen coated his tongue; they danced well together. Not only had Nieema’s flavor caused a flurry of sensations, but it had also made Jasper crave Buck. The thought of them pelted her soul with smoldering pleasure. Jasper had almost burst in her slacks from the vision. Did she need a release? Yes. What Buck and Nieema beckoned would be her ruin. Jasper was certain that when this man took her wholly, she’d writhe and wither, sniveling for another. This was cause for hesitation. His heady passion was delicious. It satisfied and worsened her pangs. But she’d never been this bad off. Never so exposed. Wanting a man to such a degree was unbecoming for succubi. Her sisters would’ve tried to bury her in soot and drake ash. “What the hell and highs are doing in my god damn store?!” Leaning against the counter was an oak of verdant waves, freckles, and a fiery opal stare. He was a ravishing creature, Jasper wanted to know. She extended a palm quick, fast, and in a hurry. “Jasper. I run this place. What do you need?” He smelled of honeysuckle and fresh waters. His soul was brighter than the midday sun. He tasted like candy. This was a gorgeous man she’d love to sip on, though his upturned nose was telling. He didn’t trust anyone and definitely not Jasper. She dropped the hand and clapped once, sliding over to a shelf filled with weird shit she didn’t know how to use. She left the men to stare at each other. Bad blood and taut ties. They were family, too. Estranged kin, Jasper presumed. He was the palest man she’d ever seen, so perhaps they were cousins. She would rather not be nosy or eavesdrop, but didn’t have a choice. Noticing unkempt shelves, she decided to tidy up while trying not to listen. “Im’on ask you again, why—“ “You work here?” The man asked, judgment sharp enough to cut his tongue. “Why would the Queen’s consort waste his time working among commoners?” Jasper scoffed, minding her business. She situated boxes of screws and nuts. Counted tubs of putty and swiped a finger through a pat of dust. She took to reading. Fill, scrape, washers, caulk, wrench, drivers. Most of this shit could’ve been written in Rakish. Bored with it, she ventured around the corner and found a row filled with hammers. Jasper perused, looking for something that fit her personality. She spotted a pink one and snatched it. “Oooooo.” Noting the price, she cursed. “Hay!” Jasper grabbed two hammers and stalked toward the store’s owner. “You want to explain this to me?” She showcased the tools, and both men blinked. The interruption had come at a bad time, but this needed sorting. “What?” Buck gritted. “This pink one is twelve dollars, and the other is ten. They’re of the same brand and size. Why is the pink one more expensive?” Buck lifted his chin and nodded. “Funny that. Feel free to change the price. I don’t see the point. Brands be doing funny shit. Our last manager left us high and dry, but they didn’t pay attention to much. Good eye, Jasper. Set the price, and I’ll approve it.” She hummed and smirked. “Thank you.” Twirling on her heels, Jasper listened for a moment. “Palison, there ain’t no need for you come on up here. It won’t change my mind.” “I understand that.” Palison sighed. “Believe me. You’re already a king. Why Her Majesty wants to stay here, in a podunk, middle of nowhere, outhouse of a town I’ll never—“ “Fuck you!” Buck bellowed. “Stupid ass bitch. Don’t run your mouth about my home. I’ll put you through it, Palison. See, you always think you better than everyone else—” “I don’t think, I know I am.” “What a diva,” Jasper muttered, taking her leave. Heading to the back, hammer in hand, she whistled but halted at Palison’s response. “Half brother!” Buck countered. “And I don’t even know you. We met one other time, and it was in Lightbridge for that gala thing.” “Brother?” Jasper whispered, standing near the EMPLOYEE ONLY door. “This is true,” Palison said. “But as our kingdom’s courtier, it is my duty to speak with you face to face. We have two choices here, Myrrhnelle.” “Don’t call me that.” “It’s your namesake.” “Nah. Never been. It’s Buck.” “Very well, Buck…you either ascend or relinquish your crown to Thedius, in person.” “Why can’t we just do a video call or some shit? Everybody doing it these days. I don’t gotta be there.” “A video call? You want to cede through a fucking—Soil of Soul be with me. No.” “Why not?” “There are formalities, and we, as a people, stick to them.” “That’s the whole problem.” “You don’t have a choice in the matter, Buck. It’s one of two things: death. Take your pick.” Jasper tutted and shook her head. More political nonsense. She’d escaped Undervell to avoid this bullshit. Good thing this was a Buck problem and not a them problem. She had little hope. Fucking the Sunsides was inevitable. A good time would be had, but it’d go no further. She’d never again trust anyone to do right or give her heart and soul. It was a death trap that had nearly killed her once. Jasper’s therapist would’ve been upset, but she was free to love or not. That was the beauty of being her own person. It’s the whole reason why Jasper was here and not under her father’s shiny, gold-plated hoof.
Hey y’all, if you recognize the holidays, I hope you had a good Memorial Day weekend! With another holiday over, I present to you, chapter 28. I should know this, buuuuut, it’s a different chapter in MS mode. Anyway, Jasper and Buck have come to that moment. The one where the unwilling gives. Where they meet in the middle. One person takes what’s offered while the other wants nothing more. THIS IS MY FAVORITE PARRRRT! Ugh. I love how Buck and Jasper are damn near evenly matched. They see eye to eye, all the while butting heads. This chapter was short. But the next will be long and SPICY! I can’t wait. Anyhoo, as always, thank you for sparing a moment or two on Patchwork. Your support is priceless. See y’all next week and have a wonderful night. Byyye!
Close quarters and molten delight. Buck wasn’t one to push or the sort to add pressure until within the arms of promising darkness. He let folks live and die however they wanted. There were too many petals to pluck. Why worry himself silly over one fragrant flower? It was no secret that he was for whoever wanted him. Be it man, woman, or them, he’d be there. Slipping between walls and digging ‘em out. He wasn’t picky. Buck had a good woman with great pussy he tasted with every swallow. “There ain’t much to it,” Buck said, smoke puffing and curling. He applied another price sticker and glanced at Jasper. “You got it.” “Surely.” “How many jobs have you had?” “Not many, but enough.” “You like dealing with people?” Buck asked, plucking his pipe from the shelf. “And don’t be shy. Consider this an interview.” “Thought I had the job already?” Gold flecks sparked in her eyes like agitated fireflies. Jasper’s unbidden attention yanked at his soaked roots. “I need some personal info to put on paper. Mater fact…” Buck brushed past the demon, and she chuckled while he was left to burn. Her scent dared to raze his soul. “Step into my office.” He sauntered between stacks and units. Shelves cluttered and dusty. Nieema hated the task and refused to handle it. The aroma of sawdust, mulch, and metals reminded him of them early days. When the hardware store was their only means of making ends meet. Buck smiled and trekked onward, across twelve hundred square feet. Their first baby had grown up and out since times of old. “We gotta fill out that application and such. Got health care and whatnot.” The back of house wasn’t shit but a bathroom, office, and an adjacent break room. They cut wood outdoors because Buck couldn’t stand the sight. They weren’t sentient trees, but watching the work made his ass itch nonetheless. “Let’s see here.” Buck hustled to the bookshelf, set his pipe next to a fussy ficus, and located the folders. He snatched one and dropped it on the desk. Jasper was a cold piece, feet kicked up atop glossy mahogany. Ankles crossed, she rocked in the chair, hands on her soft belly. Buck grunted and smacked her loafer. “You don’t pay for nothing. Feet off my shit.” She cackled and snagged the folder. He picked a pen from the holder and offered it. Jasper snatched the damned thing and locked her scorching stare upon high. Buck matched her indignation. He smoked in silence and gathered much from her quick script. “I don’t take to demands well, Buckley.” “Sumn’ else we got in common, huh?” She flipped pages and continued, eyes on the application. “Your wife is beguiling.” “I agree.” “Nieema was respectful and forthcoming. Intent on fucking me.” Buck grunted and ambled, mouth to the teak tip. He waited a tick and stared out the single four-pane window he’d installed nearly two hundred years ago. Still held up, much like his marriage. “You tryna make a case or convince me of somethin’?” “I don’t want you to think I came onto her. Or that I sought to do anything with your wife.” He scoffed, clouds undulating as he pivoted. Jasper finished her duty and leaned in the chair. “I wouldn’t care if you did.” “Understood.” He sniffed, smirking. “What’s your plan now?” A dire wolf might deem her smile a threatening show of fang. Buck loved this part. He adored them self-assured types. A pretty woman to step on his neck and make him beg for pain. The sweet dame who’d clutch his nuts and make him pray with reverence. She’d do it to ‘em. Buck believed this succubus to be kind, personable, and everything her kind wasn’t, but she had the beating pulse of a domineering demon. One he could trust to do him right when the occasion called. “I don’t want complications,” Jasper asserted, rising. She pressed forward and rounded the desk, seeking to devour Buck right on up. Her magic spilled and pooled between them. Fine florals, sweet nectars, and spice. He inhaled every note and became a glutton within seconds. She settled on his tongue, coiling around Nieema’s essence. The richness roused his old bone and wood. Buck inched closer as she grabbed his pipe. He watched, fascinated. Jasper pulled with ease and exhaled. Smoke billowed, framing her strong features and capped horns. The succubus pushed his most prized blend through her nostrils and said, “I’m at a point in my life where all I seek is peace. What y’all bring to the table is trouble, and I don’t want it. I don’t want anyone in my face. I don’t want to be paraded around by king and queen.” Buck shivered as their proximity forbade another breath. Breast to breast. Heaving and creaking under her sheer demonic weight. The air was thick with it. Lust, desire. It laved the skin. He growled and bore into her gaze. “I don’t want my business in the street.” “You got my word,” Buck rasped, drunk on her presence and scent. She hadn’t pulled a single succubus card, but he was ready to drop for it. Crawl and kneel for a crumb. She paused for a second hit, and squinted. “I don’t want expectations.” “There ain’t none.” “You aren’t easy to read,” Jasper said, grinning. “I find this to be both thrilling and terrifying. It’s sickening how undeniable your darkness is. Heavy, potent, you carry on the wind and strangle me. I’m choking on it even now. Don’t make me regret this, Buck.” “Never.” She placed his pipe on the desk and sat on it. “You may touch me now.” As if the soil demanded him to, he heeded her words and closed the distance in half a second. He locked an arm around her waist while his width forced her legs to part. Buck claimed Jasper’s mouth and demanded entrance. She gave. Allowing him the pleasure of exploration. Sweeter than morning dew and honey tree sap. He threaded claws through her short hair and gripped strands. Jasper responded in kind. Lighting him ablaze, she fisted the fabric at his back. A telling heat pulsated on his bricked dick. Succubi came on strong as hell and turned that ass into a fiend. He wanted to be seated within her. Deep and burning between her luscious thighs. He growled while she hissed from the belly. It was packed with deadly promise. Buck wanted her bite. He craved her fang-filled kiss and loved how she took to him. Desperation fueled their fire. Flint to parched tinder, he was ready for conflagration. “Hello?!” The holler ruined their moment. Buck rumbled, furious with the world. He snapped her head back, and she yanked herself free. A beat later, teeth and fangs penetrated bone. She’d struck him quicker than a pit snake. To cool his ass down and keep from nutting in his pants, Buck escaped her clutches. He stumbled into the shelf and patted at the bite wound on his shoulder. Blood seeped, staining his t-shirt. “You ain’t shit!” Buck yelled, rushing to pluck a tissue from the box. “It’s seven in the evening and you biting motha fuckas’. This—you know wh—I got something for you.” Jasper laughed, pleased with herself. She leveraged weight on her palms and shrugged. “Who says I want it?” “Don’t get cute.” “I’m not.” She slid to the floor and said, “I have plans with the wife.” “Mhm. Yeah. I bet you do.” She arched a brow while Buck blotted. He loved the sting, tug, and burn. Jasper had no idea how close she was to getting fucked out in this god damn office. He would have, but something about it ain’t sit right. Buck was going to give this demon more than a quickie in the back of his hardware shop. She deserved more than that, and he was more than happy to give her time if need be. “After you, ma’am. I got customers.” “We have customers.” Jasper winked in passing and exited on her high horse. “I want my first check on Friday.” “You can want it all you like, don’t mean you gon’ get it. The hiring process takes time.” “I need the money, Buck.” She spun about, walking backwards through stacks. “I’m serious.” “You want me to spot you a few—“ “No!” Jasper fussed about not taking handouts anymore. He truly didn’t give a fuck and wasn’t about to let the woman talk him down. She’d take his money and like it.
Happy Tuesday, I know it’s a day late, but bookie, the 9-to-5 is gnashing its teeth. Taking a chunk right out of my ass. Buuuut, we persist. We keep it moving and march forward. Just like Buck and Jasper! We have arrived! First kiss for both husband and wife. They’re cute as hell, and I’m still discovering new things about them. Jasper has no fight left, and I feel her because Buck is some fine shit. Big, bold, and dark. We love us a morally gray forest daddy, don’t we? I know I doooo. Anyway, I love how they’re not taking each other seriously while being nothing but themselves. Jasper isn’t one to fuck around, and Buck ain’t either. He loves to be handled with care, but make no mistake, he can and will make demands. I’m anxious to get these three alone. And the moment I publish this, it’s off to see about them. With that, I will bid you farewell. Until next week, folks, have a wonderful night. And don’t forget to drink more water, watch your favorite show, and get some rest! Byyyye.
Tuesday’s weren’t for the weak. Nieema hated slow days more than off days. After five hundred years of working, moving, and shaking, she didn’t know how to relax. The only down time she had was in Bucks arms or tucked away in their dungeon. If not for him, Nieema wouldn’t have a reason to sit ass. She was a mother, grandmother, and queen of Ravensguard. This kept her from lazing about. June through August was her least busiest time of year. Come November, she’d be knee deep in charity work, quilt making, embroidery commissions, and festive requests that should have been scheduled months prior. December was all about the Solstice and Christmas. When Nieema jumped from town to city, checking on her people. She had civic duties, paperwork, and housing to procure, not to mention the occasional visit from territory leaders. So, Yeahhhh, holding up in the hardware shop made her feel useless, antsy. She coulda’ been doing something productive. Instead, Nieema reclined behind the counter, scrolling on her phone. While searching for yarn, thread, and other shit she didn’t need, her night brightened. Feet kicked up and ankles locked, she smiled. “What can I get you, fine folks, tonight? I got a discount on sandpaper and caulk.” “What I want ain’t on them shelves.” “I know that’s right.” Nieema glanced at the door as he entered, Jasper trailing. And oooowee, was she a sight. Pressed, slick, and classic. There was nothing more attractive than a person who dressed to impress. She smelled better than a fresh hotty toddy. Cinnamon sweet and dark, their scents mingled. Jasper accompanied Buck’s earthy woods and high allspice so well. Their tangled aromas made her more than curious. She enjoyed the sublime fragrance and wanted to speak on it, but decided not to. Buck’s words echoed in her skull as Jasper avoided eye contact. She hung back and perused. Nieema dropped legs and admired her husband. “Where you been?” Nieema asked. “Dorthy wanted an introduction.” “Hm.” Nieema didn’t have nothing nice to say about the woman, so she wouldn’t address it. “Other than that, what you get into?” “Nothin’.” Buck popped his gum and sniffed, sliding behind the counter. He scooted on over to the POS and tapped on the screen. “Buckley, you got ‘bout two-point-three, and I do mean it.” “He done pissed me off!” Buck piped. “Hawke is a red-beaked vulture, tell you what. He prayed on Jasper’s naivety and kindness. I couldn’t have it.” The drawer popped open, and Buck got to counting the till. Wasn’t but fifty-seven dollars in it. They made the most money on weekends. “You spooked that man. His brother texted me about it. Said he rushed home in tears. Thinks we gon’ have him beheaded.” Buck laughed and said, “Lucky I don’t.” “You hush. Wild boy.” “Damn straight.” Buck cast his gaze downward and lingered. “Where’s my love?” Nieema giggled as he descended. His crushing, breathtaking kiss roused her thirst. Nieema had half a mind to drag his fine ass to the back, but figured it rude, given their company. After nipping his lip, she stole a drop or two. He grunted and pecked her forehead. “Why you so quiet, woman?” Nieema asked, looking for Jasper. She’d ventured off, disappearing between shelves and stacks. “It’d be a shame to interrupt.” “Is that right?” “Nimmy,” Buck warned. Jasper sauntered on over, hands in her pockets. Her sashay was nasty, and so was the wolfish grin. Jasper wasn’t so shy or skittish now. Nieema sensed her draw. Succubi fed on desire, lust, and love. They thrived in a passionate environment. “Dining on me and mine, are we?” “Shhhhit,” Buck hissed. Nieema crossed arms atop the counter and matched Jasper’s molten gaze. She was bold and unabashed, towering. Gold winked and gleamed against her gorgeous red complexion. Jasper was a cold piece and had to know it. Bad as a bitch and sneaky. Arrogance wafted as she peered. “I don’t have much of a choice with y’all. You freaked out.” “You ain’t seen shit yet,” Buck said. Nieema snapped her fingers. “You just told me—boy, shut up.” “Well.” He slammed the drawer and sighed. “You know how to work a register, Jasper?” “Of course.” “Good. Get over here and show me then.” She stalled, squinting. “Say please.” Nieema chuckled at her statement. Buck was the wrong one to try. He’d stroke that ego and make you feel so goooood. Finessing an unprepared dame was light work for the king of Nieema’s heart. “Please,” he drawled, eyes glinting beneath the rim of his dusty old hat. Fuck, Nieema wanted to give him neck right now. Drop the knee and choke. Jasper’s confidence swelled. It was all in her face, in her smile and high chin. Nieema clocked her sure stride and square shoulders. Poor soul thought she’d won. “Well, since y’all are gonna do some training. I’m gonna head out. Got some business to handle.” Nieema snatched her bag from under the counter. “Before I go, Jasper, I wanna apologize—“ “Will you be free tonight?” Jasper interrupted. “Uhhhh, yeah. I can be.” “I’ll see you at the ranch. We’ll talk then.” “We sure can. Ten-thirty?” “Done.” “Perfect.” “Indeed.” Nieema checked on her man, mirth shaking him loose. Maybe he was right about patience and whatever the hell. True, Nieema wasn’t the one trying to smash last week. And yes, she’d been telling Buck not to jump the line, and hell yeah, she was fuckin’ hypocritical. Jasper wouldn’t be ignored. Instincts told Nieema not to forsake this woman. She listened to her gut and intuition without fail. They were never wrong. If a vampire had nothing else, they had base instincts. It was a matter of survival. Life or death. “You two behave, and Buck, I need you to get the collards. I’m not gonna ask again.” “I know.” “You say that, but I asked you on Monday to pick them up. Farris just harvested them for us since yours aren’t ready. Don’t embarrass me!” “Go on, now, Nimmy. Take yourself somewhere. We busy!” “You ain’t busy yet, Moss Balls.” “Nimmy, god damn it.” Nieema cackled as Jasper asked about the term of endearment. On the way out, she eyed the duo, and they smiled. It was a delicious vision. Buck in proximity to Jasper. Brushing fabrics with inches between them. The implication made her shudder and exit. She needed the cool rush of a late summer breeze. With fresh air came clarity, reminding her of what she needed to do before heading home. Strolling down Everrose Street, she plucked her phone. With a tap, she dialed Hank. Folks smiled and waved. Nieema returned their friendliness in kind as her knight and right hand answered. “Huh? What?” “I need you to meet me at Lita’s.” “Are you good?” “No.” “On the way.” Hank had been her blade and shield for centuries. They’d traveled the world and fought; bled together. She’d dug trenches and nearly died beside the vampire. Nieema knighted Hank some five hundred years ago. He hadn’t left her since. He was family, but family didn’t always get along. He was mad about that wild bitch who tried to slaughter everyone in the coven. There was only one way to stop her. Axe and salted rainwater. Hank was pissed, no two ways about it. He wasn’t happy with Nieema or Buck at the moment. It wasn’t his fault, though. Love potions were horrid and had lingering effects even after the victim was cured. Hank suffered greatly at the hands of an unwell necromancer. Soon, he’d come out of this fog and see the truth. Until then, Nieema had to deal with his scorn. Mad as a soaked burrowing bear he may be, the man would come when called. He knew to drop the shit and stand on ten toes. When it was time for knightly business, he was there post haste. It came as no surprise when Hank rolled up and jumped from his truck ten minutes later. Serious as ever, no nonsense and alert. He joined Nieema at the table she dined at. Next door to Lita’s was Indigo’s finest vampire dive. It catered to their kind with a menu vampires appreciated. Blood was the main ingredient. Powdered, spiced, cold, hot, mixed, pure, or tap. The meals were fresh and hot, made to order. “What you got there?” Hank pursed his lips and snagged a corn puff. It was similar to a double-fried hushpuppy dripping with grease. Cornmeal, flour, and coagulated blood. Of course, most nutrients were lost after frying, but it tasted damn good. Nieema got three dozen and a medium, sugar blended a-positive. Frothy and refreshing, she sipped as Hank stole a puff. “You can get your own.” He grumped and chewed. Hank had a grandfatherly air about him, though he had no kids and never married. The thought often caused her pain. He’d put his whole life into serving. Nieema wanted more for him, but they’d argued about it enough. “What’s going on, Majesty?” “Don’t do that.” “You queen ain’t you?” “Hank, you can be mad all you want. But that won’t change what happened.” He garbled and stole his second puff. “You talking to me like I don’t already know. What you call me for, huh? What’s going on?” Nieema punched down her drink with the straw, considering her next words carefully. She didn’t know the whole story and had no intention of running her mouth about Jasper. “Juel might have…been paid to keep tabs on our new house guest.” Hank recoiled and blinked. “Cheryl’s boy?” “Mhm.” Hank stroked his beard and nodded, attention fixed on the bustling crowd across the street. Some new space movie was released two days ago, so the cinema was packed. Free ticket Wednesdays and unlimited popcorn kept Spalding’s in business. Its glittering marquee made her nostalgic for times past. Buck had taken her to the movies for the first official date. Back then, films were silent moving pictures. Nieema refused to give her money to them big theater chains. No way, no how. “What you tryna’ do?” Hank asked, mid-sigh. He crossed his arms and glowered. “I don’t know what we can get him on. He wasn’t stalking.” “How you know?” Nieema snipped, crunching on ice. “He been watching her comings and goings. Off in the cut somewhere, eating sour candy. Sounds like stalking to me.” “You gonna detain him?” “No.” “What am I here for?” “This is official royal business, okay? You gotta be with me.” Hank shrugged and snagged another ball. “Alright now! You gon’ lose two fingers fucking around with my food.” For the first time in a while, Hank grinned. “Hurry up and eat so I can get back.” “What you got going on?” Nieema considered the old vampire. “Why are you in such a rush?” He sniffed and scrunched up his face. “My chickens. I gotta keep an eye on ‘em. That furry devil done killed ‘bout three. Nimmy, it’s bad. That man ain’t got no kinda handle on his beast or friend, I don’t know, hell.” Hank was mighty flustered. “Who’s beast?” He flicked a hand and snapped fingers. “Wushisname, uh, Jasper’s brother. Uh, Kit? His cat is wild, feral, and a pain in my Black ass.” Nieema chuckled as Hank prattled on about the chaos Kit’s cat had caused. Apparently, it was possessed. A demonic kitty. How adorable, she thought. “Well,” Nieema started, “I wish you luck, but don’t be acting a damn fool.” “I ain’t.” He lied. “Yeah, right. Don’t badger Kit and leave his cat alone, you hear me?” “Shit,” Hank cussed again, mumbling about his coops and such. “I’ll try, but Nimmy, I can’t lose no more hens.” “I hear you.” Hank shook his head and sighed. “You almost done? God damn!” “Shut your rickety ass up.” “Don’t make me knock this shit over,” Hank warned. “I’ll do it!” Nieema eyed him and pointed two talons at his mug. “I’ll break my foot off in you—“ “I’m ‘bouta go,” Hank snapped. “You playing with my time, woman.” Nieema laughed and finished her drink. Hank helped her polish off the puffs and even tossed her trash. With their snack date done, she headed next door. Lita’s was one of two hair salons in Indigo Plains. And folks loved Lita’s cause; Marshay braided better than Princess, who had a chair at Wax. Nieema preferred Lita’s, mostly cause it wasn’t so prim. Hot irons and food scented the air. It was a welcoming aroma she found comforting. Every last chair was taken. Folks looked mad and defeated. They had appointments, for damn sure, but time was of no value the second you crossed the threshold. “Look who decided to show they face!” Marshay bellowed, eyes on the hot comb she held with care. “You come up in here after taking them braids out for no damn reason.” The owner of Lita’s, named after her late mother, tapped somebody in the temple. “Girl, you got nerve. You bet not fall asleep in my chair!” Marshay lifted her carmine stare and tweaked a brow. “They were fine, Nimmy. Shit. You be wasting my time.” “Look, here, you know I gotta switch shit up. Don’t know why you mad.” “Tuh, do your own hair from now on, then, Queen.” “You so huuuuurrrt,” Nieema grimaced and pointed at Juel. His chair was second to last. He sat in it, eating. “Listen, imma buy you lunch, Shay.” “I want a bottle of Venwae.” Nieema cocked her head as Juel dragged tail. “Venwae! The fuck who you think I am. That’s top-shelf blood, ma’am.” “Nimmy,” Pat called from his spot by the dryers. “You hear about the mall shit?” “Yeah, of course.” “Huh? You heard about the Voaremont inviting the Chieftain over for supper?” “Juel, bring your behind, now!” “I’m coming, I had to put my food up.” “What you mean invited?” Nieema looked to Pat. The man nodded. “Invited how?” “You know how invites work, girl.” “He can’t enter Ravensguard without my say.” “Wellll, you better talk to the Voaremonts’ and the orcs about it.” “I plan to.” Nieema glanced at Hank, who was already tapping on his phone. “Get that motha fucka on the line.” “Already done.” Her knight exited the salon with the phone to his ear. “Juel, baby, let’s take a walk.” “I didn’t know you were with her, I—“ Nieema clasped a hand on the back of his neck and peered into butterscotch brown. Juel was a good boy and probably didn’t mean harm. But, he was still on the wrong side of this here situation, and Nieema wanted to know why. “I didn’t ask you to talk, quite yet, honey.” Nieema started their journey and released her nervous cousin. “Don’t worry, Juel. I ain’t gon’ bite you. But I will need you to talk, and it’d behoove you not to lie. Start from the beginning and tell me how you got
Hello, y’all. I know it’s a few days late. I am sorry for that, but I wanted to give myself some breathing room. I wrote a few more chapters and don’t feel so…behind? I looooveee staying ahead by a couple of chapters, but I paused for two shorts that I had to get out of me! Anyway, we are back on schedule, and here they are. We have a lot to come, and I know y’all are waiting for Buck and Jasper to have their moment. Soon, I promise. There will also be side quests! As y’all know, I’m a panster. And this panster loves external conflict. I’m still gonna keep stuff low-stakes, this won’t be high, world-ending shit. Nahhhh. But there will be a dash, sprinkle, pinch of political intrigue. I can’t stay away from it…apparently. The Voaremonts’ ain’t shit. I’m going to let y’all know that now. And yeah, the surname is…Mhmmmm. Not an accident. And with their mall comes trouble of all sorts. What else? Oh! Jasper’s cursed house is still cursed as hell, and we will get back to that in a bit. Because it’s FUNNN and I like where this is going. Anyhooo, thank you, thank you for being here with me. Your support makes my day. Have a lovely weekend! And remember, drink water, eat that god damn muffin, and sleep more. Byyyyye.
J. T. Frost 