Tag: paranormal romance

Chapter 29: Of Queen and Men

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.

Neon Red: Chapter 13

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!

Chapter 28: The Swooning Succubus

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!

Chapter 27:  Want All’at Smoke

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.

Chapter 26: A Queen & Her Knight

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.

Neon Red: Chapter 10

Mondays were hell and grueling. AB’s lack of motivation wasn’t a surprise. He’d been ready to throw in the towel before leaving the house. Despite wariness, there was a twisted mystery in the Bissette household, and he was intent on unraveling it.
He wanted to agree with Ines and would have two days ago. Fleming’s prime cut came second to what he’d been served the other night. Subpar it may be, but AB was hungry, so he stabbed another slice of rib-eye with truffle-poached lobster. It melted in his mouth. Still second best.
“It’s okay,” AB muttered.
“Okay?” Ines barked. “You got the most uppity taste I know. We’ve been coming to Flemings since it opened. Speaking of, how’d you manage an after-hours lunch at 12 am?”
“Yes, can you pray-tell how this happened?”
AB glanced at his nearest and dearest lawyer, Brandon Thomas. The accomplished attorney had seen Jaxon through tons of drama since 1987. His father and grandfather handled legal affairs until the day they died, then it was up to Brandon. And he was the last Thomas standing, seeing as his only child died in a car accident four years ago. She was an up and coming estates lawyer who graduated top of her class. That was some sad shit. Three generations’ worth of Howard Law ended with Brandon.
AB smiled and snagged a glass of Barboursville; it ain’t Opus, but hit the spot nonetheless. Plus, he was on the clock.
“Blue notes can buy anything,” AB mumbled. “Even time.”
“Yo, what’s eatin’ you?” Ines asked, cracking another crab leg.
“I don’t know, maybe it’s this fuckin’ case.”
“Ehhh, don’t sweat that shit.” Brandon dismissed the comment and poked leaves.
The poor guy had high cholesterol or something. He couldn’t fuck with high fats, so his only option was a nasty, filthy, sordid salad. AB didn’t understand all that human shit, but Brandon said diabetes and heart attacks ran heavily on his mother’s side. Which was the leading cause of death in African American males.
Sad, sad as hell. AB would rather eat a leather belt than touch leafy greens or vegetables in general. He drank them in smoothies loaded with fruit. But chewing and swallowing? Absolutely not. And yeah, he’d eaten boiled leather once or twice.
“How do you suppose I do that?” AB asked, fighting vexation. “This bitch is trying to frame me, Brandon. Like, she’s accusing me of kidnapping and attempted murder.”
His nerves took a hit from the realization. The monarchy did not play around with heinous crimes, and they shouldn’t, but Jaxon didn’t touch that female. Well, he did, cause they were fucking on the regular. But never with dubious consent, and he never tried to kill her.
“It doesn’t matter.” Brandon shrugged, pushed up his glasses, and squirted lemon juice on his rabbit food. “We have irrefutable evidence. She was hysterical and toxic, often seen throwing things, abusing you, and destroying property. During your relationship—”
“We weren’t…”
Both sets of brows cocked, ‘cause even they knew he was full of shit. Ines spoke on it first.
“You’d better get a grip, brother. Whetha’ you wanna believe it or not, you and Lianne were playing house. She had clothes, a toothbrush, and underwear there. Come on.”
AB sighed and went for a pile of onion rings. Sitting back, he admired the empty restaurant with its white linen and mellow lighting. They took up residence on the second floor, ducked into a corner, away from prying eyes and nosy pedestrians. For the most part, out of sight from everyone not in the building.
He had four men downstairs, two posted out front and a duo by the emergency exit. Dining alone in a densely populated area like downtown Miami came with risks, ones he didn’t wanna take.
AB was never by himself, not truly. He’d be remiss and thickheaded to show such arrogance.
“Well, I don’t claim a relationship with her, but if it helps plead my case, then so be it.”
“There’s the spirit,” Brandon replied.
“You got digital evidence on this bitch. She’s in your house, committing a few crimes. During the time of the alleged incident, you weren’t even home, AB. This shit is open and close.”
“Ines, leave the law discourse to me,” Brandon said. “I wouldn’t say open and shut.”
“Then what?” AB snapped, appalled by his response. “The hell you mean it’s not? I have more than enough against her lying ass. Plus, she’s unstable.”
“Yeah, she is, but you have more important problems.”
“Like what?” The attorney flicked a gaze to Ines, and the two grimaced. “What is it?”
Ines cleared his throat, wiped the buttery residue from his chin. “Paola isn’t returning my calls.”
Jaxon dropped his knife and fork. “I’m sorry?”
“She’s not answering.”
“Excuse me, did yo—”
“There’s a supply issue. We’re getting texts from everywhere, from everybody.”
AB cracked his neck and stared at Ines, whom he considered a friend. Best friend, to a fault. “We were on schedule for last Wednesday.”
Ines nodded. “Yeah, that’s true. And I though—”
“You assumed what?!” AB shouted, rattling utensils and expensive crystal. “After damn near a week! You should have told me after she ain’t deliver mother fucker!”
AB growled, swiped his plate, and sent everything crashing to the waxed hardwood. The world collapsed. Red reigned.
A hand went for the bottle of wine.
He stood over Ines and dried his hands with a dinner napkin. AB sneered, looming. Ines sat on the floor, holding a blood-soaked cloth to his gushing skull.
“I want you, to schedule a meeting with Paola, Ines. I don’t care how you do it. People have paid in advance for what I supply, you know that.”
“You fucking her!” Ines spouted. “You call her! It’s probably something you did anyway.”
AB’s eyes flared. “I’ll rip your god damn tongue out, and I think of you as a brother. Shut the fuck up! Get me a sit-down, now!”
Throwing the napkin, he rammed a loafer into the idiot’s shin.
Brandon nodded. “I’m working on it.”
“Good, and Ines…” AB pointed at the dumbass on his way downstairs.
“I know, shit.”
“You better!”
He made haste through the kitchen, waved at the chef, and was let out through the back door. Silent boys in black followed him all the way to his Hyundai. Most big dogs came and went under the radar.
Upon getting in the car, he fought a fiery impulse to smoke. Stress was eating his brain good tonight. Funny how things went from great to shit so quickly.
Last week, AB had planned a trip to the Emerald Coast. Now, he was knee-deep in simple, yet unavoidable problems. Forcing anxiety to ride in the back seat of his throbbing head, he stabbed start, and peeled tires.
In the rearview, a raven sedan gave him space but remained in sight.
AB hated the hovering and skulking, even if he had been the person who hired them. It was due time to throw up some defenses. Nights of walking around wide open like a commoner were done. Those days were over, but he still didn’t like them up in his shit. They were always a few yards behind and stayed there until being told otherwise.
AB took his time traveling back to Tracy’s abode. He needed to ease up on the irritation without influence. Oooooh, God, was that tough. Turning into the driveway, he counted one vehicle. Her Wrangler and Mr. Bissette’s shitty Avalon? Absent.
He didn’t wanna be bothered tonight, and crossing the threshold, AB relished the quiet.
The door was unlocked, which meant Jaya was zoomin’ around the house, cleaning as if company was on the way. She mostly picked up after Tracy, ‘cause he loved leaving dishes everywhere. He also lost his phone quite often, forgot where he put a mug of coffee, and misplaced his Kindle regularly.
Ab avoided all contact, hurried into the office, and closed the door. He was liable to snap for no good reason, and Jaya didn’t deserve his foul mood. Dropping to the floor and onto his ass, Ab grabbed the last file box and got to work.

No, no, no. Done with everything, Max tossed an empty Monster can at her TV. It landed on a mound with the rest of its dead aluminum comrades.
“You punk ass! Why are you camping?!” she shouted into the mic.
“I have a vantage point.”
“No, the hell you don’t! How are you a veteran with these tactics? Huh?”
The man in her ear spouted off with gamerbro vocab, and she tuned it out. Nobody was ‘bout to spit shit at her. Max won three tourneys and came in fifteenth during the last international championship. First-person shooters were where she expressed her anger. She hurt no one, besides a noobs feelings. Granted, Max believed in spiritual healing and had strategically placed crystals around her room.
Clear, rose, and smoky Quartz, by the dozens. Amethyst and Tourmaline. Citrines and turquoise. She wore copper and moonstones on her hands and a Selenite necklace dangling from her neck. She wholeheartedly believed in meditation and the work affirmations put in. But sometimes, video games were therapeutic too. Gaming was another thing her father didn’t approve of, so she excelled at it.
Ndari was at the shop, Low was working, and honestly, Max should have been as well. But Mondays were for the birds. When 10 pm approached, she walked into her Black-owned business and left ten minutes later.
She drove straight home, put on her jammies, got on the game, and stayed in the same spot for hours. Her sitting area was a cute corner, surrounded by windows she never opened. The alcove was homey, with a floor rocker and a fifty-inch TV hanging on the wall.
“Oh my god! Can you get off your ass and help us?” Max yelled into the headset.
Life wasn’t easy every night, and at times, no amount of meditation helped. Memories were both a gift and a curse. Dreams and nightmares played in concerto while she sloshed through another depressive episode. Max had forgone therapy, assuming all mental woes would be settled with holistic remedies. On second, third, fourth thought, maybe a shrink annnnnd her spiritual lifestyle could mesh. One uplifting the other. Unlike this group of misfits lacking on the job.
“I’m done with ya’ll, I’m over it.”
“Max, don’t leave.”
“Ahhhh, go make me a sandwich.”
“Please donnnn’t. We’ve been playing for like five hours.”
“I was just about to go in on them bitches, bro.”
As more refusals rang in her ears, she whipped out another Monster and popped it open. Drinking like ten a day was fine. Going into cardiac arrest wasn’t a death sentence, and it happened once. She lost consciousness for sixteen hours and woke up peachy keen, aside from minor palpitations.
After gulping half the carbonated medicinal elixir, she burped and dropped out of the match. “Kiss my ass,” Max murmured. “They can lose by their lonesome.” She wasn’t adding a royal ass beating like that to her roster.
Throwing the controller, she shot upward and wanted food, ‘cause it was the ever-present anesthetic. Gaining and losing weight was a chore for every vampire. Both endeavors required copious amounts of blood and a strict routine just to make headway. She’d forever be a pear-shaped woman who carried over two hundred pounds, mostly in her bottom half, and gladly too.
Max wenched her door open and marched onward. She dashed through the kitchen and aimed for the pantry. Standing in a treasure trove of goodies, she was delighted by the options. There was so much to choose from; Jaya had a knack for shopping. “Sourdough bread, Doritos, fruit snacks, donut holes. Meh, oatmeal raisin cookies too.”
Hands and arms full, she spun out of the Snack House and kicked the door shut.
After unloading her treats on the breakfast bar, she found a plate and topped it with green olives, salami, and cream cheese. “Bone apps a teets.” Max slid onto a stool and smiled at her spread. “Dinner of champions.”
Mouth watering, she slathered the bread with cream cheese. Her stomach growled, adding the dried salami and olives. “You ‘bouta to get fuc—“
Max froze mid-bite and snapped eyes up to the microwave. 3 am. “Oh, god damn it.” Why was he still here? “Oh no.” Noisy, tap dancing shoes alerted her to an approach. “Well, shit on a stick.” She kept her head down and chewed cautiously as he turned on the lights.
“I didn’t think anyone was here.”
She shrugged when he spoke and mm mm mm. He might as well bottle his scent and sell it for top dollar. The thick, woodsy aroma screamed of a strong male. What was that? Tuscan leather? Yeah, like the Tom Ford cologne. It was close enough and held some weight, too.
“I been here,” she muttered.
“For how long?”
“You nosy.”
Jaxon chuckled while she smirked at her plate. “My bad. You know, I think this is the first time you haven’t worn shades. But I gotta say, the cat ear headset is cute.”
Max snatched the thing off and grimaced as she dug for Doritos. Spicy Nacho and cream cheese went well together, which was why she dipped and ate, bearing no shame.
The sound of something being poured filled a stagnant silence. “You mind sharing the chips?” Jaxon asked.
“Go ahead, it’s a free country, ain’t it?”
“Some would beg to differ.”
His voice was smooth as sweet whipped butter in a hot skillet. He had a deep, caressing timbre that kissed your inner thighs. The type of lilt women tended to swoon over and throw it in a circle just to hear. Max was that woman, but she’d be damned to admit it. This man knew he was sexy. No need to pump his head up any more than it already was.
She thought Jaxon was ‘bouta get his shit and go. Assumed he’d toss it into a bowl or perhaps a cup, but his big ass pulled out a stool. Chiiiile, as he sat down, her old heart got to jumping.
“This flavor is actually my favorite. Spicier the better, I always say.”
“Yeah, I like ‘em okay.” She nodded, biting into the bread. “I don’t like being the butt of a joke,” Max heard herself say and regretted it.
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t like being humiliated or pitied. So you can cut the shit.”
Jaxon scoffed. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, right!” she belted, plucking a donut from her plate. “I am out of your league.”
“Whhhhat?” he chuckled.
She groaned. “I mean you…you are out of my league.”
She couldn’t talk right. Tongue tied then a muh’fucka. Max had never been with a white boy. What the fuck was she doing?
“Out of a what? You know, Max, when two people talk, sometimes, generally, they look at each other.”
Ripping off the wet band-aid, she met him in the eyes. “There. Better? Happy now? Go on, be aghast.” Max was appalled by her own behavior, and so was Jaxon. He stared, while she stiffened, stuck on stupid.
“This, is why you wear the shades?”
“Aw, you want a cookie? Smart man.” She grunted and returned to the spread of junk.
“You do everyone a disservice by wearing them sunglasses.”
The sentence turned into pig Latin. Her gaze darted back to Jaxon and stayed. First off, his vernacular. And second, what he said…
“Come again?”
“You heard me, and I’m not into repeating myself. You gonna eat that other, whatever you made?”
Max shook her head. “No, feel free.”
Jaxon snagged it but frowned at the olives. Picking at them, he hissed. “Terrible. How can you digest this?”
Momentarily distracted, Max scoffed. “What do you mean?”
“Vegetables, I hate ‘em.”
“Damn, yo piss must stink.”
He barked, exploded in laughter, and she drank in the scene with glee. Jaxon was a masterpiece, showcasing deep dimples and long fangs. He smelled scrumptious and had a baddie in his pants, she was sure of it. Priority number one for Max on any given night was to get dug out. She preferred it seven days a week.
Wanting every piece except the heart was the issue.
He simmered and sighed. “You got the kind of rowdy attitude that I hate, goes against my grain. Blunt and rude for no reason.”
“Like I care about how you feel. I’ll take my food back.”
Jaxon’s head whipped around so quickly she flinched. His holier-than-thou arrogance spewed from every orifice. “Do it. Go on, give me a reason to fuck you.”
Max crackled like a witch. Loud and ugly, she laughed. “Who you talking to, pimp? You only get in on this if I say so, and like I said, you outta my—”
“What the fuck does that mean? I don’t got a goddamn league, mama.”
“Piss off with them pet names. You don’t know me, Jaxon!”
The front door slammed, and she whispered, “You better watch your mouth, Red. Or I’ll tell my daddy.”
“I don’t give a dam,n and as a matter fact, fuck your Dad—Hello, Tracy.”
Max did her very best not to giggle.
“Oh wow, what do we have here? You two must have a little picnic going, I take it?”
Jaxon smiled, maybe, and said, “We sure do, and Max here was nice enough to share.”
“That’s excellent. Getting along better, I hope.”
Jaxon glanced at her, then nodded. “Swimmingly.”
He was a great actor and liar, putting on a show as if he were an amiable fellow. But no, he was not, far from it, and didn’t his edgy behavior wet her pants—oh, no.
The moment Low sauntered into the kitchen, Max slumped. He wore her favorite shirt. The quick-drying number was thin, stretch,y and hugged his bulging frame like spandex. It embraced every cut and slab on his chiseled abdomen.
The guns and holster thingy made him dangerous. He was so fine.
She was in a conundrum here.
“Oh look, it’s Bevo Lotty,” Max jested.
Low shook his head. “I ain’t in the mood for your shit.”
“Play nice, kids,” her father cautioned, as he shoved leftovers in the microwave.
“That’s too bad, ‘cause I’m in quite a mood myself.”
“Go shave your mustache or something, shorty.”
Hearing a snicker from Jaxon wasn’t fair. Squinting at him, she smirked. “Dad, do we have any Lucky Charms?”
His broad smile flatlined, and Low chuckled.
“I have no idea, Maxine, I don’t eat that trash.”
“Oh.” Diving for the donuts again, she was proud of herself. “I’ll check later.”
“Good, good. I’ll be in my room.” Tracy grabbed a tray, something to drink, and found his way out. Low watched him go and waited for the customary door slam to slide over.
A cute, teeny-tiny smile accompanied the twinkle in his eyes.
He swiped an olive, reeking of mischief. “Why you wasting these?”
“He don’t eat veggies,” Max said.
“What kinda grown ass man don’t eat vegetables?” Low asked. He popped the orb into his sweet mouth, and she gawked.
“I don’t.”
“That’s nasty, your piss prolly smell like battery acid.”
Jaxon cocked a brow and said, “I make up for it with fruit and smoothies.”
Max shrugged. “Hm, that ain’t so bad, you eat pineappl—”
“He wanna test drive the Monte Carlo shorty.”
Her gaze drifted to Red as he pinned his on Low until they found Max again. “I do. But for now, I’m gonna take my ass home. I’ve had a long night.”
The big ol’ male dusted his hands off, rose to six foot whatever, and towered. Max gulped as her neck craned and pussy mewled. Golden weaves of shimmering thread. Jaxon’s eyes were impossible and unearthly. Then again, he was a vampire…an aroused one at that. He wanted to poke somebody. Hard to figure who.
Max wondered if he was into men.
“Have a good day, both of you.”
With that, Jaxon brushed shoulders with Low and disappeared. Leaving echoing loafers in his wake.
“This ain’t no good, Low.” Max worked on an olive and met her lover’s sexy half-lidded gaze. The vintage Versace frames set off his Cuban link chain that often smacked her in the face.
Low smiled. “Baby, we both fucked.”

Helllooo, and happy Friday, y’all. I hope everyone is doing well, or well as expected in this cluster fuck. I’m doing good, just finished another short. Hoping to publish in July. Other than that, nothing much is going on. From June to September, I’ll be editing. Y’all, give me all your good vibes. I’ll need them. Now, onto the chapter. This is where everything starts to unfold. We’re learning a little more about Jaxon and what makes him tick. I told yall, he’s not to be fucked with. I said it! He’s got good intentions buuuuut…I mean, you saw what he did to Ines. He’s got shit to deal with and none of it is good. Now, Max, my love. She’s got her own demons and all of them haunt her. Not only is she living in the present, stuck in an unhealthy environment, but she’s also dwelling in the past. My poor girl has been through a lot. And Tracy is not helping one bit. But! Here comes Mr. Aubrey with his sex appeal and charm to lift one’s spirits. He doesn’t stand a chance with Max and Low. They are a pair. A package deal, and lo, how AB will suffer. Well, let me go and read, game, or write (idk what I’m doing yet). I need more coffeee!! Anyway, thank you so much for stopping by, and see y’all next week. Have an amazing weekend.

Neon Red: Chapter 9

Saturdays were a moment of leisure for Max. It was her usual night off, and she didn’t have to do anything. She hadn’t been back to the shop since last Tuesday and required the break. She needed a lot of immaterial things, but was thankful for a lot. There were others without food, shelter, or water. She tried not to complain about her life. Being grateful for abundance and comfort was only right. Growing up with her father, she used to be spoiled, entitled, and a complete snob.
All that changed when she turned forty-two and left home for the first time. Max got a glimpse of the real world and watched in horror as it collapsed around her.
The poverty-stricken were treated like animals, discarded and imprisoned for failing to become another cog in the wheel. And you know what? Fuckem’. The gov’ment and tight-lipped ass holes in their ugly suits and melted faces. They were part of a dying breed. Capitalism would be their ruin. The world would change one day, and not in their favor.
“Has he called you yet?” Ndari asked.
Max smiled and shook her head. “I did not give that man my number.”
“And why not?”
Driving down NW 17th street and jamming to some old school Wale, Max didn’t wanna get into that. But Ndari was one of her best friends. The girl knew when she was bullshitting. They’d spent the last thirty-five years together. She saw Ndari more than her own parents.
“You know why.”
“‘Cause you have some weird notion that he’s not so genuine.”
She gave Ndari a side-long glance and nodded. “I know guys like him. Okay, not just like him, but sorta. They’re all about god complexes and arrogance.” Max wrinkled her nose and snorted. “He’d probably make me wash his feet. ‘Sides, bruh, he’s a jerk.”
Her sister, by another mother, laughed. Ndari’s smile was bright and adorable. She may have been covered in tattoos and dripping in goth glam, but she was sweet as sugarcane. Thirty years ago, Ndari needed piano lessons, and Max, was a piano teacher. At some point, ‘cause the money was good, and Ndari would have it no other way, Max became her nanny as well.
“You love a good asshole, Maxi.”
“You not wrong, but they’re never good for you.”
“Nooooope, not in the long run,” Ndari said with a grin, her dimple piercing popping and glinting. “But they’re fun to play with. That’s why I smash em’ and trash em’.”
Max cackled as she parked just before the 95 overpass. “Come on, let’s get these boxes off.”
“Yup.”
After killing the engine, she hopped out of the Wrangler and rounded to the back. “I can’t believe we did sixty-eight!”
Pulling the hatch wide, Max was in high spirits. Setting a goal of sixty-eight bags and meeting it felt great. The rising number of kits wasn’t a good sign. But at least she found a way to help.
Max side-stepped from behind her truck and whistled. “You know what time it is!”
She shouted at a mixture of humans and vampires who came topside at night. She waved them over.
“Next week,” Ndari said as she grabbed a fully loaded care package, “I think I’ll drive. That way, we can bring more.”
Max gasped. “Yes, that’s a great idea.”
The United States was crowned the wealthiest, but she failed to see how when so many were unhoused. Those without resources and means were in high numbers. Most were human, as her species’ monarchy had swooped in and stepped up, but not every vampire wanted to be saved.
The first to show was Henry, a lovely vet who kept a few pigeons and didn’t like dogs. Which was why he hated Lionel; he had two golden doodles.
“Hello, Max,” he said, wearing a wonderful smile. Henry beamed, despite all else. “How are you?”
“I am good. And You looking sharp. Are those new shoes?”
“Oh yeah, donated, just my size, too.”
“Wooo, child, they look good. Here you go, baby.” Handing over the packed reusable bag, Henry leaned in for a hug, and she obliged.
“You gonna scare the ghost, Ndari,” he joked.
The girl recoiled. “Who do you think I aim to please?”
Henry cackled and went on his way.
“I’ll see you in a week, okay?”
“Right on.”
He gave a thumbs up and trudged along. Next was Wilma, a chatty patty who loved gossip and had a lot to say about her daughter. The foul woman threw her own mother out. Max knew some by name and others not. For years, she traveled north, driving up to Overton on a mission.
This stretch of underpass had been home to a major homeless encampment for eons. The city cleared them more times than she cared to recall, but they always came back. And for most of them, it was home. Tents, boxes, and sleeping bags rode the sidewalk, flowing into the street.
Meeting her eye to eye, Olina, a fellow vampire, held a solemn grin. “Thank you, Max. I don’t usually ask for blood, but my old man’s not doing so good.”
Offering a bag filled with food, toiletries, cash, and clothes, she frowned. “What’s wrong with him?”
Olina shrugged. “I don’t know, but he’s been out of it.”
Ndari spun around and pulled a few bags of blood from the box. “Here, honey, take this. And is he sick?”
Max felt terrible for Olina and Carl. The couple were addicted to heroin and didn’t want help. Olina’s partner was a human pushing seventy. Every year, humans age and their health declines.
“Listen,” Max started, “I know doctors who study human medicine to navigate through our world. It helps a bit since our healthcare system is fairly new. At any rate, I can bring someone here.”
Olina nodded. “That would be great. His heart isn’t beating the same, and blood is sluggish. I know I’ll lose him soon, but I’m not ready to say goodbye.”
“I understand.” Max threw arms around the woman and welcomed Olina’s embrace. Upon their separation, she grabbed another bag. “Here, make sure Carl gets this, okay?”
“I will. Thank you again.”
Max just nodded, ‘cause none of this was to garner thanks. Someone had to do it. They deserved care and somebody to look after them. She didn’t have the ability or cash to help everyone, but Max was trying. Her Dad’s allowance lightened the load some. She was happy it went to those who were given a shit hand. Florida’s nonprofits and charities could only do so much with the state leaking money.
The 2020s started shitty and plummeted from there. Preternatural creatures felt a shift coming. A reckoning was due. As an immortal, you witnessed the comings and goings of everything.
It was only a matter of time.
That’s why Max chose to live how she wanted while the world still allowed such freedoms, though she had obligations. She enjoyed this part the most.
Interesting conversations they had with magnificent people had become the highlight of her week. Knowing they’d get a meal helped her sleep better during the day. Chillin’ in a million-dollar home and doing nothing for anyone was a disgusting way to survive. Even her Father gave money to various charities. He’d never come on a run with her, though. Everyone else did, which made him look like a jackass. Jaya joined Max three times a month. Jordan committed two weekends, and Low came along with her whenever he was off on a Saturday, which wasn’t often.
“So, after this, I gotta go back to the shop,” Ndari stated as she offered Garth his bag. The man wheeled his way over and snatched it. He despised Ndari, detested Max, too. A human with a vampire prejudice was hilarious.
“Garth, you should talk to Carrie and Olina.”
He tried to spit on the ground and failed, most of it gathering in his salt and pepper beard. That toothless snarl and furrowed brow worsened.
“You blood suckers are fucking animals.”
“We love you too, Garth.”
“I was in the Gulf War!” he barked, pointing a gnarled finger. “He bit me, right on my ass!”
The same story each week. Max thought it was funny every time, too.
“He bit you on the ass?” she pandered.
Ndari shrugged. “Or in…the ass?”
Punching his thigh with an arthritic fist, he scoffed. “On my ass! And sucked the blood right outta me.”
“That’s the best place…” Ndari said, “to suck blood.”
Garth’s enamel-free jaw flexed as he backed up in his wheelchair. “Semper fi!”
Max gave him a high salute. “Safe travels, sir.”
As he turned away, she sighed. No matter how evil Garth was, she enjoyed him, too. “We haaaave, thirty-three left. Hopefully, the cops stay elsewhere this time. Who up next? Oh, Betty…oop, okay now, I love the pink wig, girrrl! You know how I am about colors!”


Low bounced out the whip and rushed into Tracy’s house, gunning for the kitchen. He had a long day and forgot to eat. A brotha was starvin’ for everything. Midday escapades did that to you. It was them smoke and fuck kinda hours. Nothing like what he did with Max. Some girl and their best friend left without saying bye, and he’d never see them again. Minutes after leaving last night, he barged into the noname DM’s and made shit shake.
In the kitchen, Low searched for anything. A bowl…a mixing bowl and Fruity Pebbles. He left the bag of bootleg brand cereal out and grabbed whole milk. Thank god Jaya bought real shit. Even Max liked plant-based. “What the fuck is uh oat milk?”
Grimacing, he poured and ate standing. Low listed against the counter while eyes rolled and stomach celebrated. All was going well. He was chilling and eating breakfast when the sound of expensive shoes interrupted his quiet moment alone. When Mister Jaxon -hilarious- appeared, Low suddenly appreciated the intrusion.
A man who knew how to dress knew how to use what he had. Red walked in like a bag of money, confident, and Alpha. A fresh aqua Cologne and whatever was underneath. Low couldn’t put his finger on the scent yet…maybe Tuscan Leather. It worked, ‘cause Red was old as fuck.
“Look who it is, Elliot Collins.”
Jaxon recited his gov’ment as if it were a slur. Ohhhhh, he was feeling some type of way about their talk last night…riiight. Low wanted to say something stupid, but not on duty. Had to keep a clear head. Doing so was hard, given how Red stared.
“Wus’ good?”
“You’re in front of the coffee.”
Behind him was indeed the espresso machine, a Keurig, and an olden times twelve-cup coffee maker. Scooting to the right, Low returned to his cereal and paid Red no mind. For two seconds.
“My fault.”
Jaxon looked dashing in suspenders, ruby cuff links, and Ferragamo loafers. Low always wanted some nice shit, at least a belt or a tie. Must be nice.
Spooning more of the multicolored fortified grains, he inched to the left again. The guy was entirely too close for comfort. Low was working, god damn it, but his tongue craved far more. To speak obscenities and threaten this here male with a good day.
“You don’t have much to say tonight, huh?”
Low shrugged. “Not really.”
“And why is that?”
With the subtle hiss of the espresso maker, he glanced at the accountant. “You making yourself at home, I see.”
“Says the one eating a ridiculous-sized bowl of cereal.”
“I basically live here.” Low slurped and gulped milk, then spun to grab the bag. “You don’t.”
“I was told to make myself at home so…”
Low carried his pebbles and bowl to the breakfast nook. He sighed aloud and sat at a cozy table set for a family of three. He didn’t enjoy holding his water or mincing words. It was unnatural, going against his grain. Low also hated being in close quarters with people he wanted to fuck when there was no fucking going on.
“What’s crawled up your ass?” Jaxon inquired as the sound of metal and porcelain chimed in his ears.
“I’m working,” he spat, pouring cereal.
“Working?”
“Yeah.”
“So you do work for Tracy. I saw a few account transfers under your name. What is it you do for him?”
Punching his sweet breakfast down with a spoon, Low matched his gaze. “Bodyguard.” Eating and clocking, he watched Jaxon’s perfect brows arch in surprise.
“Why would he need a bodyguard?”
“That, is not your business.”
Dropping eyes back to his meal didn’t stop peripherals from doing their job. Low sensed and noticed Red’s advance. He leaned on the island, which put a mere three quick steps between them. “So about that test drive…”
This motha fucka here, swear to god.
Low smirked, chomped, then paid Red the attention he demanded. “Yes?”
“Does your invitation still stand, or am I too uptight?” The question slipped out, and them eyes were devilish as he sipped a fine espresso. The way they shone like 24k gold was unreal.
“I guess, maybe.” Low wanted to say something else, but he wasn’t even finna think it. Instead, he took a few bites and shrugged. “On my next day off. So, Wednesday.”
“Wednesday it is.”
“You got a card or somethin’?”
Red set his cup down and dove into those soft slacks. He plucked a card holder, snapped free a crisp square, and offered it.
grLow yanked it. “Classy, for a card.” He ran the stiff material under his nose, made deliberate eye contact, and inhaled. Daaaamn, his natural eau de was fire. After a delicious whiff, Low tucked the invitation in his back pocket.
“What is that?” Low asked, then tipped the bowl and swallowed every drop of milk. “Your scent, I’m trying to place it.”
“How’s that going for you?”
Low chuckled and shook his head. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Mr. Gingersnaps was flirting.
“I’m working,” Low recited again. As he rose, Tracy, with his signature brisk step, entered the kitchen.
“Tracy, is Max here by any chance?” Jaxon intoned. “I wanted to commend her on the cake.”
Pouring himself a hefty cup of joe, Tracy sighed. “I fear she is not. My offspring is galloping around town. She stays gone most Saturdays.”
In passing, Low ignored how Red tracked his every movement. He betta knock it off, ‘fore he get a passport to Chocolate City. Many, many moons ago, Low had been repressed by what society and religion.
Such idiotic and disastrous restrictions didn’t suit him. All genders were welcome, ‘cause Low wasn’t picky. Age was non-negotiable, however. They had to be fifty-five or older. Them youngins gave him the willies. But race, ethnicity, gender, and species didn’t mean shit.
Did Low have standards? Yes. Preferences? Hell no. Low was too god damn old for that.
“What a shame,” Jaxon replied.
Low rolled his eyes, noting how Red’s tone and vernacular changed around Tracy. Guess errybody code switched, even saditty white folk.
After throwing his bowl in the dishwasher, Low made a diligent effort not to glance at Jaxon and failed. Wondering how long his di—hair was when unbound.
“We’ve got a big night,” Tracy said. “A few errands.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“I assure you, it’s anything but.”
Jaxon’s smile was unsettling, sneaky. It wasn’t something Tracy would clock. Low, however, has met hella snakes. He knew their tells before striking prey.
“I will leave you to it.” Jaxon started toward the exit, then hit a one-eighty. “If you need me, I’ll be in your office.”
“Good man,” Tracy approved. “Uhm, Elliot, is Hollister there?”
“He’s meeting us.”
“Great. Good, good.”
Two cups of Colombian and one A-positive later, he and Tracy were on the 826, heading north. Back to the spot where they conducted business. ‘Cause the adage about shitting where you sleep was real.
They were halfway there when Low grew curious.
“Tracy, how did you hear about Jaxon?”
“Through a friend at the office.” Glancing at him made the male do a double-take. “You don’t think we can trust him, right?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Low shrugged. “I don’t know him, but I would be wary. Stay about. Don’t say too much, and do not let him intimidate you.”
Tracy dismissed the statement with a hard scoff. “Oh, please, not even my father intimidated me. I can promise you, Jaxon Aubrey is not a male I find the least bit threatening.”
Low believed it. Calm and stressed, Tracy may be, but the athletic and scholarly male had balls. His finagling and hustling required a strong spine. Which sometimes, Low hated, ‘cause Tracy used those same traits when dealing with Max. He treated his daughter like shit. Similar to a warden, Tracy gave commands and made demands. Low was in no position to say anything. Not with mouths to feed and tuition to pay.
“Please, he’s an accountant for fucks sake.” Tracy had a point.
Owning a spot in Doral’s gated community was a golden ticket. Again, must be nice. Perry, the night guard, let them pass, and Low waved.
“I wonder how many we have tonight.”
“It’s a drop off?” Low asked.
“Indeed.”
Riding the roundabout toward Tracy’s abode, water surrounded them. A lake flanked all properties. Low wasn’t sure if they were man-made or what, but it shooolll was rich. Some quiet shit he’d love to have one day.
Crawling up to the spot, he hung a lefty into the driveway. “Alright, we have rou—”
“No time.”
Tracy hopped out while Low stabbed the garage opener. From there, two vehicles hit a k-turn and backed in. The three-slot setup had more than enough room for both trucks.
Low stayed in the car and waited for the signal. A high whistle was his cue. He concealed Tracy and their guests by closing the garage doors.
As Low emerged from the Range, Hollister rolled up. The country boy drove a well kept 1948 GMC. Low, a self-taught master at restoring rusted hunks of scrap metal, fell in love with the five-window truck. ‘Ol boy came in hot and loud.
After ‘disturbing the peace’, Hollister leaped from the cab, donned his hat, and stomped over in a pair of snake skin boots.
“Sorry, I’m late. My son took his first steps today.” The male was alight. “I had to capture the moment. My wife was beside herself.”
“Nah, nah, don’t apologize. Some things can wait. But your child’s first steps are once in a lifetime.”
“Thanks. So, what we got?”
“Drop off.”
“Nothing too big, I like’at.”
Hollister held the lead as they stepped into the house. Tracy and his supplier were already seated in the living room, going over formalities.
“Ten?” Tracy asked.
Low interrupted to retrieve some info. “Ten what?”
“Bodies.”
Paniera was a gangly middle-aged human with peppery hair and dark, inset eyes to match. He was one of twelve who worked for Tracy, and an important piece. Messengers and delivery boys were vital in this business.
Humans didn’t give a shit about details, and their love for that all-mighty dollar took precedence. Mortals were greedy for money, power, and youth. Men and women micro-managed what little time they had and made each second count.
Low respected their resiliency. Survival, by any means, was a value both vampire and human shared. So, when you needed to get shit done, ask a human drowning in criminal offenses and debt. How they got paid mattered naught.
Hollister hissed. “You brought ten witchya?”
“No.” Paniera shook his head and said, “But I will have them. Next week.”
“How the hell you do that?” Low questioned.
“Yeah.” Tracy’s gaze narrowed. “One or two has been the norm for years now.”
“There’s an influx of men from overseas. Another crack down on organized crime is underway, think… political.”
“Holy shit,” Hollister blurted.
Tracy glowered, crossing his legs. “What’s happened? Are these men guilty of something? Because, as much as I despise you all, I will only sell barbarians. The very worst earth has to offer.”
“Yes, heinous crimes,” Paniera answered with a slimy smirk. “These blowhards got wrapped up in a sex trafficking ring. Little girls, boys… the manifest was long. My guy wants them to disappear.”
This was some deep state type shit, and Low’s thoughts spiraled from the expose. Killing pedophiles was a hell of a good way to spend a night or two.
He might keep one to play with.
Paniera pulled a flask from his jacket pocket and popped it open. “The media are spinning it as imprisonment and solitary confinement,” three swigs later, he continued, “but, somebody more powerful wants them wiped off the planet and living in hell at the same time.”
Tracy mulled for like five seconds before nodding. “Yeah, I’ll have your payment ready upon delivery.”
“Great, and same as always. I’ll text you details in a few days.”
“Good man. Now, let’s see my merchandise.”
Low led everyone down the hall, past the kitchen, and into the mudroom. He pressed a thumb to the fingerprint reader, a thing he had to coerce Tracy into getting. A little extra security never hurt nobody. He needed more, to be honest.
Locks clacked, and they shuffled into the garage. Low met Paniera’s henchmen at the rear and opened the hatch. A naked man lay hogtied and unconscious.
“What’d this one do?” Hollister asked.
“Killed his mother and sister. Violated the deceased and drowned their dog.”
Low snarled. “That’s fucked up.”
“The other one?”
“Oh, he’s a nasty son of a bitch. He sold his infant twins to a demon.”
“Oh, my god,” Hollister growled. He wrenched open the other trunk and yanked out the savage.
“Well, let’s get them clean and ready for the slaughter.”
Tracy sang, as they’d deliver these vile muh’fucka’s unto hell and make some money in the process.

That’s a wrap for this week, folks! I hope y’all had a wonderful week and have an even better weekend. Going forward, I want y’all to remember, this is a dark romance. Keep that in mind. The MMCs have their *ways* (mostly Jaxon). They’re morally gray with a dark gray lean. Not jet black, but not cinnamon rolls either. Most of the darkness comes from the world around them and what they delve into.  It can get bleak at times, and even I was like, “Bruh, what???”.  And Max?! My baby love. She is sweet, caring, and deserving of MORE! Anyhoo, as always, thank you so much for spending time here. You could’ve spent 5-10 minutes doing anything else, but you didn’t. You’re an amazing human. I know things are fucked up at the moment, but honey, WE WILL PERSEVERE! Remember to read that book, watch your favorite show, and DRINK MORE WATER, BOOKIE! Byyeeeee. ✨🩷✨

Chapter 24: Strange Happenings

Dorthy was the best in the business. She had her shit on lock and got the job done. There was no negating such facts. She went to school for it, graduated with honors. Dean’s list all four years. Yeah, Jasper loved her setup and preparedness. She came ready with binders and folders, swatches, and textures. Buck appreciated her drive and passion to help their clients. He loved Dorthy’s work ethic and attention to detail; the woman was thorough.
But, he could do without her and Trey’s shit. They made a beautiful couple and put three gorgeous children through college. They were raised right, but things turned sour after them babies left home. They were off doing big things while their parents made a mess. Thirty years of marriage down the drain because Dorthy slipped.
Buck didn’t hate the girl for what she’d done to his grandson, but he sure didn’t like her, or the fact that she was with child, again. This would be baby number four and they weren’t even together.
Dorthy didn’t want Trey.
Fine.
Why fuck around, though, if that was the case? Buck didn’t understand it one bit. These kids and their foolishness. Trey loved her; he was a good man who didn’t deserve to have his heart destroyed like this.
And yeah, maybe Buck had something to say. Mayhap he was feeling a way about it as well. Trey had told them to stay out of it, and Buck was trying.
Goddess help him, but he kept his mouth shut as the women discussed paint options.
He smiled, meandering in the living room. There was still so much work left for them to do. New floors, plaster, beams, and even the foundation was shit. Buck had every intention of finishing before winter. The weather was calm at the moment, but it’d turn come November.
Buck had no real reason to stick around, but was forced to stay. She wouldn’t let him leave. Jasper paid him no mind and didn’t have to. Her presence was enough. Her dapper attire fucked him up from the door. A woman who looked good in anything was his weakness. Putting that shit on with confidence. She even had unmitigated gall to add a splash of something dark, spicy, and sweet.
It was her syrupy, hot, honey butter lilt and laughter tugging on his belt. Succubi were unintentionally cruel and reactive. He knew how this worked, but Jasper was like no other. He’d experienced their demonic curses and enchantments. There were none between them. She hadn’t tried to hook her claws into his soul quite yet, but she’d wanted to, he was god damn certain of it.
To keep himself steady and aware, Buck decided on a walkabout. The house was decent in size and compartmentalized like any proper old-world home. Room within a room. Pocket doors, ninety-degree angles, and an outstanding turret. Two floors and an attic he’d rather not check up on. Buck ambled and re-assessed. There was something nostalgic about them dusty, creaky homes. He could just about smell allat lemon wax and cigar smoke beneath mold and stagnant water.
He’d do his ultimate best to keep her bones; they were good, he sensed it much. On the second level, he ventured into the half bath, smelling those critters. “Y’all had better behave this round and—well, I’ll be.”
Buck noted their abandoned lavatory condo and spotted black granules. Curiosity bugged the hell out of him, so he answered its call, dabbing the dust. A brief sniff told a somber tale.
“Rest with the soil,” Buck muttered. Somebody done killed the little bastards. Which was actually against the law. Faerie of all species were to be left alone, according to the Queen Creed. Vampires, fairies, fae, and weres were safe in Ravensguard. It was neutral ground and oftentimes, a haven for those in need.
An annoying squeal and holler called for attention. Buck huffed and jogged down the rickety, warped staircase.
“Where’s ‘at god damn container?!”
“The kitchen,” Jasper announced. “Maybe.”
Hustling around the corner, he cracked his gum and gritted his teeth. Buck searched what was left of the kitchen. “Where is—” He spotted a pea green casserole dish and snagged it with two fingers. It’d been through hell.
Patience lacking, he dashed through the back door, cleared the steps in a single bound, and followed the trail he’d made.
Sissy Perkins was a difficult resident. He’d seen her at town hall meetings complaining about mismatched flowers, grass two shades darker than verdant, large dogs and their shedding on the sidewalk, wing mottling, and the smell of airing buds in bloom. Mind you, airing buds were essential to sprites, as they were a mating season indicator. There was absolutely nothing to be done about it.
“Ah, Mr. Sunside,” Sissy’s fingers flexed, reaching for her property. She snatched it when able. “Thank—what the hell happened to it?”
“Wicker spider guts.”
“Yeah, yeah. Ugly critters.”
She examined the dish and snarled, resembling a sneaky kingbird snake. They were highly poisonous, the size of a sheep dog, and killed their prey by laying eggs in its mouth. Their main line of defense was mimicry and camouflage.
“When are you gonna start working on this place?” Sissy asked, snippier than a jackal ope. Eyes on Jasper’s place, she scowled. “It’s bringing the entire neighborhood down.”
Buck nodded, gaze locked onto the duo up the street. They were nosy and chatty. “Don’t you worry, Ms. Perkins, we gone get this place cleaned up.”
“Hope so, I’m sick of looking at it.”
“Have a good one, now.”
She gave a curt nod and scurried off, joining her little friends. Buck stood watch and fetched his phone. After a quick swipe, he stabbed Jo’s precious baby photo. Two rings later, the young man answered.
“Funny, I was just thinking about you, Papa.”
“Somethin ain’t right with Sissy Perkins.”
“This ‘bout that cult shit?”
“Hell yeah.”
“How you know?”
Buck popped his gum and tipped his hat to them, weird humans. They blanched and got the hell on. Most knew him by first name and reputation instead of his title.
Buck didn’t play about his family nor the fine fae of Indigo Plains. And most humans were trouble, more than they were worth. Of course, the ones in his family tree were swell, but he was wary of those he didn’t know. The flock with bias, prejudices, and such, he loathed. If not for the appearance of an odd, freak tear between worlds a millennium ago, humans would’ve eradicated their own species at some point. Buck was sure of it.
“‘Cause I know,” Buck said, snapping gum. “The magic on her smells old, and Chessie said Jasper’s house is cursed and been cursed.” He seethed at the thought of somebody taking advantage of Jasper. His bones creaked, and ears itched. He was ready to tear a hole in somebody’s ass. “I’m about to head on over to Hawke in a minute.”
“Ohhhh shit. I heard he was the one to put up that house.”
“And didn’t think twice about taking her money. I’mma get every dime back, too.”
“Don’t hurt him, now, Papa.”
“I ain’t making no promises.” Buck snapped gum, grinding his teeth. “Get on up here and do some investigations.”
Jo cackled like he was getting his feet tickled.
“Now what the hell is so funny?! Get your silly behind over here and do some sheriff work.”
Buck cussed as his demand only made the boy giggle. Heading back towards the house, he kicked up dirt. It was dry as hell, damn near white.
“Papa, we aren’t detectives. What are we supposed to be doing?”
Buck shrugged and dropped to his haunches. No bugs meant no sustenance. He scooped a handful of craggy soil and sniffed.
“This smells bad. Like somebody done died. No silt, minerals, or bacteria. It’s cursed, alright.”
Buck stood, shaking his head. “Look, Jo. I just need to know what’s going on with Sissy Perkins and nem.”
“Shit. You got cause, Papa?”
“Yeah, cause I said so.”
Jo smiled, and he didn’t have to be in the man’s face to know it. “I’ll send Powell. He’s got senses for shit like this.”
“Good.” Buck stalled on the back porch and tapped his boot. “How’s Numa. You never said nothing, but I was worried about him.”
“Ah, you know. He’s good, good. Misses his Mama. But you know.”
It’d been two years since Jo lost his wife and they lost a great-grandchild. The pain never vanished. It was much like an angry tide. Ebb and flow. Buck found it hard to speak about the ones they’d lost. Two. Carter and Mary. He missed them. Numa was a grown man by the time his mother married Jo, but he was part of their family.
“We all do.”
Jo cleared his throat and sighed. “Alright, Papa, I got actual work to do. I can’t be running my mouth all day. “
“Yup, I love you, boy.”
“Love you too, Papa. I’ll call you if anything comes up.”
“I’m sure it will.”
“Bye, old man.”
Buck grunted and ended the call. He ain’t like this picture one bit. It smelled worse than it looked, and he had half a mind to do some investing of his own.
Hitting a quick one-eighty, he thought better of it, for now. Powell was good at his job, and Buck was certain the old wolf would find something worth a damn.

So, here’s the thing, I love buck and his grouchy self. He’s definitely our grump, but he’s so soft on the ones he loves. He goes the extra mile and doesn’t play about who he claims as his family. You fuck around with them you might lose your life. Okay? I will say, the tension between Jasper and Buck is getting on my last nerves! But, I don’t know, I feel like the payoff will be great. As I have said before, I’m a panster, and I am following along with y’all. Jasper is putting this man through it. There is something in the air about her, and he’ll find out soon enough what that is. Veteran fantasy/paranormal/monster/vampire/shifter romance folks already know what time it is. Fated what? Exactly! Anyway, thank you so much for reading. You’re amazing, truly. I hope you have a wonderful week. Give yourself grace! Oh, one last thing, drink your water, love. It’s right there, I see it. Don’t let that ice melt! Byyyeeee.

Chapter 23: Tale of Two Demons

“Oh, blithe tiddies!” Kit slammed the oven door shut and huffed. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”
“Everything, quite possibly,” Julep murmured from his post on the windowsill. His tail flicked and curled with indignation. “You’re a decent cook, my good friend, but you are no baker.”
“I completed the steps. I heeded Maggie’s instruction word for word. The cake won’t rise!” Kit garbled and stomped as he read the directions for the hundredth time. “Butter, egg, oil, whisk, sift, and—ohhhh, dear. I’ve forgotten the baking soda. And the vanilla.”
“No baker at all,” Julep quipped.
“Hush, you! If it weren’t for Jasper, I’d have thrown you out.”
“Don’t get pissy with me, old man. I am capable of making my own decisions.”
“You, are a liar my boy and quite irresponsible. And this is why you were trapped in the chicken coop with angry hens. I told you—”
Julep jumped down and padded to his water bowl.
“So dramatic! Kit, really. It’s not that serious.”
Kit cackled and slashed a hand. “Look at you! Bald spots, demon! You’ve got an eye patch for Undervell’s sake.”
Julep ignored him and lapped quietly.
“You could have died, sir.”
“But I didn’t. In fact, I’ve never felt more alive.” Kit sighed as Julep leaped onto the counter and sat. “It reminded me of the old days when we chased kettle duns all cycle and ate sugared bugs. Besides, what else am I to do here?”
Kit patted Julep’s head and gave him a good scratch, minding the reddened, sore patches of skin.
“You have to be more careful, demon cat. I’d rather not lose my best friend.”
“Off with you, that’s enough.” Julep hissed and popped Kit’s hand with soft toe beans. “I know you worry, but I’m fine. Promise. I’ve found my calling.”
“Hunting chickens?”
“And various other rodents. There is a large forest just beyond.” Julep turned his attention to the window, yellow eyes now saucers. His purr was curious and adorable. “It’s a fascinating place, Kit. Truly. You should come with me one day.”
“I will never step foot into that verdant wasteland.”
Julep rolled his neck and eyes back around, pinning his fierce gaze upon Kit.
“Pussy.”
“Ha! Funny coming from a cat.”
Julep hissed and swiped claws. Kit stumbled and shoved Julep off of the counter. “Go! Get out of here. And stay off my countertops. Disgusting retch.”
Julep zoomed around the corner, scaled the wall, and screeched at Jasper as she passed.
“Oh, fuck! Would you—“ She ducked and growled at the feisty demonic feline. ”Freak!”
Julep detached and flipped onto the floor. He scrambled for purchase and dashed through the small flap door.
“I hated him as a full-bodied demon, but I think I hate him more now. He’s a menace.”
“Well, you opted to keep him yesterday.” Kit considered his little sister’s state of dress and sighed. “What are we going to do with you?”
“With who?”
“You.”
“I’m perfectly fine, and what is that smell?”
“Shiiiiiit!” Kit whirled and wrenched open the oven door. Yelling expletives, he grabbed both pans and dropped them on the counter. “My poor cakes.”
Jasper barked in laughter and plucked herself a mug. Kit failed to see what was so hilarious. His time and efforts had been wasted.
“They’re flat as ever,” he said, poking the charred disk. “I forgot an ingredient.”
“An important one, apparently.”
Kit grunted, gathered his failings, and marched to the trash bin. “Bumble today, succeed tomorrow.” He dropped everything into the trash and wiped hands on his apron.
“You didn’t have to throw away the pans.”
“We’ll purchase another set.”
“We?”
Kit flapped a hand and stored his brand-new stand mixer in the cupboard. “Jasper, you have been in the house for two whole cycles and appear to be forlorn. What’s happened?”
“Nothing.”
Her tone and mumble told Kit one thing: his sister was lying. She stirred sugar into her tea and sighed. He couldn’t help but offer some form of comfort. Their father had always said it was a flaw, caring too much.
He’d peer down at Kit and rumble, ‘A general with compassion is a dead one’.
“Jasper, you tell me who to maim or kill, and I will get it done.”
Kit stood next to his closest sibling and prepared his own cup. The tea here was sublime, and he wanted to know the distributor, but there was nothing on the sachet’s ornate box.
As he poured hot water from the electric kettle, Jasper chuckled.
“Thank you, brother. But, this is nothing we can fight.” He assessed her distant gaze, wondering who had claimed Jasper’s thoughts. “I’m a coward, is all.”
“Hardly.”
“What?”
“You left home, Jasper.” Kit’s guts rolled as he was reminded of his mission. He chose a bright citrus tea and dropped it into the steaming pool. “It is strictly forbidden. You were due to meet your tether, and you vanished. You didn’t give a damn about father or his disappointment. You are far from cowardly.”
She snickered, resting her chin atop Kit’s head. He wanted to shrink away, steer clear of such affections, but it was pleasant. Her closeness warmed his chest.
“Thank you, Kit.”
“What exactly have I done?”
“For always being in my corner.” She kissed his itchy, growing horns and battled an urge to smile. “I love you, Kitters.”
The demon grunted and cleared his throat, face hotter than Undervell’s springs. Physical touch was one thing; he could handle that, sometimes. Words, on the other hand…he’d never been one for them, mainly because Carriont told him generals carried war in their hearts, not love.
Kit gritted his teeth and huffed. “Well, maybe he was wrong.”
“Hmm?”
“I—you.” Kit stirred honey and cherry wood ash into his tea. He flushed, a wetness coating his upper lip. “Love.”
Jasper erupted in ominous laughter and gave him a bit of space. “Awww, look at you. Unlearning and shit. This is called growth, bruh.”
“Growth?” Kit frowned and sipped his first afternoon cup. He pivoted, faced his kin, and leaned against the counter. “Whatever do you mean?”
Jasper lifted her mug and sighed aloud. “There’s a lot of garbage our Dad taught us. Certain behaviors don’t work up here. And others are welcome. Like, softness, playfulness, silliness, foolery, and love.”
Kit digested her commentary for a tick and enjoyed what was becoming his favorite blend. He’d seen quite a lot over the last few cycles or days, and perhaps Jasper was right.
“Kit,” she called, forcing him to meet her pit flame stare, “you can be who you want up here. Start fresh, man. Chase that chef dream or become a deputy. You seemed pretty excited about your outing with Jo.”
“It was thrilling,” Kit said, his blood buzzing at the thought. “But, I like the chef idea more, only, well…I never intended on staying, Jasper.”
“You could if you wanted to.” She shrugged and tipped her mug. “In fact, I’m putting a room together just for you.”
“For me?”
“Yup. You can decorate it however you want. After everything is done, of course.”
He smiled now, cheeks heated. That warmth in his chest expanded only to dim.
“I can’t stay. This is only respite. Soon I’ll have to get back and fulfill my duties.”
“You mean father’s duties.”
Silence between them stretched as Jasper’s sad smile gave him nothing to work with. Kit couldn’t stay, he was here for one reason, and if he didn’t go through with it, Carriont would surely expel him.
“Jasper, there’s something you ought to know. The—“
A thunderous knocking interrupted his confession. “What in the Undervell?”
Kit set his cup on the table and saw to the person ten seconds from kicking the door in. The moment Kit touched the handle, he knew who it was. He scented him instantly and wanted to stuff embers up his nose.
“It’s you,” Kit intoned, staring at an agitated vampire. Hank’s eye twitched, and his jaw ticked as he tapped a booted foot. “What can I do—“
“I told ya’ didn’t I?”
“Told me what?”
“To stay the hell outta my coops.”
“I did.”
“Your fucking cat kicked up a fuss and spooked them gals! If it ain’t you stealing my damn eggs, it’s your ugly ass rat tryna kill my chickens.”
“I’d like to apologize for Julep’s behavior, but you are being incredibly rude. There is no need to shout.”
“Like hell it ain’t. You got no idea what it takes to raise them up and keep shit goin’. Royal boy.”
“You’ve got one more time to call me boy,” Kit hissed, confused by his anger and arousal. “I will show you what makes a man!”
“Hayyyy hay.” Jasper sidled up beside Kit and smiled. “Stop, chill bruh. It’s—Hank, right?”
“Yeah, mhm.”
“You gotta understand, he can’t control that cat. Julep is cursed.”
Hank squinted. “Cursed?”
“He’s a demon that accidentally possessed a cat, and somehow he got stuck like that. He’s a ruffian and a pain in the ass.”
Kit crossed his arms and kicked up his chin. “He won’t listen to me. I am not his owner, per se. We’re chamber mates.”
“Roommates?” Hank asked.
“Yes.”
“He’s going to kill me for this,” Kit mumbled, “But Julep is terrified of… cotton balls.”
“Whatchu mean?”
“He’s scared of cotton balls. Line the coop with them, and he’ll stay out. I can’t say what will come of the wild ones, but I shall do my best with talking to him.”
“Do more than talk to the lil shit. Control him or I will.”
“No need for threats,” Kit snipped.
“My ass!”
Hank snarled and stomped across the porch. His bergamot-spiced scent lingered like fine mist. Kit inhaled and hated the tightening knot at the bottom of his belly.
“He is a foul-mannered son of a wench.”
Jasper closed the door and snickered. “Someday y’all are gonna go at it.”
“If he intends on being a complete ass, then yes, it is inevitable.”
His sister grabbed her cup and shuffled on down the hall. “If you need me, I’ll be in my cave.”
“How about we take a walk or—“
“No, thank you!”
A door slam made him laugh. At least he was free to bake to his heart’s content without being bothered. That was, unless Hank or Jo came snooping about. Kit hummed and grinned, hating very much how captor hogs rolled in his guts at the confounding thought.

Jasper couldn’t stand how cooped up she’d been for two whole days. Cowardice had sent her running for the hills. “How embarrassing.” She snarled at the humiliating memory. A seasoned, well-adjusted succubus hiding away from some pussy. It was distasteful how quickly she’d forgotten what it felt like to be touched, savored. Nieema’s scent and satin had stained her wakeful dreams.
Jasper spent the last forty-eight playing games and eating her favorite foods. She wasted time with crafts and had even finished Nieema’s commission. It was a gorgeous piece, and Jasper was ready for another. The only way to get that was by talking to Mrs. Sunside.
She groaned and flopped on the bed. Phone in hand, she checked her bank account and grimaced. Kit’s spending habit was a problem; he’d been picking at her last few dollars for a week. Grocers and odd-ends he just had to have. “Shit.” As much as she didn’t want to, Jasper had to get out of bed and the house. She needed the little job the Sunsides’ offered like yesterday. A streaming session or a few feet pics usually helped ends meet.
Jasper shook her head, still not ready to face the public or her loyal fan base. As she rose, her phone vibrated. Checking the notif, she grinned despite fried nerves. Buck’s relentless efforts were impressive, much like his stature. Though this wasn’t a personal matter, Jasper’s heart thrummed at the idea of seeing him.
Thick masculine energies would do a body good. It’d steel her softening spine and resolve. A sliver of his soul, a sip of heady desire, was exactly what Jasper wanted. In a petty mood, she hit him back quick.
Miss me already Mr. Sunside?
She watched the dots until his reply made her laugh.
You’d be in my bed if I did.
“Yeah, okay.” She scoffed and blasted him a final text.
Self-assurance has an expiry date, Buck. But sure, I’ll meet with the decorator. What time?
Jasper marched into the bathroom, eyes on their conversation.
How about now?
“God damn,” she barked, looking at her ragged reflection. Bonnet and bags. “Uhhhhm.”
Give me twenty minutes.
Jasper set her phone on the counter and started the shower. She snatched her gown off as the screen illuminated.
Add ten more minutes. Beauty takes time, woman. Don’t be rushing on my account.
An ugly snort escaped, and with it, Jasper stepped into the stall.
Forty-five minutes later, she was fully dressed. Having an androgynous day, Jasper slipped on a pair of slacks and a silk blouse the color of a summer-ripened plum. Gold accents glittered on her wrist, neck, and loafers.
After an assessment, she snatched her phone and wallet. On the way out, she bid her brother farewell. He was in a mood over those damn muffins and vowed to have a batch ready by the time she got home.
Dusk had settled over Indigo Plains. Painting it in various shades of orange, red, and goldenrod. The lazy sun set Buck ablaze. Leaning all that body against his car, he was quite the sight. Brawny in his usual. T-shirt, jeans, shiny buckle, and silver-capped boots.
Cool red tones kicked up a fuss, causing Jasper to stare on her approach.
Buck tipped his hat and grinned. “Hot damn, you look city ready. Slick and classy. Should I have changed for this outing, Jasper?”
“It’s been a minute since I felt so pretty. Figured, why not?”
Buck lifted his strong chin, jaw ticking. Their stares clashed as his scent billowed and dark soul flushed bruised maroon. His deepening desire was conspicuous in nature. Buck never tried to hide it, but she appreciated how he ignored its calling.
Their attraction was palpable and taut, but Jasper could go no further with this. Not with where her head was at the moment.
“I don’t wanna be too forward, but you always pretty, Jasper. Don’t matter who says what. It doesn’t make you any less gorgeous.”
He didn’t offer her the floor, and she didn’t want to strike up a debate about her looks. Buck opened her door with a wink. Jasper smirked and slid into the butter-soft seat. Sweet, smoky pine, and natural.
His organic cologne battered her sensibilities. It was strong and masculine. Just what she needed. Every second she spent in his company, she sipped.
Slowly, she inhaled, nibbled, and dined.
“So, uhm, what’s this decorator got planned?”
“The basics. Swatches, your vision, wood types, and knobs. Boring type shit and…”
Buck kept both eyes on the road, white-knuckling the steering wheel. She loved how the other gripped the clutch. Cords and veins created a work of art. From fingers to the crook of his elbow. They wrapped elegantly around his forearm and danced between ink like thick vines.
“Jasper.”
Her name rumbled and rolled like sweet syrup off his tongue. It tasted good with the hint of his smoky desire. It rippled in the crackling space between them and swelled.
“What can I do for you, Buck?”
She’d inched closer, arm behind his head. Casual and relaxed, Jasper peeped the mysterious driver. He was loaded and packed with dark energy; it was enough to rock her loose right here in the front seat.
Foul how he affected her. Egregious, really. She wanted to both flee and flay the man who smiled.
His dimples disgusted her.
“Maybe I should be asking you that question.”
“I’m good.”
“You say such things, but we know what time it is, succubus.”
“Drive and shut your mouth.”
Buck chuckled, deep bellied and maniacal. She loathed the visceral reaction it caused. He stirred the slick potion, dampening her slacks.
He killed the engine and hopped out. Jasper peered out the window and scoffed. They’d arrived at a physical representation of despair. Her sickly home looked no better beneath the dimming sun.
Grumbling, Jasper emerged from the vehicle and hiked up her pants. She grunted at the fucked veranda thingy and porch.
“Hellooooo there.” The sing song voice belonged to a willowy, copper curled beauty with shimmering freckles and crimson wings. The gauzy set fluttered as she offered a hand. “My name is Dorthy.”
“Jasper.”
“Great to meet you, Jasper. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m the yammering sort. We interior designers have so much to relay and discuss. I don’t want to overwhelm you with information or—“
“You doing it,” Buck murmured.
Dorthy’s left eye twitched along with her wing. Jasper plucked at the frayed strings binding them together. On Buck’s end, they were weak and angry.
“You agreed to stay on that side while I conduct business with Jasper. Let’s not drag family affairs into this.”
“Unprofessional. I ain’t say shit about that,” Buck grumped, hands on his hips. He surveyed the neighborhood and chewed his cinnamon gum. “Get to it then, Dorthy. Shit.”
The decorator brightened, manufactured smile touching her tapered ears. “Anyway, shall we?”
“How are we supposed to get in there?”
“’Round back,” Buck said, leading the way. “Watch the spider, though. I planned on clearing it out today.”
“Wicker spiders.” Dorthy shuddered. “They live underground, mostly. Not too big on people or the moon. I find it hard to believe they attacked you.”
“Excuse me, hay there.” A familiar voice halted their journey. “Well, look who it is.”
Sissy Perkins glared more than smiled. Her displeasure obvious and sharp. She smelled of deceit and decay.
“Good to see you, Jasper. Say, I was wondering if the dish was clean. It’s vintage. My mother’s and her mother’s. Practically a family heirloom. It’d be a shame if I never got it back.”
Jasper’s brows grazed the sky as she finally smiled. It was unpleasant, surly. A show of fang and uncapped horns gave Sissy pause. The old woman sniffed, inching backwards.
“I’ll get it, don’t you worry, Sissy!”
“Thank you, that’d be terrific.”
Jasper clocked the annoying yoga instructor or pilates doll man across the street. He conversed with a middle aged human wearing a god damn tunic. Grunting, Jasper spun on her heels and followed Buck to the back porch.
Getting there wouldn’t be easy, thanks to tall grass, thorns, and feisty burrowing creatures. Jasper was prepared for war and was about to pop off cuff links until Buck cleared a path.
Blades of grass, brindle, and dry brush withered, dying beneath his soles. With each step, Buck crafted a path made of moss and leaves. It was an impressive, magical display. His abilities emboldened her curiosity. Jasper had more than twenty questions, but stashed them in her back pocket for later. After she talked to this lady about her color options.

Neon Red: Chapter 8

After being interrupted in the weirdest way possible, AB spent the next few hours resorting and stacking. Without added speed, it gave him something to do. After which, he went through everything on Tracy’s slooooooow as hell 2006 Gateway PC. XP, not even Vista. It was simpler without OneDrive, Dropbox, or Drive. Quicker too.
Anndddd ohhhhh, boy, the info one gathered. Maxine Bernice Bissette did, in fact, own Ink in Hell. Daddy supplied funds, however, as he did with everything else. The Wrangler out front, a shared phone bill, and Maxine’s monthly allowance. She had nothing of her own.
AB dug in his pocket and pulled out a cherry Jolly Rancher. He unwrapped the hard candy and tossed it back.
There was no reason to be a hundred years old and not have something going for yourself if you had means. At first glance, this woman had every opportunity to be independent. Why wasn’t she self-reliant?
A woman who couldn’t take care of herself was unattractive. Personally, AB hated those who didn’t have a pot to piss in or two pennies. Much more, he couldn’t stand the ones who’d depend on him every waking moment. Being broke was not cute, baby. Sure, okay, she owned-ran the shop.
But how much did it earn? Not enough. Not in Miami, and not for a spoiled female who lived comfortably with daddy her whole life. “A damn shame.”
Sucking on his brand of crack cocaine, AB clocked the time. 2am. Roughly five hours of work. “Not bad at all.”
Accounting was something AB liked quite a bit. He loved numbers and boring, monotonous work. Hell, why not? Living was boring, so why not find a career just as tedious? With this job, AB enjoyed the freedom. Having no boss and long hours, if he wanted them. It was more of a hobby than a profession at this point. AB dragged ass going through the paperwork and shit because he enjoyed it.
Knocking around the candy in his mouth, he shot to his feet and tidied himself. Cuff links, vest, and lastly, his suit jacket. He willed the light off and promised to return. There were two tubs left and however many boxes.
On his way out, he closed the door and hoped Tracy was near. AB had a question or two, nothing big. Just a few discrepancies here and there. Passing Maxine’s room, he sniffed and growled.
She smelled amazing. Fresh gardenias and fucking Shalamar. Classic and clean. Then again, she was a poor commoner, a female who’d demand a band and diamonds just for breathing. He shuddered and stalked into the formal living, whereupon he sat on the sofa.
Perusing Tracy’s home was boorish. Someone would come along, with lights blaring and the precious aroma of grilled meat piquing his interest. Maybe he had some ramen at home, or Ricearoni. Biting down on hardened corn syrup, he watched as two stooges came laughing through the front door.
What was up with her and those glasses? Everywhere? God damn it, she had a lazy eye. For sure, something like that. Had to be, maybe a visual impairment of some sort. A subtle limp too, that wa—her thighs were throwing him off, but her not boyfriend stared.
“Why you just sitting there?” he asked.
“I’m waiting for Tracy.”
“My dad is out back,” she laughed, “oh my god…” Biting her bottom lip, she shrugged.
“Ya’ll are really high,” AB noted.
“Nah, I’m coo’. Shorty trippin’ though.” Low lied, his brilliant stormy gray stare shone through slits. “I ain’t even got my half, muh’fucka’.”
“Your what?”
Low recoiled and made a dismissive noise. “Nothing, college boy. You don’t know nothing ’bout this shit. Aye, for real, your hair is fucking me up. It’s like a red light, hella abrasive and bright.”
AB snapped his cuffs and thought to count from one to ten. He couldn’t, wouldn’t allow himself to lash out in this man’s home.
“That cookie was too big, Low… Dammmmn.”
“You lyin’, they made it with that whack ass Miami Heat.” Low chuckled and threw an arm over Maxine’s shoulder. “Shit was booboo.”
“Miami heat? The basketball team?” AB asked. They exploded in laughter once again.
“The basket—man, hell nah,” Low bellowed. “Mind the business that pays.”
AB cracked his neck and sneered at a male way in over his head. A twenty-thousand-dollar suit and kind eyes fooled a lot of people. But Low knew what kinda man he was dealing with; he didn’t seem so dumb.
“You’ll get real tired of fuckin’ with me. I promise you that.”
Maxine rolled her neck. “Ooooo.” She snorted. “Anyway, where the steak at?”
“Ah, Jaxon.” Tracy arrived, saving the day, but Low made an odd choking noise. “You’ve finished?”
AB smiled and stood. “Yes, for tonight, of course. I’ll be back Monday bright and early at nine thirty.”
“Splendid. Say, are you hungry?”
He nearly refused but Jaya wouldn’t have it. “Come on, Jaxon, you can’t turn down the T-Bone. Low is a master on the grill.”
“I am. When it come to the meat, I tear—” Maxine elbowed him.
“I’d love to, but I—”
“Love it so much, then eat it,” Maxine said.
“Let’s not do this again,” Tracy said, eying her.
“You know what,” Ab interjected, checking the Audemars. “I have some time.”
The male clapped once in celebration. “Perfect, it’s such a lovely night. Shall we?”
Everyone sauntered outside and AB was dead last. ‘Cause weeelll, ass was ass, and it wasn’t slim pickings up in this bitch.
“What a fine entertainment set up you have here, Tracy.” Sitting at a long patio table tucked under a cedar pergola, AB was actually impressed. He noted bottles of wine, bread, and various sides. Potent spices, mesquite, and peppers scented the humid night air.
They had ample lighting and smooth jazz; it was a nice touch. Everything dinner guests needed, with a built-in TV, full-sized grilling area, and room for twelve.
“Thank you so much.” Tracy grinned, admiring his well-tended backyard. “Interior design is a hobby of mine.”
AB placed his bag in the chair next to him and said, “If that’s the case, then I think you should start taking clients and build a portfolio.”
“Oh no.” He waved a hand. “Pipe dreams earn no living.”
“Pipe dreams can and will earn a living if you’re passionate enough,” AB replied, removing his jacket for the second time.
Maxine nodded. “Word.” She sat opposite him and giggled her ass off. “That’s right, Dad. Passion breeds success.”
“I don’t think that’s it.” Low added, but Maxine rolled her eyes.
“Shut up!”
“Use your inside voice, Maxine. For God’s sake. We have company. Mind yourself, girl.”
Jesus, Tracy was a nightmare. No wonder she used her body as a canvas. Rebellion appeared in many forms, and he bet money her pops hated tattoos.
“Sorry, Father,” she amended, adding bass to her voice.
“Meat coming right up!” Low shouted from behind Max. He glanced at AB. “Hope it ain’t too sweet.”
“You’ve never made it sweet, Elliot.”
Jaya was minding her own quiet business. On the phone and smiling about something.
“How long have you worked for Tracy, Jaya?” AB asked, stirring a bit of conversation. “If you don’t mind.”
She looked at Tracy and didn’t speak until he nodded. “Since nineteen-twenty-one.”
“That is a long time.” So Max had been waited on hand and foot since birth. A nanny. Jaya was Max’s nursemaid, what the fuck. He kept a bout of hysterical laughter to himself.
“It is, but I think of them as my family.” She shrugged and beamed. “They are my family.”
“Awwwwww. I love you, Jaya.”
“I love you too, Maxi.”
“Dear god.” Tracy’s disgust shone on his tight features. “What is that smell?”
Jaya’s attention cut to Max.
“Yes.” AB grimaced. “What is it, a skunk?”
“Nah, it ain’t that,” Low murmured, handling the steak platter. They smelled hella good, too. “It ain’t that stank.”
Max and Jaya snorted, but AB missed the joke. “Well, it’s strong whatever it is.”
The man smirked, showcasing a mouth full of golds. Even his fangs gleamed. “I’ve come in contact with more pungent aromas. This one is subtle, but it almost stinks.”
“Elliot, what are you going on about, man?” Tracy looked up at him while a slab was dropped on his plate.
“The smell, Tracy.”
“Oh yes, I may have to call pest control.”
Max giggled and went for the bread. “What is this? Sourdough, yeessss. I love bread. Mostly cause you can put butter on it.”
A 24-ounce T-bone was dropped on AB’s plate; juice splattered. He gaped, staring at his vest. A six-thousand-dollar Taupe Kiton vest, which he had waited two weeks to have tailored, was now stained.
This motha fucka had a death wish.
“I’m so sorry,” Low intoned. “I didn’t know it was finna hit like that.”
“Elliot, that was quite rude.”
AB chuckled, unwrapped his utensils, and snapped the dinner napkin. “It’s A-okay.” Glaring at the male, AB smiled. “Accidents happen.”
Low sniffed and moved on.
“Are you sure?” Jaya asked. “I can get some club soda.”
“Oh Jaya, I fear that’s Vicuña.” The pity on Tracy’s face spoke of a man who understood AB’s pain. “Club soda would compromise the material. I hope it comes out in the dry cleaning.”
“I’m sure it will,” AB said in a delighted tone to shield broiling anger. “What do we—”
“You don’t want no sides?” Low nitpicked as he sat next to his not girlfriend. Who mind you, was an inch away from turning her steak into a pillow.
“No, I’ll take bread, that’s enough for me. Tracy, are you not hungry?”
“He’s vegan.”
AB winced at the unexpected, curve-ball response. What terrible vampire etiquette. “Is that right?”
“Yes,” Tracy said. “The environment is being attacked. And we will be here long after the human waste reaches their expiry date. If we don’t do something, we will be left with nothing.”
“What are we gonna do when they die?” Max asked, as it seemed she’d come to.
“That is too morbid a subject, Maxine.” Her father’s words were terse as he cut into a… tofu, cauliflower, bean… steak, thing. What the fuck did vegans eat? “Such discourse is not fit for a gathering of this nature. So, Jaxon, are you from Miami? Well, you know.”
“Uh, do you mind?” He pointed at a tempting bottle of Cabernet.
“Oh no, of course.”
AB gripped the neck, poured a decent drop, and loved how it’d been aired beforehand. Tracy was a man of class and culture.
“No. No, I am not from Florida. I moved here about eight years ago. I was born in Ireland, moved to London, and then to the States. I’ve been here siiiiince… seventeen-ninety-five.”
“Before its inception?”
“Yeah, my mother and I hopped a Spanish vessel and wound up in Cali. But she lives in London now.”
“Californiaaaaa?” Max sat amazed, and it offered AB more insight. Bet his left nut she’d never been out of state.
“Yes, it was a long time ago.” Slicing into a superb slab of beef, he changed topics quick as hell. “Tracy, you’ve been a busy bee.”
“Indeed, I’ve acquired a lot over my lifetime.”
With an immaculate sliver of beef on the fork, he shoved it between his lips, annnnnnd, heaven sent. Damn it, Low made a mean steak. Succulent, with a glorious char and rare. Rosemary, garlic, onion, cayenne, mesquite, applewood, not charcoal, and sweet cream butter.
“Although you ruined my vest, I must hand it to you. This is a phenomenal steak. It’s top tier.”
Low smiled lazily and lifted his glass. “I’m something like a chef.”
“He is,” Tracy agreed. “Maxine!”
Her head popped up. “Huh? I don’t like Neapolitan ice cream.”
AB chuckled at her… what did the kids call it? State of inebriation. Low thought it was funny, too, but he wasn’t doing any better.
“Are you tired?” Tracy prodded.
“Yeah, bruh.”
“Don’t bruuuuh me, young lady.”
She only laughed. “Steak! Yesss.”
“As I was saying, Tracy, you’ve dabbled in a fair share of real estate.”
He nodded but shrugged it off. “I have. I flip houses.”
Tracy was a liar.
“Ohhh, that explains it. Makes sense.” It did not. And AB had every intention of digging deeper, ‘til he got to the nasty, bitter core. Then he’d make Mr. Bissette an offer he’d dare not refuse. For now, AB would accept the fallacy and enjoy his fabulous meal.
In the end, he had two cuts while they sat outside and conversed. The weather, TV shows, and stupid shit people talked about. AB made certain not to speak on personal matters. He didn’t know them, and putting your business in the street had the capacity to bite you in the ass. So, he kept it nice and easy, even through the hummingbird cake and a bubbly dessert wine.
But as with all things, their fun came to an end. AB had had enough small talk for one night. “Wow, you all sure know how to party.”
“This wasn’t no party…” Max giggled and had a good five minutes left in her. The nodding worsened by the minute. “Oh, you’re an accountant. Meehhhh, boring personality, bruh.”
Tracy clapped his hands. “That’s enough from you, uh… Elliot, will you escort my daughter to her room? She is out of sorts.”
“My pleasure.”
AB bit down on a raunchy comment resting on his tongue.
“I really love your hair,” Max said, allowing Low to manhandle her.
“Thank you.”
“It’s like, blazing.”
“Elliot.”
“Yup.”
He hefted Max bride style and sprinted away.
“I do apologize for my—”
“Don’t do that, Tracy,” Jaya snipped. “I swear you want Max to hate you.”
This was a deep convo not suited for guests. Tracy’s head fell as he sighed. “I have enjoyed your company, Jaxon.”
“You as well.”
On his feet, AB grabbed both the Bottega and his jacket. “I am stuffed, and Jaya, the cake was divine.”
She blushed. “Thank you, but I didn’t make that. Max did, she’s a baker.”
His brows arched. “Oh, okay.” The woman had a way with flour and sugar. That confection was moist as fuck. “Please do tell her I loved it.”
“I will.”
AB left the pair on their own and showed himself out. Halfway to his car, he stopped to admire the Monte Carlo. A sweet, sexy thing she was. He liked how the engine purred, too.
Classy.
“You wanna test drive?” Low emerged from the shadows, like AB couldn’t see or sense another vampire’s presence. The tip of a blunt glowed briefly as he advanced. “I’ll let you ride it. Ride in it, I mean.”
“You’re terrible at come-ons.” AB sniffed and shrugged. “Who uses Swishers anymore?”
“I do, damn. I was outta woods. Stay out Black folks business. You look like the dispensary type. Legal trash. What you smoke? Bongs and vaporizers? Typical white boy shit.”
AB snarled. “You talk a lot.”
“I know. It’s part of my charm, bruh.”
“Your charm?” He scoffed and flicked a hand. “I’m this way. Have a good night.”
“Let me know if you want that test drive.” AB opened his car door while Low tact on bullshit. “Prolly can’t handle it, though.”
He stopped short of getting in and faced the verbose male.
“I’d advise you to ease up while you’re ahead.” AB zoned in on his ass and sneered. “This ain’t what you want, trust me.”
Low laughed, expelling a pillow of smoke and said, “Ain’t? Look at you, so cute. I ain’t trippin’, Red. You too tight in the ass for me anyway. I like my men pensive. But believe you me, I done made more than one alpha turn coy.” Low discarded the blunt and added, “I’ll be sure to tell Max you an accountant annnd pussy.”
Unbelievable. If the male hadn’t vanished, Jaxon would have yolked his ass up. Try to kill him, probably. “Ohhhhhh, my god. I need a drink.”

. I hope yall are ready for quite the ride going forward. READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS AND LEARN ‘EM. I’m not joking. Please take care if dark romance isn’t your thing; feel free to skip certain chapters. These don’t happen in the same chapter or the next, but they are coming, and quickly. Also, I don’t know why I said mild gore because nah, there is quite a bit. For me, it’s mild, but for others, it might be too much. As always, thank you so much for reading, I hope you have a wonderful week.