Chapter 12: Her Majesty

Nieema

Pouring a fresh batch of clove-spiced blood into her coffee, Nieema frowned at the text message. She sucked her teeth and grumbled. It was too early for this shit. Too early to be this pissed. Domestic violence and attempted murder? Demon hunting? In Ravensguard?
“Oooo bitch,” Nieema mumbled, stirring her energy booster. “Somebody will get it for this one.”
“Grandma,” Mace called, the time telling on him. “Gma?”
“Mmm?”
Nieema leaned against the counter and lifted the heated mug to her lips. She paid her gbaby no mind and read another text from Buck. It wasn’t helping her one bit. How the hell had this happened? A Voaremont boy was Jasper’s abusive ex.
“Yes, honey?”
“Why did you call my husband?”.
“Well—”
“You and Mama need to mind yours.”
Nieema scoffed and snatched him right on up with one look. Mace knew damn well not to go there with her. “You might wanna check that tone, sir.”
“I’m sorry, Grandma.”
“Mhm. Listen, I only called to see how he was doing. In case you’ve forgotten, I used to change his diapers. His mother is my best friend. I can see about whoever I like. I can call and text a boy I’ve known for over fifty years. And it just so happens, he’s having marriage troubles.”
Mace smacked his teeth and grabbed a pear from the fruit bowl. “You use that as an excuse to go snooping.”
Nieema considered her grandchild, sipping hot blood and cafe mocha.
“Baby, what are y’all gonna do? ‘Cause Patrick is saying this might be it, and he wouldn’t go into why.”
Mace crunched on his fruit and turned away. He stared out the window and shrugged.
“For years, we talked about kids. He wanted them, and you know I do. After fifteen years, I’m read,y and he’s not. Says he has a few more trips in him and I just…”
Time meant nothing to a vampire. Nieema didn’t even think about it most nights. No point. Perhaps without obligations and a large family, she would. Immortality was a gift. She wasn’t the brooding sort. There wasn’t enough humanity left within for that. But when she saw time pass in the eyes of her grandchildren, immortality seemed cruel. Mace was their first grandchild and more orc than vampire. With his mother only being half, that three percent wasn’t enough. The gray at his temples and increasing laugh lines scared her. She’d never lost a child or grandchild; Mace would be the first. Orcs didn’t live forever.
His father was a chieftain and met their daughter later in life.
Mace had a right to want children as he was on a time frame.
“Oh, honey. I know this is rough. And I know it’s not where y’all wanna be.”
Mace shook his head and dumped the core in the trash. He tucked his hands into his pockets and said, “He’s being dramatic, per usual. I didn’t say nothing about divorce. I’m just tired. I want to find a surrogate and start our family.”
Nieema put her coffee down and rushed to hug her baby. Mace enveloped her in his stocky arms and squeezed.
“Aww, it’s okay, love. It’s gonna be alright. I know these things. I feel them. Stay positive.”
“I’m trying, Grandma. But, God. Marriage is hard.”
“Shit, who you telling?”
She stepped back and slapped his shoulder. “Let me make you some food.”
“Nah, I’m good. I’m trying to lose so—”
“Please! I don’t wanna hear that shit! You got orc blood. There is no losing weight, my boy! Now, sit your ass on down. Don’t make me tell ya twice.”
Mace kissed her head and rolled his eyes into the family room.
“Okayyy, a lil somthin.”
Happy to cook and make her baby smile, she put together a staple. Country fried steak, over easy eggs, and grits, no sugar cause Mace uppity like that. Forty-five minutes later, she slid the big man his plate. He sure didn’t refuse and ate every last bite.
Nieema was okay with a mug of blood and cubes of raw meat. As her stress level ascended, her desire for solids dwindled.
On the way to her office, she heard the door and laughter.
Buck and Jasper entered the house gossiping like elder queens. It was pleasant and welcome after the news from earlier.
At six-hundred years young, Nieema was an old hag and nosy like one too. She wanted to know what made Jasper loosen up around Buckley. The man and his wiles might have won the sultry demoness over.
With curiosity driving her, Nieema jogged back downstairs and sashayed into the kitchen, where Jasper and Mace spoke.
“It’s a pleasure, Jasper. I hope my grandparents been treating you nice.”
The succubus was a sight in all them pastels. Shades of purple complemented her red complexion.
“They’re okay, not too bad.” Jasper waved. “Hello.”
Nieema lifted her chin and eyes after winking at the fine woman. “What have you been up to, Mista?”
Buck snickered, chewed his cinnamon gum, and sauntered toward the icebox. “Despite what went down, we got allat paperwork out the way.”
“Thank god!”
Jasper stepped up, and Nieema smirked as the succubus caressed a single braid. If this were any other night, with anyone else, she’d bite them for touching her hair, but she was soft on this one. Nieema wanted Jasper close enough to touch, to scent, to hold.
Finding out Jasper had been abused set Nieema off. Her irritation reached peak and the sun had just set.
“Jasper, how would you like to come with me tonight?”
She released the blue strand and looked at Buck.
“Well, we were going to Maggie’s.”
“Maggie’s?” Nieema inquired and retrieved her keys from the bowl on the counter. “For what?”
“She wanna learn magic,” Buck said, cheek packed with homemade brownies.
“Is that so?”
Jasper looked too god damn cute in her skirt and colorful scarf. Nieema wished to wrestle her out of that there fancy top and dine for hours. She smelled of caramel and cocoa. Something decadent and bad for your teeth. A forbidden treat to eat in private with drapes drawn and phones on DND.
“Uhm…” Jasper twirled and faced the man stuffing his face. “Can we see Maggie later?”
“Whenever you ready. Imma go to the shop, fill in for the night, and see about it.”
Buck smiled, all nice like, but Nieema knew better. She knew her man. He was up to no good and after his text, the glint in his stare wasn’t a surprise.
Sighing, Nieema made way for her husband and gripped his chin. “Don’t make me come looking for you. Be careful and don’t spill blood. Do you hear me?”
“I ain’t got time for none of that.“
“Buckley?!”
Nieema forced eye contact, and he cackled. “I won’t.”
“Where are you going?” Jasper asked.
Mace muttered in passing, “To cause trouble.”
“I ain’t!”
“You are,” Nieema said. “Which is fine. But don’t kick up too much dust, old man.”
“I won’t.“
She twisted the length of his braid around her fist and yanked his ass down to her level. Nieema demanded a kiss and was given her due. Buck devoured her just as he had the fudge brownie. Chocolate and fruit coated his tongue. Tea leaves, sun-ripened strawberries, and delicate lavender petals.
Buck growled with one hand on her ass. Nieema purred and pushed him off.
“You can’t even get it up,” Nieema hissed.
“That ain’t my fault! It’s the tea!”
“Hm.” Running a hand down her tie, Nieema glanced at Jasper. Her slack jaw and wide eyes painted a pretty picture. “Let’s go, girl. He’s such a tease.”
“I told you, it—“
“The ‘tea’, I heard you love.”
Buck giggled, biting into a second brownie. “Don’t make me pin ya lil’ ass to the ceiling, now.”
“If only!”
Nieema started for the patio doors and threw them open with her supernatural mental abilities. She marched out into a humid night and groaned.
In a mood, thanks to current events, she snarled at a sticky, wet heat. Maybe a power suit wasn’t the best idea, but she was on a mission at the moment.
“Jasper?!”
“Coming.” Jasper arrived seconds later and slowed. “Where are we going?”
“To see my brother.”
“For what exactly?“ Jasper prodded.
“We need to talk with the governor of Misthill, and before I, speak with them. My brother sets the table, so to speak.”
“What do you have to discuss?“
“Buck told me what happened, Jasper.”
She stopped dead, and Nieema halted. The succubus glowed beneath the waxing moon. Gold undertones set her skin on fire, but it was the dimming flame in her eyes that gave Nieema pause.
“Nieema, I let it go. I don’t want to make this an issue. I went to therapy, and I’m done with it. I don’t want to talk about him anymore. I need to move on. This isn’t a big deal, and it’s not your problem.”
“Surely, Buck done told you who I am.”
“He did.”
“Well, then, I’ll have you know this is my problem. You are a citizen of Ravensguard, which makes you my, responsibility. I don’t take demon hunting or any other hunting, for that matter, lightly. If this is anyone’s problem, it is mine. Even if a god had hurt you, I still would have flayed them.”
Jasper scowled, shaking her head. “Why would—you and Buck don’t even know me.“
“I can’t say, for sure.” Nieema shrugged, having no final response as yet. “Alls I know is I like you. You sweet. Plus, you started a brush fire in my chest, and I don’t know how to contain it. What is it about you? I don’t know. But what I do, know is that hunting is against the law, my, law. This will bear dire consequences for anyone, even Trevor Voaremont.”

The End!

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

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

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

Coming Fall 2025!!

F(40) AITA for dragging this stranger M(35) into my botched thieving mission? Listen, I got a bounty on my head, and I have a mystery package to deliver. I don’t even know what I’m doing. I work at a burger joint and live with my parents, but I wanted to do something HUGE for the family. Halfway into this thing, I now realize I wasn’t cut out for this criminal street life shit. I don’t have the stomach for it! He offered to help me! Is this life or death? Maybe. AITA for wanting protection, a free ride, and sexy times as well?

Something spicy, silly, and adventurous is on the horizon! Two idiots fall in love and try not to die in the process. This story is where monster romance, steampunk, and fantasy meet. I am super excited to introduce these two weirdos!

Here is a cute little moodboard!

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

Chapter 11: Steeped In Blue

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

Buck

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

Thank you with a heart symbol

Chapter 9: Fairy Friends

Kit

“A quart of beef stock? What in the Undervell is that?” Kit read the recipe for a common stew and was confounded by three ingredients. “Stock, corn starch, and russet potatoes…Perhaps I can research each ingri—“
“Or,” Julep shouted from his post on the windowsill. “Forgive me because this is a crazy idea, but how about you ask someone!? Maybe Nieema. I like her. She’s vampyre and quite sensual. If I weren’t cursed to hold this feline form I’d make her mine.”
“She is betrothed you whore.”
“Semantics.” Julep’s tail flicked and rolled as he watched chickens peck the soil searching for grubs. He was intent on killing them for how they’d treated Kit earlier. “My suggestion stands. Ask her. Land dwellers seem amiable and dare I say, kind. Encouraging even. I hate them.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
Kit removed his apron, hung it on a hook shaped like a kind of nut, and grabbed his journal. He stopped to boop Julep’s nose. The testy cat hissed and tried to fight him off.
“I hope to have lunch, supper, what have you, at least started before we leave. I’m rather excited about this demolition business.”
“Yes, you ache for violence.” Julep lapped at a paw and brushed it over his ear. “You and I are such alike it scares me at times. Say, on your return would it be alright if I took a walk?”
“Why?”
“I’m bored.”
Kit blinked at his friend, who stared with indifference.
“Julep, you are a liar. You bring me rodents when I’ve expressed how foul they are. You tell me they attack you. Lie. You leave refuse in my bed and say you were ‘sleep shitting’. Lie. Youuu, want at the chickens.”
“I do not!”
“I counted fifteen hens. And I will come back to the same amount or I’ll give you a bath then fit you with a leash!”
Julep hissed once more and lunged at Kit. The bastard took chase and clawed at his ankles.
“You’ll bleed, demon! If you even dare, I’ll fill your shoes with mice!”
Kit yanked open the front door, and Julep escaped in skittish, feline fashion. “You had better run, petulant beast!”
The sun shone in a clear blue sky and mammals bleated. One could say it was a lovely day if not for a seething gentleman blocking the exit.
“Ah, you,” Kit intoned.
“Yeah. Me. I know you touched my eggs.”
“Were those your eggs?” Steeling his spine, Kit sneered. “I didn’t know. I was sure they belonged to the chickens that laid them.”
“Don’t get smart with me, jack!”
“My name isn’t Jack, it’s Kit.”
“Don’t you ever go digging for my eggs.”
Kit growled as Hank’s red eyes sparked. He was within range to catch his death. Clove and bergamot swirled about. The scent was oddly comforting and contradictory of his boorish behavior.
“They are everywhere!” Kit pronounced, holding his ground.
“I don’t give a shit, they’re mine.”
“Surely you’re not using all of them.”
“I am.”
“Liar!”
Hank hissed like the uncouth cave dweller he was and begged for a fight. Kit was born for battle, molded by it. He’d won many wars and made a name for himself. In Undervell, he’d have ripped Hank’s tongue out, pureed it, then spoon-fed him the mush with glee. But this was Indigo Plains, Ravensguard territory.
He did not need to kill this man.
Done with the whole conversation and Hank’s dewy complexion Kit stomped across the porch.
“I have nothing more to—“
“Don’t you walk away from me! I ain’t done. Don’t bother my chickens or my eggs, do you hear me?”
Hank blocked Kit’s path for the second time.
“Get out of my way or I will be forced to cause bodily harm.”
“There you go, threatenin’ me again.” Hank huffed and hiked up his trousers. “You sho’ you wanna ride this stallion, boy.”
“I’m sure Granny not gonna like you pestering her guest.”
The disembodied voice turned Kit around. There, on the overhang, sat a fellow with magenta locs and a bag of crisps. His legs dangled as he smiled and looked to the sky.
“This guest is too god damn nosy!”
“And you too grumpy,” the roof-sitter claimed.
“Indeed.”
“You hush,” Hank grumbled.
Kit pivoted and faced his nemesis. “You have no authority here. Good day.”
“You heard him, Hank. Get goin’.”
“Jo, I wann’t talking to you.”
“You know I do not give a fuck. I will tell Granny.”
Hank resigned and mumbled expletives on his trip down the stone path. With the cantankerous vampire on his way, Kit watched him go. He was a brute with the stature to match.
“Whyyyy, are you on the roof?” Kit asked.
“I was bored, didn’t have nothin’ pressing to do so I figured why not say hi.”
“Hello.”
“Where were you goin’?”
Kit shifted his gaze up and over. “To ask your grandmother a question. Nieema, right?”
“Mhm. Yeah. But she ain’t up yet. ‘Bout another two hours.”
“I’ll wait. But, again, why are you sitting on th—“
Jo laughed, swinging his legs. “’Cus it’s the best place to think. Where you do your best thinking?”
“In the bath.”
“I can see that.”
Kit yelped, clutched his journal, and slid from the landing zone. Jo had jumped from the roof and touched down with unnatural agility. He was rangy and wolfish. His smile remained, showcasing more than several fangs. Kit was unsettled by his friendliness and pointed features.
He’d never seen such a thing.
“You have quite the pair of wings,” Kit said, noticing the subtle twitch and flit. “Your grandmother is a vampire, no? As would be your mother or fat—“
Jo stuffed an orange colored crisp into his mouth and said, “We all mixed up ‘round here. My Mama wasn’t even all vampire. The only one who is, is Granny. My Mama is only half. I got fairy blood mostly. As you can tell from the lifts.”
“Lifts?”
“Another word for wings.” Jo looked to the winding walkway and laughed for whatever reason. “You wanna come with me somewhere?”
“Where?”
“To see a witch.”
“Yes!” Kit gasped. “Let me get my satchel first.”
After running inside for his bag, he filled it with his journal, a bottle of water, and two cashew butter and blackberry jam sandwiches. “I’m set.”
“Why you look like a hobbit on their first adventure?”
“A whaaat?”
“You got the sweater, purse, and hairy hooves.”
“What is a—“
Jo cackled and started their pleasant journey through the field. It was hard to believe this entire stretch of land belonged to a single family. Of course, Carriont owned a manor with thirty-five rooms, a botanical garden, and an amphitheater but to Kit, it felt more like a soggy shoe box.
“Who was the fairy?” Kit asked.
“My dad. He still in Lightbridge. The classless fuck. Got my mama pregnant and bought her a train ticket home. Fairies don’t much like melting pots if you know what I mean.”
“I do not, unfortunately.”
Jo smiled and dragged his feet, the strange coverings slapped the ground in annoying succession. They were hardly useful with the bit of plastic between his toes. Kit shuddered at the sight. Five digit freaks.
“Most folks up north in fairy land don’t mess with vampires.”
“Ahhh, I understand. In Undervell, many don’t like sleep paralysis demons. My father calls them ruffians. The general population ignores them. They’re labeled lazy trash by the media.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“I suppose, in a sense.”
Kit kept a wary eye on the woods. He’d kill a lion and make quick use of its hide. If one even dared try a surprise attack, he’d throttle them.
“Are their lions here?”
“Lions? What, like Simba?”
“Who?”
“Damn, what y’all be watching in hell?”
“Lions, you know? Big golden cats with impressive claws and—“
“Oohhhh, shit!” Jo laughed, and his wings fluttered. “Noooo, no. We don’t got them here. That’s like down south, across Pearl Gulf. Nahhh. No lions. But we do got like, Ore bears, bear shifters, Burling bears, Dust peckers, Harpies, and uhhh spiders. Them big ones.”
“I saw one.”
“Whaaaaat? And you still breathin’?”
Jo tsked and crumpled the empty crisp bag. He slipped it into the pocket of his checkered shorts and smirked. “You’re a bad, bad man, Kit.”
“I was shoved into a closet. I didn’t even get to fight.”
“Ohhh, you know what? Grandaddy said something about that.”
“I’m sure.”
If Jo never spoke, one might be frightened of the young man. He was covered in tribal ink, draped in gold jewelry, and his claws were the darkest shade of red Kit had ever seen. As if he’d dipped them in blood. The color faded at his third knuckle, where an amber, sun-drenched brown shimmered.
Faeries were hideous creatures.
“I’m quite excited to meet a witch,” Kit said.
“You ain’t never seen one?”
“No, never.”
“My grandpa was a witch. Warlock, really. It’s why I got magic in my bones.”
“Sooo, you’re the Sunsides, great grandson.”
“Mhm. Yup.”
“Where’s the rest of your family?”
“Hell if I know.” Jo shrugged and waved at the sheep. The poor devil was insane. “Not everybody set up for town living, and most don’t wanna die here.”
“What nonsense. Indigo Plains is magnificent!” Kit inhaled a deep breath, enjoying the outdoor stench. “It smells terrible, but even I see the beauty here. It’s peaceful and bright. Magical. After sunset, the moon casts an incredible light upon this land. I didn’t want to come here. I mean, I did. But not this soon, and certainly not under these circumstances.”
“What circumstances?”
Kit stopped himself from saying too much. He still had six days to get Jasper home and he was no closer than he had been hours ago.
“My sister, I came to help her with the dire living situation when we were attacked by the spider beast.”
“Riiiiight, right.”
“Young man—“
“Whoa, I’m forty-five.”
“I have trousers older than you.”
The fairy laughed again and shoved Kit’s shoulder. He stumbled into the grass and tried to hold his own chuckle, but failed. They followed the path for another thirty minutes. During such time, the loquacious Jo had stated facts and opinions. He tossed rocks, twirled sticks, and skipped along.
Every so often, Jo stopped to speak with sheep and a huge fucking blue goat with an immaculate set of horns. In that moment, Kit wished he hadn’t shaved his.
He touched the bumpy, raised edge in need of a touch-up and sighed. The Duke had said wild horns were improper for a general with status.
“Why are we going into the wood?” Kit asked, stopping in his tracks.
“This ain’t no forest. Calm down.”
“Woods.” Kit looked from the snaking road to an amused Jo. The damned stones vanished into a void.
Twisting the strap on his bag, Kit took a step back. “I can’t.”
“I told you it’s not a forest, woods, whatever.”
“Not the same thing.”
“This, is a garden.”
Kit scowled. “A garden?”
“Yeah, swear it on my Mama’s heart. Maggie keeps plants and shit like Papa Buck.”
“Wait, he has a garden?”
“Yeah. You saw it on the tour.”
“The greenhouse is his?”
Jo nodded and waved a hand. “Let’s goooo. Got things to do, geezer.”
“What’s a geezer?”
Jo giggled and extended a palm. Kit stared at it, not knowing what to do. “What would you like from me?”
“You somethin’ else, demon man.”
Kit flinched as Jo snatched his hand and gripped it with cold fingers. It’d been a while since anyone other than Jasper had touched him. Shocking and strange as it was, Kit needed the support as they inched forward.
It was fact, he’d led an entire army into battle sixty-four times and had the scars to prove it. Yes, he was known as General Raze the Great Impaler and yes, he saved all of Undervell four years ago, but by gods, the woods turned him into a hatchling. A cowering wee thing on the verge of pissing themselves.
His heart thudded. He couldn’t hear Jo’s prattle over his own chattering teeth. Towering trunks and creaking boughs. They were going to eat him alive! Swallow him whole and dine on his entrails!
A golden light bobbed, causing a brief distraction. Kit sucked in a breath as the tiny being landed on the tip of his nose.
“What—“ The insect buzzed away and Kit tracked its winding movement until it perched atop a luminous flower. “Oh my, it is a garden.”
Flanking their path was an unfathomable amount of blossoms, bushes, and vines. He didn’t know what any of them were called and dared not ask. Miniature winged insects fluttered about while frogs lazed on lily pads in a nearby pond. Sculptures, fountains, and sitting areas gave the area personality.
“Yeah,” Jo said, sighing. “She’s a pack rat. Like, bad. Almost bad as Old Man Joyner. I been telling her they’d make a nice couple.”
“I don’t know what a pack rat is, but it sounds lovely.”
Jo snickered and knocked on a pink oval door. He released his hold and hugged a portly woman with coral-hued curls. Kit appreciated her bespangled hair, studded with beads, both colorful and dissimilar.
“Come, my boy, come. And you’ve brought a friend! Welcome, Kit.”
“You know my name? We have never met how—“
“I know everything that happens on this ranch. I’m Maggie, honey. Now come inside so I can feed you.”
He smiled on a nod and entered the witch’s home. It was a storybook cottage and smelled of freshly baked bread. Kit was pretty good with flour and yeast as well. Though no one had ever tried his loaves except for Jasper.
Herbs hung from the ceiling and above the wood-burning stove. Jars, tea cups, and pottery cluttered every surface. Bowls of fruit and veggies straddled a large tome. Kit was awestruck. Her home was everything he figured it to be. Witches weren’t the neatest bunch. They had spells to complete, wards to cast, and medicine bags to fill. He’d done research on them, too.
Kit had been fascinated with witchcraft its wielders for many years. Powerful beings who pulled words from a page with intention and purpose.
“Sit, sit.”
He obeyed and settled on the sofa next to Jo, who lounged upside down. Feet kicking, he crunched on something and erupted in a squeal of laughter.
“How’s the house business going, Kit?”
“I can’t say. We’re supposed to do the demolition tonight.”
“Yeah, right. Leave it to Grandma Nima. All she wanna do is swing that hammer. There are things you gotta do before the actuarial construction begins. I’m sure Papa Buck is handling it as we speak .”
Kit twisted around to examine the witch. “Are you a relative?”
“I was married to their son, Carter.”
“Was?”
“He caught the travel bug,” Maggie said, cutting into a cake Kit would devour in seconds. “Went off to fight in a war that was no business of ours. Trolls. Quarrelsome. Bah! Anyway, Carter transitioned some twenty years ago. I’m Jo’s grandmother.”
“Ohhh, this is getting rather confusing.”
“I can see how it would. We got ‘bout four generations of Sunsides in this town. Be prepared. Not everyone stayed, but I got more cousins than I can shake a stick at. Here you go, baby.”
Kit hurried to accept the gift of sugar. “Thank you, this looks divine.”
“Divine? You flatter me.”
“Never.”
Maggie blushed and slapped the fairy’s foot. “Jo, sit your behind up. Every which way on my couch. You lost ya mind. Huh.”
“Oooo. Cake!”
Jo hunched over his plate and smiled. “Grandma, is there extra raisins in it?”
“You damn skippy.”
“Mmmm. Carrot cake is the only cake I eat.”
Kit didn’t know what carrot cake was, but the moment bits of carrot, dried fruit, and cinnamon greeted his tongue,e he understood Jo’s comment. It was unlike anything Kit had ever tasted. Soft, moist, with a slight crunch.
“What is that toffee-like morsel?! What brand of heaven is this? Ohhh, Maggie, I have been gifted food from a skilled god of fare!”
Maggie exploded in a crackle of giggles and clapped her hands. “Take that Culinary Arts and kiss my Black ass!”
“Yes!” Kit whooped and raised his fork. “Kiss her Black ass Arts of the Culinary.”
Jo hollered in laughter and choked. He hacked while Maggie patted his back. “Slow down, baby. I told you, chew before you swallow. You know, he came out of the womb with a spoon in his hand.”
“Seriously?” Kit gasped, and Maggie waved a hand.
“You’re hilarious. Not many demons are. I like you, Kit.”
He perked at the compliment, as no stranger had said such things to him before. After scraping crumbs, Maggie ordered him to have another slice. Of course, he agreed.
“Jo, you know them Platter boys stole two more pumpkins from Mr. Carol again.”
“Come onnnnn, Grandma no work talk.”
“No, you gotta do somethin’ about ‘em.”
“I already did, I—“
“You gave them a stern talking to. That ain’t gon’ cut it, this is the third time. You know Mr. Carol is getting his patch ready for the fair.”
Jo finished his last bite and groaned aloud. Kit didn’t see what the issue was.
“Are these ruffians?” Kit asked. “Barbarous thieves?”
“They’re teenagers,” Jo said. “Seventeen and eighteen. Kids. They have an obsession with pumpkins. I don’t know.”
“Are you their ward?”
“What? Nah. I’m the Sheriff.”
“And as sheriff,” Maggie piped, braiding strands of ribbon dangling with charms, “its your job to stop crime.”
“I got deputies for that shit.”
“Boy.”
“Sorry, ma’am. But why I gotta do it?”
Maggie hit Jo with a telling side eye, one even Kit evaded by looking at a stack of thick books on the coffee table. Herbs, stones, and trees. He’d love to read each volume for research purposes.
“You wanna go on a ride-along with me tomorrow?” Jo asked.
“A what?”
“Do you want to ride with me while I’m working. Doing boring sheriff stuff.”
“Absolutely! I’d love the chance to dish out laws and orders. And rid Indigo Plains of all tomfoolery.”
Kit waggled his brows and nudged Jo with an elbow. he snickered.
“You not doing none of that. But I love the enthusiasm.”
“Aw.” Kit slouched into the sofa. “Can I at least arrest someone?”
“I can’t remember the last time I arrested somebody. Maybe five years ago?”
“Wait, but you’re a land-dwelling patron of order, as we call those with authority in Undervell, you must detain and judge.”
“Our courthouse is for like, property cases. Civil suits. There’s virtually no crime here.”
“Save for them Platter boys,” Maggie mumbled.
“Grandmaaaaa.”
“How odd. Jasper said crime is a huge issue in the capital.”
“I bet,” Jo chimed. “And Johnny Law makes it worse.”
“How?”
“I don’t got it in me for a talk like that. Grandma, more cake!”
“You want another piece too?”
Kit tapped his lips and scrunched his nose. “Do…uhm…do a pig shit?”
Jo cackled, stomped his feet, and smacked Kit in the arm.
“Lords,” Maggie rolled her eyes and said, “You sound like Buck already.”

The Unexpected Resurrection of Neon Red and its CWs

About two years ago, I gave Vella a try. It went absolutely nowhere. I don’t know, maybe it was my lack of marketing skills. Anyway, I took Neon Red down six months before Vella shuttered and said I’d release it on D2D or Smashwords. I can still do that. I’m still thinking about it, but I figured why not give Substack a go and see what happens. If it doesn’t pick up after about six months, I’ll bring it here. No big deal. I get more reads through FB than anywhere else anyway.
So, with that being said, I will post Content Warnings here. Neon red is a Dramatic Paranormal Romance. Keyword: dramatic. It’s dark, twisted at times, and messy.
The story follows four vampires. First up, there’s Maxine, a depressed, ninety-eight-year-old divorcée living at home. Then we have Low, a bodyguard intent on fucking up his career and personal life. And because I love chaos, there is Jaxon Aubrey, a genius accountant moonlighting as a drug lord.
Lastly, and not my favorite character, Tracy. Maxine’s father, Low’s boss, and Jaxon’s newest client.
Neon Red is the first in a three-book series I completed four-five years ago. It’s not my best work, but it is fun and enjoyable. I have been editing and tweaking since its Vella days, so it ain’t sooooo bad.
Neon Red is a journey some may not like, and others love. Keep in mind, again, this is a dark story with dark themes. I don’t condone drug use or selling, nor do I care for those who actively destroy lives. This is fiction, and trust, I do not glorify it. There are consequences for every action. If you follow along to the very end, you will see what I mean.
The main coupling is a fast-burning polycule. Mmf. Crossing swords and sloppy toppy for everyone! By everyone! I’ve said it many times, but all these characters are Bi or pan. No assuming, just know!
Also, Maxine and Low are Black. Jaxon is not; he is Irish. I suppose this makes it an Interracial and Black love romance. Neon Red is unapologetically Black, and some language will seem dated. That’s intentional. These are old ass vampires with decades behind and in front of them. Time moves differently when you’re immortal.

Without further delay, the CWs and trope card.

Off-page death of a parent, Depression Murder, Parental Neglect and Financial Abuse Trauma, Mild Gore Blackmail, Drug Selling, Drug Use (weed), Parental Abandonment, Mention of Religious Bigotry, Past Domestic Violence
Neon Red trope card includes Polycule dynamic, plus-size FMC, Secret Relationships, morally gray MCs, Paranormal Romance, Forced Marriage

Chapter 8: Brunch and Buck

Jasper

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

Buck

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

Chapter 7: Lemondrops

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

Buck

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