Low was in his element. Standing over the six-range Viking, he tested his famous gravy. “Mhm. Can’t get no better than that.” Some spent money on cars, jewels, and watches. Nah, he loved plants and kitchen appliances. Subzero, Vikin,g, and Mielie. They were Boujee and pricey, but when you were a homebody, you needed reliable shit. And in this age of obsolescence, expensive goods tended to last longer… as planned. On the menu for tonight was slow-cooked garlic pork roast, fried cabbage, truffle mashed potatoes, and homemade French bread. Not his loaf, but Max’s. The female baked her ass off but could not cook rice. Washing hands, he nodded at the boys who were in the living room, lounging like they had not a care in the world. Low turned the warmer and timer off. “Ashton, can you set the table?” He heard a whistle and shuffling. “Teddie, kill the game boy. It’s time to eat.” “Yup, I’m super hungry.” “I know the feeling, bruh.” Mitts on, he retrieved a loaded pan filled with sizzling meat from the oven and marched to the table. “Ohhhhhh, Low, that looks amazing.” “It’s finna taste better too.” “I believe it. I told Ron you make the best shrimp and grits in Florida. He said, ‘hell nah, my mama does.’ So, I said ‘bet’. You have to make some shrimp and grits now.” The boy talked a mile a minute and took no breaks unless he had to breathe. “How you volunteer me like that?” “Simple. I know yours is better.” Ashton rushed around carrying utensils, cups, and condiments. He loved setting the table, but Low knew it was more so outta habit. Pops made damn certain his sons set the table for their entire lives. Low had done it ‘til moving out at a hunnit and twenty years old. Sides joined the main dish, and seconds later, they were seated. Low ate breakfast or lunch with them, depending on how he felt. But supper was to be eaten at the table. No matter what, at some point during the day, he enjoyed a meal with his siblings. “Hands.” Palms up and outstretched, he gripped the smaller ones. Bowing their heads, Low waited for Teddie. It was his turn. “Lord, we thank you for the food you allowed us to have. And thank you for giving my brother the know-how to cook it, and in Jesus’ name, bless those who are without bread. In Jesus name we pray, Amen.” “Amen.” Low paused talking to stack protein on his plate. “How’s gymnastics going, Teddie?” His brother smiled and passed around the mashed potatoes. “I’m second in ranks.” “That’s what’s up. You been going at it all month. See? Practice makes what?” “Perfect,” Teddie sang. Theodor was a happy teenager on the cusp of manhood. Sixteen, innocent, and never been in the streets or seen a gun. Their parents did well until the moment they left. “I have a shot at the championship this year.” After loading his plate, Low clapped palms with Teddie. “I know you gon’ make it. And if you keep going. You’ll get that scholarship, too.” Teddie beamed, his brown eyes shining with pride. “I know I will. It’s about manifestation. Max told me—” “Here we go.” “What?” Teddie frowned with a mouth full. “She’s right. A positive mindset works. You stick with it and make things happen. When you realize how powerful your own thoughts are, the faster you can wipe out negative energy.” Low laughed and shook his head while chomping on potatoes. Looking at Ashton, he ran a hand over his short, pre-dreads. “And what about you, boy? How are you doing in the band?” Ashton nodded, dropped his fork, and signed. It’s going good, though, I’m still kinda bad. I think the violin is my instrument. I really mean it this time. “Are you sure?” Low asked with a smirk. “You ain’t tried drums yet.” Ashton shook his head and signed. Nah, too noisy. You know I love classical strings. I just had to decide. Cello, violin, flute, clarinet, trumpet. I got the piano down, thanks to Max. But I’m sure it’s the violin for me. I like how it feels in my hands. It speaks to me. This little boy was fourteen and growing too damn fast. Ashton was seven years old when they were abandoned. Now, he wore braces, stood five-foot-seven, and talked about girls. Pretty soon, he and Theodore would be grown men. Time ain’t stop for no damn body. Low smiled, flashing fangs. “Whatever you do, it’s gonna be great, Ash. Once you learn a skill, you excel. I’m proud of you.” Glancing at Teddie, he said. “Both of ya’ll. I just wish I could be there for competitions and recitals. I’m sorry about that.” The middle brother shrugged. “You always say sorry for things you can’t control, Low. You didn’t ask to be a vampire who has a sun allergy. It’s the weirdest thing. Don’t you think, Ash?” He nodded and signed. It makes no sense. And then, one day, I’ll be allergic too. But I’m more of a night person, anyway. “Yeah, but you remember,” Teddie shoveled cabbage and snorted. “You remember when I put garlic in your room?” “I do.” Low sipped his cold, sweet blood happily and smiled. “That was when I first told you, right? Yeah, yeah. Y’all wanted proof so bad. You put garlic under my pillow and about burned me to death.” He side-eyed Ashton, ‘cause that sneaky boy got him fresh out the shower. Low walked into his room, and Ash ripped the curtains aside. Ashton rolled his eyes and signed. I believed you afterwards. “Yeah, I would hope—” The doorbell interrupted their chatter. Standing, Low checked the time. 9:30 and barely vampire hours, but he had called for Mrs. Piper to watch the boys, since they ain’t know how to act. Hitting a u-turn, he jogged out of the kitchen and hustled for the door. “Max?” She waved from beyond the glass. “Hay, baby. I was just about to text you, too. I was finna hea—what’s wrong?” Her feet dragged along with her face. Maxi was a positive ball of happy-go-luckiness. Sometimes, her never-ending jubilation got on his last damn nerves. But when Low closed the door, sadness clogged a dark silence as her forehead met his chest. “What’s the matter, Max? Talk to me,” Low said, his demand terse. Linking arms around him, she mumbled. “What is it?” He stepped into the bar area, entrance adjacent, and sat on a stool, pulling Max onto his lap. “Woman, you gotta speak up.” Low hated it when she was sad and blue. It didn’t feel good on the inside. Cupping her cheek, he yanked off the frames and tossed them on the bar-top. “I’m getting married,” she muttered, about ready to cry. Low heard those words, but the loud racket behind his ribs made it tough to make out. “You what?” “I’m getting marrieeeed.” Hands dropped away as he recoiled. Who would have thought he’d care this much? Low remained willfully ignorant for years. He refused to scrutinize what had blossomed between them for his sanity, her mental health, and the job. They had an agreement, an arrangement that worked great, but… “When did you meet somebody?” he asked, unable to look at her. Staring at rows of top-shelf liquor and hanging martini glasses was a better game plan. The sudden feeling of betrayal had him fucked up. It was unwanted and ridiculous. They were grown adults who set boundaries from the first time they… “Low?” “You said we would tell each—” “Oh, my god. No, I didn’t meet anyone.” He cut back to Max with questions. “I don’t understand.” “My dad did this.” He jacked to his feet and paced. “What the fu—what the fuck?!” Linking fingers atop his head, Low halted and gawked. “Are you playing with me right now?! Max, don’t play. Please don’t.” “I’m not. This guy named Matthias came over, and basically, I have to…” Some shit hurt Low’s feelings, other things turned his pillows red. Then some issues and dilemmas made a man wanna rip his own heart out. And to be trill, this was the second time Low felt the latter. As Max explained the whole ordeal, he wanted to vomit. What was finna happen? Was Raymond Lawry going to take her away? Would they move out of state? The bleak thought threatened every bite he swallowed. “Is everything okay?” Teddie asked. His concern called Low’s muddled mind into the present. “Uh, yeah.” He nodded. “It’s fine. Max, baby, you hungry?” Shaking her head, she smiled. “Hay Teddie.” “We have mashed potatoes.” He knew how much she loved the spud. Ashton ran in next, slipping on socked feet, and slammed into her. “Hi, kid,” she chimed as the boy pulled her into the kitchen. “Guess I’ll have a bite.” Both of his brothers were taller than she, but it never stopped the woman from babying them. Low was about to flip. Like, he needed to smoke, or he’d kill one of his children. Not the boys, but a plant. They were his kids. Well, not all. Some were closer to him than that. “See.” Teddie showcased a tub crammed with slices of bread. “He even let us have some. Cause you know he’s stingy with it.” “It’s mine, the eff you mean.” Low barked. Max gave him the nastiest scowl in return. “No.” She snarled and said, “I will tear you up. Y’all can have as much as you want, and if you like, I can make another batch tonight.” When they sat, Low cleared his throat. “Mhm, nah, I’m heading out. Which means you are too.” “I don’t wanna.” “You do.” He smirked. “Where are we going?” Max asked, handling baked goods. She smeared butter on its fluffy white top. He shrugged. “Don’t know. I ain’t the one driving.”
Good evening, y’all. I know it’s late, but it’s still Friday! This is a win! Also, I am writing this half asleep, but I did it. I really hope you have a terrific weekend, and per the norm, I want to thank you. If not for y’all, I wouldn’t keep doing this. Your time and interest mean everything. Have a wonderful Memorial weekend, loves! Byyyyeee.
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.
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.
From room to room, they traveled and talked at length about decor. Jasper had never thought about her space to such a degree. Color palettes, woods, textures, lighting, and focus points. Turns out she knew Jack shit about her own wants and desires. She’d never been asked so many questions in her life. Favorite color, time of day, and animal preference. Was she nocturnal or more of a morning person? Thirty minutes into their walk, Jasper was comfortable and ready for the work to begin. “I don’t want black in here either,” Jasper said, standing in what would become her gaming room. “I want chill vibes but happy. This is where I’ll be spending the majority of my time, so I’m going for comfort. Relaxation, you know?” Dorthy nodded, scanning the space. “Muted shades of purple, blue, and indigo.” “Yes!” Jasper pointed at her and said, “Exactly. Blackout curtains and sexy art.” “What you mean by sexy?” Buck asked, arms crossed and booted foot propped just so on a ratty box. “Artistic nudes.” Jasper pinned her sights on the man and advanced. “Neons, paintings, and whatever else Dorthy can cook up. I love the female form.” Buck scoffed, chewing his cinnamon gum. “Guess you and me got somethin’ in common.” Jasper smirked, inches between them. She sighed and flicked his hat. Buck’s fixed attention called her bluff while his scent and soul tempted a starved succubus. He was thick on her tongue, sweet, smoky, and nutty. All things she didn’t need. As his gold fangs gleamed, Jasper shoved both hands into her pockets. She met his molten gaze. “I fear we have too much in common, Buck.” “I know exactly who to call,” Dorothy tapped on her phone and muttered. “No hologons. I’m thinking sconces. Straddling the hearth. Focal lighting will be perfect.” “Rugs,” Jasper announced, snatching free of his enchantment. She spun about and sauteed towards the exit. “I want fluffy rugs. No carpet. Just area rugs and shit.” “Perfect,” Dorthy piped from behind. “I’d love to keep the old personality of this home. Woods, sitting areas, and the sun room! What would you say to stained glass?” “Isn’t it colorful?” “Indeed.” Jasper stopped on the main level and shrugged. “Whatever you think is best, I’m down for, as long as we stick to no black. No stone. And natural light down here. I want cozy, not drafty, lived-in, not sterile. I wanna feel like I’m walking into my place of peace and happiness.” Dorthy beamed, nails clacking against her screen. “It’s been sooooo long since anyone has given me this much decorating freedom.” Jasper leafed through Dorthy’s portfolio, loving the work. Her home was in good hands. “I trust you, Dorthy.” Buck grumbled, and Jasper grimaced. “What the fuck? You’ve been doing this all day.” “You got enough, Dorthy?” Buck clipped. hands on his hips. He stared out the bay of windows and sniffed, clearly annoyed. “We gotta get going.” “More than enough, I’d say.” Dorthy extended her palm, and Jasper shook her delicate hand once again. “You are a dream client, Jasper. It will be my pleasure to bring your vision to life. If you’d like, feel free to e-mail me pictures, art, or decor that speaks to you.” “You’re going to get sick of me.” “Doubtful. The more you find, the easier my job will be.” Dorthy gathered her briefcase and purse before heading out. She cleared her throat, and Buck gave a stiff nod in return. Blood was cold and sour between them. Jasper was curious,s but it wasn’t her business. “Glad she’s gone.” Buck shook his head, watching the woman get in her car. “She cheated on my great-grandson.” “Ohhhhhhh.” “Mhm.” “It makes sense now.” “She ain’t no good, but what do I know?” “Why did you want her to help if—” “She’s still family and the mother of my grandkids. Two of whom are still in school.” Jasper wanted to speak on how his emotions faded from gray to blue to pink. He was proud and protective of his family. She found his unabashed display of love and how he wore it on his shoulder refreshing. “You adore your grandchildren.” “Every last one.” Buck cracked his gum and stomped for the door. “Let’s get on.” “Where are we off to now?” “To see your realtor.” Jasper winced and followed the man to his car. She thought he was joking until they pulled up to Hawke’s office ten minutes later. “You’re serious.” “As a god damn digger bear in spring.” “Oh shiiiiit.” Jasper hopped out of the vehicle and kept with Buck’s pace. “You think he knew about the state of my place?” “Yup.” Jasper’s face heated, and the base of her horns itched. Clenching her fist,s she bit her tongue. There was no need to barge into his business and start a scene. It wasn’t that big of a deal. She didn’t want to inconvenience anyone or— “You got three seconds to start talking!” Buck stormed into Hawke’s office and loomed. Jasper waited beside him, keeping her lips sealed. Hawke’s big yellow eye flung to her as he dropped his phone. “What uhm—what can I—uhm, what do you need Bucko?” Buck planted palms on Hawke’s desk and growled. Jasper’s breath hitched, and stomach caught fire. She flushed with heat and grinned as Hawke grew anxious. He was ripe with apprehension and fear. “He’s scared,” Jasper added. “What you scared for Hawke?” “I—I—what can I do for you, Ms. Marrow?” She scowled, ready to flay this man. “What can you do for me? How about you start by telling me why you let me buy that cursed fucking house?!” “Cursed?” Hawke showcased his sweaty palms and trembled. “I don’t know nothing about a curse. That house has been—” Buck leaped over the desk and landed in front of Hawke. He smacked the man’s ruddy cheek and kicked his chair into the file cabinet. “You fixin’ to lie to me, boy?” Buck hiked his chin. “I can smell them tall tales. Lie again and see where it gets you.” Hawke was a mess of fried nerves as he stammered. “Look, I don’t know who they were, but somebody left me a note!” “A note?” Jasper queried. Bile rose to the top and bubbled. Hawke nodded, glasses slipping down his nose. “Yeah. A note and ten thousand in cash. They told me to email you the listing directly.” “Shit.” She cursed, rubbing her forehead. Jasper knew damn well who gave him the note. “This can’t be happening. I thought it was a normal notification from another realtor site.” “It was, sort ot. I just sent it to you personally.” Buck situated the tip of his boot on the chair, between Hawke’s legs. The man blanched and stuttered. “Why was you looking to sell that haunted piece of shit anyway?” “It’s easy money!” Hawke squeaked, eyes glittering with a promise of tears. “People love flipping houses. They love a project, but they never stay there long. In the end, I still get paid and always have a listing. But I swear, Buck, I don’t know nothing about a curse. On my Mama’s life, I didn’t know.” It was important to note how humid the air surrounding Buck had become. Jasper sensed his roiling nature and tapped his shoulder. He shoved the chair, making Hawke yelp. “You will give Jasper that ten grand you got. Every fuckin’ dollar, you hear me?” “Every cent.” Oddities persisted as he sneered. She clocked them quickly. Thorns on the pads of fingertips, the vine-like tattoos twisted and slithered beneath thin cotton. Jasper’s interest piqued as the potted plant on Hawke’s desk wilted and died as Buck vacated the office. “You’re an asshole,” she asserted in passing. “And I want it by Friday.” He nodded, and she snapped her fingers, forcing the gentleman to take a nap. He wouldn’t even wake to piss. It was payback for being a creep. Jasper exited the establishment with confidence and unstable emotions. Buck leaned against his big old car and puffed on a pipe. It was quite the dignified sight. Where she came from, males who mattered smoked from pipes. They held themselves to a higher standard and dared not roll their own ashleaf. “Smells good,” she said. “What is it?” “My special batch. Dusts, powders, florals, magical minerals, and my wife’s hot honey.” Jasper folded arms atop the roof of his gorgeous ride and observed. “I’m sorry? Did you just say—” “I like how she settles at the back of my throat. The smoke brings out her flavor real good.” Buck’s easy, cool response and dominance disturbed her. Jasper should have been the one in control, taking the reins and telling Buck where to go. It was quite obvious he wasn’t her usual case. Claw clicking on metal, she observed. His attention wasn’t coy or playful. Smoke swirled and framed his ravishing, strong features. “What’s on your mind, Jasper?” Speaking to that would’ve been a dire mistake. One she was unwilling to make. “You’re disgusting.” Buck smirked. “I don’t wanna be nothing else.” “I’m sure.” Jasper huffed and opened her own door. After slamming it shut, she fought to steady her pangs. She was famished and craving as if she hadn’t nibbled on the man for hours. Undervell gods, be with her. Buck was dense and full-bodied. His desire ripe, dripping with want. She could appease, play him well, and satisfy without touching, but the intimacy of it all scared her. “Where are we going now?” She asked, voice rising above the loud, rumbling engine. “The store. We gonna do a little training and see if you got what it takes.” “For what?” “To run shit. We need somebody who does well under pressure. Someone who can provide excellent feedback and communication, service when time calls for it.” Buck’s eyes drifted from the road to Jasper. He held firm and switched gears. The air was taut and humid. Jasper would not be swayed or pushed. “We talking customer service or something else?” His smile and smoke lingered. Jasper liked every base note. Cherry, vetiver, and something unique. She snickered, knowing the undercut’s source. One thing about Buck Sunside, he cherished and adored his wife. This important detail, among others, rs made him the sexiest man she’d ever met. “Thank you.” “For?” Bucked asked, annoyed. “Helping with Hawke. I didn’t think it was actually this bad, but—” Thinking about Trevor left her flushed and cold. “You didn’t have to, but you did.” “Funny how you think coming to your defense was a choice. As a grown man with status, means, and might, it is my duty and honor to help those who are unable. Not that you aren’t capable, Jasper. “It’s just, I know succubi intimately, and you, darlin’, are warm-hearted. Strange. Unlike your sisters in many ways. Hawke preyed on your goodness. That old bird is, in fact, a vulture shifter who can’t wait for some easy pickings. I ain’t gon stand for it.” His conviction and potent lust worked against her. Jasper didn’t want this man or any other. This was the fallacy she’d repeated to herself daily. It was to keep her afloat. The hunger in his eyes was more than she could bear. Jasper set her gaze beyond the window and decided on silence. If Jasper dared to speak another word, she’d make Buck pull the car over and bury himself between her clamped thighs.
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. ✨🩷✨
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.
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.
CW: SMUT. I’m not being funny here. SMUT is below. If yall have been waiting for it, here you go. Annnnd, there is more to come. A lot more.
This is for you. The one who loves women with horns and fangs.
From 12 to 1 am they settled in the shop, talking about drawings and patches. Quilts and patterns carried their conversation, and Nieema was fine with it, for a spell. Until Jasper’s blood enticed and entrapped. Nieema wanted a taste and a nibble, a long sip of her rich demonic blood. Their’s was unique and worth a few gold bricks. It was thick, fatty, and filling. With every jump of Jasper’s pulse, Nieema swallowed and clenched her thighs. The small office didn’t do shit but make her agitated. In proximity, Nieema inhaled her scent, gulp after greedy gulp. By 2:30 in the morning, they were drunk on wine and comforting chit chat. Nieema downed a bottle of Pink Potion and loved the buoyancy in her step. Something light and bubbly with ab-positive droplets had her lit and loose. At around 3 am, they skipped on downstairs and sashayed through the game room, hooking a quick left. Nieema pressed her thumb to the reader, and it beeped upon entry. “Welcome to the Lush Room,” Nieema slurred, twirling into the mess of blankets, pillows, and furs. Dim, blue bulbs ushered them into an intimate setting. One with soundproof walls, fluffy handcuffs, and feather ticklers. It was the testing room, so to speak. The place she brought new friends before heading out to the barn. An appetizer before the main course. As the door closed, Nieema collapsed onto a mound of throw pillows and tugged at her tie. Jasper was already crawling on her hands and knees, giggling like a minx. Her ripe, red berry complexion glittered with goldenrod speckles. From the column of her neck, they swirled and dipped. The blouse drooped as Jasper settled on her side. “Where are we?” Jasper asked, the soft white wine claiming her tongue. “It smells good.” “Incense, love.” “I like them.” “And I, like you,” Nieema admitted. Keeping space between them, she lounged behind the demoness and snatched the tie free. Nieema tossed it aside and hummed. “What you got to say about that?” Laughter caused her soft belly to ripple. “I don’t know.” “A coy succubus? That’s some shit you don’t see every day.” “I…you don’t come across vampire queens every day either.” “True. But I don’t think shyness is your thing.” “It’s not.” “That’s what I’m saying.” Nieema loved being tipsy off her ass, but she loved pussy more. And she enjoyed this woman’s scent too much not to speak of it. “You intrigue me, Jasper.” “You already said that.” “I want to taste you.” The succubus rolled onto her stomach, propped on her forearms, and smirked. “I bet you do.” Nieema purred and popped the first three buttons on her shirt. “There she is. Where have you been hiding?” “It’s cause I’m drunk.” Jasper pushed upward and made her way over. Nieema wasn’t one to hesitate. She threaded claws through Jasper’s short, white tresses, avoiding her horns. “Will you let me savor you, deary?” Nieema asked, tightening her hold. Forcing Jasper to meet Nieema eye to eye. Between her legs, she whined with glassy eyes and parted lips. Arousal wafted, nestling and growing within. The moment Jasper nodded, Nieema flexed below the belt and growled. “Please.” “Begging will get you nothing. Not with your inebriation. We gotta sober up, love.” “How?” 0Nieema grinned, staring into Jasper’s blazon desperation. Using her mystical will, she called forth the vial tucked behind a pillow on the far wall. The cobalt bottle flew across the room. Nieema caught it without an upward glance. “This,” Nieema began, shaking the vial, “is your sobriety. It will wake you right the fuck up and revitalize you. Clarity in seconds. Would you like a bit, Jasper?” “Are you—you’re not taking advantage of me?” “Of course not, I’m a bitch, a killer, and often a meddling grandmother, but I am never a piece of shit predator. I know how they portray us in the media, and to that, I say, fuck you. Your consent and autonomy mean something in this house.” Jasper nodded again and licked her lips. “Yes, I want some.” “Open for me, love.” Jasper’s pupils shrank and elongated; it was a characteristic Nieema knew well. It was a succubus on real life demon time. The woman showcased her long, ridged red tongue, and Nieema squirmed. She loved its pointed tip and prehensile nature most. Nieema twisted the cap and pinched the rubber top, filling it with a single, potent drop. “You ready?” Jasper rumbled her displeasure, and Nieema laughed, releasing a magic liquid pearl. The shimmering jade bead was absorbed on impact. Not a second later, Jasper gasped. She bolted upright and placed a hand on her chest as Nieema administered her own. Closing her eyes, she let magic have its way. Weaving through her nervous system and washing them veins. The powerful liquid attacked her motor functions and brightened the world. The Lush Room was still blue, but Jasper’s eyes were vibrant, and the gold trailing her limbs called for a closer examination. “I’ve got to be more than sober,” Jasper said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this awake or energized in my life. And that’s after dining on some heady masculine soul.” “Perfect, that’s exactly what I want to hear.” Nieema shoved the bottle behind a pillow and asked, “What you wanna do? You’re free to go, or stay. But my proposal stands.” Sitting back on her knees, Jasper considered Nieema for a cool minute. Her fixed, molten copper attention was welcome. “All you want is my blood?” Nieema took to onyx cufflinks and smirked. “No. Not even close, but it will suffice.” She rolled up her sleeves and beckoned Jasper with the deliberate flick of two fingers. “You will satisfy me, demon.” Jasper lifted her skirt and inched forward on her knees, locked into their visual connection. “Be gentle with me, you’re my first vampire.” “It is an honor,” Nieema rasped, pulling Jasper in by her luscious waist. Pliant and plush, she was divinity in motion. Hiking up, Nieema grinned and brushed Jasper’s smooth cheek with an adorned knuckle. She searched for cracks and fissures as the demon looped its arms around her. An incredible warmth settled on the skin and penetrated, bone deep. Nieema sighed and grazed her lips upon Jasper’s shoulder. Her scent thickened in the sweet spot. Behind the ear and in the blessed crook, Nieema inhaled once more, unable to pinpoint her blood type, and that alone thrilled an old, seasoned bitch. “You are rare indeed, love.” Jasper reared back with her chin high and silver brow arched. The jewels at her neck and ears winked under the blue hue. “Are you going to talk the whole time or take what you need?” Nieema cupped her nape and kneaded her plump, dimpled hip. “Needy, impatient, and overcome with desire. You are wearing my favorite perfume.” She yanked Jasper forward and stopped centimeters from her parted lips. Nieema growled. A whisper of contact was enough to make her ache and swell, yearn for Jasper’s supple flesh. “Be of care, sweet flame. Wish not for what you do not understand.” Her resistance was futile. Jasper jumped the line and kissed Nieema first, fighting for the dominance Succubi love so god damn much. Their fervent, hot-headed nature and mounting desire were a call to action. An intense pressure coiled in Nieema’s belly and settled between soaked walls. Dark fragrant woods, blood orange, and cocoa provoked her thirst. Jasper straddled Nieema, teased and tested, wanting the underhand. She wouldn’t find it here. To prove a point, Nieema bit Jasper’s bottom lip, drawing a razor-thin line of blood to the surface. The demoness winced and recoiled, fingers to the healing slit. “Take it easy, honey. You don’t got no status here. I run this shit, understand?” “For now,” Jasper snarled. Her warped, guttural response made Nieema shudder and groan. Hands clasped on either side of Jasper’s face, she went all in for a second time and consumed the daring devil. They were enraptured, undone, and pining for more of what the other wanted to give. Nieema demanded entrance and sought to plunder as Jasper surrendered. This moment was familiar, yet unlike the other Succubi Nieema had lain down. Their carnal connection claimed the very breath in her lungs and threatened obliteration if she didn’t find release soon. On the dangerous precipice of bliss, Nieema severed their physical tether and nibbled her way down to the golden pulsating vein. Nieema kissed and nipped at her hot, cherry-red flesh. “Do it!” Jasper commanded, her demonic will shifting the pressure and oxygen level. It’d have no way with Nieema; she was an old, craggy vampire with power of her own. “You demand nothing of me,” Nieema whispered. “But I will take all from you.” With growing hunger and marrow boiling, Nieema snapped Jasper’s head to the side and punctured her throat with fangs longer than a tea finger. Her willing donor scrambled for purchase, claws ripping Nieema’s shirt to tatters. Scratching and moaning, Jasper gasped with them, body to body. Nieema held tight to Jasper’s sturdy feminine frame and purred as decadent blood squelched her hunger. Well-rounded and evenly spiced, Jasper’s blood was full. It surpassed melted chocolate, sugar cane syrup, and honey butter. It satisfied Nieema’s massive sweet tooth. She was a delicacy. “You feel so goood.” Nieema yolked her, still pulling from her healthy vein. “Oh god, what—what are you doing to me?” Jasper keened, claws digging into Nieema’s back. She took the pain willingly and longed for her to go deeper, to pierce sinew. “Touch me,” Jasper begged, with the roll of her hips. “Please, Nieemaaaa. Stroke me. Fuck me!” She pleaded like all the rest, and Nieema was happy to oblige. As she chuckled, sucking down what this woman was so intent on giving, she released her hip. Nieema slowed and sipped as she hooked a finger into Jasper’s waistband and pulled. Her nostrils flared, scenting her precious arousal. A thick, sweet musk made her grunt at the demon’s neck. “I’m so fucking close,” Jasper said, words running together, sticking to her tongue like honey. Nieema reveled in this and her blossoming arousal. It was thick enough to drink and swallow. Succubi desire stained the air and quickened one’s libido. Nieema may have been aged like fine, fairy wine, but she wasn’t immune to all succubi’s wiles. This proved fact was the second she shoved a hand between Jasper’s trembling thighs. Her pussy was bare, soaked, and plump. Ample lips pleased Nieema so much she moaned and swallowed another ounce of blood and breathed in her lucious scent. It caused Nieema to buck and find the demoness’s big, swollen clit. She slapped it twice before rolling it with two fingers. Wide open and streaming, Jasper’s waters flowed, dripping down the inside of her thighs. “Nieema, please!” Without delay, Nieema traced her puffy, hot entrance and pushed inside. Two fingers deep, she sucked on Jasper’s neck as her own pussy clenched and stomach tensed. Her nipples hardened, and lungs worked overtime. “Yesssss, right there, baby.” Jasper slumped, and Nieema took all her weight as she let the feel of this woman’s demonic pussy take her away. Succubi were tight and slick, with walls made for massaging. Jasper tightened, and Nieema pulled hard at her throat and undulated. They writhed against each other, breast to breast, panting. Nieema sank into Jasper and added a third finger. “Fuck! Yes, shiiiiiit,” Jasper rasped, pumping her hips to meet Nieema’s motion. As her desire replaced the oxygen, Nieema purred louder and locked onto her jugular. With fingers working the inside of Jasper’s gripping pussy, they moaned as one and rode an erotic, humid high. Nieema growled, feeling a hand on the outside of her pants. With a final, long gulp, she detached from Jasper’s throat and roared. “Get me off. Make me nut right on your hands, love.” Nieema mewled as Jasper quickly unbuttoned her pants and dove inside. The fingers on her clit, the ones in Jasper’s pussy, and the blood in her veins sent Nieema into a fit. She stroked between the succubi’s walls, the melody of her wet, sopping pussy delighted Nieema’s senses and tipped the scales. She shouted curses as red exploded behind her eyes. Nieema collapsed onto a bed of pillows and undulated. While Jasper rode her fingers, she arched into a filthy fucking clit twirl and purred aloud. With the world on fire and her lungs stalled, Nieema came apart at the seams. She strained, hooking legs around the sexy demoness. “My Undergods!” Jasper heaved, her face into a pillow. Fluttering and leaking around Nieema’s fingers, she cursed yet again. “Shit!” Nieema scrubbed her face with a blanket and chuckled. “You sure know how to make a first impression, girl.”
Once again, I want to say thank you for reading my little story. Without y’all, I wouldn’t keep doing this. So just know, I am grateful for each and every one of you. I hope you are healthy, happy, and HYDRATED!If you have any questions about the characters, the story, Indigo Plains, or in general, please don’t hesitate to comment or email!
Jasper had nothing staring down the small, mighty woman. Nieema was an undeniable force. Her words were honest; Jasper tasted not a single lie. The confession simultaneously scared and comforted her. This person, these strangers, both Buck and Nieema, stood in her corner. Without question or hesitation. “I don’t know what to say,” Jasper whispered, touching and pinching her chains. “You don’t have to say anything.” Jasper may have been taller, but Nieema was the protector here. “Okay.” The vampiress gave a curt nod and said, “You’re safe with me, deary.” Nieema patted the hand at her throat. “No need to be anxious, now. I ain’t gon’ bite.” The air shifted, from tense to flirtatious, and Jasper was thankful. “I do.” “Tuhuh!” Nieema pursed her lips and spun on her boot heels, heading their journey once more. “With fangs like yours, you had better.” Jasper dared not blush, though her cheeks heated all the same. Lucky for her, Nieema didn’t catch it. Sure, she was a succubus and had years, decades, a century of courting under her belt, but this… a vampire? She’d never crossed a line with one, and their intensity was a great reason not to. Jasper burned hot on her own; she didn’t need another passionate soul in her bed. And what were vampires if not the embodiment of passion? “Where are you off to?” “I already told you.” Following Nieema around the corner, she caught up with her in three skips. At five-two-ish, the woman’s tiny legs didn’t take her too far. “Okay, buuuuut why are we walking away from your truck?” “We ain’t taking my truck.” “Theennn—“ “You see that?” Nieema motioned toward a cluster of grazing horses. “That’s our ride.” Jasper squealed and clapped. “Horses?! We’re gonna ride? Oh my under gods! It’s been years since I saddled up.” Nieema scoffed and said, “You being a rider don’t surprise me none.” “You’re terrible.” “You been warned.” They shared a silent, fleeting moment and smiled. Jasper tucked hands into her skirt pockets and set her sights on the pasture. It was better than ogling or touching the woman without permission. Her fingers twitched and palms itched with an odd desire to stroke Nieema’s full cheek. “Why don’t you have a stable?” Jasper asked. “No need, these are my wildlings.” “Your, what?” Nieema whistled high, and it carried. The resonant peal was more of a serenade, a calling. The herds response was immediate. They galloped and trotted toward them with alarming speed. The ground rumbled with their swift approach. Jasper stepped back, preparing to run if needed. She wasn’t in the mood to be trampled, squashed, or bedridden for the next week. Granted, demons healed quicker than most, but she’d never fractured her spine or skull. A sharp, short whistle from Nieema stopped every last horse. Jasper was astounded by their width and height. The snorting and wild group shone in shades of red, brown, and evergreen. Majestic and beautiful, gold, silver, and red petted their wavy manes. “What breed?” “Murkwood. They are large enough to carry an orc and their wares.” “Magnificent,” Jasper muttered, assessing a fine speckled horse with blue irises and horns. They snorted and nudged her. “Hello, beautiful.” “That’s Pots, she likes you.” “And I like her. Haaay Pots.” The animal gave another snuffle, and Jasper laughed, patting Pot’s snout. “You are a lovely girl.” “She is, but we ain’t riding her. She’ll throw your ass off and laugh about it. Chester!” The bulky red horse pranced, circling them. “You not cute! Why you showing out in front of company? Get over here, you diva.” Chester was happy to greet Nieema, and she him. They were adorable, and Chester was intelligent. His searching eyes and telling dance spoke of his effervesant personality. “Now, you wanna get on up?” Nieema asked. Jasper quirked a brow and gestured. “How? Chester is taller than me! I don’t see stirrups, a saddle, or reins.“ “They’re too smart for all that shit, trust me. They know where to go, when to stop, and when to move ass.” Jasper knew horses; undervell didn’t have cars. They had the railway and carriages, pulled by a demon-bred horse. She’d been taught to ride at the age of four. So yeah, she understood these creatures, but never had she seen them perform on their own without direction. Even human-bred mares and stallions needed instruction. “Does this have something to do with magic?” Nieema’s slow smile was to die for. The show of fang wasn’t bad either. “Nowww ya getting it. You want my help?” “Sure, yeah, okay. Give me a boos—whoa!” Nieema had clutched Jasper by the waist and hoisted her high. “Mind that skirt, girl.” On the horse, Jasper giggled and patted their flank. She peered down, into Nieema’s prodding gaze. “You and Mr Sunside think y’all are slick. You’re not. But you are the first woman to pick me up. I’m feeling a way about that.” “Good, I hope you do.” Nieema jumped and mounted with ease, only a gravity-defying goddess possessed. She settled in front of Jasper and tapped her calf. “You gon’ wanna hold on to me, Chester don’t know how to do nothing slow.” “If this is your way of getting me to touch you—“ A terse whistle put Chester in motion. Jasper yelped as she was almost thrown from the steed. “Hollly shit!” She wrapped arms around Nieem’s plush waist and tucked her face into the woman’s hair. “I told you.” Jasper laughed as Chester galloped towards the mountainside. As if Nieema cracked a whip, his speed ratcheted until scenery blurred and Jasper’s ribs rattled. Wind rushed between her horns and set her free. Jasper had never been one for flying; she hated it, naturally. Most demons preferred both or all four hooves on the ground. “Is he going to stop?!” Jasper shouted, heart beating somewhere in her ass. She had never been in a wreck, even when learning how to drive a motorized vehicle. The thought of a head-on collision terrified her, and what about the horse? “There’s a gate! He should stop! Chester! He has a death wish!” The speed demon stopped on a dime, mere feet from towering iron gates. Nieema erupted in shrieking laughter and dismounted in a single fluid motion. “It’s not funny,” Jasper snapped. “Yeah, it was, you were scared as a spring chicken with a fox on its tail. Come.” At the ready, Nieema outstretched her arms and smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll catch ya.” Right into her trap. Jasper groaned and shook her head, but slid down into Nieema’s embrace. She was small but strong. It was no surprise with her being a vampire and all, but it still caught Jasper off guard. Not too many lifted a woman of her size. Standing at six-feet-tall, before heels, with a good three hundred pounds on her, most weren’t physically equipped to handle Jasper. Let alone someone a full foot shorter than her. On her own two feet, Jasper cleared her throat and removed her hands from Nieema’s shoulders. “Thank you.” “You are most welcome.” Nieema snapped her cuffs and righted the knot at her throat. “Now… where is that—“ “Seven!” A voice echoed from behind a shack with one window and two empty chairs. “You summa bitch! That ain’t them trick dice, is they?” “Hell nah. I’d never cheat you, Leroy.” “You a ghat damn lie!” “Just roll, and hurry up.” Jasper snickered at their back and forth. It was playful, familiar, and entertaining. At least until Nieema cocked a brow and knocked on the box. “Who in the—we expecting somebody?” A slim man dressed in a dapper waistcoat, trousers, and a pocket chain slid from behind the shack. “Tomorrowwwww. shit! Get up, Roy. Get—“ The fellow snatched the other, his identical twin, to his feet. “Majesty.” “What in hell are y’all supposed to be doin’?” Nieema asked, scarlet stare bouncing between the two. There wasn’t much difference in their dark complexion or their features, aside from the hair; it’d be hard to tell them apart if Jasper weren’t a Succubus. The brother with short, rainbow locs bowed at the waist, smelling like gun smoke and lilac. “Majesty, we do so apologize. Yes, we are on guard duty. But Leroy and I were taking much-needed respite.” Nieema crossed her arms and sucked her teeth. “Really? And just how long was this break?” Leroy cleared his throat and fixed the bat pin on his cravat. “Thirty—thirty minutes, madam.” Compared to his brother, Leroy was airy, like fresh linen and the first day of spring. He was lighter and not the one with a pistol on his hip. “I see.” Nieema hummed. “Do I need to give some constructive feedback? Mose?” “No, madam.” Mose flicked his swirling maroon gaze over and assessed. Jasper stared, knowing what lay behind his quick read. “Shall we ring?“ “No.” Mose elbowed Leroy. The vampire hurried into their tiny hut. With the press of a button, gates creaked and parted, just enough for their entry. An impenetrable void stood before them. It was a flat, matte darkness she’d never seen a day in her life. And for someone born in Undervell, that was rare. She’d been exposed to every shade and shape of darkness imaginable. This was a magical abyss, she was certain. Jasper had never breached a mountainside nor a cave and was a little nervous about it. She inched closer to Nieema and followed her brisk step. “Your brother lives in a mountain?” “Mostly.” As they crossed into bleak nothingness, Jasper screwed her eyes shut. She didn’t know what to expect and wasn’t fond of underground tunnels and such. She’d hated the idea of getting stuck, rendered immobile by rock and dirt. It freaked her the hell out. “Jasper?” “Yes?” “You alright down here?” “You sure?” “Absolutely.” Reluctant as ever, Jasper cracked one lid then the other. “This isn’t at all like a cave.” “Not anymore it ain’t,” Nieema said, her voice echoing in a grand vestibule. It was art. Every inch carved and sculpted to perfection. Murals, foliage, and sweeping statues surrounded them. The finer things didn’t sway Jasper much anymore, growing up with an obsidian spoon in her mouth. But she was obsessed with palace living. It wasn’t the privilege or free shit, but the artwork. From the daintiest jewel to the tallest column, everything was grandiose. Not a detail left untouched. She knew royalty, and this was it. Within the heart of Keyhold Mountain was a castle. A palace fit for a queen. Cool, botanical-scented air circulated in the enormous atrium. It made for an inviting atmosphere. “This is magnificent,” Jasper said, eying Nieema. “I can only imagine what awaits beyond them giant doors. Why don’t you live here?” “Too drafty and stuffy if you ask me.” “What? You’ve gotta be shitting me.” “Wish I was.” Nieema set her sights above them and the glowing chandelier, where a camera blinked in the corner. It was enough to open sturdy, stone doors. They were thick and no doubt heavy, but separated as if made of rice paper. “Yup, a palace,” Jasper said, as the bustling main floor told her everything she needed to know. “Another man’s trash and all that…” “Nieema?“ “It’s pretty, but it ain’t a home.” Jasper had a rebuttal at the ready, but thought better of it. Nieema didn’t look pleased to be here, and in a sense, they had such things in common. Back in Undervell, Jasper hated their mansion. It was akin to a prison rather than a home. She spent two-three cycles there at max. They didn’t have enough family to fill even half of the estate, but it was… stuffy. This subterranean fortress was carved from the very stone of Keyhold. An iridescence sheen of purple and green winked around every corner. It was an elegant feat, one Jasper wanted to learn more about. There was history and culture here. In ignorance, she thought vampires unrefined, coarse creatures. Her father’s library needed curating. “How long did it take to build this?” Jasper asked as the wave of busy bodies parted for them. People nodded or bowed. Nieema smiled at some and ignored others. Their journey was quick and silent for a while. Jasper was fine with admiring paintings and unfamiliar dark bouquets. The underground castle was unique and Gothic, but lacked dreariness. It was welcoming and warm, with soft crystal lighting. She adored the large, animated stained glass windows and giggled at the show of magic. “Generations.” “Amazing.” After a decent trek, high gloss stone gave way to a crushed velvet runner. Entering a quieter wing of the castle, Jasper was curious about who and what was behind a bronze set of doors. Nieema didn’t knock or wait for an invitation. She barged right in and paused in an office doubling as a library. Jasper followed close behind and sucked in a breath tainted with lust. She swayed as the potent dose nearly dropped her ass. Clutching Nieema’s shoulder for support, she scoffed at the view of someone crawling from under the desk.
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 already lost two grandchildren; Mace would make three. 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.”
J. T. Frost 