Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Not too many Black women can say they were raised by a Filipino woman, and not too many guys in the world can say that their father was the president of a notorious Texan motorcycle gang, and their mother the damn daughter of a notorious trailblazer in the Dixie Mafia. Grandpa is the thing of nightmares and curses. We’re strange. Misfits. I know I’m a gotdamn monster—just like my grandfather said that I was. It’s in my blood. I am a wolf, slipping into the darkness, ready to pounce. I’ll tell you what though… somethin’ about Poet makes me think that though she’s a little Red Riding Hood to the naked eye, she’s got a bit of wolf in her, too. She ain’t no stranger to this circus of madness. She’s a motherfuckin’ ringleader…
They’d had a nice dinner. Just the two of them at his big dining room table, accompanied by the sounds of Lindi Ortega’s, ‘Murder Of Crows,’ talking about life, and everything under the sun. The room was illuminated by a few white candles—the kind he used when the power went out. He wasn’t the best cook, but he did okay that evening, if he said so himself. It was beautiful watching Poet eat, and hearing her compliment him on his culinary skills. After all, he’d put in a bit of effort. Even watched a couple of YouTube recipe videos for inspiration. He wanted her to be satiated, comfortable. He wanted her to eat, and then be devoured soon thereafter…
As he listened to her speak of her job, and a neighbor who was causing her trouble, he found himself drifting in thought. She looks good in purple. She should wear it more often. Poet was wearing a long-sleeved lavender shirt, gold bracelets, and dark jeans. Her hair was down, showing off those thick, pretty ringlets that he loved. They framed her heart-shaped face. She’d kicked her shoes off at the door, and she had an easy, relaxed way about her this evening. Seductive, in fact. He could still smell her perfume from when she’d embraced him at his front door. It was soft, and feminine. Like a whisper of roses. She’d driven all the way to see him, spend time together, and he was planning to make the most of it.
Al Green’s, ‘Beautiful’ played softly now. He remembered her saying she liked old R&B, so he obliged. He hoped it was to her liking. She leaned back in her chair, sitting at the other end of the table holding a glass of white wine. She’d brought it with her and shared it with him, for their flounder dinner he’d prepared.
“Let me ask you something.” She took a sip of the beverage.
“Mmm hmm.” He dabbed his napkin against his lips. “What is it?”
“You told me a while back that you’re divorced. What happened between you and your ex-wife?”
He picked up his fork and tapped it against his now empty plate. “I’ll tell you ’bout me and my ex, just not right now. It’ll drag the date down.”
“I don’t mind bein’ dragged down.” She winked.
He chuckled at that, then sucked his teeth. Balling up his napkin, he tossed it on the table and leaned forward, clasping his hands.
“I’ll tell you either later tonight or tomorrow, baby. I just don’t think it’s fittin’ dinner conversation.”
“Do you promise to tell me later tonight or tomorrow, Kage?”
“Yeah. Ain’t no point in keeping it a secret. Besides, that’s something you should be told anyway. It’s not a problem. We’re courtin’.” He shrugged. “Of course you’d want to know ’bout my past. I want to know about yours, too. All of it.”
Her smile slowly faded, then reappeared as if she’d suddenly realized it had slipped. She seemed to now be studying him with those big, gorgeous eyes of hers, then slumped in her chair.
“What are we doing next?” she asked. “You said you had something planned. I’m ready.” She took another sip of her wine. This time, a gleam of mischievousness flashed in her eyes. His dick jumped from the way she licked her lips.
“I thought we’d go out for a night stroll on my property. You wanna see that bobcat you came ’round here lookin’ for when we met?”
Her eyes lit up like lanterns. “Yes, I do! You think I’ll really see her?” She sounded like an excited child rearing to get a toy. It tickled him so.
“There’s a chance.” He shrugged. “I didn’t correct you the first time around, but I need to clarify something. I named her Persia, and she’s familiar with me.” She nodded in understanding. “Yeah, she’s that unusual ruddy color you mentioned. She’s a lil’ shy. She’s got babies ’nd such. Anyway, I’m gonna grab my dagger and rifle, and we can get goin.’”
“Dagger and rifle? Bobcats don’t usually attack people though.”