Chapter 1
NEO
Lights strung like cobwebs make shadows dance like ghosts across my shelves. Candy cane candles burn with unnatural green and red flames. Gingerbread skeletons huddle in paper boxes, grinning with icing stitches and licorice bones, long dead and sealed in plastic. Haunted candy jars rattle when you pass, filled with eyeball gumballs, bleeding cherry lollipops, and marshmallow bats in Santa hats. A Creepmas tree is the only thing missing. The store is quiet, too quiet. The kind of silence that makes the jingle of a single ornament sound like a scream. Amidst the candy cane candles and shadowy shelves, someone lurks. The person is wearing a long, tattered coat made from old gift wrap and soot-stained velvet. His boots crunch softly on spilled sugar crystals, leaving faint footprints that vanish seconds later. A wide-brimmed hat dusted with frost hides most of his face. And I smile.
He pauses near the peppermint skulls, tilting his head as if he’s listening to whispers only he can hear. His fingers drift along the shelves, leaving behind a faint trail of melted snow and sticky syrup… which I’ll have to clean. The air tightens when he stops; the temperature drops in warning. The scent of burnt cinnamon curls through the shop—not sweet, but acrid,like a holiday memory left too long in the dark. Despite that, he doesn’t speak.
"Are you lost?" I take a seat on the counter. He smashes a candy cane with his palm, and shards scatter across the counter. The fragments showed the words“Santa is dead”in red and white.Well… old people die…Oh crap! Did I just decorate for Creepmas in vain?
"They’ve found someone else, I hope?"
Twisted horns curl from his head, looking like blackened branches. His fur mats and tangles with pine needles and scraps of ribbon. The candy shards twitch, crawling across the counter like insects.
"We need someone new. Someone young.
The old monster is tired. Bored. His eyes catch the light as the front door creaks open. And then, the bell above the door gives a hollow chime. Nox steps inside, shoulders hunched against the cold, his boots leaving wet prints on the warped floorboards. The air shifts… like the shop itself is holding its breath. The monster’s grin widens, its jagged teeth glinting. He smiles, his tongue slick and serpentine, flicking between teeth. No fucking way he’s talking about bat boy. My bat boy.
"Evening, nightshade."
Chapter 2
NOX
"Is that a boo basket?"
The air is colder than expected—unnaturally so; it feels more like a crypt than a candy shop. A faint fog clings to the floor, curling around my ankles like it has a mind of its own. The scent is a strange mix of sugar and cinnamon, but dulled, sealed in wax. It’s definitely one of her witchy tricks, the kind she uses to make everything just a little too… spooky.
Her green eyes glow in the dim light—like twin emeralds cursed to shimmer in the dark. A thin line of black eyeliner traces their shape with surgical precision. Smoky eye shadow bleeds outward in bruised shades of violet andcharcoal, giving the illusion of shadows creeping from the corners of her eye. Her lashes flutter slowly—hypnotically—like the legs of something that should never crawl freely. Those enchanting lashes, I desire looking up at me when she gives me a blowjob. When her gaze falls on the basket, the shop itself seems to hold its breath. And when she smiles… those wicked eyes do not soften; they sharpen.
"It is." I stop in front of her and let my eyes linger on her legs wrapped in black tights. A leather skirt clings to her hips like a second skin; it’s high-waisted and cut just above the knee. The subtle slit is a weapon itself, designed to distract, to tempt, to undo.
"For me?"
I set the orange basket next to her.Yes, for you. Everything for you!I don’t say a word. I don’t have to. She knows. Oh, how well she knows what I can do for her. Cold and tiny fingers, that are impossibly light begin to trace my forearm. They crawl as if searching for something beneath the surface. I freeze, and the air thickens. Each touch sends a shiver racing up my spine. Crawling. Clinging. Her neck is exposed, and the candlelight reveals its pale skin and pulse of life. It’s so close, so vulnerable, but something holds me back. It’s not mercy that stops me; it’s her hand in my pants. She hops from the counter, pulling me after her. Yes… she’s pulling out my cock while I follow her to the other side of the counter like a fucking dog. She releases my cock and pulls down her leather skirt;Fuck me!And removes her tights. Her black sweater covers her ass perfectly.
"Are you wearing lace for me, nightshade?"
"You’ll have to check."
I cradle her neck, use my thumbs to lift her chin, and I kiss her. Her fingers clutch the fabric that hangs over my ribs, anchoring me in the moment. Then the bell above the door rings—a sharp, metallic chime cuts through the heat like a blade. Rage engulfs me.Someone will die tonight.
Chapter 3
NEO
Trouble has arrived. She steps inside, her silhouette framed by the storm-darkened sky. She’s cloaked in velvet and lace that writhes like a restless shadow; she moves with the inevitability of midnight. Her boots make sounds on the tiles. Click, click. Each step feels like a countdown. She pauses, inhales, and the air itself seems to recoil. Her eyes narrow at the shelves of sweets, and the jars tremble as though they know they’ve been caught hiding something.
"Are the vampires still looking for thebloodsuckercandies?" Her voice is dry and unmistakably annoying. "I should hex their fangs into frogs."
I push Nox’s head down, and the bat boy is pissed.
"As long as they don’t drink our blood…" I say to her, caressing his hair beneath the counter.
"Witches and bats do not belong together." She picks up a jar of marshmallow snowflakes. "I need something extra for my brownies."
I can already hear Nox saying ‘weed’. His hands dance like whispers across my skin, exploring every curve. As I lean over the counter, my elbows prop me up, heightening the feeling.
He aligns himself between my legs, his breath and nose tip gliding over my skin. His lips meet my thigh—not with hush, but with heat. His kiss is like the brush of a bat’s wings: strangelytender. It doesn't demand; it lingers; it folds around me like dusk itself.
