SHOW ME YOUR FANGS: The Weirding Sisters: Book 1

By Ursula Forest Night

Rhiannon Ravenwood is a powerful witch operating as an intermediary between the supernatural communities and ensuring a tentative peace that keeps humans alive and blissfully unaware of the monsters in the dark. Adventurous in all aspects of her life, Rhiannon enjoys flings with various members of the supernatural community, enjoying life, and i

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ursula Forest Night
• Release date: Mar 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9798218177102

Book preview

1

Late December

RHIANNON

Daphne’s so close to coming for me, her powerful legs squeeze either side of my face as I start to suck and lick her sensitive clit. I glance up at her sweat-glistened face, her cheeks having just a hint of blush, her sea-foam green hair glowing in the low light of her underground grotto, her eyes as deep and black as the deepest parts of the sea where she’s from.

The mermaid’s back arches again and my tongue laps against her clenching walls. As I slide my tongue slowly back up to meet her swollen clit, I slide my fingers inside her wet pussy. I begin to curl against the sweet little g-spot inside of her, my mouth now breathing against her sensitive bud. Daphne’s breathing quickens, her bare, muscular chest rising and falling with the rush of adrenaline and ecstasy.

I can’t get over how beautiful she is; her umber skin radiates warmth as if she holds the sun within her. She’s even more brilliant in her water-dwelling form; with smooth scales in hues of red, orange, and yellow bordering her hips and her shoulders, adorning her like jewelry.

As climax claims Daphne, I slow my pace, allowing her to enjoy the aftershocks as she lays back on the rock, which overlooks her fairly large oasis. It’s beautiful here; the high ceiling of her underground dwelling keeps the place from feeling claustrophobic. The lagoon behind me lazily drifts along, driven by a medium waterfall to our right. I have no idea where the water goes from here. I imagine it joins an underground channel allowing other merpeople to enter and join her as they wish.

Moss on high rocks glows green and yellow, as do the small pixies fluttering about. The minuscule beings enjoy a mutually beneficial relationship with merpeople. Pixies eat an underground alga, which tends to accumulate in slower-moving waters. Pixies, however, can't breathe underwater. Merpeople offer the pixies the Mermaid’s Kiss – the temporary ability to breathe underwater – so the pixies can breathe while they forage. In return, they illuminate darker spaces like Daphne’s grotto with their internal light.

Suddenly I’m pulled up from my kneeling position and brought to Daphne’s lips as she wraps her powerful arms around me, one of her legs resting in a bent position by my right hip. Her kiss is intense as she runs her long, nimble fingers through my violet tresses, which are somewhat matted from the hunt we had engaged in earlier in the evening.

I had been tracking the prey who is now dead for a while; noting his movements, and his predilection for haunting the perimeters of the different elementary schools we had in town. The look in his eyes while he watched the children told me exactly what kind of monster he had been.

Unlike the police, I don’t wait for monsters to hurt others.

I had reached out to a sin-eater I trusted. He’d confirmed what I’d detected.

You know, Daphne’s in town. She wants to establish a school – you should tag her in on the hunt, The sin-eater had told me.

Merpeople are the best hunters in the world; stealthy, smart, and, due to their bodies being in constant motion in the water (as a necessity of their survival), they are incredibly strong.

I had concocted a small hex jar and had tucked it into the predator’s wheel well. Then, I had done just what the sin-eater had suggested.

Daphne had, of course, jumped at the chance.

I had sustained a black eye for my trouble with the man, but in return, Daphne had easily plucked the corresponding eye from his skull and popped it into her mouth in front of him.

The horror in his eyes at watching her sharp teeth rend and tear the organ in front of him will make me smile for a long, long time.

Daphne’s kiss brings me back to the present as her hands roam along the sensitive skin of my back. Her light touch incites pleasant chills down my spine, and my nipples pucker in excitement.

When she releases the kiss, I’m a little dazed. I grin a little drunkenly as I ask, What was that for?

Daphne’s laugh is like a bell, reverberating through her underground dwelling. I want to show you what it’s like to be pleasured by a mermaid, in her native habitat.

The idea terrifies and thrills me at the same time; I can’t breathe underwater – and the oxygen deprivation combined with the potential pleasure makes my thighs dampen.

I kiss her in response, my tongue presses into her mouth. She allows it, and for a moment, we are lost in each other like this. Our breaths, our hands, and our bodies are fully consumed by one another.

Daphne pulls away, and clasps her hands around my arms so she can keep my lips from distracting her as she asks, Well? May I make you come for me under the water?

Yes.

Safeword in clicks?

I consider, then grin and click in morse code: dot-dot-dot, dot-dot, dash-dot.

Daphne laughs in my ear, Sin?

I thought it appropriate, I murmur.

Sin it is. She laughs as she moves me so that I straddle her lap. Daphne easily lifts me as she sits up; her ten-pack is solid against my much softer flesh, and without difficulty, she moves us into the lagoon at my back.

It’s a little cold, and for a moment, my system is in shock. Daphne’s strong arms reassure me as she kisses me, delivering both much-needed calm, and oxygen, to my body. I begin to relax into the water, allowing its waves to caress my naked form as Daphne releases me and I am suspended before her.

Daphne’s mermaid form is fucking glorious; her sea-foam hair has lost its green cast; shining gold in the water, long, waving around her body like a halo. Where Daphne’s legs had been, there is now only her long tail. Its center is deep, dark crimson, fading into orange and gold. Her powerful tailfin is light yellow and glistens in the low, muted light.

Daphne clicks at me, knowing I’ll understand – she’s asking if I’m ready.

I nod, and click back, YES.

The mermaid kisses me again, delivering more oxygen and I breathe deep, then I hold my breath as Daphne brings those nimble fingers to my already sensitive nipples. With a grin on her face, she traces a light circle around my sensitive buds until they pucker, eager for more direct attention from her. My brain screams for oxygen, and just when I think I can’t manage it – Daphne kisses me again, reinflating my lungs.

Daphne’s fingers swirl around my nipples, carefully avoiding direct contact until I’m practically squirming with need. She kisses me deeply as the water continues its tortuous circles. This time, her kiss shares her magic and lights my core. When she pulls away, I can breathe in the water.

I move my own hands toward my sensitive buds, but Daphne clasps them, a wicked grin on her face. By some kind of magic, I can’t rightly explain, I can’t move when Daphne withdraws her grasp; my body is held in place by the water itself so I can’t move.

Fuuuck, I murmur, though the sound is strangely garbled by the water.

As the swirls continue, and I’m begging for release, Daphne brings her fingers to my clit, and begins the same motion; the circle around my clit teases me and I am in even more pleasurable agony – practically begging for sweet release as my core tightens.

Daphne’s sharp teeth glint in the low light and she nips my neck playfully before she swims around behind me, leaving the swirls to continue their assault on my senses. I need release so badly, but I am at her mercy.

A long, rough tongue trails its way from my opening up to the side of the clit – I’d arch in pleasure if I could, but my hands and feet are still bound tight by the water. I cry out in pleasure; the watery sound makes Daphne giggle a little from her position beneath me.

She licks me again, and then begins to flick my clit with her tongue, and slips two fingers into my cunt, caressing my walls s I arch in pleasure. I could very nearly climax from the sheer anticipation – she has a great deal more patience than I have.

Daphne continues to fuck me with her powerful fingers, reaching deep into my cunt as try to writhe against her. Her fingers still stroking my inner walls, Daphne comes back up to me and kisses me, her tongue invades my mouth, and mine meets hers in an intricate dance of arousal and need. The pace of her fingers quickens, and I still can’t move against her.

Her fingers still in my pussy, Daphne wraps the other around my neck, cutting off my ability to breathe. A fresh thrill shoots through my core as her grip tightens. Her head finally bends to my needy nipples, bringing them sweet attention as my inner walls spasm against her hand, clenching against her as my orgasm hits me fucking hard.

Daphne pulls me up through the water, and when we break the surface, I breathe deeply, exhilarated, exhausted, and in a total state of bliss.

I leave Daphne’s place that night feeling thoroughly satisfied. My body hums with the lingering happiness of a cunt well fucked as I get into my Jeep and begin to drive back toward my little office downtown, knowing that another predator has been fed to a member of the supernatural community, and the world is a little safer.

ANYA

So, you work as a teller? That’s adorable. Brad asserted as he sat confidently in his chair, his black hair styled a little too perfectly, his teeth too white, and his nails expertly manicured.

I balked at the word "adorable" to describe my job as I took a sip of my seltzer water.

You know, you should try a Macallan, neat. It’s really the only drink worth having.

I’m okay with my water, I told him. Thank you, though.

Brad was a man who would come into the branch of the local bank I’d worked for. He was relatively charming and funny. So, when he’d sent flowers to ask me out for tonight, it had honestly seemed like a good idea.

But as he sat before me, already having regaled me with his innumerable successes as a lawyer, I thoroughly regretted the choice. I sat there in my chair at the expensive restaurant overlooking the Columbia River, across from a man who was way too cocky, and more interested in telling me about himself, rather than learning about me.

Why is being a teller adorable? I asked. I genuinely hoped he wasn’t being as condescending as he was coming across.

Brad laughed, It’s the kind of job girls get so that they can trap a man.

I felt a little like I’d been slapped. Before I could say anything to that effect, Brad continued his assessment of women.

"I mean, let’s be realistic – women don’t really want to work. They’re happier at home. And you…well, you look like you’d have some healthy children."

Heat rose to my cheeks in embarrassment.

Clearly ignorant of my evident discomfort, Brad continued, I’d like a house full of little rugrats.

I made a face.

Don’t you want children?

I genuinely didn’t know. I was uncomfortable with the thought of it, though. I swallowed, You know, Brad, I don’t think this is going to work out. Sorry, but I would rather not take up any more of your time.

I give you a compliment, buy you a drink, and you’re just going to leave? He asked, incredulous.

I just don’t want to be here anymore, I answered. "I don’t want a ton of kids. I genuinely like working, and I don’t think it’s ‘adorable’ that I work as a teller. I know it’s not defending businessmen and their antics in court, but I’m pretty essential to the security of your money, so, maybe I deserve a little more respect than that. Either way, I think you’re looking for a different kind of woman. Sorry."

I rose to leave, and Brad clasped my wrist, You cannot be serious.

There was something very dangerous in his tone. Something that ignited a monstrous instinct within me. I fought to quell the adrenaline-triggered rage as I leaned down so that I could speak quietly to him, Let go, or I’ll make a scene in this lovely restaurant where I’m sure plenty of your clients might be.

I was guessing that last bit, but I seemed to have managed to be correct. Brad released me and I turned on my heel, walking out the front door and into the night.

Rain pelted my jacket, and I hugged it tighter around myself, wishing for the millionth time that I had a car. I knew the MAX train’s schedule by heart, so I began to walk toward the station; it was only a few blocks away from the restaurant.

Cars passed by, the noise of their engines, and the splashes of their tires did nothing to soothe my anger. I walked forward, not paying attention to what was happening around me.

Suddenly, hands grabbed my arms, and I was thrown into a dark alleyway out of eyeshot of the street.

Brad stood before me; his hands clamped tight around my upper arms.

You’re hurting me, I told him. I hated the quake in my voice and the angry tears threatening to spill onto my cheeks.

That’s too fucking bad, isn’t it? He growled.

I fought him, and he slammed me back against the brick of the building. My head rocked, and for a moment, I saw stars. As my world came back into focus, I saw that while his left hand held me against the wall, his right was struggling with his belt.

Again, I jerked against him, trying to scream, and he shoved me against the wall again, pressing himself against me. I smelled the sickly sharp stench of his cologne, and screamed, NO!

The wet wall soaked the back of my outfit, chilling me to the bone.

Brad’s voice was in my ear. You know, I put up with your bullshit. I’ve been bantering with you, waiting for you, and now…you leave? No. I want what I deserve from you.

Rage, white-hot, pools within my gut, drowning any concept of fear my brain might have had. It pulses through me in time with my heart as my hands fight against his body. As luck would have it, he struggled to undo what I was certain was a very expensive belt. I nearly broke free, but he brought his other hand to catch my shoulder. As he pressed my back painfully against the wall, Brad seethed, "If you run, I will fucking ruin you. I own your bank. Didn’t you know that? My dad owns shares. Heh, you think you can go anywhere that I can’t find you? That little noodle place you live above – it’d be a shame if someone bought it. If someone closed it down."

I clenched my teeth and stopped fighting my inner rage.

You deserve pain. I thought, the will crystal clear in my mind as I felt power surge through my body. That same wrath crackled beneath my skin, and I felt it – as if it was a physical entity – pour out of my fingers. Brad didn’t see it, didn’t feel it, but it surrounded his hands.

Sharp cracks and pops sounded in my ears as Brad began to scream; his fingers each twisted, as if pulverized by an invisible force. His screams continued as I watched his hands bend backward until they snapped and hung limply from his wrists. My eyes widened and, without further hesitation, I made my escape.

Out of the alleyway, I turned and ran as fast as I could away from my attacker.

I heard his anguished cry as his expensive shoes slapped against the wet pavement. Sprinting had never been a strong suit of mine; my lungs burned as adrenaline fueled me. The crosswalk ahead of me turned to Don't Walk. I didn’t care.

With every ounce I had left, I ran across the street against the light.

Brad roared after me, and a horn blared.

I turned back to see his twisted expression before the metal grill of a semi-truck smashed into him.

I began to shake, partially from the frigid rain, and partially from the adrenaline coursing through me. I couldn’t believe what I’d just seen. Horns blared as people got out of cars and milled out of neighboring buildings.

Their voices seemed so distant to me as I stood there in the cold, not knowing what to do.

Patrons from the bar behind me exited out of the cozy interior, and I heard people say things like, Call nine-one-one! but I was just…there. Outside of it.

Hun, are you okay? Asked a voice. I looked up to see a very tall drag queen with perfect makeup peering down at me.

I shook my head as I broke and began to cry. The queen ushered me into the bar and stayed with me as emergency services showed up.

I hadn’t realized it, but I’d gotten a couple of cuts from my collision with the wall. As emergency services patched me up, the police interviewed me.

I told them how I had been on a date with Brad. How he’d threatened me, my job, and the place I lived. How I’d run, and how I’d crossed against the light because I was so scared.

The queen, whose name was Slutty Mary, seemed to have a subtle sort of underlying control of what was going on at the bar; I noticed small nods to people around, and that people seemed to behave at her request.

I was grateful for Slutty Mary’s presence; I felt much safer with her there.

The police took my statement about Brad, then left.

You gotta ride home, doll? Slutty Mary asked.

I shook my head.

Let me finish closin’ up, then I’ll take ya. She promised.

I have a decent ear for accents, and I couldn’t help my curiosity, Are you from Boston originally?

Slutty Mary laughed, That obvious, huh?

Only a little, I smiled weakly, Thank you for taking me in.

Kid, I’mma give ya a little advice – don’t thank nobody unless you know ’em well enough.

I frowned but didn’t argue.

Ya from here originally?

Seattle, I explained. What brought you here?

Husband’s job, She explained. You?

I shrugged, Change of scenery.

Can I getcha a drink? On the house.

Do you have ginger ale?

Sure, Slutty Mary handed me a can of ginger ale before she continued to close down the bar and cash out peoples’ tabs.

Once finished, the queen led me outside to a small Prius parked behind the bar. I got inside and directed Slutty Mary to my side of town where my apartment was nestled.

When we arrived, she asked, You live at the Spicy Noodle?

I shook my head, Above it. I have a key, I’m safe now. Thank you so much, Mary.

What’d I tell ya about that? She asked.

I shrugged, I feel like I know you pretty well. Maybe I can come to your show sometime?

Slutty Mary gave my hand a gentle squeeze. Of course, hun. From what it sounds like, the guy deserved what he got.

I bit my lip, allowing the pain to keep me from crying again.

Go upstairs and rest. It was nice to meet you, Anya. She assured me.

Once I was upstairs, I set about cleaning my kitchen – a way for me to re-establish some control. The force within me had gone as quickly as it had exerted itself upon my attacker. Logically, I knew I hadn’t caused his death, but…

I still felt responsible.

Worse, I couldn’t find it in myself to feel bad about it.

How many other women had he forced himself on?

He won’t do it again, I muttered softly as I scrubbed at a stubborn stain on the side of my fridge.

Once I’d finished with the outside, I began to clean the inside, only stopping my frenzy when the tantalizing sight of sliced Colby Jack cheese reminded me that I hadn’t gotten to eat dinner.

Sighing, I washed my hands, then returned to the fridge and withdrew a slice from the package. I ate it as I walked across my tiny studio toward the bathroom. The head of my bed overlooked the dark street below, and I made sure the curtains were drawn tonight. I was just…scared.

Not so much of my dead assailant – he couldn’t hurt me – but…of me. I was terrified. I had…his hands and fingers…

I hadn’t told the police what had happened to his hands. I very much doubted the body would reveal anything, given how mangled he’d been. I hadn’t seen it, but others had exclaimed the horror of him. It hadn't taken long for emergency personnel to pronounce him dead at the scene.

I looked down at my hands as I turned on the shower in my bathroom. I stripped and stepped under the heat, hoping it would take away the chill.

Once out of the shower, I toweled off and changed into yoga pants and a sweatshirt before I returned to my little kitchen to make macaroni and cheese – comfort food. I put on a video about restorations on my phone and let the soothing sounds of a compact being cleaned and renewed soothe my frazzled nerve endings.

2

Mid-January - Monday

RHIANNON

The building I live in isn’t intended for residential use; I’m fairly certain it’s not strictly to code that I live in my office – but that doesn’t stop me. It has two attached rooms, which I’ve converted to bedrooms, and one bathroom I’ve renovated to be more accommodating to my needs.

I share the floor with a spiritual supply shop called The Old Age and The New. Upon entering it, I’m greeted by the heady perfume of incense. It teases my olfactory senses as I set an iced oat milk caramel macchiato on the glass front counter next to one of the fae who owns the shop, named Laird.

Laird doesn’t acknowledge me as he props his face on his right hand, his left drawing a tarot card before him. I know better than to look at the cards he draws; he doesn’t tell fortunes for others – only for himself and his wife, Fina, who I don’t see yet.

The coffee I’ve offered is a ritual of ours; I bring him coffee at least once a week (sometimes more) and he sips it without saying anything. This little routine is what has raised me in his estimations as a human from the status of the ameba on a flea, to instead, the flea.

Laird is a very old fae – I’m not stupid enough to ask him just how old. His dark features are tinged with navy blue, they sharply contrast his snow-white, perfectly straight, sleek hair which trails down his back in a braid long enough to brush his waistline.

I’m a few feet past the front counter when I hear the faint rattle of the ice moving in the cup as he brings it to his lips.

Around me are many varieties of crystals, displayed in baskets on tables in varying sizes with the prices listed. Around the walls of the