Assistant Editor | Staff Writer
JayLynn Watkins is an author whose first love and written outlet was poetry. After decades of also writing fiction, she considers herself a kind of conduit for characters, offering tales that span many genres.
JayLynn’s most recent works have spanned many spheres within the adult fiction world. With some of her short stories traversing the labeled genres of erotica, romance, poetry, science-fiction, and mythological reimaginings. When setting out to relay a new tale, her only goal is to accurately and completely translate the adventures her characters whisper in her ear, so her readers can truly experience a journey like no other.
They weren’t to blame for the false memories or for the hell I raised when I emerged from them. I licked my lips, squeezing my eyes shut in disgust. I’d raised a lot of hell and sown a lot of bloody Justice. Secretly, I’d hoped they’d show up, at least once, impressed by the mayhem I’d wrought.
The rush took over as I read the scripted book of his character. He was disgusting, his politics revolting, but he hadn’t committed any heinous crimes…or any crimes, for that matter. Though he was tempted to change that as he contemplated ways to put me in my place.
There was no order, no balance to what was happening. It was chaotic and wrong…unbalanced.
I glanced back at Nakia, and she looked dipped in gold, with wings sprouting behind her in front of an office building of reflecting glass. She was majestic, and for a moment, I didn’t hate or envy her. I adored her, my sister.
“Why the fuck are you like this? How’d you become the bad guy, Jus?” He was crying. Not sobbing, but his face was wet with tears, snot easing steadily out of his nose. “In school, you were our defender. You kept the bullies away. Now you are the bully.”
I grabbed another drink from the shifty-looking butler as I made my way to the other side of the party. Derelict warehouse? Only one waiter? Whoever was in charge of throwing the event definitely sucked. It was like someone said gala, and they’d thought they meant apples, and still ended up bringing in Market Fresh.
Eris doubled over, cackling loudly, their energy and hunger pulsing out and dancing along my spine. I shivered for a moment, wondering if they’d heard the voice. Accepting that wasn’t possible, I allowed my mind to wonder…what would it taste like to pull their truth? What would I see? What would I learn?
Sometime during the rave, I’d realized exactly who I needed to call for help. It came as skin melded to skin, lips sucked lips, and I took in the vivid displays of dancing so frantic and chaotic it began to appear choreographed. There was beauty in chaos. The answer became clear, even without my brain consciously putting it together.
I tilted my head slightly, smirking. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t have texted you, Atë.” I waved my hand dismissively before she could counter. “What or who helps you when you’re…feeling…ragey…unhinged…unbalanced?”
A sigh slipped past my lips, my fingers flexing in frustration as I contemplated trying to figure out what everyone had been up to. Rules, while needed for balance, were usually established because of imbalance and mayhem. What the hell had been happening around this place?
“Atë, this seems like a conversation we probably shouldn’t have in the lobby.” I paused, then continued after deciding to answer her question. “I remember BDZ disappointing me as much as the mortals and justice becoming a game. What side of that game are you on?”
Throwing my head back, I glared at the ceiling and yelled, letting out every ounce of rage building within my essence. The sound vibrated off the walls. It felt as if thunder had shaken the brownstone, but I was so off-kilter it was hard to tell if that were real or imagined.