by Larissa Ione
Fried Shrimp
6 cups oil for frying
1 teaspoon salt
4 eggs
1 teaspoon pepper
1 cup milk
2 pounds shrimp, peeled and deveined
1 cup flour
1 cup cornmeal
In a Dutch oven or deep fryer, bring oil to 350 degrees. In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs and milk. Next, mix together the flour, cornmeal, salt and pepper. Dredge about 10 shrimp at a time in the egg mixture and then cover in the dry flour mixture. Shake off the excess and place in oil. Fry for 1 to 2 minutes or until shrimp are pink. Continue with remaining shrimp and place on paper towels to drain. Serve with cocktail sauce.
Fried Catfish
1 cup sour cream
1/4 cup Cajun seasoning
2 cups whole milk
10-12 catfish fillets
2 cups flour
Oil for frying
1 cup cornmeal
Combine sour cream and milk in a mixing bowl. In a separate bowl, mix together the flour, cornmeal and Cajun seasoning. In a Dutch oven or deep fryer, bring oil to 350 degrees. Dredge each piece of fish in the wet mixture and then in the dry mixture. Place 1-2 pieces of fish in the oil and fry for about 4-6 minutes until done. Repeat with remaining fish. Drain on paper towels.
Buttermilk Hush Hellhound Puppies
1 (2 pound) bag Hush Puppy mix
1/2 cup buttermilk
1 onion, diced
6 cups oil, for frying
1 bottled beer
In a large bowl, combine all ingredients except for oil. Let sit for 15-20 minutes. Heat oil to 350 degrees in a deep fryer or Dutch oven. Drop 1 tablespoon of batter into oil and fry until golden brown, about 1-2 minutes. Fry 4-6 at a time until all batter is used. Drain on paper towels.
Beer Battered Fries
6 cups oil for frying
1 cup flour
1/2 cup cornstarch
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon onion powder
1 teaspoon paprika
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon pepper
1 bottled beer (AmberBock is great)
6 russet potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch thick strips
Fill a Dutch oven or deep fryer with oil and heat over medium heat until oil reaches 350 degrees. Line a baking sheet with paper towels. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, cornstarch, garlic powder, onion powder, paprika, salt and pepper. Add 1 cup of beer and stir until smooth, adding more beer if needed. Batter should coat the back of a spoon. Set aside. Place the potatoes in the oil, in 3-4 batches. Cook until golden brown, about 5 minutes. Use a slotted spoon to remove and drain on paper towels. Place the partially cooked fries a few at a time in the batter to coat. Then place in the oil and use tongs to keep them separate and not stuck together. Cook until deep golden brown, 2 to 3 minutes. Remove and place on paper towels to drain. Sprinkle with additional salt.
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Reseph and Jillian
Jillian loved all the seasons in Colorado, but fall was her favorite. At least, it was her favorite until winter, which was her favorite until spring. Which was her favorite until summer. Which was her favorite until fall.
She just really loved Colorado.
Which was why the decision she’d just made was so painful.
“What do you think Reseph is going to say about this?”
Jillian put down the pitchfork she’d been using to spread straw around the barn and glanced over at her best friend, Stacey. “I think he’ll be thrilled.”
Stacey leveled a get serious look at Jillian. “The guy is a nudist who likes his privacy. Two things that don’t go together, but, well...it’s Reseph. Do you honestly think he’s going to want to move to a big city?”
“Yes,” Jillian said, a little defensively. One of the goats let out what she swore was a dubious bleat.
“Okay.” Stacey shrugged. “You know him better than I do.”
Every one of Stacey’s words dripped with doubt, irritating Jillian more than it should have. Maybe because she herself was experiencing a niggle of doubt.
Before Jillian met Reseph, the fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse, his need for isolation and privacy had been so encompassing that he’d lived in a mountain cave. And yet, he wasn’t shy or antisocial. If anything, he loved activity and parties...but in his downtime, he wanted to be completely shut off from the outside world, which was why her remote little hobby farm in the Rockies was so appealing to him.
“Come on.” Jillian shoved open the barn door and stepped into the sunny but cool and windy fall day. “I made a big pot of French onion soup and some homemade bread for lunch.”
Stacey perked up. “Yum. I’m starving. And I think it’s sweet how you cook meals even when Reseph’s gone, just in case he comes home.”
With a sigh that didn’t come close to conveying how much she missed Reseph, Jillian slid the barn door closed. He’d been gone for a couple of weeks, drawn by a plague in China that had killed hundreds.
“The plague seems to be winding down. He could be home any day now.” She hoped so, anyway. Reseph wouldn’t want to miss the first snow of the season or Cara and Ares’s baby shower on Saturday.
A chilly wind tore through the trees as if to warn her that the first snow was coming soon. Stacey stuffed her hands in her coat pockets as they started down the path toward the house.
“One of the downfalls of being married to the Horseman known as Pestilence, I guess,” Stacey said.
Jillian shuddered at the mention of Reseph’s evil name. She’d been on the receiving end of Pestilence’s cruelty when Reseph’s Seal had broken, unleashing his inner demon and nearly starting the Apocalypse. If not for his siblings, Thanatos, Ares, and Limos, and their efforts to keep their own Seals from breaking, the world would be a very different place right now.
“I guess,” Jillian agreed.
“It still seems so bizarre that my best friend is married to one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.” Stacey shook her head in awe. “And you have a werewolf servant.”
Once again, Jillian shuddered. He was a slave, not a servant. A servant had a choice. Tracker didn’t. He’d been sold into slavery as an infant, and she’d been bonded to him without her knowledge or consent. That it had been an act of kindness that had ultimately benefitted them both didn’t make the reality of the situation any less shitty.
“Speaking of Tracker…” Lowering her voice, Stacey glanced around the yard. “Where is he?”
Jillian cast her friend a curious look. Stacey had never asked about Tracker before. “Why?”
“Just wondering.”
“Because...”
Stacey’s pale cheeks were already pink from the cold, but now they turned ripe-apple red. “No reason.”
So full of shit. “Uh-huh.”
Stacey snorted. “What? Don’t look at me like that. He’s spoken like three words to me in the last two years.” She cast a wistful gaze at the cabin. “But damn, he looks good without a shirt.”
On that, Stacey was not wrong. Tracker usually worked around the house in nothing but boots and jeans, his big, sinewy body on full display. Of course, she could say the same about Reseph, except he was usually as naked from the waist down as he was from the waist up.
Jillian didn’t complain. At all. Although it was a little embarrassing when UPS dropped off packages.
“Oh, damn.” Stacey stopped on the path, patting her pockets as if missing something. “I left my sunglasses in the barn. I’ll grab them and meet you in the house.”
Jillian hadn’t taken more than a dozen steps when light flashed inside the circular stone landing site ahead. Any one of the Horsemen could use it, but she held her breath, hoping it would be Reseph who would emerge from the gate.
A curtain of shimmering light parted and Reseph stepped out, his long platinum hair spilling over armor that gleamed in the sun, his cool blue eyes
focused like lasers on Jillian.
She didn’t even have a chance to speak before he was on her, taking her to the ground in a smooth tackle that would have hurt had he not twisted at the last second to take the brunt of the impact.
“I missed you,” he growled against her mouth.
Arching into him, her heart thumping with joy, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’ve missed you too.”
“I didn’t,” Stacey called out in a teasing voice as she headed toward her truck. “Jillian, we’ll do lunch another time. See you later!”
Reseph didn’t even look up from nuzzling her neck. “Bedroom,” he rasped. “Now.”
Jillian couldn’t think of anything she’d love more.
* * * *
Reseph lay on the bed, his legs tangled in the sheets, his fingers tangled with Jillian’s. The sex had been crazy intense, and he wouldn’t be surprised to see gouges in the hardwood floor from the scooting of the bed across it.
“You okay?” he rasped, exhaustion and post-coital bliss making his voice rough.
“Mm-hmm.” Jillian’s eyes were closed, her kiss-ravaged mouth tipped up in a smile, her dark hair spilled across the blue flannel pillow case.
Must be November. Jillian always switched the sheets from satin to flannel on Halloween night. He used to think it was weird, but he’d learned to appreciate the cozy warmth when he climbed into bed with her on chilly nights.
He pressed a kiss against her forehead and inhaled the delicate scent of the pumpkin spice shampoo she brought out of storage every year with the sheets. “Sorry about the insanity.”
“I know,” she murmured. “It’s all right. I understand how you’re affected by certain events.”
She was so perfect. She accepted him flaws and all. And being the product of the union between a sex demon and an angel bred for battle was definitely a flaw. Well, that and the minor thing about terrorizing and nearly killing her a while back.
Bringing her hand to his, he kissed her knuckles. Before this day was over, he was going to kiss every inch of her. Maybe more than once.
“I’m going to shower. And then I’m going to eat whatever smells so good in the kitchen.” He pressed another lingering kiss into the soft skin of her hand. “And then I’m going to eat you.”
He hopped out of bed and got into the shower, eager to wash away the events of the last two weeks. The plague had been of natural origin, not caused by demons or man or, thankfully, himself as Pestilence, which somehow made a difference in how crazy it made him and how long it took him to recover. After a few meals, a few rounds of sex, and a few hours of sleep, he’d be back to normal and would be rid of the death-hangover that was, even now, pounding like a four-armed troll against the inside his skull.
Moaning at the luxury of being clean, Reseph stood under the spray until the hot water ran out. He needed to remember to get a bigger hot water tank before winter set in, one that would complement the steam shower he was going to talk Jillian into. The cabin was already his favorite place in the world, but with a few tweaks, it would be absolute paradise.
Stomach growling, he swiped a towel over himself in a half-assed dry job and threw on a pair of shorts. Jillian insisted on pants, pajamas, or a robe at the table. Humans were funny that way.
He found her in the kitchen, her lush body wrapped in the fuzzy cream robe he’d bought her for Christmas as part of a spa package. She’d set out two steaming bowls of soup, a loaf of homemade bread, and a bottle of beer for him, a sparkling water for her.
“I’ve missed your cooking,” he said as he plopped down in his usual spot.
“If I’d known you’d be home today I’d have made something more substantial. I know you don’t eat when you’re called away like that.”
His stomach growled again, right on cue. He hadn’t eaten in two weeks, and now that he could smell food instead of sickness and death, his body was waking up with a vengeance.
He didn’t even bother with a spoon. The first bowl of soup went down like a mug of ale. After following that with half the loaf of bread, he managed to eat the second and third bowls of soup with a spoon. By the time he’d ladled up his fourth serving, his stomach had quit growling and he didn’t feel as much like a winter-starved bear coming out of hibernation.
“Did anything interesting happen while I was gone?”
“Nope.” Jillian shook her head. “And before you ask, yes, your brothers and Limos came to check on me every day, even though I have Tracker just next door.”
Reseph was more grateful for Tracker than he could even say. The werewolf was completely dedicated to Jillian, and not because of the slave bond. He truly loved her, probably because she was the only master he’d ever had who treated him not as a slave, but as family. She didn’t require anything from him and in fact, she was constantly trying to get him to relax and do things for himself, but the only time he took for his own needs was during the three nights of the werewolf moon.
“There was a full moon while I was gone,” Reseph pointed out. “He couldn’t protect you while he’s out running with his pack or chained in his basement.”
“Reseph,” she sighed as she reached for her mug of hot cocoa, “it was fine. Stacey was here a lot too.”
Stacey? That was a floofing laugh. “Stacey would faint at the sight of a tiny little spiny hellrat. How the hell can she help if you’re attacked by demons?”
Jillian huffed in mock annoyance. Probably mock annoyance. Reseph and Stacey had gotten off to an awkward start, and they’d never gotten past it. Reseph had never even tried. He liked their friendly rivalry and was glad Jillian had a close friend who knew the truth about the underworld. At Reaver’s request, Stacey was one of the few humans whose memories hadn’t been altered by angels to explain the Apocalyptic events in ways that didn’t involve demons. Most humans now believed the millions who died when his Seal broke, setting off the beginnings of the Apocalypse, had actually succumbed to disease and localized war.
Apparently, there were plans to start revealing the truth to humans over a gradual period of time, but Reseph really didn’t care. He liked his life out here in the middle of nowhere, where he didn’t get bombarded with news and human drama all the time.
Life was so good. He wouldn’t change a single thing.
“I’m not going to get attacked by demons,” Jillian said, with a roll of her bright green eyes. “We have so many layers of protection here. If the wards don’t stop them, I’ve got Tracker as well as a direct line to three other Horsemen and an angel or two.” She put down her spoon and inhaled before saying softly, “But if you’re worried about me being out here when you’re gone, I have a solution.”
His heart gave an excited kick against his ribs. “Are you finally going to go stay with my sister or one of my brothers?” He’d been trying to get her to do that for years.
“No.” She took another deep breath, and this time when his heart kicked, it was with sudden dread. “Don’t freak out, okay?”
Man, that was a surefire way to make him freak out, but somehow he managed to keep himself level. “What is it?”
Jillian, his beautiful, perfect mate, smiled...and ruined his day.
“I want to move.”
* * * *
Jillian held her breath as she waited for Reseph’s reaction. At first, he seemed to take it well. He simply watched as her cat, Doodle, jumped into her lap and stuck his little brown head into her bowl.
Then, as Doodle flicked his paw in dismissal at the soup, Reseph gripped the edge of the table as if trying to steady it. Or as if trying to steady himself.
“You want to do what?”
Maybe she should have waited to dump this on him until after he’d recovered from the plague, but she’d never been good at keeping things from him and besides, she was excited about this. She just had to get him on board.
“I know this is sudden, but I’ve been thinking about it for months.” She stroked Doodle’s soft fur, eliciting a contented
purr from him. “I want to move to a city. Berlin or Paris or Amsterdam. Maybe Sydney. Or Stockholm.”
Reseph’s handsome face was uncharacteristically expressionless. Usually every emotion he felt played out in his clear blue eyes and in the set of his made-for-sin mouth. Which meant he was intentionally controlling his feelings, and that was never good.
“No.”
She blinked. “No? We can’t even discuss it?”
“There’s nothing to discuss.” Shoving to his feet, he grabbed his bowl. “Cities are stupid and full of people.”
“Oh, well, there’s a legit argument,” she muttered. “Cities are stupid.”
He took his bowl over to the sink and turned on the water. “I just don’t know why you’d want to make such a drastic move. What brought this on?”
Jillian twisted around in her seat so she could talk to him, but his back was to her as he rinsed his bowl with brisk, jerky movements. “A lot of things, really. Part of it is that I’m tired of being a hermit.”
“We can travel more.” He swung around to her, his abs and arms glistening from water spray. On his forearm, the tattoo-like glyph of his war stallion, Conquest, stomped its feet in agitation, sensing his master’s mood. “If you wanted to spend more time in a city, you should have told me. Let’s get dressed and go. Anywhere you want. We can be there in thirty seconds.”
“It’s not the same, Reseph.” She placed Doodle on the floor and stood. “I love traveling with you, but I just...I want a change. We can sell this place and—”
“Sell it?” Reseph croaked. “You want to get rid of your family home? The house you grew up in?”
There were things she’d miss about the house, but it had been her parents’ dream home, not hers. “I have plenty of memories and pictures. It’s no big deal.”