Dej In this universe, we don’t do love triangles. We do emotional battlefield tag-teams . And in Tokoloshe , there are two Alpha energies...

Six will throw himself into danger to shield his people. He’ll bleed for his cousin. He’ll risk death for his troop. But when it comes to his own heart? He doesn’t believe anyone will catch him.

Imari’s strength is subtle. She’s not intimidating because she demands respect—she’s intimidating because she doesn’t need to. She’s the woman who walks into a room and recalibrates the energy.

In the Tokoloshe world, your Tokoloshe—the inner wild, instinctual self—knows before you do. She’ll rub under your skin. She’ll purr. She’ll growl. She’ll basically roll around like “Ma’am. This is the one. Mark them. Bite them. Climb them.”

Dej is the textbook Desi Alpha. Commanding. Fiercely loyal. Smells like oud and emotionally unavailable poetry. He wants to love Sasha fully—to be hers, to surrender, to build. But he’s fighting a code stitched into his bones. A belief that to need is to be weak. That protecting her means pushing her away. That his pain is his burden alone.

In the world I created, every Tokoloshe has an inner self—an instinctual, primal version of them that isn’t bound by human logic, only feeling and energy. It’s the spirit within. The truth that cannot be contained.

The real-life Tokoloshe folklore has always fascinated me. These mysterious creatures that lurk at night, born of dark magic, mischief, and ancestral warning. But the way the stories were told—always from a place of fear, superstition, and silence—I couldn’t help but wonder… what if we rewrote the story?

Every dark fantasy world I write begins with a low, rhythmic, ancient heartbeat. It’s not something I create. It’s something I listen for. Before I write, I dig through myths, rituals, whispered superstitions, the ghosts of forgotten gods.

When I write, lore doesn’t arrive fully formed. It creeps. It waits. It whispers before it roars. The worlds in Tokoloshe and Pisces Family weren’t drawn on a map.

When I write, the goal isn’t just to tell a story; it’s to build a feeling. A world that breathes. A myth that mirrors something real. My dark fantasy novels, Tokoloshe and Pisces Family, didn’t begin with outlines or maps. They began with emotion. With questions. With wonder. Everything else, the structure, the arcs, the twists, came later.

People often ask me, “Why do you write dark fantasy?” And the honest answer is: Because the real world isn’t always kind. But stories?...