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Copyright © 2024 by Abby Knox
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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written
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Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes
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Edited by Aquila Editing
Cover Designer: Cormar Covers
 Hello from Abby!

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Happy reading!
Roll For Initiative
LOVE GAMES
BOOK ONE

ABBY KNOX
 Roll For Initiative

Dakota
A road trip is just what I need to avoid my problems.
For today, I’m going to have some fun in a new town. Diner food, retail therapy, and a massive distraction in the form of a
six-foot-four gamer nerd named Dean? Yes please.
I know I should go home and tell my parents the truth.
But I’m not ready to tell them I don’t want to be a journalist.
They won’t love that.
And there’s one more teensy problem: my parents are really not going to love the idea of me spending time with an older,
protective guy I barely know.
But those conversations can wait until tomorrow.
 Contents

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
More by Abby Knox
About the Author
 1

D
akota

Do you believe in signs from the universe?

I didn’t used to, but there’s something special about the billboards on this highway I’m traveling on.
Every half a mile, I see a variation of the following:
“World’s Best Cherry Pie.”
“World’s Largest Ball of Yarn.”
“Curiosity Spot—Don’t You Wanna Find It?”
“The Mayor Doesn’t Bite—But He Might Lick You.”
I feel compelled to pull over.
See? It’s a sign from the universe.
Or it could just be that my butt hurts from driving for hours.
As I signal ahead of the exit, the dashboard screen changes from my music to a phone call from my dad.
I swallow down my anxiety and tap the answer icon.
“Hi, Dad,” I say, a little too perky.
“Hey! How was the interview?”
If I weren’t driving, I would squeeze my eyes shut out of shame. The most I can manage is to wince as I follow the signs for
the place with the cherry pie.
“It was…uh…memorable?”
I ignore the pregnant pause while I scope out the vintage neon sign above the busy diner, then park in one of only two open
spots.
“Uh oh. What are you not telling me?” Dad says.
“What do you mean?”
“Whenever you’re hiding something, your voice goes up at the end of your sentences,” he says.
The man is a Pulitzer Prize-winning investigative reporter for a reason. Although he started out writing sports, uncovering a
hazing scandal set a fire under him, and he shifted to investigative reporting.
I really, really don’t want to break this man’s heart.
 “I do?” I ask.
“Cody,” he says sternly, using one of my nicknames. He hasn’t busted out my middle name yet, so I’m not in deep shit yet.
“It could’ve been better,” I lie. “I was nervous the whole time, and I flubbed some basic steps during the test article.”
Dad laughs. “Did Old Mike put you to work during the interview? Still a cheapskate, I see. Anyway, there’s nothing to be
nervous about. You are just as qualified to work for the Herald as anybody. Maybe more so.”
With as many horrifying stories about curmudgeonly “Old Mike” whom Dad used to work with at one time in his storied
career, I’m surprised that he would so readily dismiss my nervousness.
“I know, Dad.”
Here’s the thing. I don’t want to work for Old Mike. I don’t even want to be a journalist.
But as my dad, “Beast” Chapman, likes to say, we bleed ink. As the daughter of award-winning reporters—now owning
small newspapers nationwide—my career has always been a foregone conclusion.
“You’ve got the drive in you, kid. Just like your mom. Don’t worry about a thing.”
Easy for him to say. Both my parents are lifers. As coworkers, they got stranded together during a blizzard and fell in love.
A year later, Y2K happened. Remember that? Neither do I because Mom and Dad’s favorite cringey story is about how I
was conceived on New Year’s Eve at the turn of the century. “We were both so exhilarated that the world didn’t turn upside
down. And then you happened, which turned everything upside down in the best way,” as Mom likes to tell it.
Yeah, my parents are super into each other, even in their 50s. It’s sweet, but I’ve given up any hope of finding someone who
makes me feel that instant connection like Beast Chapman and Avery Jacobs had for each other. Most of the guys in my
journalism school were way too shy and serious for me. When I decided to take the initiative and ask one or two of them out,
they looked at me like I was a leper for even asking. Or like I was the whore of Babylon. As in, how could I even think about
dating when the world was falling apart around us?
Meh. I told ’em all to touch grass and call me when they got tired of working themselves ragged.
“Seeing a workplace is a lot more intimidating than studying it,” I try on my dad, hoping he’ll get the point.
“Ah, but you ran the school paper!”
He’s not wrong, but the school paper was rough on me. First, the office was in a basement, and everyone looked like they
hadn’t seen sunshine in years.
No offense, but there’s a reason my sister Rebel calls them all the mole people. And she spends most of her time indoors
throwing imaginary fireballs at dragons. But Rebel’s never been one to shy away from speaking her mind. When Dad offered
her an internship, she blinked at him blankly, then went back to writing her ’zine. Yes, you read that right: a physical paper
‘zine that Rebel sends in the mail to about six thousand paid subscribers. She’s been doing that since she was 13, and now at
26, she has so much money socked away that no one can tell her shit.
Maybe I should go work for Rebel.
But this morning, I was determined to go along with my predetermined path, telling myself that I like writing enough that I
can make this work. Besides, what else can I do for money besides starting an OnlyFans page? No thank you.
And yet, when I showed up for the newspaper interview, I smelled the familiar scent of ink and stale coffee. People paced
around, some shouting at each other. Others were chained to desks and furiously typing.
Everyone looked—you guessed it—too serious.
My stomach plummeted to the floor when I saw my future. I couldn’t go through with it.
So, I left.
I just got into my dad’s car and drove.
I know, I know. I should tell my parents the truth. And I will. I just have to devise an alternative life plan that won’t make
their heads explode. So far, I’ve come up with bupkis.
As I sit here on the phone with Dad, a pickup truck parks next to me, and the driver dashes out. From inside the diner, a
server sees the driver and immediately meets him at the door with a big cup containing some type of milkshake, with a spoon
and a straw sticking out of the top. He hands the server a few bills and tells her to keep the change.
The passenger window rolls down, and a pretty woman in her 30s sticks her head out. The server leans out the door.
“Thanks, Maya,” says the passenger as the driver hands over the milkshake.
“You picked a name yet?” asks the server.
The passenger pats her stomach. “Luckily Harley was happy to stick with keeping the Elvis names in the family,” she
laughs. “Lisa Marie if it’s a girl and Aaron for a boy.”
Maya seems overjoyed to hear it. She clutches her heart. “Oh my god. I hope it’s both!”
“Twins? Don’t make me pass out, Maya!” shouts the driver, evidently the father.
The women both laugh. “Keep the Oreo shakes coming, ’cause this craving isn’t going anywhere for a while,” the pregnant
one says.
“Just say the word, and I’ll bring it to the job site next time, Presley,” the server calls out as the couple drives away.
That. That’s what I want.
 Not a pickup, and not even an Oreo shake. But a nice man with a good sense of humor who would give me babies and drive
me around town to satisfy my pregnancy cravings in the middle of the afternoon on a Tuesday.
But how do I verbalize that to my career-focused parents?
Do you think I’m about to drop that bomb when I don’t have the most essential piece of that puzzle? I’m not dating anyone.
Yeah, that’s not gonna fly without a career first.
“You hearing what I’m saying, Cody Cat?”
Oh geez, that name.
“I hear you, Dad. But I don’t think I got the job. Sorry.”
“Listen, don’t be surprised if he calls you in a few days with an offer. And if he doesn’t? Fuck ’em.”
Do you see how awesome he is? I just need a few hours—or maybe days—to gather up my courage and tell my parents
what I want. And to deliver it in a way that won’t make him disappointed in me.
But first, pie.
My stomach growls when I see a server inside the diner scoop a massive slice of something topped with meringue and pile
it onto a plate with a truckload of vanilla ice cream.
“Right,” I say. “Fuck ’em. Fuck ’em all.”
Dad snorts. “Where’d you learn to talk like that, Sweet Cody Bear?”
“Interning? With you?”
“Oh, that’s right…”
“Listen,” I sigh. “I’m gonna visit some friends while I’m here, okay? Clear my head.”
Dad murmurs in agreement. “Good idea. Have some fun in Cincinnati. Then, come home to Florida, and the three of us will
put our heads together and figure it out. Just like we always have.”
“Sounds good,” I say, nodding, my eyes darting to the road sign that is most definitely not Cincinnati but reads, “Fate,
Kentucky, Population 2,012.”
I send my love to Mom, we say our goodbyes, and I hang up.
I don’t know where I’ve ended up, but it’s far enough away from my problems for now.
For now, lunch and some pie is all I need.
 2

D
ean

My feet freeze to the spot when I set foot in the diner.

Who. Is. That?
Her lips move as she talks to Ruby, the owner. That smile is so bright and pretty; it’s like a bullet straight to my heart.
“Dean? You need something?”
One of the servers gently nudges me out of the way as she carries a platter of fries and shakes, yet is nice enough to check
on me.
“Uh, yeah…” I say. What was I doing here again?
I’m finding it hard to tear my eyes away from the mop of brown curls. The friendly eyes. The cute pantsuit that hugs her
every curve.
Another server, Maya, shouts, “Your order’s right here on the counter, Dean. Three burgers and fries, a pint of banana
pudding.”
Burgers? Who needs burgers when one’s life has just shifted into sharp focus?
Before I remember what I’m doing here, Maya hands me my takeout bags.
“Are you feeling okay?” Maya asks.
Somebody snorts from a nearby booth. I know it’s one of those old retired farmers who have nothing better to do than hang
around the diner and collect gossip, harassing everyone in the process.
My eyes dart left, and sure enough, one of the old men in the feed store cap has a twinkle in his eye. “Go talk to her, son.
The population boom around here is starting to slow down.”
“You mind your own business, Merle,” clucks a familiar voice that can be no one but Ernestine Jenkins, town matriarch and
top-tier busybody. She then turns her sharp gaze to me. “But he’s right. You should go talk to her.”
Talk? I can’t talk to a strange woman. I’m a mess. Lately, my life has been all about getting my new game store ready to
open. I’m covered in paint and dust. Hell, I don’t think I remembered to brush my teeth or put on deodorant today—I’ve
become one of those reclusive forest dwarves who’ve been alone for so long they don’t remember what touch feels like. I went
to seed eons ago, and now I eat bugs and build shelves. Well, I don’t literally eat bugs, but that would probably be better for
my health than the constant flow of burgers and fries and banana pudding that’s been sustaining me lately.
 I’ve stood here for a second too long. Ruby has disappeared into the kitchen to put the woman’s order in, and now the
stranger has caught me staring.
Shit.
She holds my gaze for a beat, and her beaming smile fades. Just barely, but enough for me to catch it. Of course, because I
look like a freak with all this food.
“You’d make pretty babies,” murmurs Ernestine. Oh god. I suddenly feel aware of eight pairs of elderly eyes on me, like
every bored retiree in Fate is willing me with their minds to give them all something to talk about.
I consider my options, but one factor supersedes everything. I smell. I reek of paint and body odor.
Even if I could take the initiative and talk to a pretty girl, I’d kill her with my armpit stench. What’s more, up close I look
like a serial killer with red paint spattered on my clothes and dirt under my nails.
Nah. This isn’t happening today. I need a shower and lots of therapy first.
“Where is he going?” I hear muttered among the crowd of regulars as I bolt out the door and head back to my shop.
Downtown and safely done with my quest for food, Forrest and Rhys act like I’ve been away for hours.
“Finally!” grunts a paint-smudged Forrest when I shove the bags of food onto the counter by the register at Love Games.
“We’re starving!” exclaims Rhys, looking men’s-magazine perfect in his designer sweater and tailored trousers — less than
ideal for lifting boxes and building shelves. Rhys is more concerned with arranging the coffee station than he is with actual
work related to the purpose of the store: fantasy tabletop gaming merchandising and events.
Ernestine’s seen-everything voice echoes through my head. You’d make pretty babies…
She’s not wrong.
Forrest catches me staring into space as he and Rhys dive into their burgers and fries.
“You gonna eat that?” Forrest asks this through a mouthful of beef as he points to my food, which remains wrapped in its
packaging and abandoned by the cash register.
I shake the virtual bees from my brain. “Ah…no. You can have it. I’m not hungry.”
“Suit yourself,” Forrest says with a shrug. “You?” he asks Rhys.
Rhys shakes his head, says, “Have at it,” then aims his gaze at me.
“Stop staring at me like that; it’s freaking me out,” I say, turning away from him and heading to the front window to
rearrange the display of cosplay weapons.
“Something happened to you,” Rhys says.
“Not now, Rhys,” I mumble, switching a double-sided ax in the mannequin’s hand for a mace.
“Yes, now.”
Here we go. We’re gonna talk about feelings.
I grumble, “This is a game store. We steal gold from dragon lairs. We collect custom 20-sided die and the bones of our
enemies. We do complicated nonsense to power up a steampunk airship time machine. We don’t pry about real life.”
“You’re grumpier than usual. What happened?” Rhys hovers nearby, his lunch forgotten, as I begin disrobing one of the
mannequins. The leather and faux fur barbarian costumes in the window seem to draw people in who think this place is a sex
dungeon, so I need to do something about that.
“Nothing,” I grunt, struggling with the latches on the fur and leather bra.
“Uh-oh. Girl trouble.”
I turn and shoot him a look of death, which was a mistake.
“Oh. Big-time girl trouble. Was it Kim? Did Kim text you again? I told you to block her; you know what she does to your
psyche.”
With one arm hooked around the front of the mannequin, I abruptly turn toward Rhys, my jaw set. “It’s not Kim,” I spit out.
And who would not feel irritated at their friend for bringing up the name of the person who cheated and then thought they could
booty-call you post-breakup? She tried. Didn’t work on me.
Maybe Rhys is right; I should have blocked Kim’s phone number years ago. But I haven’t. Not because I want anything to
do with her. Her occasional messages remind me that, at one time, I was a hopeful young dude of 30 who was ready to settle
down and start a family. Who believed in love.
Maybe I’ll get there again. One day.
“The only other explanation for this mood swing has to be either the tax assessment came through, or you’re brooding about
a woman. And since a silent partner should be informed of any and all financial circumstances in this business, there’s one
alternative.”
I turn away from Rhys and try to remember what it was I came to the window display to do.
And there, on the other side of the glass, is her.
The woman from the diner with the heartbreaking smile. She’s staring straight at me, eyes wide. But this time she’s not
smiling. She looks…disturbed.
Probably because I look annoyed. I try to fix my face into a smile but only manage an awkward grimace.
 And then, I see what she sees. I follow her gaze, and to my utter horror, my hand is down the front of this mannequin’s fur
bra. I’m fully copping a feel—in broad daylight, on Main.
Understandably spooked, she runs away.
Because Rhys is in my orbit, he gets the brunt of my ire after I slam the mannequin to the floor.
“What is your problem, Dean?”
My problem? My problem is now I’m not just a serial-killer-looking dude with dirt under his nails who had a one-time run-
in with a pretty girl and lost his nerve, but now I’m all that, plus the pathetic creep who fondles innocent mannequins.
As I march toward the back of the shop and slam open the metal door, I toss out, “My problem is no one knows how to
mind their own fucking business.”
I take the metal fire escape two stairs at a time and push into my unlocked second-story apartment above the game store.
Time to shower and ask for a re-roll on this day.
 3

D
akota

“How was everything?” Ruby asks when she checks on me.

I felt a little strange after that man came in, stared at me like I was the only woman on earth, then bolted before I could say
hello.
It is a wild, almost high feeling. Coupling that with the feeling I have after eating the best burger and apple pie of my life—
plus having changed in the restroom from my stuffy interview outfit into a much comfier pair of old jeans, sneakers, and hoodie
—I’m starting to feel like me again.
“Ruby, if I wasn’t straight I’d marry you.”
The diner owner laughs as she plops my check down on the Formica table. “Sweetie, you and all the regulars who propose
to me daily would have to get in line to fight my husband.”
I laugh as I pay my bill and leave a tip bigger than I can afford.
With my belly full of good food and my mood greatly improved, I decide to drive downtown for a quick browse. I
remember Ruby mentioning something about sidewalk sales at the shops today. A little retail therapy sounds perfect.
The small square is bustling with pedestrians and cyclists, but eventually I find a parking spot and stretch my legs. The sun
is shining, and I’m content to browse the stores for a while before I decide on my next move. I’m long overdue to confront
Mom and Dad on their life choices for me.
I spot a storefront with a black awning that reads Love Games in white gothic lettering. The window display is all leather,
metal, and fur and…is that what I think it is? A sex shop? Maybe even a dungeon? With a display window? Wow, for a small
town in middle America, this is wild.
I approach and peek through the glass.
Curiously, I see a display of ornate dice towers resembling castles, plus stacks of books and board games that look oddly
familiar.
Wait…something clicks all of a sudden. This isn’t a sex shop. This is a game shop…one of those specialized shops that sell
role-playing games that my sister likes, like Crypt Crawlers or Hero Quest. Every weekend, my sister Rebel disappears into
one of those places in our hometown and goes no-contact for hours. Then she’ll come home and excitedly regale all of us with
tales of her “campaigns,” though I never understand what the hell she is talking about.
 I suddenly feel homesick. Maybe I should call my sister.
Or maybe I should have shown more curiosity about her hobbies, and we’d be closer than we are. Now I’m curious about
all this. I see games and manuals with fantastical and scary-sounding names like Blood Mountain Booty and a steampunk-y one
called Time Machine Treasure.
But the most curious thing of all is the six-foot-four man with salt and pepper scruff, with one hand groping a mannequin’s
boob beneath a sexy fur and leather bra. What the what?
Is that…no, it can’t be…and yet I know it is. I recognize those gorgeous eyes. The difference now is those eyes look angry
—so angry I would not be shocked if laser beams shot out of them and cut holes in the glass between us.
This is uncomfortable and weird. I stumble backward into a passing shopper, apologize, then bolt away.
So the game shop is off my shopping list.
I duck into a pretty little aromatherapy store on the next corner, hoping to get distracted from this feeling like I just got
struck by lightning.
Yep. Just put one foot in front of the other and keep going.
Without realizing it, I walk in a circle and end up at Love Games again. Great. I’ve made a complete loop around the
courthouse square and officially seen everything, yet nothing.
And I’m no closer to coming up with what I’ll say to my parents about the interview.
I stare at the window, relieved not to see the handsome man groping the mannequin.
I gaze up at the awning and think.
And then it hits me. I don’t know my life plan yet, but I know exactly what my next step should be.
 4

D
ean

I stand in front of the mirror and go down the mental list before returning to the shop.
Showered and shaved? Check.
Clothes and fingernails fresh and free from any serial killer vibes? Check.
Squinting at my reflection, I frown. Don’t know if I can stop giving grumpy, skittish asshole, but this is the best I can do for
now.
I head downstairs and wonder if all that grooming was in vain, because let’s be real. There’s no way that lady is coming
back to my store. Not with the way I looked at her.
Then again, there’s something about a shower that can fix what ails you.
It’ll take a lot more than a shower to fix what’s wrong with me, but at least I can’t smell myself now.
Deep in thought, I push in through the back alley door and crash into something that most definitely should not be there.
Correction: not something. Someone.
My brain registers the mop of brown curly hair, pink T-shirt, and the soft body that bounces off me and stumbles backward.
“Whoa!” I shout, instinctively reaching out and grabbing the person’s arm to steady them. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” she says, shoving a lock of hair out of her face. “But customers should go through the door on Main Street.”
Did I…walk into the rear door of the wrong shop?
Recognition hits us both at the same time.
The eyes. The hair. That smile. It’s her.
“Customers?” I ask, squinting.
Her face turns to complete mischief. “Or mannequin molesters.”
Shit, what is happening?
I try to laugh it off, but I only manage a sneer. “I’m the owner.”
“Oh. Well, nice to meet you. I’m Dakota.”
Dakota.
She blinks up at me. “And you are?”
“Dean. What are you doing in my stock room?” I ask, more growly than intended.
 “Working.”
“On what? Stealing shit?”
I didn’t have “make a citizen’s arrest of a stock-room pillager” on today’s bingo card—or game master’s guide, as it were
—but here we are.
The girl named Dakota pinches the bridge of her nose. “Clearly there is a communication problem here as well as a
branding problem.”
“Huh?”
“Let’s start over. Hi,” she says, thrusting out a manicured hand. “I’m Dakota, your new brand manager.”
I put it together that Rhys or Forrest, or both of them, hired her on the spot in the time it took for me to take a shower.
“What’s a brand manager?” I ask flatly, trying to work on my smile without baring my teeth like a weirdo.
She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, clearly trying not to look impatient.
“It’s a person who helps you tweak things here and there so you don’t get walk-ins from folks looking for dildos.”
“Excuse me?”
Just then, the front bell rings, and I hear Forrest’s awkward greeting, followed by, “Yes, I was wondering if you have any
furry handcuffs.”
Dakota locks eyes with me and raises an eyebrow.
“Oh. So you do want to start stocking adult toys.”
“No.”
“Pornography?”
“No,” I say firmly, transfixed by her pert little eyebrow. I must have moved in closer to her without realizing it because
now I can smell her scent…spicy and creamy and so tempting it puts filthy ideas in my head.
“Building a sex dungeon?”
“What? No! And I’m not a mannequin molester.”
Dakota shrugs. “Hey, pal, whatever kink you’re into is fine with me, just maybe keep that to the stock room, and don’t do it
in the window. We’re working on rebranding, remember?”
My feet move closer, and she doesn’t back away. “What makes you think we’re a sex store?” Probably the Clan of the
Cave Bear cosplay shit that Forrest set out in the window display is my guess, but I want to hear it from her.
“Love Games? Come on, man.”
I smirk. “Love is my last name.”
“Dean Love. That’s cute,” she replies, pursing her lips as her eyes travel from my gaze to my mouth to my chest and back
up again. “But a terrible name for a game store.”
“Really.”
“Yes.”
“And I suppose you have a better idea.”
She bounces on the balls of her feet and beams at me. “Plenty. My brain is on fire with ideas.”
“Let’s hear it,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest, amused.
“What about The Game Forrest?”
I knit my brow and scoff. “Forrest? He’s not the owner.”
“Right, but he totally let the cat out of the bag that he won the lottery and used some of his winnings to help you open this
store. In the world of branding, that kind of dough gets naming rights,” she explains, looking triumphant.
I stew on this, but I can’t prevent the low grumble that bubbles up from my chest.
“Fine. You don’t like The Game Forrest,” she says, tapping a pretty finger against a juicy bottom lip while I try not to
drool. “Your other friend had a good idea. Rhys’s Rec Room.”
“That’s terrible. Also, he’s a silent partner.”
She smiles again, like she already won this argument. God, she’s adorable. And annoying. “A silent partner who also
happens to have partially funded this dream of yours with money left to him by an elderly neighbor who was a low-key distant
member of the Vanderbilt family.”
“How fucking long was I in the shower? Did I go through a portal and come back eight days later? Those guys don’t talk
about that shit,” I grumble.
Dakota shrugs. “They did with me.”
“Wow, did you and the boys exchange friendship bracelets too?”
“Maybe. Why? You jealous?”
I step in closer and say the truth. The whole truth about myself for the first time in four years. “Yes.”
Her eyes flash with interest, but she quickly packs that up under a mask of indifference. “How could you be jealous when
you just met me? And considering you don’t seem to be a huge fan of what I’m doing here?”
“Dakota,” I say, rolling her name around in my mouth, liking how it feels. “It’s a small town, but I don’t think I’ve seen you
around before,” I say.
“Nice change of subject.”
“Thank you.”
She asks, “How would you know I’m new in Fate?”
“I’d remember you.”
She blushes but doesn’t seem put off.
“Besides,” I say, happy to have her eyes back on me, “I saw you in Ruby’s about an hour ago, and everyone in town was
practically planning our wedding.”
This is equivalent to rolling for damage when coming face to face with a dragon, and I’m only wearing leather armor.
But what do I have to lose? I’ve already lost five years of my life being a sullen asshole.
I wait for her to react badly, but she leans in at the same time I lean in.
“Interesting town,” Dakota says huskily.
Her hand goes to my stomach, giving me a jolt of lightning.
“Some might call it pathological,” I say.
“Potato, potahto,” she whispers, tilting her face up.
Our lips meet in a warm kiss that marks the beginning. Her sunshine is doing its magic on the ice that surrounds my heart.
Dakota’s lips are soft and searching, and her hand on my stomach fists my T-shirt to pull me closer.
I don’t know which one of us deepens the kiss first; all I know is her lips part, and she darts the tip of her tongue out to
meet mine. She’s soft and sweet as she presses our bodies together, releasing my shirt and snaking her hand around my lower
back. My tongue sweeps into her mouth, and she tastes like cinnamon and sugar. Her arms go around my ribcage and pull me
closer, like she owns me. Raw need builds in me that I’ve never felt for anyone before.
I pull away from the kiss to search her eyes, to make sure this is what she wants. And to make sure this is really happening
and I haven’t been cudgeled into dreamland by some highwaymen. I really need to spend less time with my head in fantasy
games.
“Why’d you stop?”
“I…I don’t have the slightest idea,” I reply.
We both laugh.
“Maybe because you want to kiss me other places,” she tries.
Wow. And yes please.
“I don’t even know your last name,” I rasp.
“Chapman. You want my social so you can run a criminal background check before we go any further?”
“No. And I’m still not changing the name of the store.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Hey, look at that,” I say, leaning in close, inhaling the scent below her ear.
“Look at what?” Dakota asks.
“A spot I haven’t kissed yet.” She shivers against me as I brush some loose hair out of the way.
“Keep distracting me from my job and the guys will fire me,” she rasps as I press one soft, open-mouth kiss against her
throat.
“I’m your boss. Me.”
“Okay.”
“Say it,” I demand, slowly working my mouth over the luscious flesh where her neck meets her shoulder.
“Whatever you say, boss.”
“That’s better.”
Any thought of how wrong this is, how I don’t even know how old she is, how she’s my employee, how we just met
seconds ago—seem very silly and dim next to the importance of what’s happening here.
Every touch, every kiss propels me closer and closer to the meaning of my life.
Dramatic much? You don’t run a game store without enjoying a little melodrama once in a while.
I back her against the wall, taking her hands from my back and pinning them above her head.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“Showing you who’s boss,” I say, plucking at the button of her jeans with my free hand.
Dakota rolls her pelvis forward.
“You like being pinned against the wall, don’t you?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you’ll look pretty when you come all over my hand.”
She inhales sharply. “Oh god I’m so happy I ghosted Old Mike.”
I free the button and unzip her jeans, snaking my hand down the front. I don’t know who Old Mike is, but she’s going to
forget he exists.
I let my mouth travel back up her throat slowly before taking her lips in another warm, slow, wet kiss. Dakota squirms
under my firm hold. I pull back to check on her.
Breathless, she asks, “Why do you keep stopping?”
“’Cause you’re cute and kind of a bossy-pants, and I want to see how you look when you lose control.”
She bites her lip, rolling her hips forward, grinding against my teasing hand. When I slide my hand a little lower, her
panties are soaked through. I groan as my cock strains against the zipper of my jeans.
I slide my hand lower and tug the gusset of her panties to the side, petting the soft cleft of her pussy. Dakota’s flushed lips
part at the contact.
I can’t stand not kissing her, feeling her bruised lips on mine. She moans into my mouth, but enough that anyone just outside
the stock room will know what’s going on in here.
We should hurry this up, but damn, I need more time.
Her sweetness gushes through my fingers, and I lean in to whisper in her ear, “If you’re real, real quiet, I’ll give you an
employee discount.”
“Oh shit,” she rasps as my fingers slide between her folds with a light, teasing touch.
One exploring digit sinks inside her core, and she gasps. I shush her sexy little noises with my mouth as she trembles
around my probing middle finger.
I thumb her clit and add another finger into her heat.
Dakota’s pretty brow furrows with the effort not to scream.
God, she’s beautiful, and I can’t wait to get her upstairs so she can holler all she wants.
It doesn’t take long for her to squeak out the prettiest little orgasm of all time.
Her warm pussy pulses with pleasure, her mouth agape.
“Fuck, I knew it. I knew you’d be pretty when you came.”
Both of us breathless and dazed, I unpin her wrists.
“Time to go back to work,” I say. She grins and cutely blows a stray strand of hair from her eyes.
Before I let her go completely, I bring one of Dakota’s hands to my mouth, pressing my lips against the center of her palm.
“What was that for?”
“Just to let you know you’re mine.”
I watch her go, steadying herself against the door jamb as she returns to work.
Yeah, I’m feeling pretty proud of myself.
Forrest and Rhys love to tell me to get back into dating. Make an effort.
So that’s what I’m doing.
I barely know her, but I know she is everything I’ve been missing in life.
And if I don’t take the initiative, if I don’t roll the dice, I’m going to miss out on the biggest hidden treasure of all.
 5

D
akota

Did that just happen?

What kind of a lunatic does that? I don’t even know this Dean Love.
Other than he’s terrible at marketing, judging by the complete lack of customers in this place. And there’s the fact that he’s
such a good kisser—among other things—he has me agreeing that I’m “his” after the wildest, most instantaneous makeout
session of my life.
And yet it was magic. Complete magic.
Rhys, the one who looks as if he just stepped out of a men’s fashion magazine, appears from the coffee station, holding out a
drink for me.
“Thirsty?”
“Uh.” Yeah…I don’t know how to answer that. This is awkward.
But I forget all about the awkwardness when I smell the aroma of heavenly coffee coming from the drinks Rhys is holding.
Dean appears out of the back room and places his body between mine and the guy with the coffee drinks. Rhys ignores
Dean’s posture and gently bodychecks him as he comes at me.
“She’s my guinea pig. Try this,” Rhys says, shoving the steaming cup into my hands as he reaches past Dean.
“She’s not your guinea pig, Rhys,” Dean says. His voice takes on a growly tone that sends a shiver down my spine.
“Smells like good coffee,” I say, hovering my nose over the steam.
Rhys nods. “You be the judge. Just remember, my life’s passion depends on this.”
I take a tentative sip and look at Dean, not sure I want this much pressure ascribed to a simple cup of coffee.
Dean rolls his eyes. “Silent partner, my ass.”
“Silent no more, since he decided this town needs a coffee shop inside the game store,” Forrest says, trudging his size 14s
across the creaking wood floor to grab one of the coffees.
“You’ll thank me later for diversifying,” Rhys says.
Yum. “He’s right. You all should thank him because this coffee is from the gods.”
Rhys beams at me. “I like this lady.”
Dean doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s fully standing between us, deliberately trying to block Rhys from gauging my
every reaction to the taste of the coffee.
I step to the side and tell Rhys, “It’s amazingly smooth. How did you do that?”
Rhys launches into a whole speech about his coffee machine he calls his “baby,” none of which I understand.
“Sounds high maintenance,” I say.
“High maintenance, high cost, low margins,” Dean says gruffly.
“Rhys is on the right track, though. Clearly you need diversification. Coffee will get new people in the door,” I say.
I can feel the tension as the three men exchange looks.
“Tell the truth. You’re bleeding money right now, aren’t you?”
Dean scrubs his face. “Yeah.”
Suddenly I feel bad for accepting a job here. And yet I like these guys, and I don’t want to leave. Well, one of them I like
more than kind of.
“Listen,” I say, resting a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I don’t have to take a paycheck until you start turning a profit.”
Laughter ensues. “You’ll fit right in here. None of us are getting paid,” Forrest says.
Dean grunts, “Of course you’re getting paid.”
I am indignant. “But…”
“No buts,” he says.
“I’d just like to point out I’m the one who hired her,” Rhys says. “So if she wants to give up her salary…”
He falls silent with one look from Dean.
I bemusedly watch the three men banter as I scarf down this coffee.
What’s the real cost of becoming a professional journalist when it’s not even what I want to do? Therapy. Lots and lots of
therapy after I burn out.
Is accepting a job here any crazier than ghosting my first real job interview? No.
Maybe I really do believe in signs from the universe.
And okay, maybe, just maybe, a tiny part of me is enjoying the idea of working with this incredibly hot, great-smelling
older man.
That great-smelling guy turns to me, and I catch the super quick glance at my mouth.
I smile back, and for a moment, it seems like the rest of the world disappears.
Either Forrest or Rhys clears their throat.
Dean crosses his arms over his chest and looks back at his friends. “What are you guys staring at?”
Looking smug, Rhys replies, “Time to block Kim’s number now?”
“Who’s Kim?” I ask.
“Oops,” blurts Forrest, sipping his coffee and refusing to make eye contact with me.
“Rhys,” Dean warns.
“So,” says Rhys, “you’re blocking her number now, right?”
Wariness clutches at my stomach. Did I make a mistake?
Of course I did. I walked into a job and a relationship all within an hour without asking a single question. Of course, he’s
going to have some baggage. We all do.
And it’s not too late to get out of this, I tell myself. I could walk away relatively unscathed from this whirlwind moment. If
Dean isn’t over his ex, maybe that’s what I should do.
I should talk to him about it, but I don’t get the chance as a customer walks in.
“Oh, wait,” the woman says, frowning as she scans the bookshelves in confusion. “This isn’t what I thought it was.”
Nudging Rhys, I hiss, “Offer her free coffee, now! I got this.”
And then I pounce.
I don’t know how I do it, but something comes over me, and I give a sales pitch that ends with this 65-year-old woman
buying a new dice set for her 13-year-old grandson and signing him up for a weekend tabletop campaign for teens. Not that the
store is currently offering such a thing, but…now they do, I decide.
Now comes the hard part, and the thing that will probably get me fired: trying to remember the instructions on how to use
the till.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Die Tier- und
Pflanzenwelt des Süsswassers. Zweiter Band
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where
you are located before using this eBook.

Title: Die Tier- und Pflanzenwelt des Süsswassers. Zweiter Band

Editor: Otto Zacharias

Author: C. Apstein
Friedrich Borcherding
Stephan Clessin
Paul Kramer
E. Schmidt-Schwedt
Arthur Seligo
Friedrich Zschokke

Release date: February 13, 2024 [eBook #72952]

Language: German

Original publication: Leipzig: Verlagsbuchhandlung von J. J. Weber,

1891

Credits: Peter Becker and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team

at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from
images generously made available by The Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DIE TIER-

UND PFLANZENWELT DES SÜSSWASSERS. ZWEITER BAND ***
 Anmerkungen zur Transkription
Der vorliegende Text wurde anhand der Buchausgabe von 1891 so weit wie möglich
originalgetreu wiedergegeben. Typographische Fehler wurden stillschweigend korrigiert.
Ungewöhnliche und heute nicht mehr verwendete Schreibweisen bleiben gegenüber dem
Original unverändert; fremdsprachliche Ausdrücke wurden nicht korrigiert.
Fußnoten wurden direkt nach dem betreffenden Absatz eingefügt, Literaturhinweise als
Endnoten dagegen am Ende eines jeden Kapitels. Darüberhinaus haben einige der
Autoren dort weitere nummerierte Literaturhinweise angefügt, welche durch Zahlen
gefolgt von runden Klammern gekennzeichnet werden.
Botanische und zoologische Bezeichnungen werden meist in kursiver Schrift dargestellt,
Personennamen meist g e s p e r r t . Dies wird allerdings nicht durchweg konsistent
gehandhabt; in der vorliegenden Bearbeitung wurde dies auch nicht harmonisiert.
Abhängig von der im jeweiligen Lesegerät installierten Schriftart können die im Original
g e s p e r r t gedruckten Passagen gesperrt, in serifenloser Schrift, oder aber sowohl
serifenlos als auch gesperrt erscheinen.
 Die
Tier- und Pflanzenwelt
des

Süsswassers.
 Die
Tier- und Pflanzenwelt
des
Süsswassers.
Einführung in das Studium derselben.
Unter Mitwirkung von
Dr. C. Apstein (Kiel), Fr. Borcherding (Vegesack), S. Clessin
(Ochsenfurt), Prof. Dr. F. A. Forel (Morges, Schweiz), Prof. Dr. A. Gruber
(Freiburg i. Br.), Prof. Dr. P. Kramer (Halle a. d. S.), Prof. Dr. P. Ludwig
(Greiz), Dr. W. Migula (Karlsruhe), Dr. L. Plate (Marburg), Dr. E.
Schmidt-Schwedt (Berlin), Dr. A. Seligo (Danzig), Dr. J. Vosseler
(Tübingen), Dr. W. Weltner (Berlin) und Prof. Dr. F. Zschokke (Basel)
herausgegeben
von

Dr. Otto Zacharias,

Direktor der Biologischen Station am Grossen Plöner See in Holstein

Zweiter Band

Mit 51 in den Text gedruckten Abbildungen.

Leipzig
Verlagsbuchhandlung von J. J. Weber
1891
Alle Rechte vorbehalten.
 Vorwort.

Nach der Aufnahme zu urteilen, welche der erste

Teil des vorliegenden Werkes in den nächst
interessierten Kreisen sowohl als auch in der
Tagespresse gefunden hat, ist mit unserer
„Einführung in das Studium der Tier- und
Pflanzenwelt des Süsswassers“ eine in der
biologischen Litteratur wirklich vorhandene Lücke
ausgefüllt worden.
Die Absicht des Herausgebers ist demnach
vollständig erreicht; aber mit der Befriedigung, die er
hierüber empfindet, wird sogleich auch der Wunsch
rege, sämtlichen Herren, welche der Aufforderung
zur Mitarbeiterschaft an diesem Buche in so
freundlicher Weise entsprochen haben, beim
Erscheinen des Schlussbandes den verbindlichsten
Dank für ihre wertvollen Beiträge abzustatten. Der
Unterzeichnete nimmt an, dass er damit nicht nur
seinen eigenen Empfindungen Ausdruck giebt,
sondern zugleich auch im Namen aller Derjenigen
spricht, welche eine umfassende,
gemeinverständliche und s i c h e r e Unterweisung in
betreff der einheimischen Wasserwelt bisher vermisst
haben.
Biologische Station am Plöner See.
Ende Juni 1891.
Dr. Otto Zacharias.
 Inhaltsverzeichnis.

Seite
I. Die Hydrachniden (Wassermilben). Von Prof. Dr.
P. K r a m e r in Halle.
Geschichtliches. — Stellung der Süsswassermilben zu den
übrigen Milben. — Beschreibung der äussern Gestalt von
Piona flavescens. — Die hauptsächlichsten inneren Organe
der Hydrachnidae. — Die typischen Gruppen der
Wassermilben, durch Beispiele erläutert. — Geographische
Verbreitung und Lebensweise. — Entwickelung, erläutert an
Nesaea fuscata, Diplodontus filipes und Hydrachna globosa.
— Anhang: Tabelle zur Bestimmung der bis jetzt
unterschiedenen Gattungen 1–50

II. Kerfe und Kerflarven des süssen Wassers,

besonders der stehenden Gewässer. Von Dr. E.
S c h m i d t - S c h w e d t in Berlin.
Einleitende Bemerkungen. — Vergleich mit den 51–122
Wassersäugetieren. — Besondere Wichtigkeit von Atmung
und Bewegung. — 1. Käfer: a) Taumelkäfer. — b)
Schwimmkäfer. — c) Kolbenwasserkäfer. — d) Parnus,
Cyphon, Donacia. — 2. Zweiflügler: Larven und Puppen. —
Kennzeichnung derselben: a) Mücken: Culex, Anopheles,
Dixa, Corethra, Mochlonyx, Chironomus, Tanypus, Simulia. —
b) Phalacrocera. — c) Stratiomyden. — d) Eristalis. — 3.
Schmetterlingslarven: Paraponyx, Hydrocampa, Cataclysta. —
4. Netzflüglerlarven: a) Frühlingsfliegen: Limnophilus,
Polycentropus, Hydropsyche. — b) Sialis, Sisyra. — 5.
Geradflüglerlarven: a) Libellen: Agrion-, Libellula-, Aeschna-
Gruppe, Calopteryx, Gomphus. — b) Eintagsfliegen: Chloëon,
Caenis. — c) Afterfrühlingsfliegen: Nemura. — Gegensatz der
 Netzflügler und Geradflügler hinsichtlich des Wasserlebens zu
den übrigen Ordnungen. — 6. Schnabelkerfe: a)
Hydrometriden. — b) Notonecta, Plea. — c) Corisa. — d)
Nepa, Ranatra, Naucoris. — Schlussbemerkungen: Hinweis
auf die Kerfe des Meeres. — Anhang: Tabelle zu annähernder
Bestimmung der Kerflarven des Süsswassers

III. Die Mollusken des Süsswassers. Von S. C l e s s i n

in Ochsenfurt.
Einteilung der Mollusken. — Wohnorte und Gewohnheiten. —
Entwickelung und Alter der Mollusken. — Anpassungsfähigkeit
der Mollusken. — Die Mollusken der Tiefenfauna. — Höhlen-
Mollusken. — Die Perlenmuschel 123–150

IV. Die deutschen Süsswasserfische und ihre

Lebensverhältnisse. Von Dr. A. S e l i g o in
Heiligenbrunn bei Danzig.
Das Wasser als Lebenselement der Fische. — Das
Süsswasser. — Ausbreitung der Süsswasserfische. —
Umgrenzung des zu besprechenden Gewässergebietes. —
Der Ursprung der Cypriniden und Salmoniden. — Aufzählung
der im Gebiete vorkommenden Arten der Knochenfische,
Ganoidfische und Neunaugen und die Verbreitung derselben.
— Die Organe der Fische und ihre Verrichtungen: Haut,
Schuppen, Glanz, Farbe. — Wirbelsäule. — Körperform. —
Ortsbewegung, Flossen, Muskeln. — Leibeshöhle, Zwerchfell,
Brusthöhle, Herz, Leber, Nieren, Milz. — Mundhöhle und
Bezahnung. — Kiemen. — Atmung und Sauerstoffbedürfnis,
Fischregionen der Gewässer. — Darm und Magen. —
Verdauung. — Körpertemperatur, Einflüsse der Temperatur
des Mediums. — Nahrung, Fütterung, Wachstum. —
Schwimmblase. — Fortpflanzungsorgane und das Laichen. —
Samenfäden und Eier. — Fortpflanzung des Aals, des Lachses
und der Forellen. — Künstliche Fischzucht. — Teichwirtschaft.
— Einführung ausländischer und Ausbreitung einheimischer
Fischarten auf künstlichem Wege. — Brutpflege. — Gehirn
und Sinnesorgane: Auge, Hörorgan, Seitenorgan, Geschmack
und Geruch, Tastorgane. — Fischfang 151–208

V. Die Parasiten unserer Süsswasserfische. Von

 Prof. Dr. Fr. Z s c h o k k e in Basel.
Allgemeines über den Parasitismus. — Verbreitung der
parasitischen Würmer der Wanderfische. — Zahl der Arten in
den verschiedenen Organen des Fischkörpers. — Aufzählung
von 29 Fischarten und ihrer Parasiten. — Nematoden
(Fadenwürmer): Cucullanus elegans, Ascaris acus,
Agamonema capsularia. — Echinorhynchen (Kratzer): Echin.
proteus, Echin. angustatus, Echin. clavaeceps. — Trematoden
(Saugwürmer): Distoma laureatum, Dist. globiporum, Dist.
nodulosum. — Diplozoon paradoxum, Gyrodactylus elegans.
— Cestoden (Bandwürmer): Caryophyllaeus mutabilis,
Cyathocephalus truncatus, Triaenophorus nodulosus, Ligula
simplicissima, Schistocephalus dimorphus, Bothriocephalus
latus 209–254

VI. Die quantitative Bestimmung des Plankton im

Süsswasser. Von Dr. C. A p s t e i n in Kiel.
Einleitung. — Vertikalnetz. — Filtrator. — Konservierung. —
Anwendung der Apparate. — Volumenbestimmung. —
Vorbereitung zur Zählung. — Stempelpipetten. — Das
Hensensche Zählmikroskop. — Zählung und Protokoll
derselben. — Ein Beispiel zur Methodik 255–294

VII. Die Fauna des Süsswassers in ihren

Beziehungen zu der des Meeres. Von Dr. O t t o
Z a c h a r i a s in Plön (Holstein).
Das Vorkommen von marinen Gattungen im Süsswasser. —
Reliktenseen. — Eine Meduse als Bewohnerin von Strandseen
auf Trinidad. — Einwanderung von Meerestieren in den
Ortoire-Fluss. — Freischwimmende Muschellarven (Dreyssena
polymorpha) im Süsswasser. — Die Verbreitung der kleinen
Wasserfauna durch „passive Wanderung“. — Der Süsswasser-
Monotus. — Die „Fauna relegata“ des Professors Pavesi. —
Der Transport kleiner Wasserorganismen durch
Schwimmvögel, Wasserkäfer und strömende Luft. —
Hakenborsten und Klebzellen der Würmer als
Anheftungswerkzeuge. — Das Wandern der
Wasserschnecken und Muscheln. — Spezialisierte Haftorgane
bei Protozoen (Difflugia) 295–312
VIII. Über die wissenschaftlichen Aufgaben
biologischer Süsswasser-Stationen. Von Dr. O t t o
Z a c h a r i a s in Plön (Holstein).
Die Begründung der „Biologischen Station“ zu Plön. — Vorteile
eines solchen Forschungsinstituts. — Die pelagischen
Organismen des Grossen Plöner Sees. — Die besonderen
Aufgaben von Süsswasserstationen. — Die Winterfauna
unserer Binnenseen. — Beobachtung der Wasserinsekten und
der im Wasser lebenden Larven von Landkerbtieren. —
Erforschung der eigentümlichen Fortpflanzungsverhältnisse
mancher Turbellarien und Oligochäten. — Faunistische
Exkursionen und vergleichende Untersuchungen. —
Praktische Gesichtspunkte. — Beschreibung der Plöner
Station. — Die Erforschung der böhmischen Gewässer durch
Prof. Anton Fritsch 313–331

IX. Das Tierleben auf Flussinseln und am Ufer der

Flüsse und Seen. Von Fr. B o r c h e r d i n g in
Vegesack.
Einleitende Bemerkungen. — Die Säugetiere an und in dem
Süsswasser. — Die Brutvögel. — Die Gäste auf dem
Frühjahrs- und Herbstzuge. — Die Sumpfschildkröte, Emys
europaea Gray. — Die Anuren und Urodelen des süssen
Wassers. — Die Fischfauna eines Flusses, eines Geest- und
eines Moorsees. — Die Mollusken an und in den Gewässern.
— Die niedere Tierwelt 333–369
 Die Hydrachniden (Wassermilben).

Von Prof. Dr. P. Kramer in Halle a. d. S.

Die Hydrachniden oder Süsswassermilben gehören mit ihren

auf dem Lande lebenden Verwandten jenem unermesslichen Heere
spinnenartiger Tiere an, welche im Systeme der Zoologen den
Namen Acarida tragen, und deren Formenreichtum bei einem
gewissen gemeinsamen Grundzug der Gestalt ein ausserordentlich
grosser ist.
Noch bis gegen Ende des vorigen Jahrhunderts waren es im
ganzen nur wenige Milben, auf welche sich die Aufmerksamkeit der
Beobachter gelenkt hatte. Sie gehörten zumeist den auf dem
Menschen und den Haustieren lebenden Schmarotzern an und
wurden um der Krankheiten willen, die sie hervorrufen, beachtet und
beschrieben. Die erste grössere Arbeit über andere Acarida lieferte
erst der sorgfältig beobachtende und scharfblickende dänische
Naturforscher O. F r. M ü l l e r , indem er im Jahre 1781 eine grosse
Zahl der in Dänemark einheimischen Süsswassermilben abbildete
und die vortrefflichen Abbildungen durch kurze Erklärungen
erläuterte. So war es also gerade die uns beschäftigende
Milbengruppe, welche zuerst mit einer für lange Zeit unerreichten
Vollständigkeit behandelt worden ist.
Manches Jahrzehnt hindurch geschah darnach für die nähere
Kenntnis der Acariden wenig Entscheidendes. Erst die Arbeiten
D u g è s ’ 1834 und des Forstrats C . L . K o c h 1837–1850 bezeichnen
einen neuen wesentlichen Fortschritt. So brachte namentlich des
ersteren eingehende Darstellung die Kenntnis der Entwickelung von
Hydrachna globosa, während letzterer durch die grosse Zahl der von
ihm beobachteten Milben, unter denen sich auch sehr zahlreiche
Süsswassermilben befanden, zuerst überhaupt eine Vorstellung von
dem Reichtum der Milbenklasse gab, wenn auch freilich die nicht
hinreichende Genauigkeit seiner Abbildungen und Beschreibungen
dem Systematiker noch heute viel Mühe bereitet.
In der neuesten Zeit ist den Acariden ein immer grösseres
Interesse entgegengebracht worden, wenn auch lange noch nicht in
dem Masse, als es die in mehr als einer Hinsicht merkwürdige
Lebens- und Entwickelungsgeschichte derselben verdient. Allerdings
sind die Beobachtungsobjekte meist sehr klein und schwierig zu
behandeln und daraus mag sich der im ganzen langsame Fortschritt
unserer Kenntnis über diese Tiergruppe erklären. Die
Süsswassermilben bilden aber noch die am wenigsten
Schwierigkeiten bietende Gruppe und laden durch ihre zierliche
Gestalt und Munterkeit des Wesens, auch durch verhältnismässige
Grösse zur Beobachtung ein. Auch sind sie fast überall reichlich zu
finden, wo nur irgend fliessendes oder stehendes Wasser Jahr für
Jahr vorhanden ist.
Die meisten anderen Milben bleiben unserem Auge in der Regel
verborgen, obwohl es kaum einen Ort geben dürfte, wo einem
genaueren Beobachter nicht irgend ein charakteristischer Vertreter
dieser Tiergruppe begegnete. Zumeist möchte wohl eine feuchte
Umgebung dem Leben dieser der Mehrzahl nach zarten Geschöpfe
günstig sein, aber doch wird man auch an den kahlen, in trockenster
Luft des Sommers am Wege liegenden Steinen nicht umsonst nach
einer mit zierlichem Stechapparat versehenen blauroten Acaride
(Bryobia speciosa) suchen, der sich noch manche Vertreter unserer
zierlichen Panzermilben (Oribatidae) anschliessen. Milben finden
sich unter Laub und Steinen, im Moose und auf den Blättern der
Bäume, auf und unter ihrer Rinde und im anbrüchigen Holze, auf
und unter der Haut zahlreicher kalt- und warmblütiger Tiere, auf den
Federn der Vögel, ja sogar in denselben: wo sich nur überhaupt
irgendwelche Nahrung darbieten mag, sei sie natürlichen oder