Chapter 6 Theron
Chapter Six
Theron
Shadow sends me spinning across the brewery until I crash against the wall.
My eyes refocus as my consciousness returns.
The basement shutters are tightly closed to block out the sunlight.
The three other Riders have crawled out of the hidden room behind the panels; all four of them are snarling with outrage.
I’m not embarrassed or humble. Empires have risen and fallen since someone last dared to treat me with such disrespect. One moment, I am sprawled against the wall and forced to contemplate my rash decision to follow Aila out into the sunlight, and the next moment I am upright, snarling a warning.
“Your immortality is skating on thin ice, Watchman.”
That was Shadow’s occupation when I first met him. He was sitting in the watchtower with his brother, on guard for signs of an enemy approaching. It was I who brought news of it to him.
Removing his full-face bike helmet and hurling it at me, Shadow roars. “And I am meant to find an excuse for prancing up the hill in full fucking riding gear after your obsession pounds on Luna’s door crying about how you fell face-down on the hill?”
My obsession. What an apt description for how I feel about Aila.
Rundas is seething with rage. Artim and Jaecar hold the MC veep back as he fights to try and rush me.
“You broke a hard rule, Hunter.” His lips pull back to set his fangs free. “You will pay the price or go, Nomad.”
“Hunter?” Shadow scoffs as he pulls off the leather gloves that protected his skin from the sunlight when he had to go up the hill to fetch me. “Theron is—and always will be—a fucking farmer!”
I had been herding reindeer when I first saw the signs of the Red Queen’s wild army coming over the icy fell. My family lived outside the village's palisade walls harvesting roots, broad beans, and peas from the pods in summer, collecting ramsons and berries for winter.
I could kill a bear with one axe swing and easily lift a reindeer stag over my head. But that’s what Shadow fucking Sylva remembers about my origins: farming.
Bellowing, we rush each other. Set loose, Rundas charges in headfirst, too. The three of us slam into one another like sledgehammers. The ceiling above us shudders. The floor cracks.
It’s all pointless, of course. The only thing that can injure us is steel that falls from the sky. Luna calls it meteor rock. My height works to my advantage, as does the reach of my arms. But all three of us possess teeth as lethal weapons.
Our race begat the forefathers of the Vikings. They are the ancestors of those great Ural Mountain warriors in the land of the Rus. Honored with the title of Master of Ice and Snow when I was only seven and ten years old, I stood close to six feet, six inches by the time I was a man.
The fight devolves into chaos in the blink of an eye, with my hands around Shadow’s throat and Rundas pulling me into a chokehold.
“Stop this now.”
Luna’s voice penetrates our black fury. We let go and step away from one another.
Pacing like a lioness, Luna scolds us. “I maintain this precarious balance as a favor to my partner. I have no problem walking away from Landslide at any time. Nomad? Puh-leez. I would love to. Don’t give me that chance. I will take it.”
She is wearing a beekeeper’s outfit. It was Luna who knew enough about the outside world to find a variety of full-body clothing for us so that we could walk outside during the day. She tells everyone the beehives are for honey to make mead.
“Theron’s glamour is stronger than yours ever was, Shadow. He hides his true nature quite well,” Luna reminds her partner. “Sometimes a kiss can make time slow down or go faster. It is a simple thing to let time fly when you are having fun.”
Rundas disagrees. “Taking precautions against exposure is one of our stone rules, Luna, and the forfeit—”
Holding up her hand, Luna stops the MC veep’s diatribe mid-sentence.
“No forfeit is needed. In fact…” Luna comes to stand in front of me. “In fact, Hunter, Aila is in the breakfast room right now waiting for you to join her.”
I am hanging my head, feeling all kinds of regret and despair, but I look up when she says that.
“What explanation did you give her?”
Chuckling and shaking her head, Luna steps aside and makes a sweeping motion as if she is shooing me out of the room.
“Something humans get called ‘low blood sugar.’ I thought it was apt. She’s sweet, and you live for blood. Plus, you’re a low-down dirty bastard for sneaking out like that, Hunter. Don’t do it again.”
I get to the door double-quick, eager to leave the scene of the brawl behind me.
Luna gets in one last parting shot. “You might want to change your clothes first, Theron Rabane’s son.”
Slithering down the tunnel that connects to the clubhouse, I emerge into the pitch-black waiting for me at the exit. We have ablution facilities in here so that the clubhouse can pass as normal.
Pulling the brass chain hanging from the overhead light, I stare at my reflection. Under the glamourous facade of my face is a shadow. There lies the monster.
I wish I could do the right thing here and leave Aila alone. But I am that beast who will rip her clothes off her at the first chance I get. I will feast on her soft flesh as I fuck her, licking the essence of her purity. And I cannot stay away from her. I am already addicted. I was from the start.
Shit. My leather jacket is ripped like paper. Going to the cardboard box in the corner, I find myself another t-shirt and rip the cellophane off with my teeth.
Midnight Son. Check.
The logo of a mountain and the round white sphere rising over it. Double check.
Time to dine.
The breakfast room glows under the artificial lighting. All the shutters are closed and locked, and the red and white gingham drapes add an extra layer of protection.
Why does it feel so good when I see her sitting at a table for two waiting for me?
Standing up, Aila runs towards me but stops short of flinging herself into my arms. We smile at each other nervously, thinking about what we were doing before our breakfast room reunion.
“Sorry I left you all alone in the forest, Theron. I didn’t know what else to do. You are so heavy!”
And just like that, the ice between us is broken.
Taking Aila’s hand, I pull out her chair and push it in when she is comfortable. Sitting opposite her, I smell the strong coffee in her cup. Two… three sugars. No cream. Sweet.
“Low blood sugar.” Oh, great. I’m really going to win her over with my witty fucking repartee. My hand clenches as I fight back the need to impress her. Fortunately, Aila doesn’t seem to notice.
“I had to search all over the inn before I found someone to help us. Fortunately, Luna was already puttering around in the apiary, and she heard me calling for someone to come help. She managed to catch Shadow just before he headed out on patrol. I didn’t realize you were actually law enforcement around here.
I thought Monty Hubble was joking about that. ”
Nice catch, Luna and Shadow. I owe you big time.
“Thank you for…” Again, the words stick in my throat. I haven’t felt the need to be polite or watch my manners for many years.
Fuck it.
Leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms, I assess the expression on Aila’s face.
“Let’s both agree that I am grateful, Aila.”
She gives a brief smile and pushes her chair back. “Can I get you anything?” She points to the continental breakfast set out on the sideboard.
Luna and Shadow agreed that the best way to offer breakfast to the guests was to turn it into a buffet. Everything is in single-serve sachets so that no one gets curious about our strict self-service policy during the day.
I parrot the modern phrase Luna taught me. “Nah, I’m good. Low blood sugar, you know how it is.”
That stops Aila in her tracks. “Yes, I do know how it is. That’s why I offered to get you something.”
Struggling to stifle my grunt of frustration, I fall back on the excuse of being a biker. My chair scrapes as I push away from the table. “I’m-a go grab a beer, actually. Breakfast of champions.”
Stalking out of the room, I vent my bad mood by thumping the cellar wall before fetching a bottle of fluids. The sound echoes in the empty space.
Aila looks up when I come in. I can tell she’s unimpressed by my behavior from the way she’s flaking croissant pastry between her fingers. Frowning at the bottle I have lightly clenched between my fingers, she nibbles a piece of bread and drinks her coffee with polite sips.
“Your daddy have a drinking problem?” Lifting the bottle, I salute her with it before taking another swig.
I might know fuck-all about medical terminology, but I understand human nature. Not because I have empathy but because it makes me a more efficient hunter.
Chewing and swallowing grapes one at a time, she thinks about how to answer.
“My parents were teens when they conceived me, and yes, alcohol was involved.” Finally, she makes eye contact with me.
“I don’t practice double standards, Theron, so it would be crass of me to work at bars and then despise people for drinking.
Maybe it is rude of me to say this, but I think you should take better care of yourself. ”
Damn. Low blood sugar must be serious. Okay, no more jokes or excuses regarding that. The happiness has gone out of Aila’s eyes.
Draining the bottle, I put it down on the table with a deliberate thump. “There. Beer for breakfast is done. It will never happen again. Happy?”
Wrong move. Snatching the bottle, Aila sniffs the neck. Her face pulls into a grimace as she pretends to retch, quickly putting the bottle back down on the table. “What the hell is that stuff?”
“Bikers’ brew.” I’m not worried about Aila’s criticism of the Riders’ fluids because she’s never going to want to drink it. “Special ingredients.”
“Ergh.” Shaking her head, Aila begins to see the funny side of what she just did. “Let me guess at what the ingredients are: old socks, jockstrap, and armpit?”
“Funny girl, but you’ll have to ask Luna. She brews it. Tell me more about your family.”
Shrugging, Aila goes back to pinching off pieces of pastry and nibbling on them.
“Please don’t share this with any of the locals, Theron. My mother likes to sustain a certain amount of mystique about herself.”
Interrupting, I give my own spin on things. “Amelia seemed fairly open about your circumstances at the bar last night, telling everyone how y’all were down on your luck and living that gypsy lifestyle.”
Aila grits her teeth. “Fine, if that’s how she wants to play this.
My parents conceived me while they were still in high school.
My mom left school to have me. I guess we lived the first couple of years with my grandparents, but they were religious and Mom wanted to spread her wings. So she started boyfriend hopping.”
Raising an eyebrow, I wait for Aila to explain. She gets up to pour herself a glass of orange juice before continuing.
“Boyfriend hopping is easy when someone looks like my mom. Her modus operandi was simple: Go to an upscale wine bar. You know the ones I’m talking about? Wealthy clientele, black credit cards, luxury brand designer gear.”
I nod. I have a passing knowledge about such establishments without having set foot in one.
“Sometimes she would take a girlfriend with her so she could look vibrant and friendly. Other times, Mom would sit alone nursing a cocktail with a sorrowful, brooding expression. Different attitudes attracted different types of men. She learned quickly.”
“What did she learn?”
“If she looked friendly, men who wanted girlfriends would approach her. Alone and enigmatic, men wanting a one-night stand would offer to buy her a drink.”
Smart lady. “So she picked the ones who wanted girlfriends?”
Aila makes eye contact with me. “Not always.”
How is this beautiful woman ensnaring me with her forthright narrative? I am transfixed by what she is telling me. If a ray of light were to slant across the room right now, it would catch me unawares once again.