Chapter Twelve
Theron
Luna said she had a plan. I trust her.
Shadow chose his immortal beloved well. Not only would Luna live and die for the coven, but she makes a formidable MC queen.
Her last words to me are stuck in my mind.
“The trap has snapped shut around her, Hunter. Aila just hasn’t realized it yet.”
“I don’t want a fucking prisoner, Luna. I want a lover. Like what you have with Shadow.” But Luna was already gone.
What a hunt Aila and I could have together. I imagine her fixing her fangs on some ignorant idiot’s neck, and I smile.
The long years of living so close to the coven holds no attraction for me anymore. I want to stay with a woman. My woman.
Pounding back another bottle of fluids, I relish the divine rush it gives me. Usually, a bottle of fluids satiates me completely, but now my gnawing hunger refuses to be diminished.
There is a missing piece to the puzzle. Aila is withholding something from me—and from everyone. She hasn’t even told her mother the whole story.
Hmm.
Reaching behind the bar, I grab another bottle and bite off the cap. Taking a long swig, I burp and cough like some deadbeat fuckwit. Damn it. Ain’t no one here to tell me to mind my manners.
A knock at the door.
I am alert and attentive, wiping the back of my hand over my mouth and shaking the hair off my face. It’s Aila, but I can’t let her know that I know.
“It’s open!”
She comes in, smiling when she sees me.
“Hey… You look the same as you did when I first saw you at Harry’s.” Sliding onto the barstool next to me, Aila seems keen to be friendly. “On the prowl. Or rather, waiting to pounce. How often do you go hunting in La Pas?”
“My hunting days are over.”
She looks surprised—and a little pissed, too, if I’m to be honest. “When did that happen? Guys like you, I thought you love to stalk deer through the trees with a big gun in your hands.”
A brief, deep laugh. “Not deer. Or trees. But the stalking and hunting part sounds good.” I turn to look at her full on. “And don’t get me started on my big gun.”
Stifling a giggle, Aila tries to be serious.
“That’s a pity. I was kinda hoping I could catch a lift with you.
I mean, a ride.” She looks away, playing with the heavy black marble ashtray we keep as window dressing in the clubhouse.
“My mom’s busy with Ben, you know. And if I have to clean rooms and wait tables, I might as well go do it in Winnipeg. ”
Placing my hand over hers, I maintain control over myself.
Four years ago, I found the woman of my dreams pouring drinks at a cheesy bar called Harry’s Saloon.
We hit it off—at least, I like to think we did—but I couldn’t stick around.
Wealthy assholes getting shoved half a mile into the forest and having their asses kicked means the cops come sniffing around the next day. Vince Pruitt’s fake license plates are good, but they won’t stand up against close scrutiny. And bikers are always the first ones to be interrogated.
So, instead of spending the night with Aila in her little motel room, I had to loiter outside and share my delightful nightmare with her.
And when I came back a few days later, she was gone.
“Would you stay if I could change things?”
Aila perks up a bit. She seems real down underneath the brave act she’s putting on. “Change things how?”
“I’m not gonna be around to hang during the day. I got to pull security shift from sun-up to sundown. Would you stay if I arranged private accommodation for you? Away from your eadni—I mean, away from your mom?”
She opens her pretty little mouth to deny me, so I try sweetening the deal.
“And we’ll pay you. Should be enough to get you back to the mainland after a month or two. Fall comes early on Landslide. Ask Luna. You’ll be back in Winnipeg by mid-August.”
Fuck it. I’m blathering on like a politician after a four-martini luncheon.
“I wouldn’t need my own accommodation if I could move in with you, Theron.”
Her words have the power to send me reeling. Good thing I’m sitting down. This is where I have to tread carefully.
“I would love nothing more than to come home at the end of a hard day’s graft and see you there waiting for me, Aila.”
A cute grin makes the dimples peep out at the corners of her mouth. “Something tells me that there’s a big ‘but’ coming.”
We laugh. It’s real cozy chuckling together in the clubhouse. Makes my imagination run wild thinking about us being happy together forever.
“Yep. Luna runs a tight ship. She would suss out we were banging on the side and kick us to the curb. What does she call it? ‘Not very family friendly.’”
Picking up a peanut shell from the ashtray, Aila begins shredding it with her fingers.
“That’s a pity. I’ve always fantasized about having one of those vacations with benefits, you know. But the movies always get it wrong.”
You couldn’t drag me to a fucking movie theater with a rope and a tractor. As appealing as it would be for me to sit in the dark with a room full of strangers, the fake world of entertainment holds zero attraction for real monsters.
“Tell me how the movies get it wrong, Aila.”
She glances up to check that I am not being sarcastic before continuing.
“You know how it goes. The female is either a broken-hearted cutie or career-obsessed boss girl. The guy is either the hometown hottie or he’s going head-to-head with the female lead character in the boardroom.
They end up going to a remote location together, fighting, fucking, and eventually falling in love.
Come on, Theron. You can’t tell me that you’ve never heard of this cliché. ”
A smirk tilts my mouth, but it’s an amused one.
“Are we a cliché? Because we haven’t done the other two things yet.”
Aila blushes, flicking a reprimanding look at me.
“I’m not here to fight or fall in love! That’s what the movies never deal with. The women who just want to sleep with someone for a few glorious nights and then go back to living a normal life. Don’t those kinds of women come here?”
Yes, they do. As spigots for the MC Riders to feed on.
“If you work as a maid at the inn for the summer, Aila, that will leave the evenings free for us to…”
I leave the rest of my statement hanging.
Shredding the last peanut shell into fragments, Aila nods.
“Okay. But it’s going to be a lot of work, because my mom will get Ben to sponsor her the moment he asks her to move in with him. Which means I’ll be the only one left to clean.”
If the mom is such a fast mover, how come Aila is so reluctant to form a relationship?
“It’s only been a couple of days, darlin’. I’m sure Ben will want to keep things on the DL for a week or two.”
Sighing, Aila throws the peanut shell on the ground where it joins all the other smashed-up shells. The peanuts, empty beer bottles, and ashtrays are all fake props. They are there to hide the dark truth. No one ever seems to notice that none of the Midnight Sons ever smokes or snacks.
That is why we call them Myōps: those who can’t see anything unless it’s shoved right underneath their noses.
“If you think that, Theron, then you don’t know my mom.”
“Stick it out for a month. If you still want to go back up to Winnipeg, I’ll take you there myself. Heck, I’ll even pay for the ferry. How does that sound?”
A sharp nod. Aila jerks her head up and down. “Sure. Whatever. But this is strictly one day at a time, ‘kay? You want to show me the room so I can transfer my stuff over?”
“Sure, but don’t duck out tonight, if you can help it, darlin’. Landslide is way too small for anyone to hold a grudge. Keep it light. Keep it sweet.” Pivoting the barstool, I stroke her cheek with my finger. “Say bye to your mom and wish her good luck with no hard feelings.”
Mirroring my action, Aila turns her barstool to face me.
“You’re right. Was I coming off like a pita? I’m sorry.”
“Pita?”
“Pain in the ass.” She giggles. “Everything’s an acronym now, Theron, don’t you know?”
No, I don’t know. But I swear I could look at her gold dust skin and big brown eyes all night if she would let me.
“Now that we have that sorted out, sweetheart, I need you to tell me something. Facts. Or you can tell me to fuck off and stop being nosy. But I’m kinda hoping you won’t.”
The trusting happiness in her eyes shuts off as she withdraws from me.
“You’re not my boyfriend, Theron. Nor are you my boss. I don’t have to divulge the truth about anything in my private life to you.”
That’s all the confirmation I needed to know she’s hiding something.
“Can I ask the fucking question first before you mount that high horse of yours, darlin’?”
There’s a hint of a pout, but Aila is certainly more pissed than pouty. “Fine,” she says, gesturing like an usher with an invitation, “ask the fucking question.”
“Why do you use your paternal surname online?”
Even in the subdued lighting of the clubhouse, I see Aila’s eyes roll. Crossing her arms, she leans away from me, even going so far as to push back her barstool.
“I’ll answer, Theron, but only because I like you. And also because I think you had something to do with the lucky break I had back at Harry’s Saloon four years ago.”
I get ready to deny having anything to do with kicking Belt Buckle’s sorry ass and leaving two grand on the ground to help settle his bill, but she ain’t having any of it.
Snapping her fingers together as if she’s using a sock puppet, Aila shakes her head. “Tsst. No, don’t bother denying it. Just like I’m not going to bother denying why I had to change my name.”
This little firecracker is ready to confess. She intrigues me with every movement she makes, every word she says.
Taking a deep breath, Aila lets it out. “Mom and I were still comfortable after her first relationship imploded, enough for us to live within a budget and for me to apply to colleges in the States.”
“You went to university Stateside?”
Another grim nod. “Yeah, that’s where we are from. One year was all it took for me to mess it all up. And I had no one else to blame but myself when I didn’t make it past my second year.”
This is interesting. Was it drugs? Partying? Poor grades? Aila as a brat doesn’t fly with me.
“I started dating someone. It got intense really fast. He was my first serious partner. But he was more than that to me, because he offered stability, too. It made total sense to me that I nail my flag to his post and stake my claim. And I let him do the same to me.”
Does the jealous beast lurking inside me roar with displeasure when I hear Aila saying this? Yep. But I enjoy that she is older and wiser now. At least I hope she is.
“Hey, is there a beer around?” Aila knows she is not going to get through this without some kind of social lubricant.
Vaulting over the bar counter, I go grab her one.
My movements are too fast and athletic for a human performance, but Aila is deeply absorbed in what she wants to say and doesn't notice.
Swallowing one or two sips of her beer seems to put her in a better frame of mind.
“Thanks. Where was I? Okay. My first-year university lovefest. It was lame of me to pair off with the first guy who showed an interest in me, but he had this way of making me feel special. I loved being able to wave goodbye to my friends before hopping into his sports car. I felt pity for my single friends, you know? Guess I was one smug bitch for rubbing my romance in their faces like that. And it goes without saying that I didn’t listen when the alarm bells went off. ”
I let her know that I’m listening when Aila checks my expression before continuing.
“And what alarm bells are you referring to?”