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.Mywoman.
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 youreadni—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.”
