Every fall, dozens of letters weigh down the mail bag delivered to us from the Angle Inlet postal service.Shadow and Luna sift through all of them thoroughly and ruthlessly, looking for the perfect victims.
Luna has a kind of sixth sense when it comes to our selection.It is probably because she is a child of the modern age, while we Midnight Riders are not.
Sometimes, she doesn’t even need to connect to that pestilent internet before we make our selection; though social media has made it so easy for us to round up a fresh crop of vics.
My mind turns back to that wet October evening last year.Shadow called the Riders to church—the room beside the MC’s clubhouse bar where we hold our meetings.
“Here’s Luna’s final guest list for next summer.”Sauntering over to the wall, Shadow pressed tacks into the wood to hold the paper in place.“Y’all cool with it?”
Rundas, club veep, didn’t even bother getting up to take a closer look at the schedule.
“So long as it has some mature single ladies for the local men to woo, I’m good.”
After centuries of predatory feeding on the local female population, Landslide had earned a fucking bad rep of biblical proportions.No Rider could seem to resist that sweet, ripe, womanly flesh—or the hot blood pumping inside it.It doomed every man on Landslide to bachelorhood.
Five years ago, a rogue feeder came close to shutting it all down.The CDC and the PHAC were probing the death of one particularly delicious realtor called Linda Farmer.Lucky for us, Luna put an end to any further inquiries by paying off the inspectors.
The MC never realized how straightforward it is to operate in plain sight, especially when officials are so easily corrupted.Money?We have plenty.But cashflow didn’t help us with the problem of zero single ladies under the age of sixty in our small island population.The local men were getting restless.They wanted access to the internet for dating sites and apps.
Again, Luna came through.For a few hours over the weekends, the local men were able to connect to the internet.They were so busy downloading their porn and hooking up with chickies that they didn’t bother with online security.
It was so easy.We were able to zoom in on potential victims by harvesting the Landslide data.
The moment one of the single Landslide men tried to land his fish, there we would be, knocking on his door and suggesting that he send his lady friend an invite to spend the summer at the chalet inn.
“Get to know her better.”That was how we always clinched the deal.
It was a flawless fucking system.Once the female visitors get a taste of how wonderful it is on Landslide, the positive online reviews almost write themselves.
There are two ways the coven gets to feed on our vics.Straight up bloodsucking, and a little something we like to call “delightful nightmares.”
We need a conscious invitation from the victim before we can feed off them, but we can skate by with a subconscious desire from the victim if we visit her while she dreams.
Penetrating a woman’s subconscious is as hot as penetrating her flesh and sucking her blood.The chance to share her deepest desires while she lies helplessly asleep is thrilling.
That is why this list is so important.These are the women who will feed our feral instincts for sex and blood.
Jaecar always double checked the list to make sure it was proportionate and representational.
“Just because the majority of households are single families now doesn’t mean we can ignore the two-parent ones.Gotta keep an eye on the ‘family friendly’ reviews, too.It builds trust.”
A rumble of laughter rippled around the table.Shadow banged his fist on its surface as he chuckled to show he appreciated the joke.“Trust.”
“God, but those people are so easy to manipulate.”Pushing back my chair, I headed out.I saw a name I recognized on the accommodation schedule.O’Hara.Same name as the one who got away.
I remember the woman called Aila O’Hara so clearly.She was a fighter, proud and true.Like one of the ancient ones.I could see it in her.She had an indomitable spirit.
Who would have thought that such exceptional beauty would be hiding out in Harry’s Saloon, of all places?
That fatal night, standing away from the light, I watched her serving drinks with deft movements.She would wait for a customer to step forward, pour him a beer, and accept the payment and tip with graceful dignity.I loved the way she hid the cash tips inside her bra.
I knew then I had to have her.
Her thick, chestnut hair, twisting as it fell over her shoulders, would glow red every time she ducked under the lights.Her sooty black eyes seemed to flash every time she blinked.The golden hue of her smooth, suntanned skin—she had rubbed some lotion on it that made it glisten.
My panting increased as my arousal intensified.I would get like that before battle, axe in hand, ready for death.It is a glorious feeling.
Was our connection instantaneous?Of course it was.If it were only us in that smoky bar room, I would have been fucking her on the counter after half an hour of flirting.No, first I would have bent her over that counter with her legs spread wide as I licked her from front to back.
