My mother’s voice, sharp and laced with that familiar disappointment, crackled through the phone. “Melina. Any news?” I sighed, staring out my penthouse window at the glittering New York skyline. “No, Mom. Not yet.” “This is number nineteen, isn’t it? Honestly, there’s no such thing as perfect genetic stock. You keep holding out, and you’ll find yourself past your prime. The clock, my dear, is ticking.” After we hung up, my gaze drifted to the man sleeping in my bed, his profile soft in the ambient city light. Julian. Could he be the one? The father of my child… and my next meal. 1 My name is Melina, and I am, for lack of a better term, a praying mantis. We are a race of sirens, born into the stuff of male fantasy. Wide eyes, delicate jawlines, impossible waists, and legs that go on for days. We are sculpted to drive men to madness. After millennia of evolution, we are, on the surface, indistinguishable from human women. There is, however, one small biological imperative that separates us. Mating, for us, is an hours-long affair. And to successfully conceive, we require… a significant nutritional supplement, provided by our chosen partner. I’ve always been pickier than the other girls. I’m searching for the perfect man, and my criteria are non-negotiable: devastatingly handsome, a genius-level intellect, and over six-foot-one. But there’s a crucial fourth requirement—he must be a monster. A truly wicked soul. One can’t just go around consuming the innocent. That invites a kind of cosmic retribution I have no interest in. And so, my adult life has been a revolving door of men. I’ve had a rockstar with hollow eyes, a college quarterback built like a god, a Wall Street wolf with a predatory smile, and an Ivy League poet who quoted Keats in bed. Yet here I was, thirty years old, and still empty-handed. My phone buzzed, pulling me from my reverie. It was Julian. Hey beautiful. Dinner tonight? I miss you. 2 Julian Vance was candidate number nineteen. He was twenty-six, a brilliant M.D./Ph.D. student at Columbia, doing his residency at a top Manhattan hospital. We’d met on one of those elite dating apps for people who claimed to be too busy for love. For our first date, we ended up at a 24-hour Korean spa in Queens. After watching a Knicks game on the big screen, he confessed his feelings in the quiet of the communal lounge, sometime after midnight. “What is it you like about me?” I’d asked, teasing him. “I’m four years older than you, you know.” He just smiled, his eyes sincere. “Age is just a number. My only worry is that a woman like you would find me too… inexperienced.” “Well,” I’d purred, “why don’t we find out?” And I kissed him. His lips were soft, yielding. He smelled of clean soap and something uniquely, intoxicatingly him. He was a good boyfriend. Despite a brutal residency schedule, he always made time for me. He was perpetually broke, living on a resident’s salary, but was generous to a fault, always insisting on paying. He was tall, sculpted, brilliant—perfect in every way. And that was the problem. He seemed to be a genuinely good person. It was time to end it. My time was precious. My affections needed to be distributed. That night, after dinner, we went back to a hotel. He stepped out of the shower, steam clinging to his skin, and found me waiting in bed, wearing nothing but desire. My body, a landscape of curves and long limbs, had been the undoing of eighteen other men. But Julian was different. We’d spent more than a dozen nights like this, yet we’d never gone all the way. Tonight was no exception. I could see the tension in his jaw, the fight in his eyes, but he just swallowed hard, his face flushing, and gently pulled the covers over me. That was it. I was done. “Let’s break up,” I said coldly, sitting up and reaching for my clothes. “I’m tired of this game.” Panic flared in his eyes. “What? Why? No, I don’t want to break up.” He rushed to my side, wrapping his arms around me from behind. “Melina, what did I do wrong? Just tell me, and I’ll fix it. Please, don’t do this.” I rolled my eyes, pushing him away. “You’re my boyfriend, Julian, but you can’t meet my needs. What’s the point? Besides, the age gap is real. I’m thirty. My mother is on my case about marriage. You’re still a student. I can’t afford to wait for you.” I was dressed and heading for the door, but he grabbed my arm, his grip surprisingly strong. “Don’t go. Please,” he begged. “I’ll marry you. Thanksgiving is next week. Come home with me. Meet my mother. As soon as we get back, we’ll go to City Hall.” He punctuated his frantic words with kisses—on my lips, my neck, my shoulders—until my resolve melted and my body went soft against his. 3 His desperation worked. I stayed. We fell back into bed in a tangle of limbs and feverish whispers. But just as we reached the point of no return, he stopped, his breath ragged against my skin. “Just a little longer, my love,” he whispered, his voice thick with restraint. “Wait until we’re married. I want this to be right.” So pure. After all my years, I’d finally found a unicorn. Maybe… I could give up the idea of children. Maybe a life with someone like this wouldn’t be so bad. With that thought, I drifted off to sleep. I dreamed I had a daughter. She was beautiful, with skin like porcelain, wide eyes, and impossibly long lashes. A perfect miniature of me. I turned my head, wanting to see her father. A man lay on the floor, soaked in blood. I held my breath, leaning closer, and then I realized with a jolt of horror—he was headless. I woke with a gasp, my heart hammering. The clock read 3:00 AM. My eyes were painfully dry. My kind has compound eyes, a trait I usually hide with cosmetic contacts. I’d fallen asleep without changing them. I stumbled toward the bathroom and saw a sliver of light under the door. A figure was hunched in the corner, speaking in a low, urgent whisper into his phone. “…Mom, the asset is secured. I’m bringing her home in a few days… Don’t worry, she’s perfect. Five-foot-eight, one-thirty, ideal measurements. Healthy, no genetic markers… She’s a premium-grade asset. The investors will be thrilled.” It was Julian. In the dim, sterile light, he looked like a stranger. A wave of disappointment washed over me. The sweet, innocent student was just another piece of trash. But then, a different feeling bloomed in my chest, a dark and thrilling excitement. This was it. My perfect prey. Mom, I thought with savage glee, we’re finally going to have a baby. 4 We left the next day. Julian was in a hurry to get me home. As it happened, so was I. A few overheard words weren't enough. I needed to see his evil for myself, confirmed beyond any doubt. Julian, I thought, don’t you dare disappoint me now. With Thanksgiving around the corner, all the trains were booked. Julian suggested we take my car, explaining his hometown was deep in the Appalachians, where a vehicle was a necessity. As we drove out of my garage, he turned to me, his expression carefully casual. “Babe, could we keep this trip between us for now? We can surprise your family and friends when we get back.” “Why?” He sighed dramatically. “I just… I don’t want them to talk you out of this. My family, we don’t have much. And being a doctor isn’t a path to riches. I’m afraid they’ll think you’d have a hard life with me.” I smiled, playing my part. “Whatever you want, Julian. I’d do anything for you.” I love you to death, I added silently. Yours, specifically. I drove the entire way while Julian sat in the back, citing motion sickness, hidden behind a baseball cap, a facemask, and sunglasses. Hiding from surveillance cameras, no doubt. I decided to poke him. “Aren’t you hot under all that? You look less like you’re going home for the holidays and more like you’re on your way to murder someone.” He flinched before forcing a laugh. “Just used to wearing a mask at the hospital. Are you tired? We can switch.” “No, I’m fine,” I said sweetly. “You should rest.” He needed to conserve his energy, after all. After a dozen-plus hours, we arrived. His home was in a tiny village in rural Pennsylvania, nestled deep in the mountains. We turned off the highway onto a series of winding, unmarked roads. My GPS was useless. No outsider could ever find this place. As we neared the village, a crowd materialized, surrounding my car. Old men, young boys, fathers with babies. There were men in simple clothes holding the latest iPhones. But there were no women. That was wrong. In a place this poor and isolated, you’d expect to see women and children everywhere. The men were usually away, working in cities. Something was deeply wrong with this place. Julian’s words echoed in my mind. Premium-grade asset. The investors will be thrilled. Who were the investors? These men outside my car, their faces a mask of rustic simplicity, their eyes devouring me with a raw, possessive hunger? 5 The car crawled through the throng. “They’re all staring at me,” I said, my voice trembling convincingly. “It feels… strange. Maybe we should just get a hotel?” Julian patted my hand. “Don’t worry. People in Blackwood Creek are just… friendly. They heard I was bringing my girlfriend home.” He rolled down his window. “Hey, everyone, give us some room! You’re scaring my wife!” “Let’s get a look at her, Julian!” one man yelled. “Tell her to take off the sunglasses!” “Yeah, damn fine figure on her. Looks like she’ll breed well.” “Our Julian’s the smart one, alright. Always brings back the best.” The men’s crude laughter and leering made my skin crawl. Julian, however, was unfazed. “What’s the rush?” he called back with a grin. “You’ll all get a good look in a couple of days.” The crowd finally parted. The car wound through a few more turns before pulling up to Julian’s house. It wasn’t a dilapidated shack. It was a modern, three-story home that screamed of money. Two people were waiting. His mother, a woman with a strained smile, and a younger woman he introduced as his cousin, Clara. “You must be Melina,” his mother chirped. “My, you’re even more beautiful in person. Come in! You must be exhausted.” I handed over the gifts I’d brought. While Julian’s mother was overly warm, Clara was cold and withdrawn, her eyes holding a deep, unsettling sadness. After dinner, Julian’s mother led me upstairs. “This is Clara’s room. You’ll sleep here. It’s tradition, you see. The bride and groom can’t sleep together before the wedding.” She smiled that same strained smile. “Now, dear, if you don’t mind taking off your clothes… I had a seamstress make some dresses, and I want to see if they fit.” 6 Why on earth would she need me to undress in front of her? Unless she wanted to inspect the merchandise. To confirm I was as “premium” as advertised. Fine. A little nudity meant nothing to my kind. Under her watchful gaze, I slowly undressed until I stood naked before her. Her eyes lit up. She moved closer, her gaze clinical and thorough, scanning every inch of my body. I felt like a prize pig on an auction block. It was utterly dehumanizing. “A perfect fit!” she finally declared. “As if they were made just for you.” She bustled downstairs and returned with a glass of milk. “Drink this. It will help you sleep.” Her eyes were fixed on me, waiting. I drank it all. Soon, a heavy drowsiness washed over me. I collapsed onto the bed, the world dissolving. Just before I lost consciousness, I heard the door open and Julian’s voice. “Well, Mom? Told you she was top of the line.” “She is,” his mother replied. “The best one you’ve ever brought back.” “I’m thinking we don’t sell this one. We keep her. For breeding.” “Alright. It’s your call. We’ll have Clara watch her. Let’s go make the arrangements.” 7 I awoke to a gag in my mouth and a crushing weight on my body. The air was thick with the stench of stale breath and excited, grunting pants. “Hurry it up, Billy! Julian will be back soon!” a voice whispered. “Relax. Clara said him and his ma went out. We got time.” “Well, don’t take all night! The rest of us are waiting!” “Can’t believe Julian’s keeping this one. My old lady’s worn out after so many births. I was hoping to buy this one…” My eyes snapped open. A heavyset man was on top of me. By the bed, several others were lined up, waiting their turn. These foul creatures thought themselves worthy of fathering my children? The very idea was an abomination. I began to scream, my voice muffled by the gag, feigning terror. “She’s awake! Even better,” another one chuckled, closing in. “Now the real fun can begin.” I stopped struggling, and through the gag, I gave them a look of pure invitation. Let’s play.
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