Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 13969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 70(@200wpm)___ 56(@250wpm)___ 47(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 13969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 70(@200wpm)___ 56(@250wpm)___ 47(@300wpm)
Jake looked around quickly before settling his gaze on a woman dressed as a witch and bent at the waist while reaching for a can of wine in the refrigerator.
“Regina,” he said, bright with relief. The woman straightened, smiling in surprise and hugging Jake. “Regina, this is my girlfriend, Cat.”
Cracking the top on her wine, Regina turned her warm, dark eyes to Cat and smiled again.
“Could you hang with her for a sec?” Jake asked. “I have to go find the boys.”
Before Regina could answer, he jogged out of the kitchen.
Unsurprised, Cat watched him go and then turned her wry grin up to the other woman. “You don’t have to babysit me; I promise I’m fine.”
Regina laughed and tilted her head for Cat to follow. “Jake is hopeless. Come on. There’s a group of us over by the couch.”
From the side of the room, he watched the little lamb. He’d been unable to take his eyes off her, in fact, tracking her from the moment she was dragged in behind the basketball player—a truly aspirational costume, given that the man couldn’t be more than five foot six—who deposited her unceremoniously in the kitchen with a woman she clearly had never met before. He stared at the lamb’s face—enormous hazel eyes, sharp cheekbones, a mouth like a soft, edible heart—and then took in the rest of her. Brown curls fell past her shoulders; she was petite but stood with a posture that spoke of a stubbornness and passion that made his skin hum. Feeding was endlessly more fun when they had a little fire in them.
He watched as the costumed witch led the lamb to a sofa where several humans sat and gossiped. The lamb turned from him, and he stared at the firm swell of her backside in her white leggings. A flurry of debauched images raced through his mind before he pulled his gaze away.
Stifling a yawn, he surveyed the party around him. Same shit, different setting. Forever twenty-five, he easily blended in with the crowd here, but even if he hadn’t, it wouldn’t matter. Sometimes he wondered if people even saw his face or only reacted to the pull of his power. After all, he’d been there barely ten minutes, but several women had approached him already, their eyes glazed in that familiar way, their offer simple and straightforward. He’d politely declined, compelling them to return to their friends, although he wasn’t sure why.
He needed to feed.
It was the singular reason he’d left his penthouse, wandered uptown, and followed the group of unexceptional humans down the sidewalk, up the front steps, and into this dull party. He should get what he came here for and be done with it.
And yet a familiar restlessness ate at him, made a tight, agitated sensation take seed in his gut and spread into his limbs. He was too impatient to spend hours slowly siphoning energy from the room, but he didn’t want to take one of these dazed women into a dark bedroom for pleasure and feeding either. He wanted the same thing he’d wanted for centuries: to not have to live like this anymore.
He knew that when he felt this way, the best thing was to run or swim or fly, but tonight he wanted something else more than he wanted relief from the tension of perpetual boredom or the urge to siphon from humans: Tonight, he simply didn’t want to feel alone for a little while.
He didn’t lie to himself; of course he was lonely. In this way, he supposed, sex served two purposes—companionship and sustenance—though of course for him companionship was a term to be used loosely. Centuries ago, when he’d been cursed and transformed, he quickly learned that a beat of eye contact was all it took. In a way, humans became drunk—not on fairy dust or pheromones or alcohol, but on the very essence of him, which turned their attraction or fascination into a raw, carnal hunger. From there it was as simple as finding a private space—an apartment, a dark hallway, an alley—where he could pleasure them for as long as he wished and breathe in their vitality until he was sated and they were drowsy enough for him to vanish without notice.
The unfortunate paradox, of course, was that no human in this state was very good company. Beguiled as they were by him, as soon as he was alone with a human, they were reduced to vacant, hypersexual beggars. The ensuing encounters sustained him, and certainly the sex itself was enjoyable, but it made the loneliness expand inside him into a dark, yawning pit.
His eyes returned to the little lamb, shifting anxiously on her feet with the group of strangers chatting amiably around her. She lifted her gaze, searching the room, her eyes passing, unseeing, over where he stood; despite his size, his tailored but nondescript black trousers and sweater as well as centuries of experience allowed him to blend into the shadows.