Silent Cravings - Jess Haines

Prologue

The moon hung low in the sky, fat and heavy amongst the frosty October clouds. Deep in the heart of Manhattan, most of the nightlife had already crawled home to bed, seeking shelter from the coming dawn.

Less than a mile from Central Park, a very cold and tired man on his way home from a late shift was slumped against the side of his vehicle as he pumped gas. All he could think about was getting home into bed and burying himself under the covers, though the cold had him considering running inside the twenty-four hour convenience store for a cup of coffee to beat back the chill seeping into his bones.

The harsh growl of a sports car startled him out of his thoughts as it pulled into the lot, parking at the pumps behind his beat-up sedan.

The guy took in the sleek black paint job with a longingly appreciative eye as the purr of the car’s engine came to a rumbling halt behind him. As soon as the owner slid out, he blanched and jerked his gaze back to his own vehicle.

The creature moved with the unmistakable smooth grace of a predator. The pale taint to its skin, nearly aglow under the harsh gas station lights, and hint of red deep in its irises as it glanced his way marked it as a hungry vampire—one on the hunt.

The vampire brushed a hand over the netted black shirt he was wearing, showcasing swarthy skin littered with scars from battles taken place so long ago, he could no longer remember their origins. His black leather pants and combat boots shone dully in the buzzing halogen lights, the harsh glare reflecting off of his silver rings and necklaces.

He was not bothered by the bitter cold that had the lone human a few feet away clutching his coat closed. The guy huddled deeper into his thick jacket, popping the collar to avoid flashing any of his neck, prompting a smirk from the red-eyed creature.

Alec Royce, master vampire, ruler of New York, New Jersey and Philadelphia, and one of the oldest of his kind to call the United States home, was ready to celebrate the night’s accomplishments. He had a beautiful, warm, willing woman waiting at home now that he was done mingling with the crowd at The Underground, one of his many properties.

Jessica, his newest plaything, would require a bribe if he planned on talking her into doing more than letting him take some blood tonight. He had just the thing in mind, and thought it would add that “personal touch” if he fetched it himself rather than sending an assistant to get it for him.

The man who had been staring at him fumbled with the nozzle, spilling some gasoline on the side of his car in his haste to return it to the pump, get in his car, and peel out as fast as the sedan would take him.

Shaking his head at the human’s naiveté, Royce angled around his car and strode into the store. Loose raven tendrils brushed his shoulders, whipped up by the salt-laced breeze coming in off the nearby Hudson. He knew he looked good, and wanted to stay in keeping with his growing reputation as New York City’s Most Eligible Unliving Bachelor.

Sadly, it didn’t look like anybody inside was about to take note of his looks save for a bored teenaged clerk intently studying an adult magazine. The boy barely paid the vampire a glance before his gaze was glued back on the mag.

Royce figured the clerk must have a few of his kind regularly pass through the shop to be so blasé. That, or he was an Other—another supernatural—too. The vampire didn’t bother to scent the air to find out. The foot traffic, gasoline, and copious greasy, oily foods would guarantee he’d regret it if he did open himself up to an assault on his senses.

Leather creaking and buckles jingling with each step, he moved toward the back in search of ice cream. According to Jessica’s words of wisdom, only cookies-and-cream would do.

There was a stand-alone freezer tucked off to one side of the chip aisle, looking worn and forgotten next to a collection of stale donuts and pastries. He curled his lip as he stopped, staring down at the meager assortment.

There was one last half-pint of cookies-and-cream hidden under the vanilla. The vamp plucked the slightly freezer-burned container out, grinning as he considered how he and Jessica might use it in their “activities” later.

“What the hell does

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