ALSO BY ELLA FRANK
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Copyright © 2015 by Ella Frank
Edited by Mickey Reed
Edited by Candace Wood
Cover Design © By Hang Le
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Also by Ella Frank
The Exquisite Series
The Temptation Series
The Arcanian Chronicles
A Desperate Man Series
Co-authored with Brooke Blaine
A Desperate Man: Volume One
A Desperate Man: Volume Two
A Desperate Man: Volume Three
A Desperate Man: The Complete Series
HUNGER. BOTH CARNAL and self-sustaining.
It was a physical sensation Alasdair Kyriakoús was intimately familiar with, and as he waited in the shadows of the apartments on 4th Avenue, it was also the one fueling his latest hunt.
A cool wind rustled through the leaves of the oak tree he was standing by, shifting the ends of his black pea coat against his thighs. He pushed his hands into his coat’s pockets as he stared up at the window he’d been drawn back to night after night, and he wondered why he couldn’t stay away.
As a first-sired vampire to one of the Ancients, Alasdair was notorious for many reasons. He could have his pick of anyone in their brood, but he was particular about where he sank his teeth and his cock and took pride in the control he wielded over his hunger.
At least, he had up until two weeks ago. That was when his self-imposed restraint had become more of a challenge—and all because of him. The man whose deep, even breathing he could hear from the second-floor apartment.
Two weeks earlier
IT WAS RAINING again. Not the heavy, pelting kind, but the drizzly mist that barely dampened one’s clothes in comparison. The street was quiet for a Friday night, but that wasn’t unusual considering the weather.
Alasdair stood under the low light of a streetlamp and waited for something…appetizing to come along. His cousin Isadora had just left, after making him promise to be back by midnight, and when he glanced at his watch, he saw that that left him with thirty minutes to kill—in the most literal sense of the word.
The door to the pub across the street opened not a minute later, and the man who stepped out onto the sidewalk ensnared Alasdair’s senses in an instant.
Hmm… Tall, lean, and easy on the eyes.
From where Alasdair was standing, he had the perfect vantage point to observe without being detected. So he shrank back into the shadows and waited patiently.
When the human’s cell phone rang, he dug inside the bag he had slung across his body to fish it out. He looked at the screen to see who was calling, and the chuckle that slipped free was warm, the timbre of it matching the smile that spread across his mouth.
It was carefree.
It was easy.
And it made the idea of feeding from him that much more appealing.
Wearing a white shirt and a navy-blue cardigan buttoned crookedly up the center, the man didn’t appear to be the athletic sort, which also made him a much simpler conquest. Instead, he had a bookish look about him. His sun-kissed hair was cut short at the back of his neck, but the longer strands on top of his head were all over the place in a haphazard mess, and he clutched the strap of his worn messenger bag like it was a seat belt in a speeding car.
“Elias. Are you calling to say how much you miss me already? That’s so sweet,” the man said as he wandered down the street. “Yes, I know it was my birthday get-together, but I had to leave. My virtue was in jeopardy... Did you see how handsy that guy was? I don’t care if you’re wishing me a happy birthday or congratulating me on a new job. The rule is: you don’t touch unless you’re invited.”
As the human got closer, Alasdair faded, blending with the inky shapes cast on the bricks so he wouldn't be detected.
“Other than that, it was great... Are you kidding? Quit worrying, would you? I didn’t want to deal with the cliché pick-up lines on my twenty-seventh year of living. Plus, I’m getting old. I’m tired and completely overworked. You may have heard—my boss is a real slave driver.”
Alasdair caught the scent wafting off his skin as the man continued along his ill-fated path. Fresh and clean, like the rain falling around them. It was crisp, elemental, and it caused his teeth to ache. Then the human laughed again, and Alasdair’s cock twitched in response.
It was a real shame he wasn’t planning to take him that night. Take him and feed on him, like his hunger was urging him to. But no, something about this one made him want to wait.