Too easy.

Bo Tashikora’s gaze followed her mark’s movements with the slow precision of a predator about to pounce on its prey. Which is exactly what Shaw Ross Sorkin was. Her supper.

Hunger gnawed at her gut as she trailed him. Silently willing him to go out the bar’s rear exit, she licked her parched lips. A frustrated gasp flowed from her mouth when he stopped to speak to a pair of blonde bimbos who had made no secret that they wanted him.

Personally, she couldn’t blame them. At six-foot two, Shaw had an athletic physique to die for. She slashed her gaze to his hard ass, which filled out his jeans perfectly. A mental image of those taut cheeks flexing as he plunged into her caused a spurt of unrequited lust to curl in the pit of her belly and liquid heat to moisten her pussy.

Yet his great body wasn’t all that attracted her to the tall, mocha-hued man. Hell, no. Shaw Ross Sorkin had a sixth sense. He was a strong telepath. And although he guarded his secret ability with deft survival instincts, which she appreciated, she couldn’t wait to taste his essence.

Reminding herself that he wasn’t the only one with a dark secret, Bo made her way through the scattering of tables, excusing herself when she bumped into a patron. A giggle rose in her throat when the man looked left, then right but couldn’t find her. He had no idea what—or where—Bo was. All he recognized was the icy chill clinging to him and the unnerving sensation of unseen eyes watching his every move.

Bo quickly consumed the startled emotions rising from the patrons. A small part of her wished she could shout with glee whenever a human jumped after she made contact. But the logical part of her brain reminded her it was against the rules for her kind to divulge their presence to the mortal world.

Even among the hodge-podge members of the New Pack, she was a true rarity. A screaming ghost.

One of the original harbingers of death, her kind was feared by both the normal and the paranormal world. For if anyone saw her in her hideous ghost form, he or she would be destined to die within twenty-four hours.

The flip side was that she needed the powerful emotions put off by humans and paranormals in order to survive. It was her manna from the gods. One of many mutant genomes, telepaths were a delectable treat to essence drinkers and soul stealers because they often manipulated conversations with inside information. Their natural ability to rejuvenate their aura was merely a bonus.

She could feast from Shaw forever. Or... She gave a small shrug. At least until he grew old and his powers weakened.

The ache in her stomach grew in direct proportion to her lust for him. Her nipples tightened to hard nubs when he leaned down and flirted with a tall, leggy blonde sipping a Cosmopolitan. The woman’s tongue peeked from between her ruby red lips to lick an errant drop of the sweet concoction from the rim of her glass. Bo decided the blonde ought to wear a sign reading Come fuck me.

Her skirt was two sizes too small and her see-through blouse was trashy at best, whorish at worst. She approached Shaw with outright desire and a body that could bend any man to her will. Any man except Shaw. He was too busy reading her thoughts and playing with her. Known for his love ‘em and leave ‘em reputation, he screwed on his own terms with no strings attached.

Bo stared at him from her position next to the blonde. He was cool. Calm. Calculating. He wasn’t going to reject what the blonde offered. Hell, no. He’d be crazy to throw away a chance to screw her. Still, Bo sensed he was either debating some aspect of the woman’s personality or wrestling with his own conscience. For the most part, he had some real morals. It couldn’t be easy for him to own the bar, not drink, and have so many women throw themselves at him.

Shaw appeared to be a man of ethics in every aspect of his life. Even the women he invited to get naked with him. They got exactly what they asked for—a thorough fucking—but he never lied about their chances of engaging him in a long term relationship. He wasn’t looking for a girlfriend—period. For sure, they better not expect a call from him asking to schedule another hook-up. Bo was destined to corrupt him.

How long had it taken her to find the perfect man to satisfy her insatiable appetite for essence? All three-hundred years of her damnable afterlife.

The lusty blonde bimbo leaned in, and an unbidden spurt of jealousy flowed through Bo. It was a purposeful move on the woman’s part, since she’d propped her elbows on the table and let her blouse gape open, giving Shaw a splendid view of her bosom.

Her boobs are fake.

Bo smirked.

Yet even though the woman was silicone implant enhanced, her emotions were true. She lusted after Shaw.

Tendrils of a misty white aura curled around the blonde and wafted into the ether. Lifting her hands, Bo assimilated the energy. Ah. Sustenance had never tasted so good. The heat rising from the vixen intensified the desire already careening through Bo’s body.

Unfortunately, it still didn’t give her enough energy to manifest. She stared down at her wrinkled, transparent hands. At least she was the only one who could see herself at the moment.

She looked up and mentally urged the woman on. Just a little more, honey.

Her silent pleas were not ignored. Another blonde with slightly darker hair sat opposite the platinum woman. She twirled her a lock around her forefinger in a rather juvenile attempt to garner Shaw’s attention. Waves of adoration rolled off the young miss and fed Bo.

Yes. Her body finally thrummed with life.

“Come on, Shaw. Let us buy you a drink,” the platinum blonde suggested with a slightly tipsy giggle. “We don’t bite.”

She dipped her gaze to her half full glass before sliding her gaze up his body to his handsome face. “Well, not on the first date anyway.”

I bite. Bo’s throat tightened as Shaw agreed to join the duo with a nod of his head. Though she’d feed easier outside, the secluded corner of the bar worked fine, too.

Her beaded nipples tightened to hard nubs, and her core throbbed as the women sidled their chairs closer to Shaw and reminded him of their names, Christie and Candy. How pathetically gauche, Bo thought. They ought to go by Sleaze One and Sleaze Two.

Attempting to remain outside the telepath’s three feet of personal space, Bo edged closer to the blonde giving off more essence and snapped her gaze to the woman’s honey brown eyes, which were struck with intense gold flecks. The blonde stared at her.

A shiver ran down the length of Bo’s spine. Can you see me? Another tremor raced over her chilly form. No way.

Maybe?

What the hell difference does it make? Either you’re a spirit talker on top of being a telepath, or you’ll be dead in twenty-four hours.

In the end, Bo’s contemplations meant squat. She literally needed Shaw to survive. It had been weeks since her last manifestation, and she knew from experience that the longer she remained a filmy creature who screamed in the night, the harder it would be for her the next time she needed to become bone, muscle, and sinew.

Come on, girls. Get him naked and moaning so I can feed.

“Let’s go somewhere that offers us more privacy,” Shaw said.

Bo nearly clapped at his suggestion. The women giggled and nodded, and she could only hope they’d take him together. That would provide her with nothing short of a banquet fit for an undead princess.

She wafted after Shaw as he escorted the duo to what he called the Eagle’s Nest. The small room perched above the bar was primarily used for surveillance, but she could see how it could also double as the perfect spot for the handsome bar owner to have sex with Sleaze One and Two. The dance floor stood less than fifty-feet below it, and anybody could walk in on them at any time. The possibility of being caught upped the excitement factor.

“We heard you like to take control,” Candy said.

“Most definitely. My preference is Dom/sub. Does that sound like something that might interest you?”

“Ooh,” Christie said with a purr. “That’s perfect. I’ve always wanted to be ordered to suck cock. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll play nice.” She sent him a devilish grin. “But I wouldn’t count on it.”

“You’re such a bad girl,” Shaw said. If the twinkle in his stunning golden gaze was any indication, he appreciated women who taunted his commandeering personae, tested the limits of his longevity, and turned him on with a little disobedience.

Bo could imagine him demanding they kneel in front of him and give him a blow job as he tangled his big hands in their bleached blonde hair. His thick, black cock would slide smoothly across their lips, and their unspoken moans of passion would ride the waves of aura rolling off them... They would be hot, and she would be happy.

From the amount of essence already flowing from Christie and Candy, they were in lewd imagination mode, too. Their fingers played over Shaw’s shirt-clad back and swept across his ass.

Storing the energy, Bo didn’t even bother going through the door. Instead, she walked through the wall and floated into the corner. From her vantage point, she’d have a front row seat to view the action.

She rubbed her hands together in anticipation.