I finally shook myself out of staring at the blank page–and started the second book–the followup to Talk Of The Town 🙂
Craig sat in his dressing room alone.
Alone and exhausted.
He hadn’t had the chance to feed for almost three days, and as he lay his head down on his cluttered dressing table, not even caring if his stage makeup smeared, he knew that tastes from donors wouldn’t be enough. Carl usually went with him and they hunted together, but Carl was holed up in their Dakota sanctuary, deep in his writing fever.
Carl was old enough to get by on tastes from donors for weeks because, truth be told, he hated killing for his food, but if he was being honest, Craig didn’t mind it. In fact, he even liked it a little. He raised his head, sighing softly. Even breathing was getting hard. He needed oxygen-rich blood if he was going to keep talking above a whisper. He was lucky his part in the play was done for tonight. The way he was feeling, he’d have to skip the curtain call, and that wasn’t even a possibility. Not for the star.