The Scientific Method, Page 21

  "Keep your cookies to yourself," Brian advised, and Jacob's grin grew wider. The servant turned, headed up the hallway once more.

  "She likes sugar cookies best," he called over his shoulder. "The cook just made a fresh batch. Maybe you could swing by there on the way to the lab."

  Brian shook his head, but he only took two steps toward his original destination before he changed direction toward the kitchen. He was already anticipating Debra taking pieces of that cookie from his fingers, kissing lips frosted with sugar...

  His servant had brought sweetness to his life in ways he hadn't anticipated. He fully intended to return the favor.

  Sample Excerpt

  Like Joey W. Hill's vampire world? Here's a taste of the first book of the Vampire Queen series, The Vampire Queen's Servant (Jacob and Lyssa's story):

  Lyssa wanted a meal. Preferably something muscular, a man whose long, powerful body would serve her well as she took his blood. She would hold him down, drink her fill and ride him hard. Take him deep, making him give up his rich blood and hot seed to her body at the same time. She'd push him to exhaustion, beyond rational thought. All those wonderful muscles would be taut and slick as he pounded into her with single-minded urgency, his most primitive instincts making him into a fierce, beautiful rutting animal.

  Just imagining it made heat shimmer over her skin. As she gazed out the window from the shadows of the backseat of her limo, her lips parted, her tongue caressing the backside of her fangs as if she could already taste him.

  For months she'd made herself take blood functionally, letting it nourish her the way freeze-dried packets would keep a lost camper alive. But like most vampires, her desire for blood was intertwined with her need to dominate her victim sexually. Without that, the blood had no taste. No vitality.

  She missed taking alpha males. She enjoyed the fight, their resistance, the sweet taste of heated blood. The perception, if only for a moment, that the hunt would be a challenge. A vampire didn't survive by being ruled by her compulsions, any more than a woman survived by being consumed by her most private desires. But tonight she needed release, and she was feeling reckless enough not to care about the consequences to her fragile heart.

  Her nails were just the beginning. A manicure, then a man.

  It irritated her that the car in the deserted parking lot of the salon was not Max's. Maybe her manicurist had experienced car trouble and borrowed someone else's vehicle. Still, it set off alarm bells in Lyssa's head. But since her limo was an evening's rental while she stayed in Atlanta, she couldn't very well ask the driver to scope out the area for signs of rival vampires. Of course, if she'd had a marked human servant, he could have performed the task for her.

  She studied her nails by the light thrown into the car from the parking lot lamps. Hellhound that he was, her Irish wolfhound Bran had torn one when she was indulging his incessant need for attention. It had grown back to the half-inch length she preferred in no time, but the glossy burgundy polish could not be regenerated. Perfection was essential, particularly these days when showing any vulnerability could create dangerous situations. Though she easily could afford to pay a manicurist to come to her home, her enemies needed to know she wouldn't hesitate to go out to seek simple indulgences.

  The hell with it. So it wasn't Max's car. If it was a trap or trick, she was ready to prove to any enemy or potential suitor foolish enough to challenge her she was not to be trifled with -- particularly not when she teetered on the edge of full blown blood lust.

  Read another taste of Jacob and Lyssa's story on The Vampire Queen's Servant page on Joey's website, http://www.storywitch.com/book-vqs-vqs.