Well, not what he most wanted to do. He’d rather feed on the plump little brunette behind him. He had always found the bloody flesh of sleek, blond creatures like Paxton Booth to be thin and bland. Plump-man flesh was better tasting, more flavorful, fuller bodied.

Of course, he couldn’t feed on anyone. It was too dangerous nowadays, and even if he himself was willing to take the risk, he wouldn’t risk the safety of his family just for a few moments of culinary pleasures. It didn’t mean he couldn’t dream about it, though, so Raven spent the next few moments trailing Paxton around the canned food and dry goods aisles, absently agreeing with everything he said while raven fondly recalled his meals he’d enjoyed in the past.

“Do you like Mexican?” Paxton asked.

“Oh, yes,” Raven murmured, the question immediately bringing to mind a perky little Mexican boy named Fabio he’d feasted on in La Paz. he’d been a tasty little bundle. Warm and sweet-smelling in his arms, little enjoyable moans issuing from his throat as he’d plunged both his body and teeth into him slowly and pleasantly ripping the flesh off of his victim while his victim and his-self were being pleasured… oh, yes. Feeding could also be a full body experience.

“What about Italian?”

“Italian is delicious too,” raven said agreeably, his memories immediately switching to a pleasing little peasant on the coast of Italy. That had been his first feeding on his own, A man always remembered his first. And just the thought of his sweet little Almanzo made him warm all over. Such deep, dark eyes and medium short, wavy, midnight hair. He recalled tangling his hands in that hair and the deep groans of pleasure he’d breathed into his ear as he’d given him his virginity and taken his fresh bloody flesh at the same time. Truly, it had been a sweet and memorable experience.

“Do you like stake?”

Raven was once again drawn from his thoughts, this time by a package of raw pasteurized meat suddenly shoved under his nose, interrupting his found memories. It was stake, nice and bloody-even cold bagged of fresh bloody meat to bovine-the blood-soaked stake smelled good at the moment. He found himself inhaling deeply and letting his breath out on a slow sigh almost like a whimpered dog howl.

The packaged was jerked away. “Or do you prefer white meat?”

“Oh no. no. Nooo... red meat is better.” He moved closer to the meat counter she’d led him to and peered around with his first real interest since they’d entered the market. He had always been a meat-and meat man. Rare meat, as a rule.

“A carnivore, I take it” Paxton commented dryly as he reached for particular bloody package of stake. The blood was dripping, and he almost licked his lips, then, afraid he might do something distressing in his present state, like lick the package then ripping it up right there and then in the store and eating it raw like some weirdo, he stepped back and set the meat down. Taking hold of the cart, he began moving it along, hoping to get to a less tempting section.

“Hang on,” Paxton called, but Raven kept walking, almost moaning when he rushed up with several packages of steak in his arms that he dumped in the cart. Great! Now the temptation would follow him. He really needed to feed. He had to contact Bartholomew or David and see about borrowing some bloody meat bags.

Perhaps he could make a quick stop at Bartholomew’s on the way home. He could leave the unshakable Paxton booth in the car like those crazy people that leave a dog in the car that is humping the string wheel, just this time with the groceries, while he runs in, gulp down a bit of nourishment and ... …. …