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Musicians were her drug of choice. The more angst ridden, the better. She would follow them for awhile, keep pace with their lives for a few months, occasionally a few years, then she'd make her move. They never knew what hit them when she would walk up to them at a party, or backstage at a gig, and smile at them. Usually, that's all it took, was that smile. She wasn't anything spectacular, she'd seen groupies across the globe who made her feel downright ugly. But she had what every groupie in the world wished they had... she had presence. She was special, mysterious, she filled the space around her completely. That one spark of bright flame in a sea of a billion flickering sparks, the musicians she hunted were drawn to her, no matter what else was available.

Her last musician had been a guitarist in a death metal band from somewhere in Europe. The music wasn't exactly to her taste, but he had played like a man possessed, so she was caught by her hunger for that energy, the emotion he poured into his instrument and then played back out for his audience. He'd made a quick meal though; only a slightly rough childhood and a fear of boredom had driven him. One fuck and she'd sucked him dry. After their encounter he couldn't play like before, so the band axed him and he dropped into obscurity, never to be heard from again. It had been much the same for as many centuries as she could remember, but this was possibly the best time to be alive and be a succubus who fed on musicians as preference.

...

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