Insatiable

perhaps the chair was not such a disaster after all. “She had a baby girl. It’s a little premature,

but they’re both going to be fine. Leisha’s so happy. She doesn’t seem to remember what

happened at the church. Or outside my apartment. Adam says not to tell her. He thinks it’s for

the best.”

“He’s probably right,” Alaric said, carefully.

“True,” she said, with a shrug. “Adam says he wishes he could forget it. He and Jon are

installing the baby room right now. Otherwise, the baby will have to sleep in a drawer.”

“Oh,” Alaric said. He didn’t know anything about babies. Except Martin’s daughter,

Simone, who had been a baby once. Alaric had thought Martin was crazy for wanting a baby.

He tried to sound supportive, though, just like he had around Martin, because he knew that’s

how people were supposed to be about babies. “That’s good.”

“They’re calling her Joan,” Meena said. “Joanie.” She was looking all around the

room…everywhere but at Alaric.

This, he decided, was definitely awkward.

Especially because, like Meena’s friend Leisha, Alaric didn’t remember what had

happened at the church, either. At least, not everything. He knew he’d said some things to her

when the two of them had been alone together after the choir loft had collapsed.

He just couldn’t remember what those things had been.

This, a doctor had told him when he’d asked her about it, was not unusual. It was

because of the blood loss, she’d said. He needn’t worry about it.

But Alaric did worry about it. What had he said?

He hoped he hadn’t blurted out anything inappropriate. Such as his feelings for Meena

Harper. That wouldn’t be good at all. He didn’t need her knowing how he felt about her. Not if

she was going to come work with him at the Palatine. How was that going to work? How was

he going to be able to work his subtle Alaric Wulf magic on her if she already knew how he

felt about her?

Then the magic wouldn’t be subtle at all. It would be the furthest thing from subtle.

And then the magic wouldn’t work. He was already competing with the prince of

darkness. What the hell else did he have but his special Alaric Wulf magic?

But maybe he hadn’t said anything about liking her.

He could, of course, just ask her what he’d said.

But then it would sound like he was worried. And he wasn’t worried. He was just…a

little concerned.

That was all.

“Joan is a nice name,” Alaric said. Then he felt stupid.

“It was my suggestion,” Meena said. “After Joan of Arc.” Finally, she looked him in the

face. For some reason, she’d seemed reluctant before to do so. “That’s a saint.”

He said flatly, “I’ve heard of her. She was burned at the stake as a witch. I went to

school, you know. I’m not a complete imbecile.”

His concern over what he might or might not have said while he was delusional with

blood loss was making him act a little defensive, maybe.

Meena’s mouth tightened as she studied him. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”

Clearly, the doctor was right. He needed to relax about the amnesia thing.

He spread open both his hands palm wide. “I’m in the hospital. All I’m fighting is an

infection. Which you apparently gave me, with your unclean hands.”

She smiled a little. “I know. I heard. I’m sorry about that. I was trying to save your life,

you know. The way you’re always saving mine. Apparently, we both have hero complexes.”

“They say it’s a miracle they were able to save my leg, after the way you butchered it,”

he lied. There, that was better. The old Alaric Wulf magic was back.

She stopped smiling and looked distressed. “Oh, really? I thought I did it right. I’m

sorry. That’s how they said to do it when I researched it while I was writing about it for the

show. I really was trying to keep you from bleeding to death.”

He was getting the distinct impression from her that he had not, in fact, blurted out his

undying devotion to her while they’d been trapped behind all that rubble and he’d lain there

bleeding to death.

This was a relief.

Or was it? “It’s amazing,” Alaric said, leaning back against his horrible, flat hospital

pillow, “the lengths you were willing to go to in order to keep me from dying.”

“What?” She shook her head. “No. Just a tourniquet. That’s all. And apparently, that

nearly killed you. I guess you’re not as big a he-man as you’d like everyone to think you are.”

“And yet,” he said, spreading his hands wide again, “you’re here with me, and not off

somewhere hiding from us Palatine with Lucien Antonescu.”

She stared at him. “What does that have to do with anything? I told you, I was just

visiting my friend Leisha and I thought I’d stop by—”

He shrugged. “I just find it interesting, that’s all.”

He had her. And she knew it. What’s more, she knew he knew. He could see a pink

blush suffusing her long neck, rising up out of the rather low-cut neckline of the tight black

dress and traveling up her cheeks.

“We all know he’s not dead, Meena,” Alaric said. “He must have asked you to go away

with him.”

The blush turned crimson.

“Well,” she said, her gaze dropping to the floor. “That’s right. He did. But I said no.”

Alaric’s heart swelled with delight. This was his best day in the hospital yet. Everything

was going great. He definitely hadn’t done anything stupid under the choir loft. What had he

even been worrying about?

“It’s because you’re going to come work with us after all, right?” He folded his hands

behind his head, enormously pleased with himself. “I knew you were just leading Holtzman

on. That’s the spirit. The old man needs to be kept on his toes. You’re going for more money,

aren’t you? And why not? You’re a valuable asset to the team. Or are you trying to score a

position for that brother of yours, too? He showed some surprising initiative out there in the

field.” Although apart from that first lucky shot, he had the worst aim of anyone Alaric had

ever seen. “We could probably find something for him in the tech department. Look, if I were

you, I’d try to get them to pay you a housing allowance. Where are you staying right now?”

She raised her gaze. But the blush, for some reason, was getting deeper. He could have

sworn even her breasts were blushing. Which was a sight he would have been very interested

to see in more detail.

“St. Clare’s, if you must know,” she said. “Father Bernard was kind enough to take Jon

and me in after my apartment was unfortunately—”

“You didn’t go look at it, did you?” he interrupted, quickly dropping his hands. He

didn’t want her to see her apartment. Especially the bed and what the graffiti over it said.

“No,” she said. “But Jon did. And he said—”

“Don’t,” he said. This was very important. “Promise me you won’t ever go there again.

Just have someone take everything out of there and throw it away. Then sell the place. Don’t

ever go back.”

“I’ll do that,” she said. “I promise. But I’m not holding out for more money, Alaric. The

truth is…I’m not taking the job.”

He felt as if someone had sliced open another vein. Maybe in his heart.

“What?” he said stupidly.

“It was very kind of Dr. Holtzman to offer,” she said all in a rush. “I’m really very

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