Insatiable

entered the building. Storm clouds, he saw, were moving in, rumbling toward the city across

the river like an advancing army.

“Stop,” Meena said, rushing out after him just as he stretched an arm over the ornate

wrought iron railing.

“You can’t tell anyone what’s happening here,” he explained. “Not your friend Leisha.

Not your mother. Not the police. Not if you want them to live. Do you understand me, Meena?

These monsters will kill everyone you love in the blink of an eye if they think it will benefit

them in some way.”

“I understand,” Meena said. “But do you understand that there are people down there? If

you drop that phone over that railing, you could hit someone.”

Alaric looked over the side of Meena’s balcony railing. “Got any premonitions of

anyone’s imminent demise?” he asked.

Meena chewed her lower lip. “Well,” she said. “No. But—”

“Bombs away,” he said, and let go of the phone. The wind whipped it quickly from his

hand.

“—it doesn’t work that way,” Meena said, continuing. “I actually have to meet the

person. But nice job. You probably just killed someone yourself.”

Down below, a car alarm went off.

“Shame on me,” Alaric said, shaking his head. “I killed a car.”

“You think this is all a joke?” Meena glared up at him in what moonlight peeked out

from between the fast-moving storm clouds. “Because it’s not.”

Alaric felt a twinge of disappointment. Meena Harper had done nothing but surprise him,

from her resistance—no victim had ever put up as much of a physical fight as she had—to the

discovery about her psychic ability.

It would have been nice if she’d proved to be unpredictable in this way as well. But he

knew what she was about to say. He’d heard it hundreds of times before.

That was the problem with vampires…and why they needed to be universally eradicated.

They worked their way under the skin of even the most sensible, intelligent people and turned

them into junkies just as surely as black tar heroin did.

“I know,” Alaric said flatly. “You love him. You can’t live without him. But you see, I

can cure that. If you just tell me where he is, I’ll kill him, and then—”

“No,” Meena said, interrupting him. “That wasn’t what I was talking about. Do you ever

stop to listen to people? Or do you just go rushing in waving that big sword of yours and ask

questions later? He’s going to kill you. And my brother, too. You know I can’t let that happen,

Alaric.”

It was the first time she’d said his name. He didn’t know why, but the sound of his name

on her lips did something strange to the hair on the back of his neck.

Or maybe that was just the lightning over the Hudson River.

“I can’t be responsible for what happens to your brother,” Alaric said, fighting for calm.

And not just because he was starting to realize his attraction to her was more than just physical.

“Anyway…from what I understand, he’s been collecting unemployment for some time. You

should be happy he’s showing some initiative—”

“Because he wants kill vampires?” Meena’s voice rose above a far-off rumble of

thunder. “All I wanted was for him to get a job and maybe install some drywall in the baby’s

room in Leisha’s apartment. I never wanted him to get himself killed going after the undead!”

“Well, you should have thought about that before you had your little one-night stand

with Lucien Dracula,” Alaric said, folding his arms. Down below, the owner of the car had

finally turned off the alarm. They were low enough that traffic sounds could still be heard, but

they were faint. He thought she must be chilled in her slip, but she showed no signs of it, even

though she’d abandoned the blanket from the couch. Her temper was keeping her warm, he

supposed.

And her blushing cheeks. She didn’t like him referring to her tryst with Antonescu as a

one-night stand.

“But since you didn’t,” he went on brutally, “you’re going to have to deal with the

consequences. One of which is me. And I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where the

prince of darkness is. It’s your choice, really. Him . Or me.”

She just glared at him. Then, without a word, she turned on her heel and strode, barefoot,

from the balcony back into the bedroom.

Her decision was pretty obvious.

It was, Alaric realized, going to be a long night.

Chapter Forty

12:00 A.M . EST, Saturday, April 17

The Box

189 Chrystie Street

New York, New York

I t was easy for Lucien to find his brother, Dimitri.

He was the prince of darkness, after all. He could find anyone he wanted.

Except, of course, whoever was killing girls and dumping their bodies in parks all

around Manhattan. The person—or people—doing that seemed to want to keep it a secret from

him, for an obvious reason….

They valued their lives.

His brother was said to be entertaining another group of financial analysts at a burlesque

club downtown. Lucien did not frequent such places—frankly, if he wanted to see a woman

disrobe in front of him, he didn’t have to pay for the privilege.

This particular club was more crowded than any he’d ever seen, and not just with men.

There were women there, as well—all ages—waiting for the show to begin, most without

seats. The club was standing-room only. Tables were said to be going for a “bottle fee” of a

thousand dollars.

That meant patrons would be seated at a table only if they purchased a bottle of

champagne or vodka…for a thousand dollars.

It was absurd.

But it was how the club made its money.

Lucien didn’t have time to stop to listen to the grousing of the crowd, though. He was

making his way through it and up the stairs to the red plush velvet box seats where his brother

was sitting with the investment bankers with whom he was palling around for whatever reason.

Still, it was hard to keep the buzzing out of his head. Not the buzzing of the

conversations around him, either, but the buzzing he’d felt ever since he’d left Meena’s side

that morning and that seemed to occur now whenever he was around humans.

It was the strangest sensation. He couldn’t really equate it with anything he’d ever felt

before. It was like having a tiny bee inside his brain. The sensation faded whenever there

wasn’t anyone living around.

But as soon as anyone with a heartbeat was nearby, the vibration started up again.

It wasn’t just buzzing, either. He knew things. Just by looking into the faces of the

people he brushed past. Like the waitress holding the tray of empty glasses, wiggling by him in

her black satin bustier and lace garter belt. She needed to be careful on this narrow staircase in

her precariously high platform heels, or she was going to trip and fall and break her neck.

This wasn’t something he could tell by reading her mind. It was just something he knew,

simply by looking into her heavily made-up eyes.

“Watch your step,” he said to her as she sidled past him on the stairs.

“Thanks,” she said, grinning up at him suggestively with her red lacquered lips. “I’d

rather watch yours, though.”

And not just her. The boy shouting into his cell phone at the top of the stairs, too.

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