Insatiable

“The balcony door?” Jon’s voice cracked. “We’re eleven stories up. What’d the guy do,

fly up?”

Both Meena and Wulf looked at him, Meena sadly, Wulf with sarcasm. Jon, realizing

who he was talking about, swallowed.

“Oh,” he said. Then he turned back toward his sister. “I thought you were so worried

about him killing us,” he cried. “And you just let him in?”

“She can’t help it,” Wulf said. He turned abruptly, heading back toward the bathroom,

apparently in search of his shirt. “She’s his minion. Whether we live or die means nothing to

her. As long as he stays with her.”

Jon shot his sister an accusing look. “Jesus Christ, Meena,” he said. “You meet one

vampire and your deep abiding loathing for monster misogyny goes right out the window, and

you turn into one of those girls? I thought you hated that kind of girl.”

Stung, Meena sucked in her breath. “I’m not,” she cried. “I’m not one of those girls. I’m

not a minion. I still hate vampires. Just not Lucien. Because he isn’t like the others. And I care

about both of you! Well,” she added with a withering glance at Alaric’s departing back, “one

of you.”

Wulf waved a hand dismissively behind his back as he strode down the hall toward Jon’s

bedroom.

“It’s true.” Meena turned her tear-filled eyes toward Jon. “You have to believe me. I’m

not a minion. If you’d just leave Lucien alone, there’d be nothing to worry about.”

Jon shook his head. “I don’t know, Meen. Letting the prince of darkness into the

apartment, when you said he was going to kill me? And then letting him bite you? Again? It’s

very minion-like behavior, if you ask me.” He lowered his voice so Alaric couldn’t overhear.

“And it doesn’t look very good for me, you know, with this job thing.”

“ Job thing?” Meena looked bewildered.

“You know,” Jon said. “If I’m going to get a job with the Palatine. I can’t have a sister

who’s sleeping with the enemy. You have to cut it out.”

Comprehension dawned. Meena’s expression became sarcastic. “Oh, sorry,” she said. “I

forgot this whole thing was all about employment opportunities for you, Mr. Can’t Keep It in

His Pants.”

Jon’s jaw dropped. “ One time,” he whispered, holding up an index finger. “And I told

you, it was the middle of the night! I really had to pee! How was I supposed to know a cop was

going to pull up right at that exact second, in front of that exact Subway shop?”

Wulf came back, buttoning his shirt. “How much did you tell him?” he asked.

“Who?” Meena asked, blinking up at him.

Wulf rolled his eyes. “The enemy of the light.”

“I didn’t tell him anything,” Meena said. “And stop calling him that. He’s not like that.”

“She told him everything,” Wulf said knowingly to Jon.

Jon raised his eyebrows. “She just said she didn’t—”

“Your neighbors will be moving out.” Wulf finished the last of his buttons. “I hope they

didn’t borrow your sugar bowl, because you’re never going to see it again.”

“I don’t know why you won’t listen to me,” Meena said, glaring at him. “Lucien isn’t

like other, er, vampires you might know. He’s kind and warmhearted and generous and was

horribly abused by his father, who made him what he is. He didn’t have any choice. It’s his

brother, Dimitri, you should be going after. Did you know he tried to kill us the other night? Or

he sent a colony of bats to do it for him. He wants to destroy Lucien so he can be the prince of

darkness, or whatever it’s called. And if that happens, the world is really going to be in

trouble.”

Wulf looked over at Jon, his expression bored. “I’ll take that coffee now.”

“Oh, sure, coming right up,” Jon said, hurrying to get him a cup.

“Suck-up,” Meena said to her brother accusatorily. Then, following Alaric to the mirror

by her dining room table, where he’d gone to make sure he hadn’t missed any spots shaving,

she said, “Lucien is the one who’s making sure none of the Dracul and the rest of the vampires

out there kill anymore. I mean, yes, they drink human blood…but only from willing donors.”

“Try telling that to Caitlyn,” Wulf said.

“Who’s Caitlyn?” Meena asked blankly.

“My name for our killer’s latest victim,” Wulf said, sipping the coffee Jon had rushed

over to deliver to him.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?” Meena asked impatiently. “Lucien’s trying to figure out

who’s killing those girls and stop him, just like you are. Why can’t you judge him for what he

does, not what he is ?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wulf had pulled out a chair to sit down at the dining

room table, reaching for a piece of Jon’s bacon.

“I mean, you’re judging Lucien just because of what he is, which, I’ll admit, is a

vampire,” Meena said. “But he doesn’t act like one.”

“Doesn’t he?” Wulf inquired, his gaze going pointedly to her neck. Meena’s face flushed

red as her scarf.

“That’s just…just—” she stammered. “We were just messing around.”

“ You might have been messing around,” he said, picking up a knife and fork and

beginning to eat the pancakes Jon had made. “But I can assure you, it wasn’t ‘messing around’

to him. The fact is, if you let a vampire in one time, he’ll never go away. They’re like an

unemployed, homeless relative.”

“Hey,” Jon protested.

“No offense,” Wulf said, taking a bite of toast.

Meena looked down at his plate.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Wulf asked. “I have a long day ahead of me,

guarding you to make sure you don’t do anything else stupid. I’m obviously going to need my

strength. Because I have a feeling you’re going to try to do many other very stupid things.”

“We don’t have time for that now,” Meena said, sounding exasperated. “We have to go.

Unless you’re up for letting me out of the apartment on my own.”

Wulf lifted a single blond eyebrow. “That’s hardly likely. And just where do you need to

go so urgently?” he asked.

“That was Yalena on the phone just now,” Meena said, looking at Jon. “She finally got

away from her boyfriend. I promised I’d go and get her.”

Chapter Forty-five

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

Shenanigans

241 West Forty-second Street

New York, New York

A laric didn’t quite understand how he’d come to be sitting in a chain restaurant called

Shenanigans in Times Square at noon on a Saturday.

But if he was ever asked to offer his idea of hell on earth, it would be Shenanigans.

“I’ll have a large Diet Coke,” Meena was telling the waitress from behind her nine-pagelong—literally, it was nine pages long—menu.

The waitress, in her green polyester pants and visor, looked disapproving. This clearly

was not a big enough order to satisfy her.

Or justify their taking up a booth in one of the window seats looking out over Times

Square, so Meena could watch for the arrival of this Yalena person she kept insisting they had

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