Read Online Insatiable by Meg Cabot - Free Book Online
Authors: Meg Cabot
Tags: Fiction, Contemporary Women
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his kid sister long enough to recognize the signs.
She obviously knew something about somebody now…only who? And why wasn’t she saying?
“Is it Mom and Dad?” he asked. “I thought you said they were fine. I mean, relatively speaking.”
“They are fine.” Meena glared at him. “For two people who continue to whoop it up at happy hour every night down in Boca like they think they’re F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald.”
“Then I don’t get it,” Jon said. “Your crazy-ass millionaire neighbor who thinks she’s a countess invited you to a dinner party at her place to meet a real Romanian prince on Thursday night. And you’re telling me you don’t think you’re going to get any story ideas out of that? Are you serious?”
Meena looked at him, her big dark eyes luminous in the light from the sun setting just outside her windows, turning the sky from rosy pink to a delicate lavender. Finally she smiled.
“You’re right,” she said. “How could I miss such a fantastic opportunity, so rich with the promise of pretentious buffoonery for me to mock later on Insatiable ? I have a professional duty to be there.”
“Absolutely,” Jon said.
“I’ll RSVP yes to the countess,” Meena said.
“Way to go.” Jon reached out to ruffle her short, boyishly cut dark hair. “I’ll go order us some samosas.”
Meena grinned and turned up the volume on the news, which was all about how they still hadn’t been able to identify any of the victims of what they were now calling the Park Strangler. They were urging any members of the public who might recognize the women to come forward.
“After all,” Meena said thoughtfully, clearly not paying attention to the information the grim-faced anchorwoman was doling out, “Victoria Worthington Stone’s dated plenty of doctors, lawyers, millionaires, shipping magnates, gangsters, murderers, maniacs, cops, cowboys, priests, and once even her own half brother—until she found out who he really was. It’s about time she dated a prince.”
“That’s the spirit,” Jon said, and started dialing.
Chapter Twelve
6:30 P.M . EST, Tuesday, April 13
West Fourth Street
Chattanooga, TN
A laric Wulf wasn’t surprised to find that Sarah, like most women—and men—in love with a vampire, was initially resistant to the idea of giving up the address of her lover.
“Just tell me where he is, and I’ll let you live.”
Sarah had hedged for a while. Like most victims, she didn’t care anymore about her own life. Her brain was too nutrient deprived. She cared only about protecting her sire.
Until Alaric finally put his sword to her throat.
The Palatine Guard was listed in most encyclopedias and search engines as a now-defunct military unit of the Vatican, formed to defend Rome against attack from foreign invaders.
This was partly true: the Palatine Guard was a military unit of the Vatican.
But it was hardly defunct. And the invaders it had been formed to defend against weren’t foreign.
They were demon.
And the Guards weren’t defending just Rome from them, but the entire world.
Members of the Guard had different methods for getting victims of these demons, who were often besotted by their attackers, to talk.Abraham Holtzman—currently the Guard’s most senior officer, who’d trained both Alaric and Martin—had always preferred deception. He’d flash a fake card from a fancy (fictitious) legal firm, explaining that he’d been hired by the vampire’s estranged family to deliver a large inheritance check.
Often the victim was so flustered by delighted surprise that she didn’t notice Holtzman had never even mentioned the vamp’s name.
That was because he didn’t know it.
But that was Holtzman. Alaric had always suspected that Holtzman could get away with this because he was so scholarly looking. His Jewish parents had been appalled when he’d gone to work for the Vatican, though Holtzman hadn’t converted. (Conversion was not a job requirement. It was
She obviously knew something about somebody now…only who? And why wasn’t she saying?
“Is it Mom and Dad?” he asked. “I thought you said they were fine. I mean, relatively speaking.”
“They are fine.” Meena glared at him. “For two people who continue to whoop it up at happy hour every night down in Boca like they think they’re F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald.”
“Then I don’t get it,” Jon said. “Your crazy-ass millionaire neighbor who thinks she’s a countess invited you to a dinner party at her place to meet a real Romanian prince on Thursday night. And you’re telling me you don’t think you’re going to get any story ideas out of that? Are you serious?”
Meena looked at him, her big dark eyes luminous in the light from the sun setting just outside her windows, turning the sky from rosy pink to a delicate lavender. Finally she smiled.
“You’re right,” she said. “How could I miss such a fantastic opportunity, so rich with the promise of pretentious buffoonery for me to mock later on Insatiable ? I have a professional duty to be there.”
“Absolutely,” Jon said.
“I’ll RSVP yes to the countess,” Meena said.
“Way to go.” Jon reached out to ruffle her short, boyishly cut dark hair. “I’ll go order us some samosas.”
Meena grinned and turned up the volume on the news, which was all about how they still hadn’t been able to identify any of the victims of what they were now calling the Park Strangler. They were urging any members of the public who might recognize the women to come forward.
“After all,” Meena said thoughtfully, clearly not paying attention to the information the grim-faced anchorwoman was doling out, “Victoria Worthington Stone’s dated plenty of doctors, lawyers, millionaires, shipping magnates, gangsters, murderers, maniacs, cops, cowboys, priests, and once even her own half brother—until she found out who he really was. It’s about time she dated a prince.”
“That’s the spirit,” Jon said, and started dialing.
Chapter Twelve
6:30 P.M . EST, Tuesday, April 13
West Fourth Street
Chattanooga, TN
A laric Wulf wasn’t surprised to find that Sarah, like most women—and men—in love with a vampire, was initially resistant to the idea of giving up the address of her lover.
“Just tell me where he is, and I’ll let you live.”
Sarah had hedged for a while. Like most victims, she didn’t care anymore about her own life. Her brain was too nutrient deprived. She cared only about protecting her sire.
Until Alaric finally put his sword to her throat.
The Palatine Guard was listed in most encyclopedias and search engines as a now-defunct military unit of the Vatican, formed to defend Rome against attack from foreign invaders.
This was partly true: the Palatine Guard was a military unit of the Vatican.
But it was hardly defunct. And the invaders it had been formed to defend against weren’t foreign.
They were demon.
And the Guards weren’t defending just Rome from them, but the entire world.
Members of the Guard had different methods for getting victims of these demons, who were often besotted by their attackers, to talk.Abraham Holtzman—currently the Guard’s most senior officer, who’d trained both Alaric and Martin—had always preferred deception. He’d flash a fake card from a fancy (fictitious) legal firm, explaining that he’d been hired by the vampire’s estranged family to deliver a large inheritance check.
Often the victim was so flustered by delighted surprise that she didn’t notice Holtzman had never even mentioned the vamp’s name.
That was because he didn’t know it.
But that was Holtzman. Alaric had always suspected that Holtzman could get away with this because he was so scholarly looking. His Jewish parents had been appalled when he’d gone to work for the Vatican, though Holtzman hadn’t converted. (Conversion was not a job requirement. It was
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