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  “If I’d known you were coming,” Alaric said, from behind the granite-topped island that separated the living room from the kitchen, “I’d have gotten some wine. But I don’t think I have anything here. Except water.”

  “Oh,” she said, “that’s all right.”

  Alaric’s loft was beautiful, all toweringly high ceilings and windows with a view of the river, gleaming chrome appliances, polished wooden floors, and expensive—but not uncomfortable-looking—modern European furniture that looked like it came straight out of some luxury boutique hotel.

  Meena, coming to stand in the middle of the living room area, was horrified to see that Jack Bauer had made himself at home, hopping right up onto one of the large, home-theater-style armchairs.

  “Jack,” she said, “get down.”

  “He’s all right,” Alaric said mildly. “Those are comfortable chairs.” He handed Meena a glass of ice water. “So,” he said, “where’s your bag?”

  Meena shook her head, confused. “What bag?”

  “I don’t care if all you want to take with you to Antigua is what you have on,” he said, looking down at her cardigan, black dress, and flats. “But most women take more than a purse and a dog when they travel.”

  “Oh.” She sank down onto the blue suede couch. She didn’t think her legs could support her anymore. “So I’m the one going to Antigua with you?”

  “Who else?” he asked. “I thought we discussed this. When I gave you that.” He pointed at the necklace she was wearing.

  “Alaric,” Meena said. She wanted to laugh. Except for the part of her that wanted to cry. “We never discussed my going to Antigua with you.”

  He sat down on the couch beside her. “Well, then why are you here?” he asked. “And don’t try to act like you didn’t know that I’m leaving for Antigua in an hour.”

  “I didn’t know,” Meena insisted. “How would I know?”

  “Because,” he said, “you’re psychic. How many times do I have to say it? You know everything.”

  She blinked at him. “I don’t know everything,” she said. Her eyes were filling with tears. “If I knew everything, would I have gotten into this mess in the first place? I certainly don’t know why you assume I’m going to drop everything and fly off to Antigua with you. I don’t even know what I’m doing here. I don’t know why we haven’t talked in two weeks. And the worst part is, if I do go to Antigua with you, I don’t know if I’ll ever want to come back. I’m pretty sure I’ll want to stay there with you forever.” She was crying so hard, she couldn’t even see him. “And the fact that I just said that out loud is even scarier to me than vampires. I’ve made a terrible mistake in coming here. Good-bye.”

  She sprang to her feet, and would have fled from the apartment if she could have seen where she was going through her tears and he hadn’t reached out and pulled her back down onto the couch, and into his arms.

  He didn’t kiss her the way he had that night at St. George’s. Not at all. This was a different kind of kiss, a demanding kiss, a kiss that seemed to lay his soul bare in front of her, and yet, at the same time, claim her for his own.

  She could feel the intense heat rising from his body, the fierce pounding of his heart against hers, and his breathing, which became every bit as shallow as hers after a while.

  These were things she hadn’t felt while being kissed in a long, long time. Exciting things. Especially when he lowered his head to kiss her again, this time on the throat. That’s when she felt that her heart might burst from happiness.

  “You do know,” he whispered softly. “You know the answer to all those things. I want you to stay with me forever. You know I love you. And that’s why you’re flying off to Antigua with me. That’s why you came here. You know all these things. Admit it.”

  She looked up into his blue eyes, the exact same color as a summer sky, or the Caribbean sea.

  And she smiled. Because she realized he was right. She did know. She’d known all along, knew it even before his mouth came back down over hers, just to make sure she knew it good and well before they left for the airport.

  Author’s Note

  Overbite is a work of fiction, but many of the details in it are based on facts or historical events.

  The Minetta Stream is an actual water feature of lower New York City, but few people know of its existence, other than that it still occasionally floods some basements in Greenwich Village. The name given to it by the island of Manhattan’s original residents, the Lenape Indians, was Mannette, which translates to Devil’s Water. The stream has been built over, and was diverted into several fountains, one of which stands in the lobby of the New York University dormitory in which I used to work at 33 Washington Square West. That fountain features a figure of Pan. It has been inoperable for decades.

  You can read more about the Minetta Stream at http://www.nycgovparks.org/.

  The Palatine Guard was an actual military unit of the Vatican, formed in 1850 to defend Rome against attack from foreign invaders. Today the Palatine Guard is listed in most encyclopedias and search engines as defunct.

  Vlad the Impaler’s first wife is said to have died by throwing herself from a window of Poenari Castle into what is now referred to as Raul Doamnei, or Princess’s River, saying she preferred suicide to death at the hands of the invading Ottoman army.

  This is the only known reference to Vlad Tepes’s first marriage, besides the fact that his wife was rumored to have been extremely kind and beautiful, almost “angelic.” It was after her death that Vlad the Impaler began his many atrocities, eventually becoming the titular inspiration for Bram Stoker’s Dracula.

  So many people helped me with this book in so many ways, I couldn’t begin to name them all, but I am exceedingly grateful for their support. Particular thanks go to Beth Ader, Nancy Bender, Jennifer Brown, Barbara Cabot, Carrie Feron, Michele Jaffe, Laura Langlie, Ann Larson, Janey Lee, Rachel Vail, Tessa Woodward, and Benjamin Egnatz.

  And, of course, a very special thanks to all my wonderful readers! I could not have done it without you.

  Meg Cabot

  About the Author

  MEG CABOT was born in Bloomington, Indiana. In addition to her adult contemporary fiction, she is the author of the bestselling young adult fiction series The Princess Diaries. She lives in Key West, Florida, with her husband.

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.

  Also by the Author

  Insatiable

  Ransom My Heart (with Mia Thermopolis)

  Queen of Babble series

  Heather Wells series

  The Boy series

  She Went All the Way

  The Princess Diaries series

  The Mediator series

  The 1-800-WHERE-R-YOU series

  All-American Girl series

  Nicola and the Viscount

  Victoria and the Rogue

  Jinx

  How to Be Popular

  Pants on Fire

  Avalon High series

  The Airhead series

  Allie Finkle’s Rules for Girls series

  Credits

  Cover design by Mumtaz Mustafa

  Cover illustration by Ricky Mujica

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  OVERBITE. Copyright © 2011 by Meg Cabot. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, o
r stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  FIRST EDITION

  EPub Edition July 2011 ISBN: 9780062092410

  Print Edition ISBN: 9780061735103

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.

  11 12 13 14 15 OV/QGF 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

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