THE VAMPIRE DIARIES STEFANS DIARIES 3 THE CRAVING PDF

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The Craving is the third book in L.J. Smith's bestselling Stefan's Diaries series, Romance>; The Vampire Diaries: Stefan's Diaries #3: The Craving - EPUB. THE FURY The Vampire Diaries Book 3 By L. J. Smith THE VAMPIRE DIARIES The Fury Volume III L. J, Smith HarperTorch An. The Vampire Diaries STEFAN'S DIARIES VOL. 3 THE CRAVINGBased on the novels byL. J. SMITH and the TV series develope.


The Vampire Diaries Stefans Diaries 3 The Craving Pdf

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Read "The Vampire Diaries: Stefan's Diaries #3: The Craving" by L. J. Smith available from Rakuten Kobo. Sign up today and get $5 off your first download. The Craving (The Vampire Diaries: Stefan's Diaries, #3) The Craving is the third book in L.J. Smith's bestselling Stefan's Diaries series, which reveals the. onatnakchiter.cf: The Vampire Diaries: Stefan's Diaries #3: The Craving of other books are available for instant access. view site eBook | view Audible audiobook . The Craving is the third book in L.J. Smith's bestselling Stefan's Diaries.

Stefan tells him, he will either save Lexi or die trying. Lexi is where Stefan believed her to be, tied to an alter about to be burnt to death by the sun. Unlike Stefan and Damon who were outfitted by Katherine and Emily with rings baring special stones that protect them from the sun, Lexi has no such protection.

The Craving

Stefan slips his ring on Lexi finger and tells her to save herself. She flees, but Lucius returns capturing them both and intombing them in the church's sacophagus. There they starve for weeks, days, or months, until one day the tomb explodes. Reward Yourself? I was in the middle of the last book she'd written The Vampire Diaries: Midnight and just couldn't get through it.

I was really feeling like the Vampire Diaries as a book series was dead for me. I'd stopped, read other books, gone back to it, stopped again.

Then I get the e-mail from site reminding me hey this is on your site. Description Okay maybe this is what I need - those last two Stefan's diary books were pretty good. And this is why I have such a problem with it.

It's clearly not L. Her name does appear on the books - along with two others. I'm unclear on how much input she had in this arc of the series but given that she has now been fired from the books and how totally different the style is from her recent Vampire Diaries books I can only assume not very much. This though is truly good. The Salvatore brothers both end up in New York. Or is one maybe planning on toying with the other?

They do both end up connected to a high society family - surely that is a coincidence? And as always they end up wondering if they are really each others biggest problems or if they need to play nice with each other -- if there are things out there so much bigger and badder they are, so maybe they at least need to pretend to be friends again if only long enough to figure out what in the heck is happening around them.

So long as these books keep going this route, I'm in - whoever has taken over has figured out what was missing. Hopefully now that L. Smith is free of them she can find whatever it is she was missing in her future books, which I am also in for. This one picks up right where the last left off and where the teaser had started in that book.

The brothers Salvatore seeking out Samuel, Cora by their side. The plot is simple if you're reading in order which you should be -- they're determined to clear Damon's name, get Violet back, find out what Samuel has against them, tidy up all of the loose ends, and live as happily ever after as vampires can.

They find their connection to Samuel I won't spoil it. Well -- yup another cliffhanger. Were they to just wait and put it all together in one version, I'd probably rate this better, but at this point it feels like they're dragging it for no reason. It's good as a single book, it's just not great, and not even as good as the earlier Stefan Diaries were as it doesn't feel like as complete of a story as those did.

One person found this helpful. The Vampire Diary books are beginning to feel a little formulaic. When I download them, I know what I will get, but I still can't help but enjoy them. Smith uses the same recipe for each of the Vampire Diaries and, I guess, it makes sense because "if it ain't broke, why fix it?

The stories are beginning to all feel the same; sexy boys - conflict between the brothers - brothers need each other to fight villainous third party, yada yada yada. So, if I'm so dissatisfied, why did I give the book four stars?

Because, despite the rote story line, I like being in Stephan and Damon's world. I like it even more when dull-as-dishwater Elaina isn't around. I'll probably being around downloading Stefan's Diaries 25 and complaining about the same thing. As a side note to author: I love bad boy, Damon - will he be sharing his diary? Or, was he too busy being bad to write in a book? I started reading the vampire diaries books because I liked the tv show and couldn't wait for the next episode to see what happened.

Usually this does not bode well with me. As I began reading through the series I was totally consumed. Each one having its own adventure.

I think I like Stephans diaries a little better because the settings put the books in historical time periods. I love historical pieces so besides the storyline you get a piece of the time they are in.

They are always very well written which I appreciate. With each book you get lost in a new adventure the brothers are on together.

Each adventure they learn a little bit more about themselves. I would recommend this book to anyone who just enjoys a good read.

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I agree with what another reviewer said about not being able to get through the other set of VD books. I thought they just got worse and worse. I am really enjoying this set of Stefan's Diaries though. They are written so much better and I can't put them down.

I do wish they were longer. Sign in to report this app to Microsoft. Report this app to Microsoft. Report this app to Microsoft Potential violation Offensive content Child exploitation Malware or virus Privacy concerns Misleading app Poor performance.

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Hundreds of people, hundreds of blades, and one very angry, unpredictable brother before me. I hear they have a magnificent circus. But that was noise in the background. The ball and its participants faded away. Right now, Damon and I had our eyes locked on each other.

The group of people we were with looked back and forth at us, clearly aware that something was going on, but unsure what exactly. Then her eyes widened, dilating, and she was staring—but no longer at the card. I looked at Damon. He was also staring, compelling her. Showing off, in front of everyone —in front of me—just how powerful he was. He was sending me a message. He led her off, smiling back at me. The tips of his fangs glittered. She did not look after Hilda with a worried expression.

She had the calm confidence of someone who knew exactly where her lover stood in his relation to her. Damon had no doubt compelled her to act as such. He had amassed a considerable amount of Power, very quickly.

Lydia smiled, all of her studied politeness and mannered behavior melting away.

It was raining, a sudden downpour. I remember very particularly that the sun had been shining just moments earlier. Unprepared for the change of weather, Mother and I became soaked. My new hat was ruined, and all my packages were dripping wet. I swear a dozen carriages must have passed us by without stopping. And then—one of them paused, and the door opened, and there he was, extending his hand to me.

But he was so polite, and charming. Had Damon compelled every carriage driver in Manhattan to avoid Lydia and her mother? Was it even possible to compel that many people at once? And what about the rain? Had that been luck. If that were a power available to vampires, I would have heard of it from Lexi or even Katherine. I studied Lydia. She wore a simple, narrow ribbon around her neck with a single pearl dangling from the front. The skin there was smooth, unblemished—and unbitten.

Chapter 8 I found Damon dancing with Hilda, ushering her around the dance floor with the lightest touch. Wherever his fingers touched she bent, curling into him a trifle more than was acceptable and falling against him more than was necessary. Other girls looked on enviously, clearly hoping to dance with him next. He pretended to devote all his attention to the poor girl, but glanced up just long enough to shoot me a dazzling smile.

I waited impatiently for the dance to end, wishing I could compel the musicians to stop. As soon as the last beat was played, I marched up to my brother. He snapped his fingers, as if at a dog. Damon rolled his eyes. A waiter will do just as well. He dropped his accent immediately. And Adelina Patti is here, too—Father would have just died.

Oh wait. You murdered him, in fact. He was circling me. Damon picked up a small statuette and turned it over in his hands, but his eyes stayed locked on mine. What are you doing here? Starting a new life, far from home, and war, and tragedy, and all of those other things immigrants like us are escaping. New York is where the action is.

Everyone stinks. I just made sure I got here first. Well, several horses. A couple of them died of exhaustion. Like your poor, poor Mezzanotte. Did you think I would break my promise so quickly? His anger had always been like a summer storm, quick and violent, causing damage to anyone or anything nearby—and then it was over and he was downloading a round at the tavern. But this fury was new, and it was all because of me.

What does she have to do with anything? Definitely the best catch of the three sisters. Such a lively girl! Such verve! He put down the small statue he had been holding and turned it this way and that on the desk, as if deciding which way it looked best. She loves it. A sudden storm out of nowhere, a dry cab for Lydia.

Who do you think left Bridget for you to find? He stuck his face toward my own so that our noses almost touched. A sense of resignation and understanding flooded my body.

Of course he had compelled the family. A man of his kind of wealth had to be careful about whom he allowed to get close. And Mrs. Sutherland—she was such a cautious mother, yet she allowed me to escort her and her daughter on a walk in the park. Me with Lydia wrapped around my finger. You with the adoring Bridget. The smoldering anger was back. A maid appeared from the next room, as if waiting for his signal. She already had a kerchief tied around her neck from where he had fed on her previously.

He gestured with his chin at the window, and she gamely went over and began to unbolt the latches. Only Lexi seemed able to control more than one person at once. Suddenly she looked confused and scared, the spell broken. She bolted out of the room, sniffling. Why is it so important that I marry her sister? A houseful of servants to attend to my every whim. Winfield is swimming in money. I shook my head in exasperation.

Just past the door of the study, a couple walked arm in arm through the library, in search of a quiet place to talk. Beyond them were the happy noises of the dancing throng, laughing conversations, the tap of heels on the floor. What was your body count toward the end there, brother? Whatever could have. Once again following in my footsteps, brother. Everything I have you just want. Like Katherine. Not the way you did. She was beautiful, charming, and a terrible flirt. But when I was with her under her heady spell, I just wanted to ignore her vampire side.

And when the vervain cleared my thoughts I was repelled by what she was. All of my feelings, deep feelings, for her, had been the stuff of glamour.

For Damon, it was all real. But if you step out of line, even once. I had vowed to never harm a human again, to never allow a human to come to harm because of me. I was trapped as neatly and as permanently as if I were still a sideshow vampire at a circus, tied with vervain ropes— and Damon knew it. I heaved a sigh. Everyone twirled around, their skirts swishing in perfect synchronicity to the music, all of them oblivious to the fact that two dangerous murderers stood among them.

She bounced up and down with excitement, causing all of the flounces on her dress to rise and fall like a giant stinging jellyfish. She grabbed my arm. She was beautiful and completely off-putting—self-centered, immature, always vying for attention. I had been responsible for enough deaths in my short time as a vampire. I would not have their blood on my conscience. The master of the dance, Reginald Chester, squinted at Damon curiously. The orchestra, looking confused, put down their instruments.

Chester first seemed put out that someone else was taking charge of the dance—but when she saw who it was, she began to beam like Damon was her own son. The murmuring crowd turned to us: They whispered to one another and nodded, trying to claim connection to him: But I wondered again how a vampire as young as Damon could command such Power.

Lydia quietly slipped to the front of the crowd, coming to stand near Damon. I, a stranger to your shores, and she, a beautiful damsel in distress.

Hilda and one of her girlfriends exchanged envious looks. She was taken off guard. Though she was not the sort of girl who really looked forward to being asked to wed in front of a large crowd, she beamed. The Sutherland family stood together at the front of the crowd. I knew how she felt, but wondered at her response. Her eyes burned with pure, searing jealousy. Maybe there was a tiny bit of relief that her older sister was getting married, which meant that now in turn she could.

But it was obvious that the youngest Sutherland had been dreaming her whole life of exactly how her perfect suitor would propose, and that it involved being done in public, in front of all her friends and an admiring audience. Just once. Like he had the power to compel me. And in a manner of speaking, he did. I knew exactly what he wanted me to do.

I drained my second champagne before stepping forward, turning toward Bridget. Here I went again. It seemed only yesterday that I was in Mystic Falls, yearning to go to school in Charlottesville, waiting out the war in the lazy, endless summer, and being forced to court Rosalyn.

Each time I called upon her it was with a leaden ball in my stomach, and each visit was an exercise in frustration and despair. I never wanted to marry her—our parents wished us to marry. My father expected us to marry. Once again I was being being forced into a marriage. But perhaps this was all part of the punishment I deserved.

And if it meant saving lives. I was the very form of romantic etiquette, exuding Southern charm the like of which these Yankees rarely saw. And thanks to the generosity of your parents, I already feel like family. Bridget, will you make this the happiest night of my life? I could tell right away! Winfield Sutherland looked so puffed up with pride and joy I feared he would explode. Sutherland looked quietly pleased now that the last of her daughters were matched. Only Margaret shook her head angrily before freezing her face into a good show of sisterly pride.

In an elegant display of sabrage, he took a sword from his butler and dramatically sliced along the bottle, causing the neck to fly off in a beautiful explosion of sparkling golden liquid.

I thought. Chapter 10 November 6, Damon is back, though it seems he was never actually gone. He has been watching me, baiting me, controlling me. He is the puppet master and I am his hapless marionette, forced to do his bidding. Until I saw Damon, I had not realized just how fond I had become of the Sutherlands, of how they eased my loneliness and gave me hope that I might not have to live in exile. Though I knew I had to leave them, I had dared to hope that by proving I could stay in control around them, my journey through this world might ultimately be less solitary.

But Damon knows me all too well. I could have slipped out this morning, could have run off in the park, could have disappeared into the crowd at the ball. And yet I stayed, because, as Damon no doubt predicted, I liked being part of a family again, even if just for a few fleeting days. Why New York? Why the Sutherlands? Why involve me? Why bother with a marriage?

Why not just take Winfield to the bank and compel him and the teller to empty his vast accounts? Does he intend to live as a human? Does he need the marriage for legitimacy in New York society? Is he simply intent upon torturing me? All I have are questions. Later that Monday afternoon, I stood on the roof deck of one of the most amazing Federal-style houses ever built.

Slim columns supported a soaring porch over a formal entrance, to which a grand, curved driveway rolled up as royally as a red carpet. From casement to cornice every detail was thoughtfully considered and never overdone. The dining room, large and oval, was as near as I could tell exactly the same as the one in the White House.

The White House. In our new capital. Commodore Matthew Perry himself had lived there earlier. I sighed at its magnificence. Her little entourage followed, laughing good-naturedly. The views! The size! Apparently it had been quite modest—he had not made his fortune yet. Neither one of them had minded. And yet they were willing to indulge their youngest daughter in her most expensive flights of fancy.

Bridget was very modern that way. Back in Manhattan.

Then it was a walk back down to the Fulton Ferry landing, where a boat would take us across to a veritable caravan of carriages for the long uptown commute. If being with Bridget was bad enough, with me constantly cringing at the things that came out of her mouth, the nervous tension of waiting for Damon to say or do something horrible was even worse.

I was on pins and needles the entire day. Because Damon would say something horrible, at some point, to Lydia, as soon as he tired of playing the game of attentive suitor. His attention span for games—other than ones he was betting on—was incredibly limited. And there should be. Look where the sun is. They were all beautiful, and for just a moment I could forget my present situation. Margaret bought a paper from a newsboy to read on the trip over.

Bridget went to sit down inside the ferry, not wanting any more sun on her skin, which was ironic and hilarious considering my own situation. I was relaxing for the first time that day, my face up to the sun, letting my Mediterranean skin take on a bronzed, healthy glow. And then Margaret plopped down in the seat next to me. What do you want with my family. The business? Without compelling her, I willed my voice to sound as genuine as I could. I took her arms in my hands, which was bold, but I needed her to understand.

I swear to you by whatever you want. Sighing, she took off her hat. She wanted Papa to take us all on a tour of Europe so she could capture the heart of a king, or prince, or at least a duke. Nothing less than royalty for her. She eyed me, pushing a black tendril of hair back behind her ear.

The two of you have been. I shaded the city from my eyes, blocking it out, and the sun was bright white and rose over ancient, exotic waters. How much could I tell her without endangering her? She seemed to be the only one in the family with a sensible head on her shoulders.

I thought once more about Katherine and whether my family would have been better prepared with some warning. The mansion of the Richards was near Fort Tryon on the northern tip of Manhattan, while the Fulton Ferry dock was at the southeastern end. Slowly going up Fifth Avenue, I was amazed by the sheer difference in fortune of the people who made their home in New York—from the often shoeless newsboys and schmatta, or rag-sellers, to people like Winfield, who sat in his gilded private carriage, puffing on a cigar.

We stopped for lunch about halfway there at the Mount Vernon Hotel on Sixty-first Street, where Bridget continued to discuss her outfit for the wedding. Stefan, darling, there is the most fantastic pair of pearl earrings. Living hungry in the middle of Central Park and hunting small prey was far more physically demanding than sitting in a carriage, looking at houses, and listening to the youngest member of the Sutherland family babble on about meaningless things.

But as I had not fed since the squirrel the day before, I was famished and weak, as if I was enduring a transatlantic journey. A quick, silent trip to the kitchens revealed exactly what I had hoped—rats, of course. Not too many, and mostly in the breezeway between the cold house and the pantry. With a flash of my hand I grabbed one and broke its neck, sucking the poor thing dry, all without losing control. It was easy, with such disgusting fare.

A low noise, a muffled sigh, made me turn and look up guiltily, rat blood leaking down my lips. Damon stood there holding a waitress around her throat, fangs out and ready to feast. She had the dumb, slightly breathless look of someone who was under a spell. He raised a lip in disgust at the rat in my hand. Damon paused. As an early wedding present! Just for you. Chapter 11 The following morning, I clutched the soft linen sheets up to my neck, as I had when I was a child.

With my eyes squeezed shut, I could almost pretend I was home again. That Damon and I were still human and having our usual brotherly quarrels. That our father was somewhere on the plantation, working. That Katherine was alive. That we had never met Katherine. I slowly came fully awake, and my fantasies crumbled against reality. My dressing went perhaps slower than it might have normally, as I adjusted my sock garters until they were perfect, fiddled with my cuffs, and ran my hands through my hair.

I hated who I saw there. By the time I finally made it downstairs to breakfast, the entire family was well into their meal. Sutherland greeted me with a warm maternal smile that tore at my insides. Though I felt genuinely fond toward her, she was compelled to accept me. They do a wonderful lamb and pudding. With a shock I realized that a pretty rose-pink scarf encircled her neck, neatly covering the usual spot for a vampire bite.

Damon had fed on her. I turned my head from the coffee that had been placed before me, my stomach churning.

Unconsciously, I touched my neck where Katherine used to bite me, remembering the pain and pleasure all wound up together so sickly. Was it a message to me? To remind me of what would happen if I failed to marry Bridget? To their house, not to the bar, naturally. He looked rested and sated as he gave Lydia a flirty bow and me a nasty wink. My shoulders clenched. Lydia looked at me curiously, but after a beat, Damon scraped his chair back and followed me to the foyer.

Were you not listening last night when I talked about all the amazing. Or at least I am. As in, upon death? Why, brother, what exactly are you implying?

I gave you my word. You specifically did not say anything about what would happen after we were married. Starting with that sycophant Bram. His eyes narrowed. We glared at each other. My hands curled into fists. He shifted his stance, ready for a fight. At that moment Mrs. Sutherland poked her head into the foyer. Everything okay out here? He was acting as though we were continuing a mundane discussion from the foyer, rather than just having ended an argument over the fates of everyone in the room.

Silk or something? He was my brother and he knew precisely how to torment me. I had never been able to stop my brother, especially not when it mattered most. Chapter 12 The next few days drifted by, chock-full of wedding planning and menu sampling.

At night, the Sutherlands settled into a steady routine. Sutherland took to the sewing room, teaching Lydia to make quilts and bonnets. Bridget indulged in a late-night beauty regime that involved brushing her hair in one hundred strokes and lathering herself in cream that I could smell all the way from the parlor.

Winfield always retired to his study with a tumbler of brandy, perusing the paper or going over his accounting books. I also now needed to plan my feedings. My steady diet of city animals was harder to keep up now that I was under the watchful eye of every Sutherland and servant. It was almost like they expected me to try and make a break for it, though it was impossible to know how much of that was genuine wariness versus Damon compelling them to follow me. Sometimes I managed to slip away, whether up to the roof or silently down to the backyard to try and find a rat or pigeon or even a mouse to satisfy my needs.

Hazel, the house cat, was off limits of course, but fortunately her wild tomcat friends were not. Damon had no such nutritional problems. Nor did he care much about secrecy. He came and went as he pleased, doing God knows what in the darkest corners of the city. I often saw a maid or manservant summoned to his suite in the coldest hours of the night as I skulked about tending to my own needs.

For my brother, life with the Sutherlands was like living in a grand hotel—he attended dinners in his honor and was feted all around town at the top establishments. He was a prince and New York was his adoring kingdom. When Damon arrived home on Thursday, Winfield poked his head out of the study. Anyone else would have assumed it was a shaving cut. Suddenly the cozy study seemed suffocating and the corners darker. Damon casually wiped his lips, his eyes on me, then threw himself down on the couch next to his future father-in-law, less like an Italian count and more like.

I love close kin. But then the door of the study slammed open and Margaret came striding in. Heartbroken sons of bankers, politicians, and empires of capital complain bitterly about the sudden move.

Is it blackmail, some wonder? An unnamed source close to the family claims that. But his ice-blue eyes bored straight into her head, as if he wished he could put a bullet there. I stood up, placing myself between Margaret and him. I had to convince her to drop this, for her own sake. Let him work for you first. Or give him one of your smaller businesses to run. She pulled herself up to her full height, staring straight back into his eyes. Damon widened his eyes.

I waited for her eyes to glaze over, for her pupils to dilate ever so slightly. But all she did was shake her head in disgust. I want no part of this. I inhaled deeply, searching for hints of vervain, anything to explain what had just happened. But there was nothing there. All I could do was hope that whatever it was, it would continue to keep Margaret safe. Chapter 13 That night I lay in bed, gazing up at the ceiling. The moon shone through the gauzy white curtains, and the house hummed with activity, a melee of footsteps, heartbeats, and mice skittering inside the walls.

It felt as though the entire house were alive, with the exception, of course, of myself and Damon. I was a cancer on their happy existence, and soon the darkness would spread, eating through their world until there was nothing left. If Damon killed them, their blood would be on my hands, too. But how could I stop him? I rose from bed and pushed the curtains aside with a violent flick. The firm set of her jaw. The clear tone of her eyes.

The way her lucid blue eyes had sized up me and Damon, as though she could see straight through our skin to our unbeating hearts. But how? When trying to draw out Katherine, my father had spiked my whiskey with vervain, sending Katherine into a miasmic fit when she drank my blood. If only my father had thought to protect me sooner, he and I might still be in Mystic Falls, poring over accounting books as I studied to take over Veritas.

Sliding the window open, I stepped out onto the narrow balcony. The night was eerily still. A wry smile twisted my lips. If only I could check Damon in there. But then I let out a groan and clutched the wrought-iron rail with my hands. I had to stop wishing and hoping and thinking of millions of if onlys.

I could not wish Damon into oblivion and I could not rewrite the past. What was done was done.

Even at my peak Power, I could not cause the world to spin backward, could not turn back time and undo what Katherine did to me and my family. But I was not powerless over the future. I had free will, I had experience, and I had the choice to fight. Hoisting myself up on the rail, I leaped to the roof, landing on the tar with a soft thud.

New York was a large city, and someone, somewhere, had to grow vervain or at least have dried sprigs. I ran across the roof, preparing to jump to that of the neighbor, before scaling down their fire escape to the street below.

Slowly, I turned around to face a smiling Damon. He looked ready for the second part of his evening jaunt, wearing a three-piece suit and twirling a gold cane in his hand.

Damon must have stolen it after he killed Callie. Unbidden, an image of Callie bloomed in my mind.A vampire that seeks revenge for a death the Salvatores are responsible for.

I was on pins and needles the entire day. Brothers by blood and law So far this is one of the best in the Stefans Diaries serie. I had gone from living in a park to sipping fine liqueur in a mansion with a very wealthy man in the course of one short night.

A roaring orange fire commanded attention on the far wall. Her eyes traveled up and down me with a quick flick of her eyelashes.

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