The Real Werewives Of Vampire County Part 47

Tiffany's jaw clenched and spots of color rose high on her cheekbones. Vera idly traced her index finger through the condensation on her gla.s.s before pus.h.i.+ng it away and rising.

Alexis and Heather gave Vera exasperated looks. Ca.s.sandra ignored Vera as she walked toward the ladies' room, hips swaying.

"Don't mind her," Ca.s.sandra said. "She's just PMSing because she isn't the center of attention."

Tiffany pouted after Vera's retreating form, though her icy blue eyes gleamed with calculation under the mask of hurt. "I wouldn't mind so much if I knew why she took such a dislike to me. Does she think I'm compet.i.tion? I thought she was married."

"Vera's always had a thing for Travis," Alexis mused, stirring her drink as she leaned back in her chair and gave one of the waiters watching her from across the room an excellent view of her crossed legs as she adjusted her skirt just so. "Maybe she's peeved that he's given up on her and taken an interest in you."

"No, no, it isn't that. She's had a problem with her from the start. I think she's p.i.s.sed because you're single and successful enough to live in our neighborhood without the benefit of a man to pay your way," Heather declared.

The others regarded Heather with new respect for her astute observation.

"But," she added, ruining the moment, "we still need to set you up with someone nice. I'll bet you an experienced man like Phillip would last longer than the playboys like Travis, anyway."

Tiffany nearly spewed her drink, covering her mouth with one hand while the other reached for a napkin to blot her lips. Ca.s.sandra and Alexis were too busy giggling over the thought to be of any help, all of them gasping and laughing. Talk turned to simpler, less dangerous topics-what was coming up on tomorrow's daytime soaps, the scandalously awful shoes one of the women wore to the party, and whether they should go shopping or barhopping after they ate. Even Vera was civil when she returned, keeping most of her snarky comments limited to her observations about the fas.h.i.+on faux pas several of Alexis's guests made at the party.

Ca.s.sandra came very close to pulling the contract out of her purse to slide across the table to put in Tiffany's hands. All that stopped her were Vera or Tiffany's occasional comments that cut through the air of camaraderie. Just when things would settle down, one of them would slip, and they would bristle at each other until Heather or Alexis changed the subject.

Finally, exasperated, Ca.s.sandra turned to Tiffany and bluntly invited her on a coffee date-alone-the next day so they could have a private chat.

"Oh," Tiffany said, looking uncertainly between Heather and Ca.s.sandra, "we were going to go to one of those Botox parties tomorrow afternoon."

"We'll reschedule," Heather said quickly upon catching Ca.s.sandra's look.

"Oh. Oh, all right, then."

"Excellent," Ca.s.sandra said, a sly smile curving her lips.

CHAPTER 7.

If the only tool you have is a hammer, you tend to see every problem as a nail.

-Abraham H. Maslow Four timber wolves raced through the shadows of a New Jersey forest, hunting under a gibbous moon. Save for the occasional chirp of insects or hoot of an owl, all was quiet, the denizens of the forest knowing better than to explore with predators such as these on the prowl.

Until Alexis scrabbled over a large rock and snagged a claw, breaking it.

The others came to a halt as she tumbled to a stop in a snarling bundle of teeth and bristling fur. Ca.s.sandra padded over to investigate, sniffing as Alexis held out the offending paw, whimpering. After giving the wound a lick, Ca.s.sandra turned back in the direction of her home, where they had started their run. Vera and Heather both whined at having their playtime cut short, but after an authoritative bark from Ca.s.sandra, quieted and followed without further complaint.

Vera and Heather still frolicked on the way back, chasing after the occasional mouse or other small creature stirred up by their pa.s.sing. Ca.s.sandra stayed beside Alexis, ignoring her plaintive whines and exaggerated limp.

They emerged from the shadows of the birch and evergreens bordering Ca.s.sandra's property, lying down on the smooth carpet of gra.s.s that led right up to the woods. Sleek fur rippled and twitched, and the grinding and popping of bones and sinews rearranging rang out as the four wolves began their change back to human.

Vera groaned as the last joint snapped back into place, watching with a critical eye as her claws receded. "d.a.m.n. I'm going to have to get these done again."

Alexis's fur ruffled as she gave Vera an irritated curl of her lip before completing her change. The other ladies didn't answer; they were too busy with their own s.h.i.+fts from wolf to human to respond. Heather chuffed, blowing like a bellows as she collapsed on her side, having run harder than the others.

The thick fur slowly withdrew into Alexis's skin, talons and paws gradually lengthening and softening into human hands again. She quickly lifted her arm, squinting in the moonlight as she examined her nails.

"Ugh, my whole nail cracked. Gross! I guess we were all due for a mani-pedi, anyway," she said. "We can go after Ca.s.sie meets with Tiffany."

Heather rubbed her jaw, popping it and speaking around fangs that had not quite finished reforming into flat human teeth. "Are you going to give her the contract this time? I saw it sticking out of your purse at the restaurant earlier."

Ca.s.sandra rolled her ankles to get the joints to set properly, ignoring Vera's scowl. "Yes. I wanted to give it to her then, but it didn't seem like the right time. I thought it might be better if I spoke to her one-on-one instead of having the whole group there to pressure her."

"You're making a mistake, Ca.s.sandra," Vera said. "She isn't pack material. I don't know why none of you are listening to me."

"We aren't listening because there's no basis for your concern! You keep saying she's a threat, but you won't talk to her yourself and don't back up what you're saying with anything that proves she has any intention of hurting us," Heather snapped.

Taken aback, Vera stared for a moment, mouth agape. She first looked to Alexis, then Ca.s.sandra for help or sympathy, and found none. Both were shaking their head at her, agreeing with Heather.

"Well," Vera said, settling back in the gra.s.s and steepling her fingers, "I'm still looking for something that proves what I already know to be the case. I told you all that I know I've seen her somewhere before. I think she has a connection to the hunters in New York. It's not easy digging up information on them, you know."

"What makes you think so, though? She said she was interested in meeting a werewolf, not killing one."

"I've seen her somewhere before. Maybe on the news, or somewhere on the Internet. Not here."

"Are you sure it's her?"

Taking offense at the tone of the question, Vera bristled, glaring at Ca.s.sandra. "Almost positive."

"Almost positive is not sure," Ca.s.sandra said, rising and sauntering to the lounge chairs where they had laid out their clothing. She shrugged on her s.h.i.+rt, not bothering to b.u.t.ton it up. "We can't a.s.sume anything when it comes to the welfare of the pack."

"Then that should go both ways! We don't know for sure that she's not a threat."

"No, but we do know she has an interest in werewolves, and that our pack will grow stagnant and gradually disappear if we don't add new members to it. We can't afford to let someone interested slip through our fingers. I will ask her what her intentions are, and offer the contract. If she wants to use it against us, then I promise you I will kill her myself."

Vera subsided, mostly satisfied. Heather, now in jeans and a light T-s.h.i.+rt, s.h.i.+fted her weight and wouldn't meet Ca.s.sandra's eyes.

"Are you going to turn her right away if she signs the papers?"

"Maybe," Ca.s.sandra said, folding her skirt over her arm and walking toward the house, not looking back. "It depends on what Gabriel has to say about it."

Alexis gasped. "You still haven't asked him?"

"No. He hasn't been home."

The other ladies shared knowing looks, but didn't say a word, following silently in Ca.s.sandra's wake.

Gabriel didn't bother to look up from his desk when Ca.s.sandra appeared in the doorway of his study.

"Not now."

"Honey, I really need to talk to you."

"Give me about an hour. I need to finish reading this brief," Gabriel said, not looking up from the papers spread over his desk. It was the first time he'd been home before eleven in two weeks.

Ca.s.sandra leaned on the door frame, toying with the diamond pendant on her necklace as she considered him. He'd barely noticed her short satin robe, the one he'd taken such delight in rubbing himself against less than a month before. Gabriel hadn't joined her for dinner before her run, hadn't answered her text messages or e-mails, and had been too exhausted for the last several nights to talk to her about anything beyond kissing her good night-if she was still awake when he got home-before he crawled into bed. She hadn't asked what was on his plate, but she had gleaned from a few conversations overheard that it involved the welfare of the entire pack.

It wasn't her, she was sure. Judging by the dark circles under his eyes, she was quite certain it really was work that kept him from home and from showing any interest in s.e.x. Aside from that, if he'd been cheating, she would have smelled the scent of another b.i.t.c.h on him-so that wasn't it. He really was working himself to the bone.

This called for desperate measures.

She slunk forward, putting a roll into her hips, catching his eye. He looked up, twitching a jet brow, one hand racing through dark hair starting to show the first hints of silver at the temples. Ca.s.sandra moved behind him, rubbing at the thick knots of tension in his shoulders. He gradually relaxed into her hands, eyes closing.

"You're working too hard. Come to bed."

He sighed, arching his back so she could reach his shoulder blades. "I can't, love. This needs to be done."

"It'll still be here in the morning." Ca.s.sandra leaned over to whisper in his ear, nipping his earlobe as one hand slid down his chest to the hard bulge in his pants. "Let me take care of you."

He groaned, arching up against her questing hand. It didn't take long before she'd drawn down his zipper and slid aside his silk boxers, freeing him from his pants. Deft fingers worked his arousal with practiced swiftness.

Gabriel didn't object, his fingers digging into the armrests of his chair until the leather creaked under his hands, watching as if mesmerized by the way she squeezed and stroked him, the way he grew and pulsed under her touch.

His breath hitched in his throat as she bit his ear again, tilting his head to the side to give her access to his throat. A very trusting move on his part. Trailing her lips over the stubble on his cheek, Ca.s.sandra whispered again, her voice low and throaty.

"I need something from you."

In a blur, she was suddenly on her back on his desk, Gabriel pressed between her dangling legs. Papers scattered, flying everywhere before drifting to the floor. His eyes, usually a soft brown, now burned with a harsh amber light as he bent over her, hands exploring the smooth satin of her robe before tearing it open. Ca.s.sandra returned his growls in kind, wrapping her legs around his waist to yank him forward, nails raking down his back.

"I need-" She gasped as he bit her, nails convulsing against his back.

"I know what you need," he rumbled, rough hands sliding lower on her body. Her hips moved to meet his exploring fingers, even as she made a guttural sound of denial.

"No," she insisted, grasping and pulling at his hair until he paused, looking at her. "Something else."

He slumped, then rose just enough to meet her own burning, glowing eyes. It took a few breaths for him to calm enough to answer. He had to speak carefully, enunciating each word carefully around the mouthful of fangs he'd sprouted.

"Anything. You know I'll always give you whatever you want."

Ca.s.sandra smiled, bared teeth behind those painted lips grown into dagger points much like his own.

"I want Tiffany Winters. I want her in the pack."

"Done."

And for the rest of the night, neither of them had a chance to fit in another word.

CHAPTER 8.

To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.

-Ralph Waldo Emerson The next day, Ca.s.sandra settled in a seat on the patio outside of one of the quieter Starbucks in the neighborhood, cradling an iced latte. Tiffany looked up from her cell phone, setting it aside with a smile as she eased back into the wrought-iron chair. Aside from the occasional patron moving in and out of the coffeehouse, they were alone.

"You wanted to talk to me?"

Ca.s.sandra crossed her legs, leaning back in her chair while one finger toyed with the condensation on her latte. She stared directly into Tiffany's eyes, taking her measure before speaking in carefully noncommittal tones.

"Heather told me that you had an interest in werewolves. Meeting them, in fact. What if I told you that I could help you with that?"

Tiffany's gaze searched Ca.s.sandra's face. "I'd say I was skeptically hopeful. Ever since the Moonwalker pack showed themselves, I've wanted to meet one. Except for Rohrik Donovan and the rest of the Moonwalkers, they don't exactly advertise their whereabouts, and he doesn't meet with people just to satisfy their curiosity."

"No. I suppose he doesn't."

"But you will?"

Ca.s.sandra paused, latte halfway to her mouth. "You knew?"

"Yes. I knew before I moved here."

"Was Vera right, then? Are you here to cause us trouble?"

Shaking her head, Tiffany held out a hand, imploring Ca.s.sandra to stay seated. Though a touch of yellow had crept into her irises, Ca.s.sandra stilled, her mouth pressed into a thin line of displeasure.

"Vera may have made the connection between the New York branch of the White Hats and myself because I used to be married to one of them."

Ca.s.sandra swiftly rose with a harsh screech of iron over concrete, her nails forming into claws. Tiffany stayed in her seat, her hand reaching out imploringly. "Please, hear me out."

"I think I've heard enough," Ca.s.sandra replied tartly, reaching for her Hermes purse.

"No, you haven't." Tiffany insisted in such a sharp tone that Ca.s.sandra stilled, eyes narrowed to gleaming yellow slivers. Tiffany pressed on, unfazed. "Just listen to me. I'm not married to him anymore. When I first met Richard, I knew he was a hunter, but I didn't take part in that business. It took me a while to see what he was doing was wrong, and I divorced him with good reason. I thought maybe-just maybe-if I managed to meet one of you I could find some way to make up the damage I caused by standing by and supporting him for so long."

Ca.s.sandra regarded Tiffany for a long moment, taking shallow breaths through flared nostrils, more interested in her scent and the sound of her heartbeat than in her words or pleading looks. There was an understandable trace of fear under the vanilla and sandalwood musk of her Shalini perfume, but no discordant undertones of a lie.

Though Ca.s.sandra did not retract her claws, some of the beast withdrew from her eyes, and she slowly settled back into her seat. Tiffany's gaze still searched her face, fingers tight around her cup and breath held as she waited for a response. It took some time for it to come, but when it did, she couldn't help but smile.

"If that is truly the case, then I am a.s.suming you came here wanting to bolster our ranks."

"Yes. That's right."

Ca.s.sandra stared at the girl until she s.h.i.+fted her weight and looked away, unnerved by those yellow eyes. "Were you going to tell any of us this? Or were you just waiting for Heather or one of the men to present you with a contract?"

Tiffany had the grace to blush, though she was quick to shake her head. "No, no, it wasn't like that. It never felt like the right time. Vera was so dead set against me that I wasn't sure if I'd ever have the chance. Of if any of you would listen to reason once I brought it up."

"I see."