Alexis, curious, broke in. “Speaking of which, how did things go with Travis?”
Heather and Cassandra both shot her a warning look, while Tiffany simply shrugged. “Not as well as I had hoped it would. Let’s discuss it over drinks, shall we?”
Cassandra took the lead, the other girls falling into step behind her as they headed to the front of the line. Security took one look at the designer clothes, the painted faces, the svelte bodies, and the killer heels, and let them pass without hesitation, drawing aside the white velvet rope to allow them inside.
There was not a single voice of complaint from the people waiting in line, as not a one would dare—until they were out of earshot, that is.
Once he spotted her, the maître d’ came around his lacquered white podium to extend a welcoming hand to Cassandra, beaming. Like much of the furniture, his tuxedo was white, his tie, cuff links, and pocket kerchief of a fine silver material. Columns of white and silver marble flanked the doors. Crystal vases filled with crystal flowers sat on low silver tables, and the white couches for waiting guests were full. Against the alabaster white walls, it was much like stepping into an icy cavern, too perfect, too austere, to be welcoming.
They fit right in.
“Mademoiselle, lovely to see you again. Your table is ready. Right this way.”
The rest of the restaurant was done in similar style. The music drifting from hidden speakers was soft, melodic, with chimes resonating with the crystal and silver statues that gleamed and glittered from recessed alcoves around the room. The raised ceiling was painted such a deep, dark blue that the tiny lights set into it made it feel as though one were outdoors, staring up at a velvet night sky filled with stars. Even the hum of conversation was muted, giving the place an intimate feel, as though one were lost in the icy tundra of the frozen north.
Once they were seated, Tiffany lounged back, examining the menu. “Well, this all looks very good. What do you recommend?”
“Maybe you should try the grilled salmon salad with orange-basil vinaigrette. I hear salmon is good if you need to lose weight.”
Tiffany lowered her menu to give Vera a flat stare, clearly not amused at the insinuation. Vera gave nothing back, her expression bland and innocent. Heather, exasperated, gestured at the menu.
“Whatever you like. Everything I’ve had here is excellent. Try their house drink, though, the Starlight is amazing.”
Some of the tension at the table eased, and before long the waiter came and went with their order. Tiffany surprised them all by offering to cover the drinks, looking very deliberately at Vera when she said it. No one argued, and everyone was fairly quiet until the waiter returned with their cocktails. Once they had their drinks in hand, everyone relaxed a bit more. Tiffany exclaimed over the sweet liquor, thanking Heather for the recommendation before sighing dramatically and pressing a hand to her brow.
“I need some help.”
Alexis frowned, glancing at Cassandra. “What’s wrong? What do you need?”
“It’s Travis,” Tiffany said, cradling her drink as she leaned forward. “Can one of you please get him to stop calling me? I swear, that man hasn’t given me a moment of peace since the party.”
The other women shared confused and mildly alarmed looks, and Heather sputtered something unintelligible before Cassandra held up her hand for silence. “What happened at the party? I thought you two were getting along so well.”
“So did I. Until he started telling me how much I reminded him of his sister.”
The other girls couldn’t help it. They all cracked up.
“Oh,” gasped Alexis, carefully wiping tears of laughter from under her eyes so as not to smudge her mascara, “oh, that’s terrible! I’m so sorry!”
Heather, once she got her sniggering under control, put a sympathetic hand on Tiffany’s arm. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, we’ll find you someone better. There are plenty of men in the pa—from the party who are single. There’s Damon or Michael or, oh, I’ll bet you’d get along great with—”
“Enough, darling, she probably doesn’t remember the names of half the men she was introduced to at the party,” Alexis said with saccharine sweetness, the underlying warning completely going over Heather’s head as she pouted at being interrupted. Tiffany didn’t seem to mind.
“I’m not so sure I’m interested anymore,” she replied.
Vera smirked. “How terrible for you. No one to take care of you ... All alone in the world.”
“I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I do just fine on my own.”
“You say that now. I wonder why you tried so hard to pretend not to be interested at the party? Phillip and Travis certainly didn’t seem to mind your attention—and no matter what you say, I’ll bet the entire time you were thinking about what you could get out of it.”
Tiffany’s jaw clenched and spots of color rose high on her cheekbones. Vera idly traced her index finger through the condensation on her glass before pushing it away and rising.
Alexis and Heather gave Vera exasperated looks. Cassandra ignored Vera as she walked toward the ladies’ room, hips swaying.
“Don’t mind her,” Cassandra 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 competition? 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 pissed 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. Cassandra 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 fashion faux pas several of Alexis’s guests made at the party.
Cassandra 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, Cassandra 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 Cassandra, “we were going to go to one of those Botox parties tomorrow afternoon.”
“We’ll reschedule,” Heather said quickly upon catching Cassandra’s look.
“Oh. Oh, all right, then.”
“Excellent,” Cassandra 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 gibbou
s 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. Cassandra padded over to investigate, sniffing as Alexis held out the offending paw, whimpering. After giving the wound a lick, Cassandra 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 Cassandra, 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 passing. Cassandra stayed beside Alexis, ignoring her plaintive whines and exaggerated limp.
They emerged from the shadows of the birch and evergreens bordering Cassandra’s property, lying down on the smooth carpet of grass 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. “Damn. 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 shifts 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 Cassie 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.”
Cassandra 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, Cassandra,” 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 Cassandra for help or sympathy, and found none. Both were shaking their head at her, agreeing with Heather.
“Well,” Vera said, settling back in the grass 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 Cassandra. “Almost positive.”
“Almost positive is not sure,” Cassandra said, rising and sauntering to the lounge chairs where they had laid out their clothing. She shrugged on her shirt, not bothering to button it up. “We can’t assume 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-shirt, shifted her weight and wouldn’t meet Cassandra’s eyes.
“Are you going to turn her right away if she signs the papers?”
“Maybe,” Cassandra 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 Cassandra’s wake.
Gabriel didn’t bother to look up from his desk when Cassandra 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.
Cassandra 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 sex. Aside from that, if he’d been cheating, she would have smelled the scent of another bitch 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. Cassandra 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.” Cassandra 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, Cassandra 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 every
where 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. Cassandra 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.”
Cassandra 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, Cassandra 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?”
Cassandra 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.
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