“I’m not here to hurt anybody, you crazy bitch! Where the hell do you get off, making these unfounded accusations—”
“I’m looking out for the best interests of my packmates. Who do you think you’re fooling?” Vera snarled, her eyes glowing, ignoring the horrified looks of the other guests and the tugging on her arm by her husband in an effort to get her to settle down. “If Phillip signs that contract, I will hunt you down and kill you myself.”
Tiffany’s glare turned icy, reaching for a wineglass so she could fling the contents at her. Vera’s face and white Burberry top was splashed with the bloodred 2006 Château Mouton Rothschild Pauillac.
Save for Vera’s breaths, hissed through her teeth, dead silence reigned.
With careful, measured motions, the werewife rose from her seat, towering in her Proenza heels. No one, not even Gabriel, was ready to interfere.
Slowly, deliberately, Vera picked up a plate of crackers and Almas caviar (which, fortunately for Gabriel, was the cheaper, darker variety) and hurled it across the table at Tiffany. She ducked out of the way just in time for Damon, who was coming to her side in defense, to be beaned with it instead.
Howling a challenge, Vera vaulted onto and then across the table in one smooth motion, evading her husband’s grasping hands as he shouted at her to calm down. Tiffany shoved herself backward, knocking her chair over and sprawling as she tripped on her long skirt. Most of the other wolves quickly backed out of the way. Fur sprouted on Vera’s hands and arms, her face elongating as she dived off the table to where Tiffany now cowered on the floor.
She never landed. In one smooth movement, Cassandra rose from her chair and grabbed Vera by the throat, using the partially turned werewolf’s own momentum to swing and hurl her across the room. Vera slammed into the opposite wall, leaving a huge dent and sending artwork and mirrors crashing to the floor. She slumped to the ground, dazed and unmoving.
Tiffany was quick to tuck her silver dagger back in its sheath, praying none of the werewolves had noticed the weapon before it was hidden under her jewelry and sleeve again.
Gabriel and Cassandra both hurried to check on her and offer their apologies for Vera’s behavior, but many of the other werewolves were still too shocked and appalled by this turn of events to do more than offer incredulous stares from their seats. Tiffany waved off the offers to help her up—not wanting them to accidentally spring the mechanism that would flick the daggers out of their sheaths—and rose rather ungracefully to her feet.
No one said a thing as she strode over to her fallen chair to pick up her purse—now spattered with caviar and crumbled bits of cracker—and stalked out, not looking back.
“Well, that was uncalled for.”
Tiffany didn’t say anything as Heather fell into step beside her.
“You don’t have to leave. We can send Vera home.”
Tiffany still said nothing, but her lips thinned as she hurried her pace and adjusted her purse strap, heels clacking on the drive as she sought her car.
“I know you’re angry,” Heather said with a sigh, matching her stride, “but Phillip was really impressed back there. He’s asking where the contract is so he can sign it right now.”
Tiffany came to an abrupt halt, smudging her mascara as she wiped away angry tears. “Don’t bother, Heather. Clearly I’m not welcome here. Vera has been an utter prat ever since I came to town, and now that she knows about my past, she’s never going to believe that I didn’t come here with bad intentions.”
Heather didn’t respond, biting her lower lip. Tiffany took a few deep breaths before continuing in a calmer tone.
“I should have known it wouldn’t work out. This was all too good to be true. Maybe I’ll just go back to Johannesburg. Be closer to my family.”
“Oh no!” Heather exclaimed. “You just got here! Don’t go yet. Come on, Phillip really wants you to stay, and so does Gabriel and Cassandra. And me! We can work something out. Vera was just looking out for us in her own way—I’m sure she’ll come around once you’re one of us. Really one of us, I mean.”
Tiffany dug through her purse for a tissue, sniffling and blotting at her eyes. “Are you sure? I mean, I’d love to be a part of the pack, but not if Vera’s going to keep sniping at me for the rest of my life because of something in my past. It is the past, and what’s done is done—I can’t change it, but I don’t want to be paying for it the rest of my life, either.”
Heather put an arm around Tiffany’s shoulder, giving her a comforting squeeze. She nonchalantly flicked bits of caviar off of her dress before putting her hands on Tiffany’s shoulders. Heather held her there until she lifted her head and met her eyes, taking in the serious set of her jaw and clear concern in her eyes.
“Don’t worry. You aren’t that person. I know you’re not. Everyone’s a bit upset right now, but they’ll come around and see it, too.”
Tiffany dabbed at her eyes again, pulling away. “Vera won’t. She never will.”
Heather hesitated, glancing back to the house. Though Tiffany had put some distance between herself and the house, Heather was sure that a few of her packmates were listening in, particularly when she spotted Cassandra and Alexis watching from one of the bay windows overlooking the front yard. Cassandra made an impatient “get on with it” gesture, so Heather turned back to Tiffany, straightening.
“She may not, but the rest of the pack will. Eventually. We’ll fix this somehow. Look, why don’t you go home for now”—Heather flinched at the sound of Cassandra’s angry curse, though Tiffany couldn’t hear it—“and get cleaned up, and I’ll call you in the morning. We’ll go relax at the spa for a while.”
Tiffany glanced over her shoulder at the house, frowning. “Okay. What about the others? Do you think Cassandra and Alexis are still going to want to be friends with me?”
“I’m sure they do. And if not, I’ll talk sense into them. Now you go home and get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Heather said firmly, urging Tiffany to turn back to her car and get moving again.
Tiffany did, unable to see the unnatural yellow glitter to Heather’s eyes as she watched her walk away.
CHAPTER 10
Realize that if you have time to whine and complain about something, then you have the time to do something about it.
—Anthony J. D’Angelo
After that spectacular conclusion to dinner, Vera had been told none too politely to keep her head down, and to stay away from Tiffany until the matter of the contract was sorted out. She didn’t argue.
Despite Phillip’s protests that he was still interested and Cassandra’s pleading for Gabriel to give the girl another chance, he had dismissed the rest of his pack with a note of caution to hold on any actions involving Tiffany—whether it be contracting her or destroying her out of hand—until he had a chance to investigate matters further. Cassandra knew exactly what that meant. Later, privately, even her best efforts didn’t budge him. Gabriel did not want to endanger the pack, or see it torn apart over the inclusion of a member some of them clearly viewed as an enemy.
Cassandra was still incensed that he hadn’t given in to her demands to contract Tiffany despite that thing she did with her tongue.
Instead, he’d enjoyed every minute of her attentions, waited until she—or rather, he was done—and then told her in no uncertain terms that he was not going to put the pack at risk by accepting Tiffany into their ranks until he was assured that she posed no danger.
Quite the argument ensued. By the end of it, even Cassandra had to admit that Vera had a point. Tiffany presented a danger to their pack even if she wasn’t a member of the White Hats anymore. There was no telling how close she was to her ex-husband or what he might do if he found out she had signed a contract with a werewolf, let alone become one of them. The contract would have to be filed in court, thus becoming a publicly accessible document—meaning, through the Freedom of Information Act, the White Hats could easily find out that one of their own had turned against them.
It was a substantial risk that Gabriel was not willing to take. The more Cassandra thought about it, the more she saw the inherent danger as well.
At tennis practice at Alexis’s house the following morning, Cassandra confessed as to Gabriel’s feelings on the matter, and that she had changed her mind as well.
“Oh Cassie,” Heather said, skipping back to smoothly return Alexis’s serve with a backhanded sweep of her racket, “that just isn’t right. You know it’s not fair to her. All she wants is to be our friend.”
“And join the pack. Don’t forget that,” Alexis shouted from across the court.
Cassandra snorted, scuffing her shoes against the court. Heather frowned at her, unable to give a proper glare with her gaze torn between her friend and the oncoming ball. She didn’t miss a beat, returning every volley and drop shot Alexis tried pulling to win the point even as she laid into Cassandra.
“Vera’s just being paranoid. I know she wants what’s best for the pack, but so do I—and I think we need fresh blood to revive the older stock. Considering how long it’s been since the last time we contracted someone, we’re never going to find anyone so easy to convince as Tiffany Winters again. Someone who fits our standards—and comes to us, no less—is unheard of, and don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. We aren’t the Moonwalkers in New York, no matter how badly we wish we were. We need to take advantage of this while we can.”
