"They're dangerous, Tiff. Diamondfangs. Rich, sn.o.bbish, always looking to expand their ranks with more of the same. They've taken lawyers, CEOs, even a couple of state senators, and made them werewolves. They've got some kind of political agenda. I wouldn't mess with them. If they're sniffing around you, get out of town. I'll send over some people-"

"No, Richard."

"Come on, Tiff, this isn't like before-"

"No, Richard. It's not. You're not my white knight, come to save the day."

He sighed. "d.a.m.n it, babe, you always do this."

"It's why we're not seeing each other anymore. Or have you forgotten?"

"No," he replied, dull anger coloring his tone. "Of course not. How could I? You never let me forget."

Tiffany fingered the framed image of herself in a wedding dress, leaning against a much larger man in a tuxedo who had his arm wrapped tightly around her. They were smiling, squinting against bright sunlight as they stood in a field dappled with spring flowers. Happy. Different.

"I don't think now's the time to discuss this. All I called for was information."

"No. It's never been the right time. Look, we could put off filing the papers. Try this again. Why don't you just come home? You know I'm crazy about you."

She tilted the frame until it was lying facedown, turning away. "It's not my home. The hunting and the killing-that isn't my world anymore."

"Babe, it doesn't have to be. Let me handle it like I always did. You don't have to do anything. You never did. You wanted to come on the hunt, and you did. You wanted to stop, and you stopped. What's there to argue about?"

Tiffany's fingers clenched around the phone until the plastic squeaked. She eased up, taking a breath to calm herself, though it didn't help much. The words were still bitter, harsh, and she regretted them the moment they pa.s.sed her lips.

"You really want me to just sit on my a.s.s on the sidelines while you put your life on the line, night after night? I won't do it, Richard. Don't ask that of me."

"You went into this relationship knowing what it meant. I never lied to you. I don't get why it's a problem now."

Distantly, the sound of a horn blared. Tiffany reached for her purse, voice inflectionless. "Good-bye, Richard."

She didn't wait for him to reply before snapping the phone shut and tossing it in her purse, clacking down the stairs to meet with Heather.

The silver Lexus idling in her circular drive looked right at home next to Tiffany's white Mercedes. Heather waved, giving Tiffany a cheerful smile that was soon returned in kind. There was no visible sign of her anger from a moment before.

"Hey, ready to go shopping? Hop in!"

Tiffany settled in on the pa.s.senger side, slipping on a pair of sungla.s.ses as Heather took off down the drive, sparing her a surrept.i.tious glance now and again.

"Everything all right?"

Tiffany blinked, startled, before allowing a bitter smile to curve her lips. "Sorry. Just got off the phone with my ex. Ever since the divorce ..."

"Oh, say no more," Heather said. "Don't worry, honey, once we hit the stores and start spending, you'll forget all about him. We'll find you someone new. Someone better!"

"I think it's a bit early for that," Tiffany replied, tone dry. "Let's stick with the shopping for now."

"Yeah. You know, who needs men? You've got us now."

Tiffany laughed. "Easy for you to say. Don't you have a husband?"

"Sure I do. One that's never home, same as the rest of the werewives."

"The what?"

Heather flushed. "Sorry. Just an inside joke. Ca.s.sandra, Heather, Vera, and I, we're all such b.i.t.c.hes, we call ourselves the werewives. We've been using that nickname for years."

"Funny thing to call yourselves," Tiffany murmured, gaze focused steadily on the world pa.s.sing them by.

"You aren't afraid of werewolves, are you? They aren't so bad. From what I hear, I mean."

"No, no. Nothing like that. Honestly, I can't say that I've known any. Just what the papers tell me."

Heather was scandalized. "You don't honestly believe what they print in the papers, do you?"

"Hardly. I think a lot of things get nothing but bad press, werewolves included. I'd love to meet one sometime. Find out what they're really like," she replied.

"Really? Most people wouldn't want anything to do with them."

A low, throaty laugh made Heather glance guiltily at her guest, biting her lower lip. Tiffany wiped unshed tears of mirth from her eyes, ever so careful not to smudge her mascara. "Honey, you have no idea. Despite what the papers might say, there are plenty of people out there-me included-who are curious about Others and would be delighted to have a chance to meet one in person. Vampires, werewolves, wizards-they're different. Unique. The possibilities fire the imagination."

"Maybe not that different," Heather muttered, reddening.

Tiffany arched an artificially bleached brow, then shrugged and laughed again. "You are too funny! If it bothers you that much, we'll talk about something else. Like calling yourself a b.i.t.c.h. I don't see why you think so. You've been very sweet to me."

Heather gave her a sheepish smile before returning her attention back to the road. She hadn't intended to bring up the subject so soon, or with such a lack of subtlety, and was thankful that Tiffany was the one who was turning the topic back to something less dangerous.

"Wait until we both have our eye on the same purse or pair of shoes, then ask me that again."

The two laughed, together this time, and the topic shifted to far more comfortable topics: fashion, favorite brands, and which celebrity was sleeping with whom. They didn't speak about Others again for the whole of the trip; not at the store where they each bought a new purse, nor at the cafe they stopped at for a light lunch and c.o.c.ktails. The pair gushed about their purchases, stopping at a few more boutiques (each finding the perfect pair of summer sandals, along with darling sundresses and earrings to match), before ending their trek at a Starbucks.

"Are you coming to the party tonight?" Heather asked as she sipped her grande nonfat iced mocha raspberry latte.

Tiffany stirred her chai tea with a straw, eying Heather over the rim of her drink. "I didn't know there was a party. Am I invited?"

"Of course! It's at Alexis's house, everyone who's anyone in the neighborhood was invited. She must have forgotten to mention it last night. It's not a big deal, just a little barbeque. If she gets uppity, we'll go back to my place and mix some margaritas."

Tiffany laughed, the sound attracting admiring glances from a few of the men and a number of glares from some of the women cradling drinks or hunched over laptops as they worked on the next Great American Novel. She touched her hair, then plucked at one of the b.u.t.tons on her silk blouse, frowning.

"Do you mind stopping at my place so I can drop off my things and freshen up a bit before we go?"

"Of course not! Let's get moving, then, don't want to be late."

"No," Tiffany said, her eyes narrowing and her smile turning sly. "No, we don't."

CHAPTER 4.

Just because you got the monkey off your back doesn't mean the circus has left town.

-George Carlin Alexis's mansion sprawled across the verdant grounds of the property with all of the glamour and poise of a movie starlet. The trees lining her driveway glittered with twinkling lights, urging guests to come along to see the wonders of her garden. Row upon row of Jaguar, Mercedes, Audi, BMW, and Lexus luxury cars had been positioned just so, shining to advantage in the lights spilling from the house. Gabled windows and wrought-iron balconies gave the manor a European flavor, and the sounds of chatter, music, and laughter spilled from open French doors.

Tiffany followed in Heather's wake, adjusting the strap of her purse as she paused in the foyer, bright blue eyes scanning the interior.

Much like the cars, many of the people inside had positioned themselves to advantage. They cradled drinks as they chatted in small groups of four or five, cl.u.s.tered around the baroque Louis XIV furniture done in rich tones of red and gold that matched the marble floors and sweeping columns in the open receiving room.

"Excuse me," Tiffany said as her eyes locked on a man in a casual Tony Bahama polo and sleek J. Crew slacks. "I see one of my clients. I'll be back shortly."

Heather nodded, but Tiffany wasn't paying attention, already stalking across the room like a hunting cat on the prowl, lacquered hand extended for the surprised gentleman to take as he noticed her. "Todd, it's been ages... ."

The smooth way Tiffany went in for the kill drew Heather's admiration instead of her ire. Though she wasn't pleased at being ditched, she soon shrugged it off and followed her nose, trailing the distinct, musky scents of her favored pack mates. Her own stride became smooth, quiet, the stalking of a predator, leading the people around her to unconsciously move aside as she found her way to the back doors leading outside. A bright smile was soon plastered on her face as she took an empty seat beside Alexis on the patio. Ca.s.sandra returned her smile, eyebrows arching high.

"I take it things went well today?"

"Oh yes!" Heather gushed. "Ladies, we have a winner. She's curious about Others and said she wants to meet a werewolf. How about that? I think she might go for it. I really do."

Alexis frowned, her voice heavy with skepticism. "Are you sure about that? Most humans wouldn't be so quick to put themselves within arm's reach of a supernatural creature."

"Yes, well, we haven't exactly been forthcoming with her about ourselves."

"She's not cut out to be one of us," Vera said, dripping disdain as she lounged back in her chair and stabbed the air with her martini olive's toothpick for emphasis. "She's well-dressed and obviously has connections, but we hardly know a thing about her. I don't want her here. Not until we're sure she's not a threat."Ca.s.sandra ignored Vera, narrowed eyes remaining locked on Heather, her expression otherwise unreadable. "Don't tell me you think we should have said something to her already? She hardly knows us. No matter what she says, no one is prepared for being faced with the real thing. Not the first time. Think of the danger she could pose by knowing too much too soon."

Heather pouted. "I thought you wanted her in the pack, Ca.s.sie? I didn't tell her anything. I just asked a few questions and got her opinion."

"It just seems a bit rushed. If you're sure it's safe, I suppose we should take advantage of her interest while we can. Where is she now?"

Heather gestured back the way she had come, lowering her voice-completely unnecessarily, considering no one but members of the pack were mingling outside. "She came with me. She saw someone she recognized, so she's distracted for a bit, but she'll be joining us shortly. We should tell her tonight. We really should."

Alexis shrugged, sipping her martini before placing the gla.s.s on the table and leaning forward, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "You know, if she's really as interested as you say, I'll bet we could sell her on joining us before the next full moon. Ca.s.sie, if you can convince Gabriel to let Heather sign her, I'll bet we'll have her on a contract before the end of the week."

They were interrupted by a discreet cough, a man holding a tumbler of brandy coming to a stop next to Alexis's chair. "Ladies, I trust you're enjoying yourselves?"

Murmurs of a.s.sent and a few pithy greetings were exchanged. Alexis was not amused by the interruption.

"Darling, do you know anything about our new guest, Tiffany ... What did you say her last name was?"

"Winters," Ca.s.sandra supplied. Vera growled softly, but didn't say anything once she caught Ca.s.sandra's warning look.

"Tiffany Winters. We're discussing bringing her into the pack."

Everyone ignored Vera's scowl.

"Oh, I don't know. Maxwell usually handles the background checks. I think he's by the barbeque, why don't you ask him?" said Samuel.

"Honey," Alexis whined, "we want to know now, not next week. Can't you ask him? Or see if Gabriel will okay us issuing a contract? We don't want to miss out on this one."

His dark brown eyes rolled heavenward, muttering something unheard. She reached up to adjust the lapel of her husband's Dolce & Gabbana jacket, frowning at a crease in the otherwise sleek lines. He waved her off before inclining his head in deference to Ca.s.sandra at her pointed look.

"All right, ladies, I'll check with Gabriel. Give me a few minutes."

"You're a peach!" Heather favored him with a brilliant smile that he was quick to return. Alexis turned that formidable frown on her, but it was blithely ignored. Ca.s.sandra's attention sharply turned on Vera when she hissed something unpleasant under her breath and shoved her chair back, stalking into the house.

"Trouble brewing," Alexis murmured. Heather and Ca.s.sandra said nothing, their eyes briefly glittering with a touch of luminescence as they locked on Vera's retreating form.

"I know what you're up to."

Tiffany, who was laughing softly at something one of Todd's companions said, quieted and turned to face Vera. Brows arched on high and painted mouth puckered in a moue of surprise, she batted her lashes and pressed a hand to her chest. "Excuse me?"

"I know what you're up to," Vera repeated, her teeth showing in a shark-like grin, "and don't play the innocent. It's so tacky."

Tiffany stared at Vera, her cheeks flushing. Todd and his friends-as well as a few of the other guests nearby who had "overheard" the conversation-were staring at Vera as though she'd grown another head. With a hasty "excuse us," Tiffany gestured sharply for Vera to follow her as she spun away from the group, seeking privacy. Speculative, disapproving whispers trailed in their wake, growing louder as they left the room.

Before long they found privacy in the form of a study, bookshelves lining one wall and a set of oxblood chairs placed around a low table and desk. It was all Tiffany could do to keep from slamming the door behind them once Vera marched in, right on her heels.

"What is your problem?" Tiffany snapped, eyes flashing as she gestured back the way they had come. "I was in the middle of a very important business deal! Couldn't you have waited until I closed him before interrupting to b.i.t.c.h at me?"

It was Vera's turn to flush, though she wasn't dissuaded. With difficulty, she drew in a few calming breaths, settling her nerves so her eyes wouldn't glow with her increasing anger.

"You," she enunciated carefully around growing fangs, "don't belong here. You're not part of this community, and I can smell the trouble following you. You should go back to wherever you came from and leave us alone."

Tiffany sniffed indignantly. "Vera, I don't know where you got these crazy notions about me, but I'm not here to cause trouble for anyone. All you're accomplishing right now is embarra.s.sing yourself."

"I don't care what the others say. You're up to something. I'm going to find out what."

Tiffany met her gaze, her jaw set and fists clenching at her sides. Her nostrils flared as she tilted her head up, causing her carefully maintained coiffure to shift, blond strands slithering over her shoulders and hissing softly against the silken fabric. Her voice took on the same whispery tones-soft, dangerous, and deadly.

"You might want to watch yourself, Vera. Dig too deep and you won't like what you find."

Vera watched her go, the door clicking quietly shut behind her as the sound of her Prada heels clacking against the marble floors faded into the hum of the party.

CHAPTER 5.

Money is your servant-do not let it be your master.

-An American Proverb The women were not surprised to see Tiffany paused on the threshold of the patio, searching the fire pits and tables for her friends. The people outside turned to watch as she pa.s.sed, their eyes flashing brilliant hues of green or gold as her scent-heavy with the reek of agitation even through the cloud of citronella-caught their interest. Once they noted where she was headed, many returned to their conversations or to picking at the hors d'oeuvres, but several continued to watch her with veiled interest as she paused behind the seat Vera had earlier vacated.

"Ladies. Sorry I took so long to join you."