The Real Werewives of Vampire County

Tiffany was met by incredulous stares. All the while, she maintained her fighting pose, poised and ready to strike at a moment’s notice. After giving her statements time to settle in, she continued, very slowly lowering her weapons in a bid to show she wasn’t about to attack—but would be ready to defend herself if need be.

“I want what you have. I want your strength, your speed, your stamina. Your ability to heal. I’ve had too many trips to the hospital, and too many brushes with death to kid myself. The only way I’ll ever be able to survive in this world, particularly with my past, is with a supernatural edge.”

Heather, Alexis, and Cassandra were stunned speechless for the second time in as many minutes, hardly able to believe Tiffany’s motivations.

“You don’t deserve what we have!”

Vera gave voice to a thunderous growl, the glasses rattling on the table nearby as she bumped into it when she struggled against Alexis and Heather’s hold. They managed to keep her from breaking free, but just barely.

With a contemptuous sneer, Tiffany finally shifted her gaze to Cassandra, whose mouth was working soundlessly as she tried to find the words to speak. Vera used the distraction, forcing a quick shift and using her superior strength to slide out of Alexis and Heather’s grasp, yanking her arms free with an audible rip of clothing. They stumbled forward, and then fell to their knees when she slammed her fists down on their shoulders.

It took a talented shifter to rearrange the bones and tendons in their body so rapidly without being crippled by the mind-numbing pain of the change. Rather than assume the form of a wolf, she’d chosen the half-man, half-wolf shape that all werewolves were forced to take during the height of the full moon, her body reformed into the dog-headed beast of legend. Her clothing fell in tatters at her clawed feet, the leather bands of her sandals groaning and snapping, and she shook her muzzle hard enough for her earrings to give a discordant jangle. The jewels at her ears and throat glittered obscenely against her pelt, a mockery of the fashionable image she’d projected only moments ago.

Now towering over the other women, Vera’s sleek fur bristled, dagger fangs dripping saliva as her lip lifted. She stalked forward with murderous intent, clawed, furry arms outstretched to wrap Tiffany in a crushing embrace.

Cassandra stepped in her way, shouting at her to stop, but Vera batted her across the room hard enough to send her careening into an end table, shattering the furniture.

Tiffany stood her ground as Vera came on, staring up and up into the massive Were’s murderously glowing eyes. Defiant to the last, Tiffany curled her own lip, tossing her hair back as she raised a dagger in invitation.

“Bring it, bitch.”

With an ear-shattering howl, Vera sprang forward.

CHAPTER 13

Life contains but two tragedies. One is not to get your heart’s desire; the other is to get it.

—Socrates

Gaping jaws and talons snapped and clacked as the twisted, furred creature that was Vera pressed the attack. Despite her size and bulk, she moved with supernatural speed, though her paws slid on the smooth marble tile and prevented her from launching into a full charge.

Tiffany moved with the grace of a dancer, arching, twisting, skipping back from swiping claws. She wanted to be turned—but not crippled in the process.

For her part, Vera didn’t take any care as to how sloppy and uncoordinated her attacks were until after the first burning swipe she received on the inside of one massive, hairy arm. She yelped, dropping onto all fours and backing up, tail between her legs.

Tiffany circled around, balanced on her toes, ready to spring away if she needed to. The other girls were only just struggling to their feet when Vera sprang with catlike agility, diving in low so talon-tipped fingers could close on the hunter’s ankle, yanking her off her feet. Tiffany was unable to compensate and lost her balance, crashing onto her back and sending one of the daggers clattering across the floor to slide under a couch, far out of reach.

Before any of the other werewives could stop her, Vera was on top of Tiffany’s sprawled form, one paw on her shoulder to keep her down and massive jaws diving for her throat.

Tiffany didn’t hesitate to bury the remaining dagger in Vera’s side, the sharp metal sinking between her ribs with the ease of a hot knife through butter. Vera’s head snapped back and she howled in pain, her talons ripping through Tiffany’s silk blouse, and then her skin as she convulsed and jerked away. The knife came free as she pulled back, and Tiffany dropped it in favor of scooting back across the slick floor as far from Vera as possible and grabbing at her bleeding shoulder, crying out in pain.

By then Cassandra and Alexis had regained their feet. Heather, the weakest of the three, was still clutching at the back of her neck and moaning on the floor. Cassandra was a little unsteady, but she put herself between Vera and Tiffany, her jaw tight and a muscle ticking in her cheek as she placed her fists on her hips. She glared down at Vera, who was whimpering and rolling on the floor, writhing against the silver burn now racing through her bloodstream. It wasn’t enough to kill her—the blade hadn’t struck anything vital or damaged any internal organs—but she’d be in a great deal of pain for the next few days, and left with a permanent scar.

Assuming Cassandra let her live, that is.

“I hope you’re happy,” Cassandra said, a scowl twisting her features as she kicked Vera’s bleeding side, drawing another choked yowl of pain out of her. “You’ve just signed our death warrants, you moon-crazed, silver-tainted, imbecilic whore!”

Heather’s head jerked up, her eyes widening. She gasped when she spotted all of the blood now pasting Tiffany’s shirt to her chest, then dragged herself to her feet using a nearby chaise as leverage. “Cassie—”

“If I told you once—”

“Cassie!”

Cassandra turned a withering glare on Heather, and she shrank back from the heat in her gaze, voice a low whisper.

“I filed the contract.”

Everyone—Alexis, Tiffany, Cassandra, and Vera—turned their attention on Heather, who wrapped her arms around her stomach and looked away so she wouldn’t have to meet the incredulity and anger in their gazes.

“I filed it this morning. Before the meeting. I knew none of you would ever do it, and I didn’t agree with Gabriel saying no.”

Tiffany gave voice to a raspy, triumphant laugh, sitting up and tossing her hair back over her shoulder, though some of the longer strands were now red with blood and clung to her chest and shirt. Cassandra sucked in a breath through her teeth, her gaze torn between Tiffany and Heather, who was busy hugging herself and trying to look as small as possible. Alexis simply ran her palm over her face, though she was admittedly relieved that it now meant there was no liability connected to herself as far as this unbelievable f**k up on Vera’s part was concerned.