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. 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 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. 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.