Chapter 12
Wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person you are.
—Kurt Cobain
“I’ve said before that I’ve made mistakes,” Tiffany said, avoiding the accusatory looks from the rest of the ladies by staring down at the photos spread on the table in front of her. Heather was particularly incensed, her balled fists and clenched teeth betraying her raw anger and hurt. “I have no good excuse for those pictures. They were taken while I was still married to my husband—”
“So you admit you hunted us before?” Vera’s tone was triumphant and poisonously sweet, her nail polish fracturing as the tips of her fingers grew into claws.
Tiffany looked up and met Vera’s yellow eyes with her own icy blue ones, baring her teeth in the semblance of a smile. Slowly, deliberately, she reached down to the messenger bag at her feet. The others tensed, ready to react if she pulled a weapon—but all she withdrew was a tiny laptop.
“Vera, I’ve said a number of times already that I haven’t participated in that lifestyle for quite a while. Though I suppose that’s not entirely true.”
As Tiffany spoke, she booted up the netbook, searching for a file. Though wary, the other women watched her without interrupting, four pairs of glowing amber irises focused with single-minded intensity on her every move.
“You see, I realized early on that you were going to make things difficult for me. I prepared for this eventuality the only way I knew how—using skills I earned while working with my ex-husband. I do want to caution you all that this is not the only copy, and that if something happens to me or you do not reconsider your actions and my future place in your pack, this video will be uploaded onto YouTube and forwarded to every TV station in the country.”
Though that last statement caused some confusion, in moments, all four of the werewives were on their feet, growling and snarling in rage. The video quality was far from that of a high-definition movie, and the playback of the audio was choppy, but there was no mistaking Vera, Cassandra, Alexis, or Heather’s faces taken from some nearby vantage point in the trees—or their shifts in the woods outside of Alexis’s home into werewolves.
They all watched, stunned, silent, as their banter was captured on film, as was their undressing and their change into their inner beasts. Tiffany didn’t have to tell them what a danger this video posed to them. They knew. To a one, they knew that they could be connected to their husbands, some of the richest and most influential businessmen in the state—if not the country—and that it could bring the livelihoods of their families and fellow pack members crashing down around them if it ever went public. Cassandra in particular went cold, considering her husband, who was running for office next term, would likely flay her and the other werewives alive if he ever caught wind of the existence of that video.
After the wolves had rushed off into the woods to play, it showed close-ups of the clothing and jewelry left behind by the women, then faded to black. As soon as it ended, Tiffany snapped the netbook shut and tucked it back in her bag, ignoring the bared fangs, the glowing eyes, the twitching claws, and the deep rumbles emanating from their chests. Crossing her legs and folding her hands primly in her lap, she raised her chin and regarded Cassandra expectantly.
Heather was the one who spoke first, her voice deep and guttural as she fought to get a handle on her rage.
“How could you? That isn’t fair, Tiffany! Why would you do such a terrible thing?”
Tiffany was startled into a laugh, though there was nothing funny about the situation. “Fair? You call this fair? Heather, you’re the only one of the Diamondfangs who has listened to me from the start. I’ve got nothing against you. The rest of you need to listen to me, this time, and believe me when I say that I don’t intend to cause you any harm unless you decide against honoring my request. All I wanted when I came here was to find a home in this pack. Nothing has changed. File the papers, do what you need to do to initiate me, and that video will disappear.”
Alexis, trembling and white in the face, raised a clawed finger that still sparkled with the crumbled remains of her Gold Pearl nail polish. “You have no right to demand anything from us. Videos and pictures can be doctored. You have no way of proving that it’s really us.”
“That’s right.” Cassandra, who had been too stunned to react immediately, showed her fangs in a fierce and humorless grin. “You can’t possibly believe we’d give you what you want or let you walk away from this. Bravo for the attempt—but there’s no way you could ever prove to anyone that your film is real.”
Tiffany smiled slyly, reaching for her messenger bag again. “That’s why I saved some other evidence.”
Alarmed, the four girls watched with slack jaws as she withdrew a glittering diamond tennis bracelet, dangling with a “VK” charm—Vera’s missing jewelry, taken the same night Tiffany recorded them in the woods after the party.
One that had been clearly visible mixed in with the clothing at the end of the video.
The other girls shot Vera a look. She was pale, her fists clenched so tightly that spots of blood were pooling under her fingernails.
“You little thief! How dare you!”
Tiffany smirked. “Don’t get any ideas. This isn’t the only thing I took—just the most obvious. Travis told me how often you forgot and left jewelry behind when you went hunting with the pack—or stayed the night at his place. Tsk, Vera. I doubt your husband would approve.”
Vera’s reaction was immediate and intense. With an enraged howl, she leapt toward Tiffany, closing the distance between them with supernatural speed, hands arched into claws.
Though Cassandra and Heather moved to stop her, Tiffany was on her feet in no time, ducking behind furniture and flicking her wrists to dislodge daggers from sheathes hidden under the cuffs of her Marc Jacobs peasant blouse.
Everyone froze at the unmistakable gleam of silver.
“Vera, sit down!”
Cassandra’s voice, usually smooth and sure, cracked on a high note. Aside from the unbelievable f*ck up of leaving evidence of her shift behind, she was terrified that Vera or Tiffany might actually attack one another. Free of a contract, Tiffany’s injury could mean a death sentence for all four of the women if Vera didn’t back off. Plus, the silver weapons Tiffany was holding were deadly weapons—even a small nick could do enough damage to incapacitate or kill them.
Vera stayed where she was, straining against the solid hold Cassandra and Heather had on her arms. Her glittering gaze, maddened with rage, never left Tiffany’s.
Alexis moved to take Cassandra’s place restraining Vera, whose skin was starting to darken with fur and muscles were now bulging unnaturally under her clothing. Moving slowly, carefully, palms up to show she meant no harm, Cassandra edged closer to Tiffany. With any luck, she could draw close enough to incapacitate her without risking injury.
“What does a hunter want with our pack? Did someone send you?”
Tiffany’s gaze didn’t waver from Vera, though one of her hands shifted so the weapon was now pointed at Cassandra, making her flinch and stop in her tracks.
“Like I told you before, I’m not a hunter anymore. If I show myself in Manhattan after dark, the vampires will kill me. If I show up in Central Park, the Moonwalkers will kill me. If I show up anywhere the White Hats are planning a raid, they will kill me.”
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.