“She can’t be one of us, darling. Gabriel said no.”
“You always do what Gabriel tells you?”
Alexis hurled a particularly vicious shot over the net that Heather had to scramble to catch and return. It certainly got her attention.
“Honey, I don’t think you’re looking at this clearly. She was married to a White Hat. Bane of our existence? Hunts our kind on the weekends for sport? I’m with Cassie and Vera on this. Don’t question the pack leader’s judgment. We all need to back off.”
Heather growled softly, the sound echoing across the court, punctuated by the sharp thock of the ball being slapped across the court hard and fast—too fast for Alexis to keep up with, scoring Heather the first point. Cassandra rose to take her place on the court.
The two faced off as Alexis settled primly on a bench, taking a sip of Evian as she watched the pair. Cassandra prepared to serve, pausing just long enough to speak a few words first.
“Don’t overstep your bounds, Heather. You don’t rank high enough in the pack to challenge Gabriel. Or me.”
Heather’s normally warm brown eyes now glittered gold, and she said nothing while dashing across the tarmac with supernatural speed to reach the ball. The two women played a silent game, daring each other with sharp, cutting movements, each working to outdo the other.
Sweat freely dripped down their bodies, the world narrowing to one competitive moment, every action and reaction calculated to win the point and end the game. Cassandra hit the ball high and deep into Heather’s court, forcing her to exercise extra speed and leap unnaturally high to reach it.
With a rush, Heather dashed forward to meet the lob, using an overhead smash to gain the point and end the game.
“Don’t push too hard, Cassie,” Heather said, tossing her racket aside with a clatter and rubbing the sweat off her brow with her arm. “You and Gabriel aren’t the only voices in the pack.”
Cassandra and Alexis watched with narrowed eyes as Heather spun on her heel and left the court, leaving them behind.
Cassandra sipped at the mai tai Alexis had prepared for her, crossing her legs at the ankles as she relaxed in the kitchen. They’d waited a few minutes before they followed Heather inside, leaving her alone as she stalked off to one of the guest bedrooms to cool down and shower in peace.
“You’re not worried about what she said, are you?”
“No,” Cassandra replied, not meeting Alexis’s questioning gaze. “Not worried. Concerned. Vera and Heather both make good points, but I don’t think now is the time to tell Tiffany that we don’t want her around or that we won’t be turning her into one of us. It might be better if we distance ourselves instead.”
Alexis pulled her towel from around her neck and dabbed at her forehead and cheeks before picking up her own drink and leaning against the marble countertop, taking a sip before answering.
“I’m not sure if Tiffany will accept that. Do you think Gabriel will ever let one of us contract or turn her?”
“Honestly? No.”
Alexis paused in lifting her drink back to her lips, brow cocked. “And do you think she’ll accept that?”
Cassandra shook her head, setting her drink down and pushing it away. The two women said nothing for a time, the silence between them growing heavy.
Shifting her weight and looking away, Alexis broke the silence by turning around and busying herself with tidying the kitchen counters, even though the maid and the cook had already done so earlier in the day. In her Juicy shorts and Nikes with sparkling pink swooshes, she didn’t look like much of a domestic, but she did her best impression as she banged cabinets and put the drink mixes away.
“We can’t trust her, you know,” Alexis said, keeping her back to Cassandra as she reached up into one of the cabinets to adjust some of the dishes.
“I know.”
“You can’t let her go around thinking she’s still welcome, either. One of us is going to have to tell her.”
Cassandra harrumphed, a low growl rumbling in her throat. Alexis was careful not to meet her gaze, keeping her head down and her arms wrapped protectively around her stomach when she turned around.
“Maybe we should do it together. We can tell her to come over to Tiffany’s later, and we can sit down as a group and discuss it like civilized people. If we keep Vera out of it, maybe she’ll even listen to us.”
Cassandra’s eyes flashed gold, matching her eye shadow, and her lip lifted in a silent snarl before she huffed out a breath of air and let fallen lids obscure her gaze. “I’m not sure if that’s an option. If we tell her, she might react badly. Go back to her husband, maybe.”
“If we don’t tell her,” Alexis countered, “she might get it into her head that she still has a chance at becoming one of the pack, and end up doing something foolish. Worse, one of the boys might go along with it, and then where will we be? You saw how they were looking at her last night and how she had them wrapped around her fingers at the party. We can’t take the chance.”
“No, I suppose not.”
Alexis tossed her towel down on the counter before levering herself up to sit on it, reaching for her drink again. “If we tell her that we’ll still be her friends, but gradually work our way out of her life and not invite her to all of the parties, maybe she won’t take it quite so hard. We’ll be safe, she’ll be screwed, and we can all get on with our lives.”
Cassandra laughed, some of the tension easing out of her shoulders. “If she accepts it as easy as that, I’d be very surprised. I suppose we can give it a shot. Maybe after enough time passes, Gabriel will change his mind. For now, I’m sure Heather can keep her entertained when we’re not around.”
Heather walked in, now dressed in jeans and a Gucci T-shirt, rubbing the towel through her hair. “Doubtful. I don’t like it.”
“We didn’t expect you would,” Alexis said, pushing a third drink down the smooth countertop. Heather caught it easily and took a deep pull. “But I’m sure you’ll agree it’s all for the best.”
Heather downed half the drink in a go, earning raised brows and concerned looks from the other two ladies. She set the glass down with a clack, nearly breaking it.
“No, I don’t like it. But it’ll have to do.”
The two nodded and smiled, glad to hear she agreed. Until she added a quiet “for now” under her breath.
CHAPTER 11
Live by the gun, die by the gun.
—Tupac Shakur
“I have something you should see.” Cassandra harrumphed as she dug through her closet, looking for a pair of shoes to wear, her cell phone tucked to her ear. “Vera, I know you just want to help, but you need to lay off. We’re handling this.”
“I have proof this time.”
Cassandra paused, one foot halfway into her Bottega Veneta platform wedge sandals. She was already irritated at Vera for tricking her into picking up by calling from an unfamiliar number—her husband’s office line—after calls from her cell went unanswered. Vera was quick to fill the silence, the urgency in her tone not feigned in the least.
“She’s one of them, Cassie. Be careful.”
“We’re all meeting at Heather’s house in two hours. Bring whatever you found.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Vera—”
“Don’t say it. I know. I’ll behave myself.”
Cassandra’s tone was icy, commanding, and brooked no refusal. “See that you do. Another slip like the one you made at dinner, and I’ll personally see to it that there’s nothing left when the police come to pick you up for harming a human outside of a contract.”
Vera was met with the click of a dial tone before she could reply.
Though a trifle peeved at being hung up on, Vera tossed the cordless phone she’d borrowed from her husband’s office onto the bed and gathered the printouts of articles she’d found on the Internet. She was rather proud of the glossy quality her husband’s printer had spit out, showing Tiffany on the edge of a pack of scruffy-looking hunters with a gun in her hand and a White Hat pin prominently tacked to the lapel of what looked like a knockoff Ralph Lauren blazer.
So tacky.
Alexis slowly exhaled, her eyes closed, one hand palm up, the other down, resting them on her folded legs. The taste of incense was heavy on the air, and the soft instrumental music and burbling water from a nearby fountain assisted her to find her center.
Since it had been cut short, and tensions had been high the entire time, the tennis match hadn’t helped her to work off the excess supernatural energy of her second nature as it normally would have. With all of the stress from Vera and Tiffany’s sniping and fighting, she had felt it necessary to call in an emergency session with her private yoga instructor. It took some pleading and persuading, but he had eventually conceded, and cancelled one of his morning appointments for her.
The meditation wasn’t doing much to calm her. She was certain there must be something she was doing wrong—but she didn’t dare speak, knowing her yogi would instruct her if he determined she was not properly following the path of Ashtanga Yoga to serenity and enlightenment. Really, the only reason she was interested in continuing the lessons was because the instructor was one of those hard-bodied men who was Alpha enough to get her to obey his instructions without question, and because the meditation did, to some degree, help her calm herself and maintain greater control over her inner beast.
