The Real Werewives of Vampire County

She chewed at her lip.



“You need to stand up for yourself.”



I did, too.



“But—”



I left her with the Predators and followed Bliss.



Tia couldn’t help me right now. I needed to do this on my own. If I was smart—and lucky—I might be able to pull this off.



I just needed to grab her mind, preferably before she took me by the throat.



The weretiger turned on me the minute we were out of the room. “What were you doing in my house?” she demanded, nostrils flaring. “And don’t bother to deny it.” She leaned in close, her face inches from mine. “I smelled you.”



“Funny thing, Bliss,” I said, trying to buy precious seconds, grasping with my mind.



Steady.



I couldn’t afford a backlash. I channeled the power from deep inside of me. It flowed between us and I felt the invisible cord tighten. I tested the connection and sighed with relief when it held. “Okay, tiger. I have a few questions I’d like to ask you.”



Her face went slack. “I’m in charge of this conversation,” she said, but it was only a line. I had her now.



We’d start with something easy.



“Are you aware that Sunny was blackmailing Nina?”



“No,” she said, eyes widening.



Fair enough. “Were you sleeping with Sunny’s husband?”



She grinned. “He’s fantastic in bed.”



“I’ll take that as a yes,” I said, my head beginning to pound. “Do you know where Sunny’s husband is now?” I asked.



Bliss tilted her perfectly oval face. “Overseas,” she said, repeating what I already knew. “On business.”



I’d never got around to asking, “What does he do?”



“Pharmaceuticals.”



No kidding. “Like the Slimprol you have in your closet?”



“Yes,” she said, almost in a trance.



“What does Slimprol do, Bliss?”



She blinked once. Twice. “It makes you sleepy. You go to sleep and you lose weight.”



Great. An unapproved drug for extreme weight loss. I could already tell Sunny’s husband was a real piece of work.



Pain lanced through my head. I was losing the connection. I knew I’d laid it on thick, but dang, when somebody wants to kill you, it’s a good idea to crank up the happy current. “What else can the drug do, Bliss?” I pressed. “Can it kill people?”



She snarled at me. “I hope so.”



Our connection unraveled.



Bliss bared her teeth.



Oh come on. I was offended she’d think I’d break into her house. Even if I did break into her house.



I threw up a hand. “I was in your house trying to find my gardener. I don’t care who you are. What’s mine is mine.”



She should know wolves are territorial.



“Bitch,” she snarled, unsure for the first time. She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t like wolves who sniff around my business.”



“Bliss!” Nina called. “Mitzy!”



“In here,” I gave a ready answer.



She found us with no trouble. “Dinner is served.”



The tiger growled low in her throat. “This isn’t over, werewolf,” she said, stalking past me.



I never said it was.



Lucien and I were seated near the head of the table for dinner. Samuel sat at the head. Lucien at his right side. I sat next to Lucien, with Nina across from me. Luckily, Bliss was at the far end with poor Tia in a werewives version of the singles’ section. That meant I got to chat with Francine and her husband, Olaf.



Worse, I couldn’t help picturing what else Nina had served up on the sleek black dining room table.



Vinny the Arab warrior offered us each a small bowl of rose water with a fingertip towel.



Despite the fact that I’d come one mind-reading trick from being consumed by a tiger, my stomach growled as I anticipated dinner. I needed to eat. Food helped me think. It helped me heal.



And just when I’d worked myself up into a frenzy of anticipation, my plate arrived.



The waiter served up one tiny chicken wing with grated cucumber on top. A date cut into a flower served as garnish. I supposed it was gourmet, but it made me want to cry.



I couldn’t take it.



These people could threaten me. They could lie to me and demean me and make me wear god-awful heels with pointy tips. But they couldn’t starve me. It wasn’t right. My head hurt and my dress was still kind of sideways and I just needed one thing tonight to go the way it was supposed to go.



I needed crackers. I needed anything but a puny chicken wing with a garnish.



The vampires sat drinking their wine. The weres picked at their cucumber as if touching it would make them gain weight. What was wrong with these people?



I needed to eat.



And so I did.



I ate my chicken wing clean. I devoured the cucumber. And the cut-up date. Then I marched out to the living room and loaded up on appetizers—caviar, lamb with goat cheese, fancy fruity tarts. I ate it all. And when I was done with that plate, I went and got another.



Bliss growled. Francine sneered. Tia stared, openmouthed.



Nina couldn’t care less. “More wine?” she asked the table.



She shrugged off her Puritan husband’s glare. “What? I’m just being a good hostess.”



Everyone agreed to refills, except for me. I hadn’t touched my glass. I’d never been one for alcohol. And now that I had my third plate of lamb thingies and a raging psychic hangover, forget it.



The waiter started pouring at the other end of the table and the bottle of white was long gone by the time it reached our end. Nina cracked open another and gave me a healthy pour.



“Thanks,” I said, “but I’ve gotta save room for the ham puffs.”



Bliss stared at me as I slid my glass over to Lucien.



He winked at me and drank.



CHAPTER 8



I cleared away the rest of the lamb, all of the puff pastries, and a good portion of the caviar. I’d never been huge on fish, much less their eggs, but it was there. And the crackers weren’t half-bad, either.



“Bet you never even heard of a saltine,” I said to Nina.



“I’ll drink to that,” she said, either half-soused or highly amused, probably both.



“Here, here,” I said, toasting her with the last of the caviar.



I had plenty to celebrate. Topping the list was the fact that I had not been eaten by a tiger tonight.



The vampires had lost interest by this time and were busy trying to one-up each other on who had endured the most annoying minions. Points were given for base groveling, years served, and most obnoxious way they died. And it seemed they always died.



Big surprise there.



Yet another reason why no self-respecting weregirl should bind herself to a guy like that.



I licked a bit of caviar off my fingers.



Of course I did notice Lucien hadn’t joined in on the minion talk. In fact, he looked a little green. Good for him. Using people was just plain wrong.



I nudged him. “You feeling okay?”



He nodded. “Slightly put off by the conversation.”



Lucien used a napkin to wipe his forehead and a trickle of perspiration glinted near his ear.



I’d never seen him sweat before. I’d never even seen him warm.



His chin dipped and he braced his hands on the edge of the table. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was struggling to remain upright.



I covered his hand with mine. “Cripes.” Something was definitely wrong. “You’re burning up.”



I flagged down the waiter. “Can we get him some water?”



He was abnormally pale.



Everyone at the table was watching now—except Bliss. She’d become quite interested in her gold bracelets.



Then it hit me with a sickening thud. “You drugged him, didn’t you?”



Her eyes locked with mine. “No.”



She’d answered too fast, and without a hint of surprise.



Bliss had been after me. I’d given my wine to Lucien right before he got sick.



I ran a finger along the inside of his glass and found traces of glitter. Slimprol.



Of all the ... Fury welled up inside me as I stalked toward the tiger. “Now would be a really good time to tell me what’s in Slimprol.”



She stood, her chair toppling over. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”



I resisted the urge to grab her by the braid and shake her. Barely.



“Get him into the car,” I said, refusing to turn my back on the tiger.



Vinny hoisted Lucien out of his chair.



“Is he okay?” Tia stammered, bobbing in her chair, clearly afraid to stand.



“No, Tia,” I bristled. “He’s not okay.”



But he would be. I’d see to it myself.



I snarled at Bliss and a blaze of triumph shot through me when she backed up a step.



She’d messed with the wrong werewife.



“I’m not through with you,” I said, as Francine led her away.



That’s it. Run, tiger.



It took all I had not to chase her.



Soon. Right now, I had to take care of my own.