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Authors: Jess Tami; Haines Angie; Dane Alexandra; Fox Ivy

BOOK: The Real Werewives of Vampire County
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She nodded, gulping. “You don’t understand. I need a man. I have nothing. The damned dog has more than I do!”
Chi-Chi growled.
Damned straight.
“The only money I had came from Nina,” she said.
Right. “You mean from blackmailing Nina.”
Who
wasn’t
blackmailing Nina?
Bliss shrugged. “She had the money. And she’s a slut.”
Err ... pot calling kettle?
“Sunny’s husband, Gaston. He was giving you money, wasn’t he?” asked Lucien.
Bliss stiffened. “He could afford it.”
Maybe. Still, “You didn’t love him. You just needed a sugar daddy.”
“I loved him!” she wailed. “And I hated Sunny.”
“How’d you kill her?” Lucien demanded.
She cowered, trapped.
“You already told us you did it, Bliss,” I reminded her. I could see how getting clocked with an ornate medieval chandelier would kill Sunny. But how had Bliss nailed her with it?
I could see her making her decision. Finally she relented. “I snuck in while she was out mooning over that damned gardener. It didn’t take long to cut the links on the chandelier.” She gave a sullen look. “I only had to knock it enough to spin free of the broken link for it to fall. I hated that god-awful piece of junk.
He
gave it to her. She didn’t deserve anything from him. She didn’t even see it coming.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Now he’s never coming back.”
I just hoped Tia’s husband could.
CHAPTER 10
T
he werewolves arrived that morning. The war was off, which was great because my pack seemed more interested in raiding our kitchen than fighting. The vampires would arrive tonight.
Bliss was taken into custody by her own people, which I thought was horse pucky until Finnegan told me what they’d probably do to her. It wasn’t pretty, but at least she’d live. Unlike Sunny.
That left Chi-Chi the Chihuahua at loose ends. I offered to take her in if she was willing to give up life on Mysteria Lane. From her enthusiastic wriggling, I figured she was up for the challenge.
We retreated back to the Duke house to wait for representatives from the Vampire Council. Nina sent her chef over to help out, which was pretty nice of her, all things considered.
He’d loaded the granite countertops with meat pies, steak tartar and roasted venison. I slipped a bite to Chi-Chi and wondered if I should break it to the cook that we did eat other things besides meat. You know what, though? The guy looked happy. He was actually getting to cook for once, so I left him to it.
Tia had skipped her husband’s pill that morning and had reported no results yet. She planned to sit with him all day, to see if she could detect a change.
I’d spent as much time as I could that morning interrogating Francine and Nina, just to make sure there wasn’t anything we’d missed. Nina had been telling the truth all along. Good for her. And it turned out Francine was bald as a bat under that expensive brunette wig.
I insisted she remove it for the remainder of our questioning.
None of the residents of Mysteria Lane would be any wiser. But I’d sure enjoyed it.
I managed a quick “hello” with Lucien when he woke up for the evening. I made sure to show him exactly why I was so glad we’d survived the night before. He returned the favor.
Twice.
I love it when the Vampire Council runs late.
But they eventually arrived. More’s the pity. And went into closed meetings with Finnegan and our pack elders.
The pack used it as an excuse to enjoy an eighteenth course, courtesy of Nina’s chef. I swear if he ever wanted to leave her, he’d have his choice of about thirty slavering Topanga Pack members, ready to bow at his command.
Good food could do that to a wolf.
Vinny plucked a beef skewer off a silver tray and leaned up against the counter next to me. “Tia’s husband woke up.”
I smiled. “Fantastic. When?”
“About ten minutes ago. She skipped his evening meds. I helped her prop him up enough for a drink.”
“Good for her.”
“I’ll say. They’re even louder than you two.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“I ran like a girl.”
I smacked him on the arm, not really meaning it. I wished Lucien would get back soon. No telling how much time we’d have before he had to be on to his next assignment.
The mere thought of it made my stomach hollow.
Suck it up, McPhee.
I’d known this moment would come. I couldn’t have Lucien forever, even if I wanted it.
And boy, did I want it.
The Vampire Council and the wolf elders made it back to the house alive, which was a good sign.
Finnegan slapped me on the back so hard he almost knocked the wind out of me. “The war is off,” he announced to the crowd at large. “Thanks to your hard work,” he added under his breath.
Sure. Nothing like accolades for a job well done.
Oh, who was I kidding? I didn’t need praise. I had a happy ending.
At least until, “Hi, Lucien.” The corners of my mouth turned up as he wrapped his arms around me and kissed me on the head.
We ignored the catcalls from my pack mates.
Yeah, yeah.
McPhee was smiling. McPhee was smitten.
McPhee was in love.
Damn it all.
I vowed to keep my pride. I’d let him go when the time came. I just hoped it wouldn’t be tonight.
“Heather,” he said into my hair, “we need to talk.”
Damn.
I felt my smile falter. “Sure. Whatever you say.”
He led me out of the packed kitchen and upstairs to his room.
Hoo-boy. To be dumped in the same spot where we’d made love this evening. I could hardly wait. Then again, maybe this was for the best. I’d know it was over. We’d make a clean break. I could do this.
I let out a hard breath.
This was worse than preparing for a fight.
“Heather.” Lucien held my hand, his expression earnest. Curse him and his amazing body and his gorgeous lips and the way he made me feel hot even now when I knew he was about to hightail it out of town.
“Look,” I said, unable to stand it. “I know you have to leave. You said it before we ever got involved.”
It wasn’t his fault.
It was mine for being stupid enough to fall for him.
“I do have to leave,” he said, in that same infuriatingly calm tone.
I was so tempted to use my truth powers on him. My chin lowered and I stopped myself. What was the point? I already knew he was heading out for the next assignment.
Damn the man. Would it kill him to be a little upset about this? Meanwhile my insides felt like they’d turned to glue.
“I’m heading down to New Orleans,” he said, oblivious. “We’re looking into a coven of voodoo mambos turned vampire.”
“Sounds lovely,” I said, just trying to make it through the conversation with my pride intact. In a second, I was going to cry.
He caressed my cheek, which made it worse.
Could we just get to the dumping part?
“It will be amazing,” he said.
“I’m sure,” I agreed.
“If you join me,” he added.
“What?”
He looked vulnerable all of a sudden. “I could use a were who can make people tell the truth.”
Was he actually saying what I thought he was saying? “I’m not even sure it works on vampires.”
“Ask me if I care.”
I couldn’t leave with him. I didn’t quite know why, but I knew there was a reason it had never occurred to me. “You can do this on your own,” I said, making complete sense.
“It wouldn’t be half as much fun,” he said playfully.
Maybe so, but, “My pack needs me.”
“You can fly back home if they do.”
I tangled my hands in my lap. “Finnegan would never let me go.”
He untangled them. “I made it part of our negotiations this evening.”
“So you knew—”
“I think I’ve known all along.” He brushed his lips over mine. “Go with me, Heather. Let’s see where this leads.”
I pulled back, but not so far as to unwrap my hands from his. “It can’t be this easy,” I said, trying to reason with him.
Nothing in my life had ever been this easy.
It could be amazing.
“Heather?” he asked, waiting for my answer.
He wasn’t going to beg. I liked that in a vampire. Oh my God, was I actually considering this?
“Voodoo vampires, huh?” I asked. It could be interesting. And I’d never been to New Orleans.
“If I go”—I ran a finger down his chest—“will I get to sleep next to you?”
He pulled me closer. “Yes.”
A smile tickled the edges of my lips. “Kiss you?”
His voice grew husky. “I hope.”
“Would I have to let you bite me?” I hoped.
He nibbled kisses along the soft spot in front of my ear. “If you’re lucky.”
I tilted his chin my way for a long, lingering kiss.
“Okay,” I said, before I lost all control and jumped headlong into bed with him. “I’ll go to New Orleans.”
“Ha!” He let out a very unvampirish whoop before tackling me back onto the bed.
“But I have a few rules,” I said, wriggling against him. Anticipating what was to come.
“I can’t wait,” he said, propped above me.
“I will not wear high heels.”
“Done.”
“I absolutely refuse to do any more breaking and entering.”
“Prude.”
He kissed his way down my neck until I almost forgot rule number three. “And,” I said, running my fingers through his thick, blond hair, “I will not fall in love with you.”
I could feel him smile against my neck. “We’ll see.”
WEREWOLVES IN CHIC CLOTHING
TAMI DANE
Michelle Stewart waited her whole life for something exciting to happen. As an eight-year-old, she dreamed of learning she was actually a princess, inheriting a crown and massive fortune.
Didn’t happen.
As a teenager, she hoped to be discovered by an Elite Modeling agent in the mall.
Didn’t happen.
As an adult, she fantasized about being swept off her feet by her Prince Charming and living a storybook happily-ever-after.
To everyone—but Michelle—it appeared she was living that last fantasy. In reality, Michelle wouldn’t live to see any of her dreams come true....
CHAPTER 1
I
think I might have just moved into Stepford. If you’ve seen the movie, you know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t ... what are you waiting for?
The Stepford Wives
(I’m talking about the original film) is a classic.
Back to Stepford. Why do I think I’ve moved there? Let me paint a visual picture for you. I was driving a rusty U-Haul, twenty-five years’ worth of personal possessions, including my collection of vintage purses, packed into beat-up cardboard boxes. I was rolling past one perfectly kept home after another. The flower gardens were weed-free, grass freshly mowed. And everyone I saw was smiling.
It was damned creepy.
Maybe I’d lived in the city too long. I wanted to hear someone yell, “Fuck you!” I ached for the reassuring sound of a horn blaring in anger. Instead, I was getting happy birdsong and the distant rumble of a lawn mower.
Why did this bother me so much? Because if this suburban nirvana was anything like Stepford, there was absolutely no way I was going to fit in. I hate cooking. I kill plants. I’ve never been crafty.
And ... what the hell was I doing?
You’d better be worth it, Jonathan Stewart.
One look at Jonathan Stewart, and almost every niggling doubt in my mind immediately evaporated.
Hellooooo, handsome.
FYI, Jonathan Stewart, my soon-to-be fiancé, is traffic-stopping gorgeous. He’s also powerful, successful, generous, kind—downright perfect ... and he was standing in his driveway, wearing the world’s biggest smile.
I am the luckiest woman alive.
Now, back to my story.
Jonathan was at my door, yanking it open before I’d even gotten the truck shifted into PARK. “Hello, beautiful,” he said, pulling me out of the vehicle.
“Hello back,” I said, sliding my arms around his waist. We kissed, and I saw stars. I heard angels singing, too. Then again, that might’ve been the robins. My knees were a little wobbly by the time the kiss ended.
Jon brushed my windblown hair out of my face. “How was your drive? I wish you would have let me handle the move for you.”
“My drive was fine, thank you. And there was no point in hiring movers to load a few cardboard boxes.” I motioned toward the house, which was huge and immaculate. “So, this is where you live?”
“
We
. This is where we live.” Jon stepped to the side, one arm still curled around my waist. He motioned to his picture-perfect brick house. “Christine Price—soon to be Christine Stewart—welcome home.”
“Home,” I echoed, letting him guide me inside. “Oh ... wow.” I couldn’t believe this ... showroom ... was going to be my home. First, it was huge, but I’d already said that. And beautifully decorated, and ... there was absolutely no way the particleboard and laminate “furniture” I’d just hauled across three states was going to fit in here. We meandered through the foyer, past the sweeping staircase leading to the second floor, down a hallway that led to the rear of the house. On our way, we strolled past a formal living room that looked like it had never been used, past a formal dining room that also looked unused, and finally an office-slash-library. The hall ended at an open space housing the family room and eat-in kitchen.
In the family room my eyes jumped from one thing to another. The sectional sofa screamed,
Sit on me!
The ginormous flat panel TV on a wall gleamed in the sunlight. A pair of comfy-looking leather club chairs created a cozy nook that inspired me to grab a book and cuddle up to read. The floor-to-ceiling windows lining the back wall beckoned me, the lush green landscape beyond framed in drapes (were they ... happy sigh! ...
silk?
).
The whole place whispered expensive. Tasteful. Classy.
Jon looked proud. “I want this place to feel like home. If there’s anything you’d like to change—and I’m hoping there is—I want you to do it. Just tell me what you want, what you need, and I’ll make it happen.”
I tested one of the chairs. Heaven. “Thanks,” I said, beaming as I ran my hand over the arm. I pulled in a deep breath, drawing in the scrumptious scent of the leather and the equally intoxicating aroma of the man standing next to me. Whatever cologne he was wearing, it was pure aphrodisiac. “But everything looks so new. I don’t see why we’d need to change a thing.”
“Doesn’t matter. Do whatever you want.” He grabbed my hands, eyes twinkling, and pulled me to my feet. “Don’t get too comfortable yet. I still need to show you the rest of the house.”
He escorted me into the kitchen, which sported all the essentials of fine suburban living. Stainless steel appliances, natural stone countertops, beautiful wood cabinets and floor. There were two ovens. Two. I rarely put one to use. How would I ever find a reason to use two? Jon informed me the stove was a chef’s stove, whatever that meant. It was big and looked dangerous. I decided I’d stick with microwaving for now. The fridge, on the other hand, was also enormous but not at all scary. It was well stocked with all my favorite foods. There was even a month’s worth of my fave ice cream in the freezer.
This man deserved a kiss. I gave him one. And a second. And a third.
He growled like a man-bear—how I adore the way he growls—scooped me up into his arms, and turned a one-eighty, heading back toward the front of the house.
With one arm looped around his neck, I swallowed a girly giggle. Would this be my life from now on? Filled with toe-curling kisses, manly growls, and a never-ending supply of German chocolate ice cream? I didn’t dare hope so. A past full of heartache, hardship, and frustration had shattered the lenses in my rose-colored glasses a long time ago.
That didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy this moment.
“Now, to show you
our
room.” Upstairs, Jon turned into the first room on the right, and I literally gasped.
“No way. Is this really our bedroom?” I asked, gaping like a kid who’d just stepped into the world’s largest toy store. I was beginning to see a trend here. The bed, just like the stove and refrigerator and television downstairs, was gigantic. Who would need so much space to sleep? Then again, I wondered if that space was intended for something else, something besides sleep. As a few possibilities played through my mind, I licked my lips.
Jon said, “I just had this room redesigned. But if you don’t like it—”
“I love it.”
“Good.” Jon dropped me on the bed. It was like landing on a cloud. He palmed my cheeks and stared into my eyes, his expression dark and manly and one hundred percent sexy. “I want you to be happy.”
“I have a feeling I’ll be very happy.”
“You can bet I’ll do everything in my power to make sure of that.” He tipped his head, and I closed my eyes, bracing for another mind-blowing kiss. But a knock on the door had me snapping them open and Jon jerking back.
“Dad.” Joshua, Jon’s twelve-year-old son, was standing just inside the door, his cell phone in his hand. He had the world’s worst timing. But I’d heard that was true for all kids. “Can I go to Ethan’s house?”
I scrambled to my feet and tried to pretend my face wasn’t about to combust into flames. I was slightly aware of Jon pushing to his feet beside me.
I stuttered, “Josh, it’s good seeing you again.”
Josh gave me one of those looks, the kind that said, “yeah, whatever.”
Jon said, “Josh, I told you, I need your help today. Christine’s moving in.”
Josh’s expression darkened. “But Dad, it’s Labor Day weekend. School starts Tuesday. It’s my last weekend of summer vacation—”
“Jon,” I whispered, turning to face my hot, sexy almost-fiancé. “If you’re making Josh stay home for my sake, it’s okay. I’d rather he go play with his friends, have fun.”
Josh adopted a convincing sad puppy expression.
Jon thought about it.
“Please,” Josh said, his voice doing that preteen-boy cracking thing. Ugh. I was about to become a stepmom to a teenager. Good times were coming my way. I could see it already. “I’ll be back by seven. That’ll still give you plenty of time to make me work.”
“Fine. By seven. Not a minute later.”
Josh roared out of the house as fast as his twelve-year-old legs could take him. When the deep thump of the front door slamming echoed through the house, Jon strolled to the bedroom door and closed it. Turning, he gave me a look hot enough to melt lead. “Now, where were we?”
I fell onto the mattress, batting my eyelashes at him. “I think you were about to make me very happy—” I gave a little shriek as he pounced on me like an overgrown jungle cat.
Angled over me, Jon gave me a Cheshire grin. “Ah, yes. And so I was.”
Okay, so there was at least one thing about this Stepford setup I’d like....
Jon nibbled on my earlobe.
The doorbell rang.
“Urk,” I said.
“Damn,” Jon said. He scowled. “The hell with it. They’ll go away.” He went back to nibbling, and I went back to melting.
The freaking doorbell rang a second time. Jon kept on nipping my neck, but I wasn’t into it anymore. I was distracted. When the bell rang a third time, I shoved him. “Okay, Dracula”—it’s a silly pet name, but the man has a thing for necks—“we’re going to have to take a timeout. I can’t get into the mood with all that ding-donging.”
Jon sighed. It was his turn to give a sad puppy look. It was clear where Joshua had learned it.
“Won’t work.” I pushed on his chest until he was upright.
“But it worked for Josh.”
Ding dong.
“Ignore it.” He grabbed my hand, flipped it over, and scattered tickly little kisses over the inside of my wrist.
Ding dong.
“I can’t ignore it.”
Ding dong.
Sheesh, whoever that was, they were persistent.
Jon motioned to me. “Stay put. I’ll be back in a minute.”
I decided I was okay with that plan ... until I heard a woman’s voice downstairs. Laughing.
I’d just left the best job of my life, said
sayonara
to every friend I had in the world, and hauled everything I owned three hundred miles. I didn’t do that to sit upstairs and listen to my soon-to-be husband flirt with another woman.
After a quick mirror check—a girl needs to make a good first impression—I headed downstairs to see why my not-quite fiancé hadn’t returned to me yet.
I wasn’t happy with what I saw when I reached the foyer. The world’s most perfect woman—Stepford, I’m telling you—was standing a little too close to Jon for my comfort. She was holding a covered Pyrex pan with something red in it. As I stepped onto the stone tile, the visitor’s attention snapped to me. So did Jon’s.
“Hi,” I said to them both.
Jon and the Stepford wife began chattering at the same time. Jon stopped.
Mrs. Perfect beamed at me. Perfect blond hair. Perfect makeup. Her dress was very well-maintained vintage. 1950s. Silk. I was guessing Harvey Berin. She was wearing a wedding ring. “Hello, Christine, I’m Samantha Phillips. I live next door. So good to meet you at last.” She shoved the hot dish into my hands, cherry pot holders keeping them from blistering. “I made a pan of lasagna, thinking you’d probably be too busy to cook tonight.”
The scents of tomato sauce and garlic and cheese tickled my nose. “How thoughtful. Thank you.” I took the pan to the kitchen and set it on the stove. I heard Jon and Samantha following me.
“Thank you,” Jon echoed.
When I turned around, I found Samantha standing with her hands clasped in front of her A-line skirt. I shoved the pot holders into her empty hands. “Thanks again.”
She jammed one hand into a skirt pocket, produced a business card. “I guess I should get going. Don’t want to keep you from your work.” She extended her arm, offering the card. “If you need help with anything, please don’t hesitate to call. I’m home all day. I can be here in a blink. Michelle and I used to—” She cut herself off. “Forgive me. Michelle was a good friend.”
“It’s okay. I understand.” I accepted the card and set it on the counter. “Thanks again. I’ll keep your offer in mind.”
“Okay, then. I can see myself out.” Samantha threw a cute little wave at Jon and hustled toward the door. I watched Jon watch her leave. When he finally glanced my way, I probably wasn’t looking too happy.
“I’m sorry about that. Samantha and my first wife were close. She had a very hard time after Michelle died. But I’d rather not talk about that right now.” He hauled me into his arms. “Michelle was my past. You are my future. And if you’re worried about Samantha, don’t be,” he said. “She’s very happily married. And I’m very happily almost-married.”
The man knew just what to say.
He also knew just what to do. He kissed me until I couldn’t breathe and I’d forgotten all about whatshername and her lasagna and her stupid cherry pot holders.
Oh yes, I was definitely feeling better now. Warm. Tingly. Happy.

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