Page 12 of It All Started with a Bite

“Don’t even think about it!” I hissed in his ear.

To my everlasting surprise, Hugh couldn’t fight his way out of my grip. He finally gave up and went limp.

Ellie and Bo looked impressed.

I dimly recalled supernatural strength being a reported attribute of werewolves. I was discreetly checking my biceps to see if they looked like tree trunks when I became conscious of a burning gaze.

I could tell the woman scowling at us from the doorway of the mansion was Hugh’s mother. She was projecting strong mother-disappointed-with-her-offspring vibes, a look I recognized, having been the victim of it on many an occasion. I determined this must be Victoria.

“Mother, please don’t have a meltdown—” Hugh started.

“Shut it, Hugh!” Victoria Hawthorne hugged the cat closer. The feline looked down at us with aristocratic disdain.

I was starting to regret not running for those hills when I had the chance.

“Look,” Hugh tried again, his voice strained. “It’s not as bad as?—”

“It’s pretty damning from where I’m standing,” Victoria cut in icily. “That woman smells like a newly turned werewolf.” She narrowed her eyes slightly. “Also, she looks like she got into a fight with a hair dryer and lost.”

“We should get you that special shampoo soon,” Ellie whispered anxiously.

I lowered my brows at Hugh’s mother. “This is your son’s fault, so how about you cut back on the attitude, lady?”

An incoherent sound left Hugh.

The temperature seemed to drop several degrees.

“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.” Victoria’s tone could have frozen Hell. “You are?”

“Abigail West.” I jutted my chin, refusing to be cowed. “Everyone calls me Abby.”

“How pedestrian,” someone muttered.

Bo’s ears shot up. I looked down.

The Persian cat’s tail swished slowly. Its sapphire eyes studied me with an unsettling intelligence.

“Did that cat just talk?” I asked leadenly.

“The cat talks too?!” Ellie gasped.

Victoria ignored my best friend and studied me with a measured frown. “I guess the fact that you can hear Pearl means you really are a werewolf.” Her tone had mollified a fraction.

“Pearl?”

The cat answered in her stead.

“Lady Veronica Pearl Whiskerton the Third,” the feline said haughtily. “Though you may address me as Pearl, since we’ll be pack mates soon.” She paused and sneered. “Assuming you survive the next full moon, of course.”

Bo stamped his paws. “I don’t like her.”

My eyes shrank to slits. “I know a good taxidermist. Want me to take you there, Veronica?”

Victoria drew a sharp breath. Pearl made an angry sound.

Victoria recovered her composure first and examined Bo with pursed lips. “Your dog talks?”

“Yeah. Hugh here thinks he might be part werewolf.”

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