Page 95 of It All Started with a Bite

“Victoria.”

“Gregory.”

Crimson gleamed briefly in Constantia’s cool eyes as her gaze skimmed over me.

I spotted more Council members arriving. Priscilla and Isobel were among them, both wearing dark outfits. They acknowledged us with curt nods and crossed the room to their seats three tables over.

“The witches are fashionably late as usual,” Felicity observed as three women in couture outfits materialized near the entrance.

“The Lincoln sisters,” Victoria said for my benefit. “They control the supernatural clinics in and around Amberford. Oh, and that’s Portia O’Keefe. She’s the head of the Amberford banshees.”

“They’re not the biggest clan, but what they lack in numbers they make up for in volume,” Martha said. She winked and nudged me in the ribs. “Get it?”

“The floor got it, Martha,” Felicity groaned.

More socialites arrived, their names soon a blur. I was wishing Mindy had come along to organize some kind of visual map of the who’s who of the Amberford supernatural society when Camilla walked in.

“She doesn’t look well,” Caroline observed with a faint frown.

The Council secretary was pale and appeared a little flustered, like she hadn’t been sleeping well.

I wondered if this had to do with her nervous disposition or the fact that she regularly dealt with Council members who acted like vipers. I was about to ask the question when I felt Victoria and Caroline tense.

A middle-aged werewolf with graying red hair piled up in a chignon had swept into the salon after Camilla. She was dressed in an elegant outfit and was accompanied by two women who looked and smelled like her daughters.

I stared.

The sisters were tall and built along the same lean lines as Caroline.

“What are they doing here?” Martha muttered.

“Who are they?” I asked curiously.

Caroline shot a worried glance at Victoria. “The Luptons.”

Ah. More drama.

30

The Luptons

My shoulders knottedas I watched the three werewolves approach.

“Wasn’t one of them supposed to become Samuel’s fiancée?” Bo asked in a stage-loud whisper.

“The discussions never progressed that far,” Caroline murmured.

The Luptons stopped at our table.

Victoria addressed the middle-aged werewolf with a stiff nod. “Danielle. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Victoria.” Danielle Lupton’s smile was razor-sharp. “We were in the neighborhood.” Her gaze shifted briefly to the other side of the salon. “Priscilla invited us.”

Her daughters exchanged amused glances at her tone.

Danielle’s gaze landed on me, her expression inscrutable. “I take it you are the famous new luna we’ve been hearing rumors about.”

I held her eyes unflinchingly. “Hi, I’m Abigail West.” I paused. “Everyone calls me Abby.” I offered her my hand impulsively.

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