(Camren moment finally!!!) 

 I was right. The club had once been a hotel. We stood in the lobby, bathed in a warm glow of light. Beautifully carved black wooden lamps gave the room a cozy feeling. We passed a door with an Employees Only sign on it and continued until we stopped at a long counter that looked like black glass, sleek and reflective.

 A woman stood behind it. Her brown locks were pulled away from her face in a slick and professional style, pinned at the back of her head. Her face was thin and pale and she didn't wear any makeup. A crimson satin vest cinched over a black blouse with a high collar made her look far more proper than she probably was out of those clothes.

 "How much?" Shawn asked. She smiled, and it was one of those good but fake professional smiles. A smile that said, "I'm only being courteous because they're paying me to." She told Shawn the price and tilted her head. The tilt of her head drew the high collar away from her neck, exposing a white bandage over her carotid artery. Shawn took the wallet out of his back pocket, counted a few bills, and handed them to her.

 Unlike most clubs that seemed fond of stamps and plastic bracelets, the woman held up two adjustable woven cloth bracelets with "The Two Points" on them. One bracelet was black. One bracelet was red. "Black or red?" she asked. Shawn offered an unusually charming smile. "What's the difference?" he asked, curious.

 I too, wondered. "Red means you're a donor. Black means you're off-limits." She held up her arm and pulled the sleeve down, revealing the red bracelet at her wrist. "Black," I said. Shawn echoed me. The woman behind the counter laughed and handed us our don't-you-try-to- fucking-bite-me bracelets.

 He adjusted the bracelet to fit his wrist, slipping the end of it through the little plastic buckle. "How do you know I won't wear it again and try to sneak in?" The tone in his voice made me stop fiddling with my bracelet to look at him. He gave the woman a playful and almost flirtatious look. I rolled my eyes and buckled the bracelet. "Because you have to go through security first." She pointed out the obvious. If Security recognized a person and suspected they were trying to sneak in, chances were they'd either turn them away or ask to search.

 Shawn smiled again, but this time, it was a quick and embarrassed spread of lips. Kind of like, "Aw, shucks." When he was done pretending to be just an idiot tourist, we headed in the direction of the large double doors at the far end of the lobby. A wave of pounding industrial music battered my ears as we hit the ballroom beyond.

 Energy slammed into me and I stumbled, turning and catching myself against the inside wall. Shawn reached out, as if he would try to help steady me. I shook my head. "I'm fine." 

"What is it?" At the smell of sweat and arousal, the wolf stirred within me, pushing against the surface, stealing the breath from my lungs. I placed my hand flat against the concrete wall, trying to focus on my breathing. I drew in a slow breath. That was another mistake.

 There were so many smells—too many perfumes mingling with the salty scent of sweat and desire. I exhaled the breath through my mouth, eyelashes fluttering. I closed my eyes and saw the wolf inside my mind. She paced, back and forth, threatening to push against the surface. Her elongated ears swiveled and a growl trickled from her lips, from my human lips. 

My eyes flew open as Shawn took a step back. "Mila?"

  I had to shield. In order to shield, I had to get my breathing under control. I couldn't breathe through my nose, but I could steady my breathing through my mouth. I closed my eyes, breathing in through my mouth, out through my mouth, focusing on visualizing a tall tower that would metaphysically contain the wolf.

 The wolf hit the wall of that tower and I clutched my side, sliding down the wall. I felt her eyes glaring at me. She thought one thing: Food. We were surrounded by so much food. Then I felt something, a cooler energy that sent a shiver up and down my spine. 

Distantly, I heard Shawn talking, but for the life of me I couldn't make out what he was saying. The room reeled as the wolf took what felt like another frustrated yet invisible swipe against the insides of my body.

 Cool fingers touched my cheek, spilling cold energy into my skin. The wolf went still, ears flattening against her skull. I could suddenly smell the scent of cool air, like a cold winter's night when the ground is covered with snow. Gently, the tips of those fingers lifted my face and her emerald eyes met mine. She smiled down at me with lips the color of bloody pomegranates.

 My stomach sank. My heart skipped a beat. I knew who she was. I didn't know her, know her, but I'd seen her on the covers of local newspapers.

Lauren Jauregui, one of the countess vampires of Miami, stared down at me with the most glorious and surreal eyes I'd ever seen. Vampires, like werewolves, have their own hierarchy and social structure. As countess, Lauren was their queen. She was the community's, or clan's, political link and leader. 

Fortunately, since ye olden times, vampire killings have diminished greatly. Murdering your dinner is generally viewed as déclassé, not to mention it's terribly bad for publicity, which most vampires care a lot about. That doesn't mean it doesn't happen. From what I know, the punishment system with vampires generally stays with the vampires, unless something has become such a problem that the government has to step in.

 In fact, there are even some vampires in our government. Thankfully, most of them aren't Republicans. Over the years, the vampires have managed to charm and seduce the media, granting their existence a moderate amount of political and social acceptance.

 "Is that any better?" she asked in a purring voice that was only slightly accented. I closed my eyes and finished visualizing the tower, leaving the wolf no bars or windows to peek through. I took a deep breath, and this time could breathe without the sensory overload. It seemed Lauren was helping me to shield. When I opened them she was still staring at me.

 I resisted the urge to push her  away. She was nowhere near repulsive, but she was a stranger. Her long hair shone like polished onyx. When she turned her head, the clip that held the tresses in place winked in the flashing lights. The bands of the clip arched and entwined like Celtic knots, but the arches were too jagged, too harsh, and more tribal. Diamonds and amethysts absorbed the light, sparkling bright enough that I knew they were real.

 "Camila Cabello," she said softly, and my heart gave another fierce beat. I was getting really sick of people knowing who I was. "Lauren Jauregui," I said. She leaned back on her heels and kept smiling. "What brings a preternatural investigator into my club?" I didn't see a reason not to tell her the truth. So I said, "We're trailing someone."

 "Oh?" she asked. "Whom?" "Dinah Hansen," I whispered, feeling a wave of heat descend and the wolf look up. As if she could see it, Lauren touched my arm, and her cool energy rolled through me like a caress to calm the wolf. The tips of her fingers trailed over the net material down my arm, brushing the black wristband. "We should speak somewhere more private." Her emerald eyes met mine.

I didn't really like the idea, but anything was better than shape shifting in public. My control of the beast was usually better than this. There were several things that I'd learned to recognize as triggers for the wolf, and there were certain things that helped me gain more control of it. One of the things that helped me gain control was constant practice; the second was consuming a lot of steak. 

It'd taken months, but I'd learned to partially shift as well. During a partial shift my nails were claws, my eyes turned gold, and my canines lengthened slightly. How did I know? That's what mirrors are for. It's quite disturbing to watch a partial shift. At least with a full shift the entire thing is fluid, the beast just rolls out of the body and voilà—it's a bipedal wolf.

 A partial shift is somewhere between human and animal. The partial shift takes stronger bars to stop her from spilling out completely, almost like holding a rabid pit bull at the end of a leash. You need a firm enough grip and enough discipline to keep her from breaking free and raising hell. The thing was it didn't always work, especially not close to the full moon. The moon calls to the beast, and a werewolf has no choice but to shift. A werewolf can't stop it. Trust me, I spent months trying.

 Lauren stood and offered me a hand. I stood without taking it, pulling the fishnet T-shirt down over my hips. Her eyes flicked to the pentacle scar above my sternum, and then to my face. I stared at the hand she continued to offer.

  The corner of her mouth twitched. "I promise you, little wolf, that I will not bite. I am only offering my aid." 

"Oh, well," I said sarcastically, "since you promised." She frowned. "You do not believe me?" Her shoulders rose in a slow shrug and suddenly my ears were ringing with the sound of the music blaring. My eyes widened in surprise as I felt the wolf's response, her furred body pushing against my shields. I didn't take Lauren's hand—I snatched it. I didn't care if it made me appear weak. 

The moment her cool skin touched mine, it was like she'd blocked out the entire world, so that we stood in a bubble of energy containing only the two of us. "You may not be as prideful as I thought," she whispered and made to step closer to me. I backed up a step, keeping her hand in mine, but putting some distance between us. "Don't test your luck," I said in a low voice. The look in her eyes was one of amusement, not anger. "As you wish," she said. "Come, so we may talk." She made to walk toward a large staircase along the southern wall of the club and I dug my heels in, unmoving.

 Lauren's head tilted curiously to the side and I watched as she thought about it, her grip tightening like hardened steel. "I don't like commands," I said. "You may be a countess, but I'm not your bitch." She went very, very still. I felt her look go through me like a knife, and forced myself not to flinch. Why did I get the feeling that pissing her off shortened my life expectancy? And then her look turned quizzical. She gave a slight nod, amethyst jewels glistening like purple tears in her raven hair. "Very well." She moved, bringing the train of her long dress to drape at the crook of her arm. "Would it help if I said please?"

 "Yes." Slowly, her grip loosened. I was waiting for her to say please when Shawn coughed. We both looked at him. "I am afraid," she said, "that this is a private conversation." She turned her surreal eyes to me. "You should have brought another wolf with you before coming into a club, Camila." She dropped her voice, and the music, in our little energy bubble, sounded like it was underwater.

 I could hear her words clearly, but I sensed that others could not. "Is it the first time you've tried your hand at shielding from this much?" I thought about it and shook my head. "I don't know," I answered. "I've had to shield pretty strongly before." 

"As strongly as this?" she asked. "You are surrounded by other preternatural beings and humans. You have dealt with both at the same time?" She didn't look like she believed me. Put that way, no, I hadn't. I'd never been around so many vampires, humans, and a few werewolves in one enclosed space like this. "Now you know," she said. "Were you part of a pack, then the wolves would have come to your aid." She stepped into my personal space. "As you are not..." She laughed at the look on my face. 

"Oh, Camila, I have many spies in this city. I know you do not belong to a pack. Why do you think I am here, helping you?" She gave a coy smile. "I do not need the bad publicity." 

"I'm glad to know you care." She frowned. A second later she was against me. Her arm slipped around my waist as she pulled me to her. I put a hand on her shoulder, feeling the line of her like cool silk. I was suddenly very aware of the fact that only fishnet and bra were guarding my skin. "You taste of power." She was tall enough, probably 5'6, that she had to bend at the waist to whisper in my ear. Her breath tickled those tiny hairs, causing goose bumps to break out across my skin.

 "You have honed some of that power, Camila, but tonight, tonight you are drowning and your hold on the wolf within has slipped." She lifted our clasped hands between us, drawing back and gazing at me with intensity. "I care very much what would happen if your hold was to slip entirely." I swallowed, breathing carefully to slow my erratic pulse. "Fair enough."

 "So I thought," she said, and this time when she led the way, I went with her. I spared a glance at Shawn and held up a hand. I mouthed, "Wait." He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head like he couldn't believe I was actually asking him to wait while I went off with a vampire. 

Lauren led the way up a curling staircase, past rows of low tables and velvet couches, to a door in a darkened corner of the room. She held the door open and I went through. I felt her withdraw her power as her fingers uncurled from my own. I took a deep steadying breath as she shut the door, drowning out the obnoxious music. The walls were soundproof, how nice. 

I took a deep breath and drew in her scent. Beyond that airy scent, she smelled of cinnamon and cloves. It made my head reel, but it didn't call to the beast. The wolf didn't consider vampires to be a food source. Good to know. 

I had a moment to give thanks to the lycanthropy that allowed me to see in the dark. The room was dark and empty. Everything looked like a black-and-white movie. Against the far wall was a long black couch facing a white leather love seat. The carpet was soft beneath my boots. 

I moved to watch as Lauren plucked a box of matches from a table and began lighting the candles that lined the room's perimeter, bringing the color gradually back to my vision. An opera cloak the color of dark plums graced her shoulders, falling down her back and bringing out the gray stitching in her corset. 

The corset was tight to her body and had enough lift to offer a demure amount of décolletage. She unbent her arm and let the train of her dress slither to the floor in a fall of silk. Her eyes outlined in dark eyeliner were dark emerald in the candlelight. She sat on the couch, crossing her long shapely legs. A line of fishnet and pale skin peeked through the slit in her skirt.

 I was beginning to feel a little trendy. She placed her elbow on her thigh, resting her chin upon a slightly curled fist. "You said you were trailing Dinah Hansen?" I nodded, sitting opposite to her on the love seat. Against the blackness of the couch, her pale skin seemed even more unnaturally pale. She sat like some terrible beauty wrapped within the folds of a darkly delicious dream. 

"Do you know her?" I asked.

Lauren's red lips curved into a mysterious smile. "Yes," she said. "Though I've yet to figure out why you're trailing the woman who hired you," she added. "Surely she did not hire you to spy on her?" This time, I was the one who went very, very still.

 "How do you know that Dinah Hansen hired me?" I had not told her that. "Who do you suppose told her about you?" She smiled deviously. For a moment, I just stared at her. "You know," I said, "I get that you have eyes and ears all over the city. I get that you may have heard of me. I don't get how, but I get that you might've. What I don't comprehend is why you would send Dinah? What I don't fathom," I said, cocking my head, "is how you know Dinah." 

"How long have you been a werewolf?" she asked, and it seemed to me she was changing the subject. "Why?" "I suppose," she said, flicking her wrist negligently, "it is not that important. What is important is that I knew you were not intimately involved with the preternatural community." She leaned back, watching me. "Dinah's brother went missing and neither I nor any of my vampires could find him. How I know of you is of little importance. What matters is that I advised her to approach someone outside of pack, where her alpha would not find out. You are outside of pack. You are not within the reach of the local alpha werewolf."

 "What do the vampires have to do with the wolves?" I returned her unwavering stare. "What do you have to do with Dinah Hansen?" She gave me an irritated look. "If you would listen, you would hear that I am getting to that."

 "Fine, I'm all ears." 

"Every city has a power structure," she said. "The more dominant community is the more powerful. The more powerful the leader, the more dominant the community. Most of the time," she said, "we, the vampires, are the ones that dominate the rest of the community. We keep the rest of the preternatural community," she hesitated for a moment before saying, "in check." The corner of her mouth curved. "If you hadn't noticed, we have quite the effect on lycanthropes."

 I remembered the wash of cool energy, calming and soothing the beast. "Oh, no." I smiled despite myself. "I hadn't noticed." Camila laughed and my stomach did a little flip. "So," I said, "the vampires pretty much govern the rest of the preternatural community? That's your connection to the wolves?" She dipped her head. "Precisely."

"How do you know Dinah?" 

"She works for me."

 "Here?" I asked. Lauren gave me a look. "Where else?" The door opened and I had one of those speak-of-the-devil moments as a woman came in, talking in a familiar voice. "I did what you suggested," she said. "I..." 

I met Dinah's honey brown eyes. "Camila," she said. "Dinah."

 "What are you doing here?" I crossed my legs, turning to look at her. "What were you doing earlier tonight?" I asked. "Stuff," she said. "What kind of stuff?"

 "You're not a member of the pack," she said, smiling. "I know where you were," I said. Dinah swallowed loud enough that I could hear it. I patted the couch.

 "Sit down," I said, "I think we need to have a little chat."