ROMANCING THE WEREWOLF
CHAPTER ONE
The Problem with Purple
“But Alpha, purple is simply not appropriate.” Quinn’s growly voice somehow edged into whining.
The rest of the werewolf pack tried to shush him, but the damage was done.
“I beg your pardon!” Sandalio de Rabiffano, newly minted
Lord Falmouth, better known to the rarified fuzz and fang of the
supernatural set as Biffy, Alpha of the London Pack, nearly leapt to his
feet… at the dinner table. He was that offended. Of course, he
remembered himself long before he could commit such a profound breach
of etiquette. He was, after all, still Biffy.He narrowed his eyes instead. “I assure you, purple is a perfectly
delightful color and is more than appropriate to all venues, ages,
genders, and species!”“It doesn’t hearken to nature,” Phelan came to his pack mate’s
defense with an intellectual argument. He cocked his head socratically,
his studied air rather defeated by the fact that he had to stop stuffing
his face with steak and kidney pie in order to talk. Biffy swung his
discerning glare onto him, judging his manner, his decision to speak
against his Alpha, his choice of argument, and his ill-judged belief
that Quinn had opened the floodgates of objection.This anti-purple rhetoric would be nipped, most sharply, in the bud.
“Plenty of lovely natural things are purple: sunsets, sunrises for that
matter, iris, aubergines, oysters.” Nip nip nip! “Although” – he
frowned, and then remembered he didn’t like the way this wrinkled his
forehead, so stopped – “these are all different shades of purple. Is that the true objection? Should I choose a different shade?”A chorus of groans met that. They’d already been at this for an hour,
Biffy finally settling on this particular deep, rich, dark plum velvet.
Ordinarily, the pack didn’t care about interior decorations and would
rather he choose without involving them. Ordinarily, he would have. But
this was a communal curtain situation and they were his pack. Curtains
should matter to his pack. And now, it seemed, of a sudden they did matter.Biffy pursed his lips. He knew this was the correct color.
Knew it in his very bones. Bones that moved and shifted and broke every
full moon, so possibly not as reliable as they might once have been, but
still… “Why are you arguing with me on this particular detail? Purple
would suit the room best. You never usually care two tail shakes for
this sort of thing.” Why object now about something I know is right?Adelphus, who was at that moment wearing a purple evening jacket (not
plum, more violet, but still), looked monumentally uncomfortable. He
fiddled with one of the fabric samples set out before them. Biffy
suppressed the instinct to slap the man’s hand away – Adelphus might
leave a grease stain. But no, it was fine, Adelphus was mostly tame. “I
simply feel the green…”“In that room? Are you mad?” Biffy tried not to let the frustration
color his voice. He knew what he was talking about. This was what he
did. He made rooms beautiful. He made people beautiful. Or he used to,
before he lost most of his soul and creativity.Doubt, his old friend, shook him then. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe the
purple is unpleasant. Maybe I’ve lost my eye for color as well as
everything else. No. Stop second-guessing. It’s the purple or nothing. And nothing was not an option in a house full of werewolves. Sunlight being rather more of an issue when one was allergic to it.He took a breath. I’m the Alpha, for goodness’ sake. Aren’t they supposed to listen to me? Instinctively obey me?
“God’s teeth, it’s only curtains!” Even Rafe, the most easygoing of the pack, was getting annoyed.
Biffy huffed. “Curtains,” he explained slowly as though to a very
thick child (which, to be fair, rather defined Rafe’s character), “are a
serious business.”“Don’t you think they’ll be too dark for the room?” Hemming was
clearly not at all sure of himself. It sounded as if he were trying to
come up with an excuse. As if he really had some other reason for
objecting. As if they all did.What is going on here?
Biffy swept a critical gaze over his nervous pack. “All right, chaps, what’s the truth here? What’s actually wrong with purple?”
His pack all looked collectively guilty. They exchanged glances.
Finally, they all turned to Adelphus as if he were the one best at
calming their new, young, purple-minded Alpha.Poor Adelphus. He isn’t my Beta, but he keeps getting cast in that role. Biffy
winced away from that thought, like touching a sore tooth. He didn’t
want to think about his Beta. He didn’t want to miss him.He’d agree with me about the purple.
A nice dark plum, ideal to show off the daring ash furniture and
sumptuous cream brocades he’d chosen for the rest of the drawing room.
With some luscious ferns scattered about, and a few other plants,
shelves of books, and other knickknacks. It would look rich and striking
yet bright and welcoming and…Adelphus looked uncomfortable. But at least he’s stylish. Perhaps I should listen to him. We have something in common.
Biffy paused to think a little on that. It took a great deal of
effort for a werewolf to have style. Getting naked once a month, ripping
clothes constantly, and turning into a slavering beast was only the
start of the afterlife’s many dandy challenges.Something for me to be proud of. Biffy had come a long way from the lonely, scruffy want-to-be vampire of his first few years as a werewolf pup. My hair alone was a complete shambles.
Certainly, he still wasn’t a very good Alpha. He’d no idea how to run a
pack. He’d never successfully metamorphosed a claviger, and he was
still looked down upon by other Alphas. In fact, the litany of his
failings over the past twenty years since his metamorphosis filled his
brain, but… At least I am a werewolf with style. And I can bloody well pick out curtains!He fully glared at Adelphus, putting Alpha will behind the look.
Adelphus crumpled. “See here, Alpha. I mean no disrespect and no insult to your former life.” His eyes were wary.
“Go on,” said Biffy, trying not to let his voice sink into a growl.
“But, sir…”
Now that felt weird. Adelphus was at least a hundred years his senior, possibly twice that, and sir was an honorific Biffy did not feel he deserved.
“Yes?”
“Purple is a vampire color.”
Biffy let out a long sighing kind of snort. “Oh, for goodness’ sake! We have colors now?”
Quinn tried to help. “It’s accepted all ‘round as standard practice
for spaces and coaches and cushions and that sort of thing.” He failed
the dismount.“That sort of thing?” Biffy let his outrage show.
“It’s only, Alpha, this is a big step, us moving away from Himself
next door. We don’t want any reminders of previous intimacies.” Hemming
was trying to be kind.What he was saying was actually: We don’t want you to have any reminders.
Biffy suddenly understood. They were worried he was pining for lost futures. How sweet of them.
“How many times do I have to tell you I’m not upset about being a werewolf instead of a vampire?”
Incredulous looks all ‘round.
“Fine, I’m not upset anymore. Honestly.”
All the werewolves were displaying varying degrees of disbelief.
Biffy had made no secret, at first, that werewolf was not what he wanted
for an afterlife. Back then, it had been hard to hide, he was so
wounded, knowing he could have made it. To have enough excess soul to
become a werewolf meant he might have become a vampire instead. Vampire
would have suited him so much better – his personality, his plans, his
future, his soul (or what was left of it). But that wasn’t what
happened, and he’d had twenty years to come to terms with that. Purple
curtains were not going to sway him into flights of his former
melancholy.I assure you, he wanted to say again, I’m not pining! Except
that he was. Only it wasn’t for a state of undead – it was for a
person. It wasn’t so much an ache, a void at the edge of his
consciousness, as a missing piece. The same piece that was missing from
his pack, the balance point that they all yearned for. The one who
could, so easily and gently, have settled the matter of purple curtains.Biffy told himself for the millionth time that it was nothing more
than an Alpha’s need for his Beta. He refused to believe that after
twenty years, his heart hurt for a connection it had had so long ago,
for such a short space of time. He forced his mind not to go in that
direction. There were too many other things, too many important things
that he must deal with, and pining for his Beta (non-sexually or
otherwise) wouldn’t solve anything.With a sigh, he capitulated. Which likely wasn’t a good decision.
Alphas were supposed to be strong, commanding, hold to their point of
view. Or something like that.He went with his second option. “I suppose blood red is out, too.”
The pack all looked at one another.
“We werewolves customarily get outdoor colors like browns and greens and such.” Phelan was trying to help.
Biffy glared. “I am attempting to give us an aura of sophistication!
It’s 1895. We live in London. Earth tones are so very last decade!”The werewolves now looked as though they were trying not to laugh. At least a few of them did.
“Why do vampires get to have purple? Is it a rule? Something to do
with royalty?” Biffy had learned there were lots of unwritten rules to
immortality. The werewolves called them protocols, but really they were traditionally codified rules.Adelphus smiled. “Not officially. It’s more to do with Rome.”
Biffy grinned back. “Oh, yes, ancient history, is it?”
Biffy knew he had a bit of a lax attitude about tradition. But then
again, wasn’t that part of his role? In his lucid days, before the
previous Alpha went mad with Alpha’s curse, Lord Maccon would say, This is your time, Biffy. Bring us into the modern age. We
have to learn to accommodate the present, or we are going to become
obsolete. You’re important to all werewolves – you represent a new kind
of Alpha.I’m failing. I’m failing him. And I’m failing them. Well, us, I suppose I should say. He looked at his pack sitting around the dinner table, worried, uncomfortable.
Biffy stood. He wasn’t particularly tall, but he had good form and
excellent posture. He was a practiced gentleman and he called upon that
sophistication (in lieu of arrogance) so that he could put his
beautifully shod foot very firmly down.“Purple curtains. End of discussion.”
Adelphus opened his mouth. Biffy glared. “End. Of. Discussion.”
Adelphus snapped his mouth closed and tilted his head quickly to show his neck. “Yes, Alpha.”
With a start, the others followed suit.
Biffy marched from the room. Feeling a little faint. Which he
attributed to not having had time to eat – too busy arguing about
curtains.
what i do is not up to you 