The Witch's Dream - A Love Letter to Paranormal Romance (Black Swan 2) (33 page)

Elora gave herself an internal slap for letting her eyes wander toward his crotch. As soon as she realized she had done it, she jerked her gaze upward. Too late. Though his expression was passive, his eyes said, "Caught you looking."

It wasn't that she was interested. She was mated well and true. It was just that he was a commanding figure who was extraordinarily gifted in the department of male packaging.

"Stalkson Grey?' Simon asked.

The werewolf gave no response, but continued to stare at Elora. His expression, which was already hard and unyielding, seemed to be growing stonier with every second that passed.

Ram finally arrived with Harry. As they were approaching from behind, Ram heard a low, almost inaudible, but unmistakable growl coming from Grey.

"Hey! 'Tis my mate you're bloody growlin' at!" When Ram's natural mate instincts roared to life, he forgot all about the fact that Elora was in a better position to take care of herself than any other humanoid on the planet. He started toward the wolf, but Harry grabbed him by the shoulder and spoke to Elora.

"Lady Laiken, the king is becomin' distressed by your refusal to look away." Harry kept a symbolically restraining hand on Ram's shoulder.

Elora did not take her eyes away from Grey, but her expression changed to uncertainty and her brows pulled down into a small frown. "What do you mean look away?"

"Kings do no' like to be looked in the eye for longer than a couple of seconds. They expect others to look away."

At that Elora did jerk her gaze toward Harry. She stared for a couple of beats and then laughed like it was a practical joke. "You're kidding, right?"

Harry shifted his weight from one foot to the other out of nervous habit. Meanwhile, the visiting werewolf held the same unforgiving pose, but seemed just a little less menacing now that Elora's attention was focused elsewhere. "No ma'am. I'm no' kiddin'."

Elora pulled her chin back and gave Grey a look like he was a circus exhibit. "Why would he expect others to look away?"

Harry put his hands in his pockets and studied the carpet by his toes. He mumbled, "To establish dominance.”

"Beg your pardon?" Elora tried not to sound exasperated. "Harry, I can barely understand you even when you speak up. Say that again."

Harry looked up at Elora, but seemed embarrassed.

Simon interjected. "Some of the tribes uphold the old werewolf customs." To Grey he said: "Thank you for coming all this way, my lord. We are honored to have you and regret that our personnel have limited experience in the actual presence of lupans."

Grey still did not look away from Elora, who had resumed staring at the king of the Elk Mountain, Idaho reservation lupan tribe. Elora was indignant. Without looking away, she said to Simon: "You're apologizing for
me
because I'm not going to let some pretty boy wolf strut into Order headquarters and behave like a schoolyard bully?"

The corner of Grey's right eye twitched slightly when she said "pretty boy" and she noted, with a little satisfaction, that his eyes sparked right after the taunt. He was probably cursing himself for practically wincing, divulging weakness and his agitation was escalating again. Elora was reacting with hostility of her own keeping pace with the tightening spiral.

"And, furthermore," she said, "I don't really want Harry placed with someone whose self-importance depends on mindless demonstrations of tyranny."

Simon and Ram groaned simultaneously. Simon said, "Crap," pinching the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger like he was developing a headache.

"'Tis fine ma'am," Harry found his voice and interjected. "I can adjust to a tribe that's a little old-fashioned. I will just be happy to be with others of my kind."

Elora looked at Harry like he'd grown an extra head. "Harry, you can't mean that you want to go with this..." She scrutinized the werewolf king by unapologetically looking him up and down, "...despot."

That pushed the werewolf to the end of his tether. He took a threatening step toward Elora and snarled so loudly she could hardly believe the sound came from a face that seemed so human. Acting purely out of reflex, before the wolf could even know she had moved, Elora had lifted him and slammed him onto his back. Relative to her capability she used great restraint, but a body slam was still a body slam. And it hurt.

He was initiating snarl phase of the domination ritual. Then, the next thing he knew he was on his back on the floor with no breath in his lungs, with a woman on one knee holding him down. The impertinent female's hand pressed lightly, but with undeniable authority, around his neck, thumb threatening his carotid artery.

She didn't break anything. Thankfully. But the air had been forced from his body. He stared at her face in shock while he turned various shades of blue and purple waiting for lungs to wake up. Finally, he drew in a ragged breath and his color began to return to normal. After a few minutes he had refilled his lungs and was breathing normally again. He turned his head to the side to expose his neck.

When he did so, Harry hissed in a breath and turned away. "He has submitted to you. It's over."

Elora said to the werewolf who was currently on the floor and at her mercy: "Submitted huh. You'd better be bloody glad that I didn't give your snarly snout a firm tap with the heel of my hand or else you'd be returning to Moose River..."

Ram cut in. "...Elk Mountain."

"...yes, Elk Mountain, with a broken pecker."

She released Grey and got to her feet. When she looked around, she realized that all the men were staring at her. "What?"

Ram cleared his throat. "Em, when you say 'pecker', would you by any chance be meanin' the werewolf’s nose?"

"Yes. Of course. What else would I mean?"

"Well, in this culture, pecker also refers to... em. Never mind. I'll be explainin' later on then." He gave her a small smile and a pointed look. "In private."

Everyone in the room was prepared for the werewolf king to rise and go storming away in a huff - a version of the-werewolf-has-left-the-building and taken Harry's chances for normalcy with him. Instead, he stayed where he was for a few more minutes and then began making noises indicating amusement. It started with a small chuff that turned into a chuckle and rose to the crescendo of a full out hardy laugh.

When Elora held her hand out to help him up, he took it. Once on his feet he looked back and forth between Simon and Elora.

"Seems I've grown complacent and arrogant in my expectation that everyone in my presence recognize my, apparently exaggerated, importance.

"I suppose I needed a reminder that I'm king of Elk Mountain. Not the world.

"Stalkson Grey." He said his name as he held out his hand to Simon. "I apologize for ignoring you earlier."

Simon shook his hand and nodded toward Elora. "This is Lady Laiken, knight of The Order of the Black Swan." Grey smiled and the redistribution of facial musculature altered his entire persona. He morphed into someone who looked relaxed, approachable, and definitely more handsome. "I believe the two of you have been communicating by telephone about the possible adoption of Harefoot O'Moors?"

Grey's face looked so completely different when he wasn't trying to force others to look away, a concept that would forever strike Elora as, well, stupid. Her feeling was that, if people could walk on two legs and hold a teacup, shifter or not, they should be held to a certain standard of civility.

"Yes. We have." He turned to Elora. "At the moment I'm feeling extremely grateful that you are not wolf or you might be attempting to claim the entire earth. And I cannot say for certain you wouldn't succeed."

Now that it had been established that Elora Laiken was more dominant, Grey seemed friendly, ingratiating, well-mannered, and almost charming. She found the transformation somewhat welcome and bizarre.

Elora introduced Ram and Harry, then Simon invited Grey to sit on one of the sofas. A few minutes after they were seated, a catering assistant wheeled a stainless steel cart into the room laden with a full tea service including mouthwatering pastries, fruit, and, of course, chocolate - the food of the gods.

The werewolf king graciously accepted a cup of Orange Pekoe tea, but declined sugar saying it slowed him down. Elora quietly snorted into her cup.

They talked about the Elk Mountain reservation, about its pristine wilderness and unrivaled beauty. He shared that in-breeding had become the overriding issue of the day for the heads of tribes and that they were in the process of exchanging wards, young females who would live under the protection of the kings and be raised by the tribes into which they would eventually infuse the blessings of new blood.

"For the past generation we've been whelping far more male than female offspring. Not just my tribe, but, we think, all. We don't have an explanation as to why this is happening, but there aren't enough mates to cool the fevers of young bloods, much less for those like myself who have lost our mates."

"You lost your mate?" Elora's expression toward Grey softened. "I'm sorry." For just a second she glanced at Ram thinking loss of a mate was unimaginable. "How long ago?"

"Seven years."

"And you can't remarry?"

"I could, if there were sufficient females and if I was so inclined. Which I'm not."

"What about humans? Our dog sitter is quarter werewolf. So we know it happens."

The king smiled indulgently. "Certainly we can perform sexually with other closely related species, but only a pure pairing produces shifters."

"Hmmm," Elora started. "Excuse me, I don't mean to speak out of turn or interpose where I'm not invited..." Ram, who had been taking a drink from his teacup, spluttered at that, choking, and was repeatedly beat on the back by Harry with more than necessary force. Elora shot Ram a dirty look. He, in turn, glared at Harry who just smiled like he had thoroughly enjoyed the experience. "But maybe it would make more sense to have pow wows."

The others in the room looked at each other blankly and then said at once. "What's a pow wow?"

"Well. Where I come from there is a large network of aboriginal human tribes that hold regularly scheduled, intertribal festivals. They take place in various locations and last for days at a time. People come and camp out.

"The gatherings serve multiple purposes. They preserve customs and history. They celebrate the culture with games, music, and dance. They establish contacts that may be useful economically and politically, and..." she looked at Grey pointedly, "the young have a chance to meet each other and interact.

"That way,
all
the burden for healthy proliferation doesn't fall to young females who would, without a doubt, prefer to be with their own tribes and families while they are developing into women. Unless your goal is to traumatize them into abject subjugation so early that they never fully mature."

"Laiken!" Simon was instantly replaced with Director/Diplomat Tvelgar who was on his feet and ready to spit fire.

The werewolf's mouth twitched and he held up a hand toward Simon while he said to Elora: "I appreciate the suggestion, but werewolves are extremely territorial, suspicious of outsiders, and we tend to express that in violent ways. Having so many together in one place could be a very big gamble, the stakes being lots of blood, ruined trade agreements, and the initiation of feuds that could last for generations."

"I see."

"However, we need more than territory and non-interference to survive in the modern world and evolution is all about adaptation. I will consider the prospect, talk to some of the other leaders and see what they think. The potential for reward might be worth the risk."

"Now," he turned to Simon, "is there someplace where the loner and I can talk awhile?"

"Certainly," said Simon, standing and gesturing toward his inner office. "Please use my office. Take as long as you need."

Harry and the king disappeared behind doors and Elora slumped back against the sofa.

"You need a course in diplomacy, young lady." Simon glared at Elora.

"
You
need a course in loyalty, Director," she shot back. "And don't call me young lady. I didn't like that shit when I was one and I
really
don't like it now."

Looking at Simon, Ram sat back shaking his head and crossed his arms over his very photogenic abs. "Oh. You have done it now."

Simon ignored Ram and stared at Elora until she finally said: "
Please
tell me
you're
not trying to 'establish dominance' by gawking. It can't be contagious."

"Lady Laiken, this situation seems to have turned you out of sorts. I'm sure you do not intend to be challenging a superior."

Ram made some garbled noise that had them both turning to look at him reprovingly.

Elora continued. "Look, Simon, I spent most of my life being
painfully
polite. When I came to your world I was set free to speak the truth and I've been enjoying life a lot more."