The Color Within by K.A.M. Lashley

Author:K.A.M. Lashley [Lasley, Kamal]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bound to Brew

An Ink Black

FAMILY WAS A WORD that occasioned those of like minds and kindred blood to feel a sense of belonging. As tradition would have it, a patriarch often governed the regulations the said family lived by. A loving matriarch would offset the stoic predisposition of the alpha and display qualities in which her kin could seek solace. An unspoken code of sorts.

What happens when the matriarch is lost in the past? Battling trauma and plights of devilish degrees, unable to buffer the prosaic deficiencies of the man's stipulation. What happens when there is no one to question the alpha?

What happens when hate is the only regulation?

Flo and Arthur simmered in the lounge room having evening tea, shooting the breeze and awaiting the alpha's broody descent from his room. His wife had called him. A dark arrival was on the horizon.

They ignored Loretta, who perched by the window sipping from a cocktail—when she remembered she was holding it—of lemon, vinegar, and soda water. A product of her inordinate superstitions.

“You see, darling,” Flo began after Arthur had asked how she acquired such a home. It was strange it had taken him this long to inquire. “Many people have different talents. Some sing like songbirds, others can make you believe they are someone they're not, and I, my love,” she stepped towards the mirror and squirted her neck with perfume, “have the talent of intoxication.”

Arthur laughed. “So you throw good parties?” He sipped his tea that was too hot and ate more of the cake he baked. It was the first night in a while he put down the newspaper. Still it lay folded next to his plate.

“No, silly,” she shooed away his joke. “I can make almost any man I meet hand over his heart. Nine out of ten anyway.” That one fat cat from New York was annoyingly loyal to his wedding vows.

“You're telling me you got all this from swindling some rich fool?”

“More or less.”

“Nonsense.”

“You don't believe me?” She screwed him through the reflection in the mirror. “Would you like me to show you how it's done, honey?”

“Please. I'd quite like a house like this for myself.”

Pink lips, swinging hips, and eyes that sent men begging. She hunkered down beside him, threw her leg over his lap and hand around the nape of his neck. Her bottom lip brushed his earlobe as she pressed her bosom against his chest. Warm breath trickled over and down his ear as she whispered something promiscuous, something about the cramp in his toes once she was finished.

Arthur didn't flinch. Not even a peek at her busty cleavage, which was dusted with some shimmery stuff and smelled of plum rose.

Flo looked half hurt and half impressed at his resistance as she shuffled away. “Well, like I said, nine out of ten.”

“Sorry to be the ten.” Arthur saw the mild irritation on her face in the form of pursed lips.

Flo ate a forkful of cake—red velvet was her favorite because of its opulent flavor and societal implications.

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