The Wolf of Dorian Gray_A Werewolf Spawned by the Evil of Man by Brian Ference

Author:Brian Ference [Ference, Brian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: shifter, historical 19th century, werewolf paranormal romance, werewolf action, shifter werewolf, shifter wolf, dorian gray, werewolf, historical 1860s romance, shifter werewolves
ISBN: 9780998325200
Amazon: 0998325201
Publisher: Brian S. Ference
Published: 2016-11-10T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11.

Dark Rumors

It was long past noon when Dorian finally awoke in his bedchamber. His valet had crept upstairs and into the room several times to see if his master had yet begun to stir. He wondered what made him sleep late so often. Finally, the bell rang and the valet entered with a pot of strong black tea, a selection of fine bacon and delicate sausage, the day’s correspondence, and yesterday’s edition of The Globe. All these were served meticulously on an ancient set of light-blue china.

The valet gave Dorian a cautious smile. “Monsieur has slept well this morning?”

Dorian let loose a lazy yawn as he stretched his neck and shoulders. “I suppose so. What o’clock is it, my good man?”

“One hour and a quarter, Monsieur.”

So late! Dorian sat up slowly and began sipping his tea while turning over his letters. How interesting. One had been hand delivered that morning from Lady Helena. He put that one aside for the moment and instead began opening the usual tedious dinner invitations, routine tickets to private shows, mundane charity programs, and other of the like that were constantly showered on fashionable young men of his caliber.

One letter in particular contained a heavy bill for a fanciful, chased silver Louis-Quinze toilet. The common people simply did not realize that unnecessary things are the only real necessities in life. The rest of the letters all contained very elegant and courteous communications from several Jermyn Street money-lenders, each offering to advance Dorian large sums of money—for the most reasonable of interest rates and at a moment’s notice.

After dressing in a new pair of silk trousers, he took the letter from Lady Helena to the library to continue his breakfast. As his valet slunk out of the room, his eye happened to track across the portrait that Sage had painted of him and the wolf cub. Dorian shook his head as if to clear his vision. Surely there was still some drowsiness in his eyes. He blinked rapidly and moved closer to the painting. Did the portrait look different? Was it his imagination, or was something terribly off about it?

The image of Dorian himself had not altered, of course. It was the same chiseled face of timeless beauty as always. But the image of the wolf cub had changed in a most impossible way. The wolf in the painting had become larger—much larger. Larger, and more terrifying! The eyes were filled will malice and rage. They shone with a bloodlust and intellect that was unnatural. It far surpassed the normal look of any deadly predator. The beast’s coat had become a much darker grey and no longer had a healthy sheen to it, but rather a mangy and sickly look. The wolf’s face too had changed substantially. The massive teeth had now become more pronounced and extended from the squared, yet somehow more human-looking jaw. In fact, the entire animal had changed in proportion and shape to take on a more elongated and bipedal appearance.

That was completely absurd.

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