Page 2 of Werewolves Don't Howl
He nodded at her, but then he focused on me and I could feel my neck getting stiff. He was dangerously attractive from afar, but close up he was absolutely lethal. And he knew it. If I knew anything about people, Senator Silverton used his looks to unbalance those around him, to get them to put down their guard. It wasn’t vanity that had him brushing his hair to a glowing sheen, but manipulation. Unless I was wrong. That happened more often than I liked.
“Are you hoping to do a piece on me?” he asked, all cold politeness.
I smiled and shook my head. “I’m just a society reporter, not a political journalist covering policies and elections. I’m sure you’d rather interview with Bertran or Bernice, or one of the national reporters.”
He humphed, and we both stared at him. For an elf, that was incredibly rude. Elves didn’t make sounds. They spoke clearly, eloquently, and always politely. His voice was a low rumble of dismissiveness. “That’s right. You’re only a fluff writer. Best to leave the serious writing to a serious journalist.”
I stared at him, blinking while my heart beat faster and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. That was an insult. Even for someone who wasn’t an elf with their strict code of conduct, it would be rude. “I beg your pardon?” Surely he’d misspoken. He was a politician and an elf. Whatever he said was intentional, and no politician would bother to insult an insignificant society reporter.
He gave me a charming smile. Now he’d say something that smoothed my feathers and made me vote for him. “You’d rather feed the egos of the self-important nonessential instead of focusing your efforts on making an actual difference in the world.” His voice was smooth, the tone everything polite and pleasant, but the words were as sharp as a slap, leaving me reeling.
The senator had insulted me. Twice. About my job. Was he going to mock me for being short, too?
I laughed and shrugged helplessly. “At least I don’t walk around making people crane their necks. It must be hard to be so high and mightily above everyone around you.”
Forsythia gasped, and I stiffened up. I’d insulted him back. On a job when my livelihood depended on me being notoriously pleasant and slightly bumbling. Harmless. That’s what I was. I didn’t have four-inch fangs hiding beneath my skin that could easily rip out Forsythia and the Senator’s throats. Nope. I forced another laugh, this time sounding slightly hysterical. The senator’s eyes gleamed, and his brow flicked, showing an emotion that the rest of his body hid with perfect indifference.
Forsythia laughed melodiously and put a hand on his arm. “I think I see someone else you’d like to meet.”
He smiled at her warmly. “You are very considerate to introduce me to all of your lovely friends and acquaintances.”
They walked away, me still standing there, stunned by the words that had come out of such a pretty face and the fact that I’d insulted him in return. If Forsythia hadn’t dragged him away, I might have kicked his shins. I looked down at my red heels that went so well with my simple crimson sheath dress. No, this wasn’t a kicking-shins outfit. Not that they had those. Where were my knitting needles when I needed them? I had an image of stabbing the perfectly gorgeous elf through his tuxedo. Bad Delphi. Knitting wasn’t for stabbing, but for keeping me from breaking out the wolf and dominating the frustratingly vain populace it was my job to flatter.
I was still standing there, watching the Senator and Forsythia mingle with apparent ease when someone stepped behind me and held a drink over my shoulder, vanilla with a touch of rose. How appropriate for a garden party. The scent of old papers and chlorophyl was distinctly my father’s old friend.
“You met the senator. What do you think of him?” His voice was elegant, arch, slightly cynical.
I turned around to smile at my boss’s boss, Zephin Clay, the media mogul who’d helped me get a job almost thirteen years ago when I’d been so desperate to regain some humanity. He was tall, as all elves are, with silver eyes and hair that he’d no doubt been born with. His face was more angular than the senator’s, and there was something fox-like about him. Clever. Amused at the foolishness of others.
“Mr. Clay,” I said, taking the drink with a genuine smile. “Have you seen the maze? I thought it might be of particular interest to you.” I raised a brow to suggest that I knew his secrets.
He smiled and took my arm, leading me in the direction of the maze, away from the main party. He was another extremely handsome elf, but old enough that he looked ageless instead of young, like the senator. “Miss Era, are we on such formal terms?” His eyes twinkled, and I let my smile warm up as I focused on my father’s old friend instead of watching Senator Silverton’s progress through the garden.
“Mr. Clay, as we both know, there’s no such thing as too much formality between elves.”
“But are you an elf?”
I raised a brow. “Just because I’m short doesn’t mean that I’m not elf enough to appreciate the use of honorifics. What do you think of them?” I asked, nodding at the two fifteen-foot metal lions that stretched up as if to battle each other, paws and claws extended.
“You spoke to Lady Leticia,” he said drily as we passed beneath the frozen drama. “Do you think a masked ball would be ridiculous?”
“If you hosted, how could it be anything other than tastefully brilliant?”
“You don’t think me too dull to put on such an extravaganza, Miss Era?”
“Dull? Zephin Clay the great innovator? You must be joking.”
He smiled slightly. “You prefer to speak about a maze rather than the exciting young senator? I’m intrigued. He didn’t catch your eye? I find that hard to believe.”
“He spoke more bluntly than I expected from a politician or an elf. That’s all.”
His eyes shone with interest. “Did he? Shall I refuse him entrance to the ball? That’ll show some Texan upstart that he can’t insult our dear Delphi and get away with it.”
I shook my head. “He didn’t insult me. Nothing like that. He just talked about journalism in general. I don’t believe he’s a fan,” I said softly.
“Then he insulted both of us. I’ll certainly ban him from my ball.”
“I’m sure if that’s the case, you were already looking for a reason to blacklist him. What did he do?” I asked, genuinely curious.
