Rejecting Him

Friday seemed to come too soon. I took my sweet time in picking out my dress--a gold, calf-length number with a small slit in the back that went up to my knees--and half-heartedly applied my makeup. I had thought of putting my hair up in a simple crown braid, but in the end the look felt too restricting. With heavy, numb fingers I let down my hair, wearing it loose and wavy about my shoulders.

The entire time I felt nothing but sick to my stomach. If dates were supposed to be fun, spontaneous events, then why did I feel like I was preparing myself for a trip to the gallows?

I tried pretending that I was going out with Logan instead. He would meet me at the restaurant, a smile lighting up his sweet boy-next-door face. He’d take my hand in his, kiss me softly on the cheek--or perhaps on my lips--and lead me inside…

No!

For just a moment, Warren’s face flashed in my mind’s eye, and I realized just how wrong the whole thing was. I sank onto the lowered toilet lid in despair, trying desperately not to cry.

~

I had never been to Barron’s before, only heard about it from friends who had chosen it for their sweet sixteen. From what I’d heard, it was one of those fancy sit-down restaurants where couples go on their anniversaries, where every night is a black tie affair, and children who liked to run up and down restaurant aisles need not apply.

Even still, I wasn’t prepared for this. Seeing the clean white building with wide bay windows, the warm golden glow from candle-lit tables, and the clearly wealthy Pearl District patrons made me feel like I belonged anywhere but here. Make no mistake--my family was well-off, as us werewolves had our ways--but this was well above and beyond what I was used to.

Piano music drifted out the restaurant’s open door. Mixed in wit the classical tune was the low hum of the patrons themselves. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to get lost in the music, even if it was for just a moment. While I mostly listened to club stuff and top forties, I’d always appreciated classical. It was soothing, in a way, and provided a nice background noise while I did my homework back when I was growing up.

“Ah. You made it.”

I opened my eyes in irritated alarm. Warren grinned, giving me an up-and-down gaze.

“And you dressed up. That’s good. You clean up nicely.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Clean up nicely?” Of course, I actually wanted to give him a verbal bitch slap. I didn’t work for a department store for nothing; part of offering fashion advice for a living meant you had to be stylish yourself. Unless I was mistaken, Warren had never known me during my awkward phase, pre-department store job.

“I was afraid the Eighty-Second had rubbed off on you.” He chuckled. I just shook my head.

“Let’s just go inside,” I grumbled. As I turned to do just that, I felt a hand on my arm jerk me backward. I glanced down angrily. Warren’s hand was clamped tightly around my upper arm.

“Let’s go in together,” Warren said. His tone was one of no argument.

“What happened to ‘ladies first’?” I asked coolly.

“Together.”

~

I only had a moment to study my surroundings once we were inside. Our hostess--who, to my horror, was the blonde from Seattle--came in and sat us in no time at all.

The piano music turned out to be live. A young man in a suit played so well that I wondered why he wasn’t onstage somewhere. But it looked like he was doing something with his talent; on top of the white baby grand was a sign advertising a stack of CDs. The cases looked like the kind you could find in a Walgreens drugstore.

The restaurant itself had the feel of an ancient Greco-Roman temple. The walls were gold, and white columns with gold trim decorated the dining area. Above us, the ceiling arched into a dome of amber-colored glass. The entire place took my breath away.

“Wow…” I breathed, looking around. Warren smiled lazily, once again leaving me with a cat-like impression of him.

“I’m glad you approve,” he said. “Cecily--that wolf over there--her father owns the place.”

He nodded to our blonde hostess. I withheld a shiver at the thought of one of his cronies having connections to Portland.

“Is her father one of us?” I asked carefully.

“And her mother,” Warren said with a nod.

I was curious now what connections she had to the Emerald City Pack, and if her parents were loners, since I’d never seen any of them before now. But that would have to wait. Tonight was all about Warren. I made a mental note to learn about Cecily as well, after tonight. Perhaps Alanna or Jen could watch her.

“Fascinating,” I said with the same cat-like smile.

Inwardly I searched through my memories. Was there a file on Cecily--or even her parents, depending on that family’s Seattle connections--that I had overlooked? Oh well, too late now. Knowing Dad, he had surely changed the lock on his office door.

“I’m sure I fascinate you just as much, if not more-so,” Warren replied as our waiter approached. Like the piano player, he was young, probably fresh out of high school. He had coppery red hair that glowed in the soft lighting and had bright, wide green eyes. Annoyance flickered behind Warren’s eyes at the intrusion. “A bottle of champagne please,” Warren said brusquely before the waiter could breathe a word.

“And red wine for me--” I began.

“Champagne for us both.” Warren eyed me, challenging me to object. I just leaned back in my chair.

“Fine, champagne,” I muttered. The waiter seemed unsure of himself as he took down the order. His pen hovered just above the page in his notebook.

“May I have some ID?” he asked. I gave him a subtle once-over. He just screamed newbie.

Warren’s lip twitched, another indicator of annoyance, but he handed over the ID anyway. I handed mine to the waiter as well, once again smiling. Sometimes I couldn’t help but forget the perks of rejecting a younger wolf. The waiter carefully looked over our IDs, frowning, and handed them back.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not allowed to serve alcohol to anyone under twenty-one.”

“This is a very special night,” Warren insisted. “Please bring me and my lady friend a bottle of champagne.”

The waiter held his ground. “I am not allowed to, now is there anything else I can bring you?”

Warren sighed and rolled his eyes. “Water will be fine. With a lemon wedge.”

“And you, miss?” the waiter asked, turning to me. I smiled and looked Warren right in the eye as I spoke.

“Yes. A glass of red wine.”

~

After the waiter had brought out our food--veal for Warren and a nice bloody steak for me--I figured now was the time to finally get some answers. Warren was still fuming from his inability to get us champagne, even more so because I got my wine and refused to order him anything from that same menu. A part of me wanted to order another glass of wine, just to rub it in, but after what had happened between us in the parking lot, I knew perfectly well that Warren wasn’t someone to get drunk around.

“So, pack business, huh?” I said around a bite of steak.

“If I’m getting to know my mate, then yes,” Warren confirmed. I smirked and sipped my water.

“How very romantic of you.”

“Sneaking around in your parents’ home must be the height of romance for you,” he countered. In an instant his lazy smile had returned, though there was no humor in it. I tried to hide how unnerved I felt and gave Warren a smile in return.

“All for you babe.”

“Well, here I am, ready to talk,” he said impatiently, spreading his arms wide. “Ask me your questions and I’ll tell you no lies.”

“What are you doing here and why were you banned?” I quickly asked.

Warren paused and sipped his water. In an instant his eyes became distant, almost unreadable. I sat back and crossed my arms, waiting for him to speak. Banishment, for any werewolf, could be a touchy subject. For them it could very well mean the end of their world, just after being bitten in the first place. With Warren, though I wasn’t as certain. He seemed to…careless.

“The Alpha--Peter Lobos--always had it out for me. He couldn’t stand me,” Warren began. “But he did not banish me.”

I blinked in surprise. “They…didn’t?”

Warren laughed. “Of course they didn’t. I left. Simple as that.”

“But I thought--” I stammered, then, correcting myself, “Why?”

Warren shrugged. “The Alpha is weak, and old, yet the others in the Emerald City Pack treated him like some sort of god. Until I came along, that is. I found better hunting grounds, I was able to help the newbies find a place to stay and a job to support themselves and whatnot, and I even mediated at pack meetings when I had to. I was beating the Lobos at his own game and he could see it. Finally, I just did what I had to and challenged him for the title.”

I frowned. “What did he do?”

“The coward did nothing. And I left.”

I didn’t believe what I was hearing, yet this was it, straight from the horse’s mouth.

“So you ran,” I said. “Isn’t that cowardly too?”

Warren’s face darkened as if a storm cloud had passed over it. “I didn’t. Run. I was just sick of that useless old man having so much power. I wanted to join a pack that at least had some self-respect.”

“But why Oregon, then? Why not some place nicer, like California? Or Mexico?”

Warren arched an eyebrow, his smile wavering for the briefest of seconds. “I had never been to Oregon before, but I’ve heard nice things about the state. It’s beautiful.” His eyes seemed to pierce into my very heart. I sipped my water, once again hiding my dis-ease.

“Your family must miss you.”

Warren waved his hand dismissively. “They don’t know why I left. They think I moved away for college. But my mom probably wouldn’t care if she knew I’d just up and skipped town, though. She and I have never been close.”

I returned to my water again, this time taking a bigger gulp. Maybe another glass of wine wouldn’t be so bad...

“Don’t you ever worry about Cecily and that other wolf?” I asked, wondering if they might still be loyal to Alpha Lobos.

“Her brother?” Warren laughed. Still grinning, he shook his head. “Oh, no. Cecily and Michael would never betray me.”