Box Set: The Wolf of Dorian Gray Series: Books 1-3

by Brian Ference

  Sage scowled. “Not this one.” She formed her face into the familiar stubborn look which Lady Helena knew meant she might as well give up the argument now—for Sage would never change her mind.

  “Are you sure? My dear, have you lost your mind entirely? This would elevate your fame to a level of international renown. I don’t understand you artist types; so quick to create a masterpiece, then you go and hide it away under a mattress. If you won’t display it, at least let me purchase it from you. Name your price, I’ll pay a considerable sum for it.”

  “I can’t, this painting is not for sale or for display.”

  Lady Helena sat down on the sofa and crossed her long, smooth legs slowly, fixing Sage with a momentary brooding glare. It lasted only for a few seconds before she was laughing in glittering tones. “Why ever not?”

  “You’ll tease me, but it’s just too important to me. I’ve put too much of who I am into it.”

  Lady Helena scoffed. “Too much of who you are? My, you are vain—besides you aren’t even in the painting. It’s just that admittedly striking wolf pup and the most chiseled, intriguingly handsome young Greek god that I have ever beheld. Why, I do believe with those steely blue eyes and those dark locks, no man can be more beguiling.”

  “Yes,” Sage admitted, “Mr. Gray is the most astounding man and quite difficult to look away from.”

  “Mr. Gray? Wait, you mean there is an actual living person who looks this good and I haven’t met him? Where have you been hiding him, you naughty girl?”

  Sage rolled her eyes. “I haven’t been hiding him. I was just enjoying spending time with a new friend and didn’t want him exposed to the terrible social scene that we have here so soon.”

  Lady Helena placed a bejeweled hand innocently over her ample chest. “My dear, I am a happily married woman you know, he has nothing to fear from the likes of me! Although, fear can be an important sign that you are doing the right thing. It is far more fun to do something, than to be constantly afraid of it. To not do something because of fear is really just a deception of self.”

  She paused to examine the expensive ring on her finger. “That is the beauty in being married, the necessity for deception by both spouses. Why, my Lord Husband has no clue what I am doing right now or where I will be later this evening, and it takes at least a few probing questions for me to discover his whereabouts—were I so inclined. But we do so often see each other at a Gala or fundraiser and the occasional dinner, of course. Now I am rambling, tell me about this astonishing young man that you have been keeping all for yourself.”

  Sage sat down next to Lady Helena, excited to relate the tale of her first encounter with the intriguing man in the painting and unable to resist her conspirators tone.

  “It was three months ago at a crowded gallery opening across town. I was having some of my minor works from my Realism period exhibited and was required to make an appearance. I was bored to tears after ten minutes of trying to follow the tedious conversation and limp Hors d’oeuvres. Then I felt someone’s eyes on me from across the room. You know that itchy, ghosts-on-your-neck feeling? I looked to the side and saw him standing there, just looking at me. Oh how I must have made a fool of myself. When our eyes met I stopped breathing and I was terrified. I felt like my whole soul was drained and taken in at that one look from him. His face was art itself, with a jaw hewn from mythology. His figure was a bronze statue of perfection, and an aura of charisma glowed off of him. It felt like my life was fated to that one moment, that one meeting.”

  Sage began picking nervously at the stich work of the sofa. “I was petrified and tried to turn to leave. Then he started walking towards me, with that boyish grin on his face and my feet became frozen in place, as if by an icy glacier. He approached confidently, introduced himself with a courtly bow, and said that he had been waiting all evening just to meet me. Me of all people! He went on to say that my art had inspired him. We talked for hours about art and the various compositions that were on display. He always had a warm smile on his lips and laughed so easily. We had an immediate connection and were friends at once. That was the first time I met Dorian Gray.”

  Lady Helena cocked her head to the side in a distinctively bird-like expression and gave her a calculating look. “Tell me more about this Mr. Gray. How often do you see him?”

  “Nearly every day! It makes me so happy to see him and he sits for my painting for hours.”

  “Why Sage, I thought only your art brought you happiness?”

  “He is like art, and our time together fills me with more inspiration than I have ever felt before. All of my work is suddenly electrifying!”

  “Tell me, is he very fond of you?”

  Sage considered this question for a few moments. “He likes me. I know he likes me. I do compliment him too much and find myself telling him things I have never told anyone—which he must find tedious. We sit and talk of everything and he is very charming towards me, although he does tend to say thoughtless and hurtful things quite carelessly. But I am sure he doesn’t mean any of them. I feel like I’ve opened my whole self to him, but I am nothing more than a curiosity or artistic indulgence in return, like a decoration which suits his vanity.”

  “Don’t worry my dear, an artistic genius with your talents will soon find inspiration elsewhere. I am sure you will expeditiously tire of the whole thing long before he does. Men are fickle creatures and are too easily distracted by the next shiny bauble, or whatever curvaceous set of hips walks in front of them next. You mustn’t let him think you are too interested, or he will mistreat you. Try ignoring him a little, or being cold to him the next time you meet. That always does wonders for romance. If you go in for that sort of thing. Maybe I can help.”

  “I don’t want you to meet him.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “Dorian is my dearest friend. He is kind and has a pure soul and a simple nature. You’ll try to influence him or spoil him somehow. This is the one person who adds more to my art then I could ever explain and I couldn’t stand to lose him.”

  Suddenly there was a ring at the door, followed by the elderly butler entering and announcing, “Mr. Dorian Gray has arrived to see you, my lady.”

  CHAPTER 2.

  D

  ORIAN GRAY

  As Sage put her hand to the door of the parlor she turned back to Lady Helena. “I am trusting you.” She fixed her with a glare then slowly opened the door. “Dorian, hello! You are just in time to sit for me a bit longer as I finish”.

  “I am so tired of sitting. Let’s do something fun today instead, oh,” he trailed off as his gaze took in Lady Helena’s alluring figure standing in the background. “I didn’t realize you weren’t alone.” A slight bit of color reached his cheeks as his eyes traveled her enticing torso.

  “Dorian, I would like to introduce my good friend Lady Helena Wotton to you. Lady Helena, this is Mr. Gray.”

  Lady Helena slowly strode forward, with a distinctive sway to her hips as she bowed her head gracefully. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gray. Sweet Sage here has been telling me about how the two of you met, but I am afraid I have so little other useful information. Pray tell me, what do you do for a living?”

  Dorian paused with a sudden frown reaching his face. After a brief second it disappeared and he gave a handsome bow. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Wotton. As to my profession, well, I am a musician you see, but really I dabble in quite a few things including philanthropy for theatre and the arts mainly—oh yes, and also the operation of my late father’s business.”

  A certain naive look that was yearning for approval reached the bold-blue eyes, as the shiny, blond-haired head remained slightly inclined.

  Lady Helena took it all in at once and immediately understood the youth and the purity, the face that inspired trust and trusted immediately, the impeccably sharp and expensive clothing, the demeanor of a young man who had been raised by his mother alone—until she too had passed away, leaving him flush with
cash from a trust fund that had been endowed by his deceased father’s business. No wonder Sage worshipped him.

  “You are far too charming for philanthropy, Mr. Gray. Please do call me Lady Helena, I insist.” Helena cooed as she took a long cigarette from her purse and placed it suggestively between her lips before igniting it. “Lady Wotton was my overbearing mother-in-law, may she rest in peace.”

  “Dorian,” Sage interrupted, “come sit for me so I can finish your painting today. Helena, it was nice seeing you but we really must finish. I hope you don’t mind leaving so soon, I don’t mean to be rude.” She immediately moved out of the parlor and to her art studio. She stopped by her easel and began mixing paints and preparing her brushes.

  Dorian and Lady Helena both followed her into the room. “Oh, no Lady Helena, please don’t leave—we have only just met. I think Sage is just in one of her bad moods, and it would be nice to have someone to talk with while she paints. She concentrates so much that she absolutely refuses to speak a word and it gets quite dull. Besides, I am intrigued to hear why you think I am not well suited for philanthropy. You don’t mind do you Sage? It would be nice for me to have someone to talk to while you work.”

  Lady Helena sat back down on the sofa, flicking ash recklessly towards a bowl—that was definitely NOT an ashtray, while managing to show even more cleavage.

  “I suppose it would be alright if it helps Dorian sit still. Then you must stay, of course.”

  “Well, I would but I am afraid I have some pressing business of my own and must be leaving. I am meeting an associate at the Orleans.”

  Dorian’s eyes widened at that and his jaw tightened with resolution. “Sage, if Lady Helena must leave, then so too will I, for it does get dreadfully boring. You must ask her to stay.”

  Sage surrendered to his stately petition immediately. “Very well then, please stay—I insist. Surely you could reschedule and meet this associate of yours at another time?”

  Lady Helena gave a reproachful look. “Very well, if I must. I suppose I can send him a letter through my valet, begging his forgiveness and propose that we meet later this evening.”

  “Perfect!” Dorian’s face lit up with a broad smile and he strode confidently towards the fireplace while removing his tailored jacket. “And how is my sleepy little wolf doing today? Have you eaten well? Wake up sleepy one, it is time for us to sit for Sage while she paints. Then, maybe you can have some treats!”

  Dorian lifted the wolf out of the chewed dog bed, to excited yips and licks all over his face and hands. He laughed playfully as he seated himself, and the two turned towards the easel, assuming a comfortable position. “Lady Helena, have you met my wolf pup? He thinks I am well suited for philanthropy. Don’t you boy?”

  Lady Helena laughed in an inviting manner. “Why my dear, you do have a clever wit about you. I will tell you my thoughts on philanthropy. You see, there is far too much danger of influencing people in philanthropy. To influence someone, is to give them a piece of your soul. Then that person’s passions and thoughts are no longer their own. Their sins—if there is such a thing as sin, are but a borrowed thing. Their music, is but a recording of the real notes and they are but actors, playing a role for which they themselves were not written.”

  Lady Helena paused to make sure she still had everyone’s attention and smoothed her dress, before reclining further and continuing on in a thoughtful tone. “The purpose of life is to develop and grow, to reach the heights of one’s potential, and to experience all the pleasures and joys that this existence has to offer. To do that, you must understand your own nature. This can be a difficult process involving extensive experimentation and exploration—sometimes even pain. People are too afraid to learn about their true selves and thus they never understand the meaning and value of their lives. Courage in the face of fear has fled society and people are governed only by an outdated sense of moral and religious ideals.”

  Sage spoke without taking her eyes from the canvas. “Dorian, turn your head a little to the side and try to hold that fuzzy trickster still. No, to the other side. Perfect.”

  “And so,” Lady Helena went on in a musical voice, ignoring the interruption, “I believe if a man were brave enough, he would live his life to the fullest and most complete level—then he would experience every feeling and thought, every dream and beauty, and every impulse and joy possible. At that point he would no longer fear himself, but truly understand his own mind and the essence of his body. There would be no purity or sin, only the memory of pleasure or the luxury of regret. For temptations are only ended when you give into them.”

  Lady Helena let that thought sink in, while looking on with half-lidded eyes and slowly stroking her fingertips along her leg and thigh. She delivered Dorian a seductive look that would quicken any man’s pulse. “The sickness of longing can be cleansed from the soul only by not forbidding anything from yourself—despite invasive laws or societal norms. And of course, this all begins in the mind. Surely, Mr. Gray, you have had unfulfilled passions or thoughts that have made you afraid to act or limited your experiences. Tell me, do they come to you through brief day dreams or by means of extended nighttime fantasies?”

  Dorian’s face once again colored, as he struggled to respond in a coherent sentence. “I, well, I have never heard things explained in that way before or thought about them in such a manner.” Dorian glanced out of the open window and out at the trees with a thoughtful look.

  Lady Helena could tell that he was considering her words carefully. His hands moved in an absent-minded way in response to the furious, tiny wolf as it tumbled and chewed on anything within reach. A full two minutes passed in near-silence, save for the scrape of Sage’s painting knife and the sandpapery-slide of her brush strokes.

  Lady Helena spoke up again in silvery tones that made her flirtation clear. “You really do have a wonderful and classic profile Mr. Gray. I hope you endeavor to shade yourself from the sun.”

  Dorian gave a cheeky smile. “What does it matter, a little sun can’t hurt.”

  “It should matter to you. Your youth is a treasure, the one treasure worth having.”

  “Isn’t there so much more to life than youth, Lady Helena?”

  “Ah, NOW you are inundated with an endless stream of senses to feed the soul. But one day, you will be old and wrinkled and ugly, with your forehead creased with lines, your lips cracked and scarred, and you will feel the weight of age in your very bones. Then you will understand my point. For now, a face such as yours could change the world, but will it always be that way?”

  Lady Helena stood and boldly extended her hand, stopping just short of caressing his cheek. “Remember Mr. Gray, a flower dies when first it begins to bud. There are only a few years left for you to truly live fully and in the moment. Every day, your youth fades a little more and you come closer to death’s door. So, cherish your youth while you have it and do not squander a single moment. Even love is merely a mixture of pheromones and physiology. Most young men can’t help themselves, nor control their actions when it comes to a willing and suited partner. Why limit yourself to experiencing love only once—or only a few times? Live your life and seek out new sensations while fearing nothing! For there is nothing you could not do. The world is your oyster for but a few seasons more. Do not waste that time, for you can never have it back.”

  As she spoke, Dorian’s eyes grew larger—not only with a little fear, but also with a certain determination.

  Sage noisily put down her palette and brush. “There! I have finally finished!”

  Lady Helena rushed over to examine the picture. She gave an appreciative murmur and her eyes seemed glued to the finished work. It was an amazing likeness and an astounding work of art. Lady Helena touched her hand to her heart and spoke in a hushed tone. “Sage, well done. This is the finest portrait I have ever seen. Mr. Gray, come take a look for yourself.”

  As Dorian gazed upon his own visage his lips slowly curled upward in a smile of pleasur
e. A look of admiration and joy came to his eyes as he stared raptly at the image before him, completely motionless. Something stirred deep inside for the first time. A comprehension of the real artistic qualities of his own face as others must see it. He saw his face now with all its beauty and attractiveness but, in his mind’s eye, he also saw an image of how that same face would one day look. He imagined the skin wrinkled and grey, the eyes dimmer and faded of color, the strong figure bent and broken, and the life of his soul—gone from that body. He would one day be hideous and disgusting. Pain like a knife struck his heart and he felt a hand of ice squeeze his lungs like a vise.

  Dorian closed his eyes and whispered in a low voice. “How sad that one day I will grow old, but the man in this picture will always remain young. He will never age even a single day. Even this young pup has years to grow into a majestic wolf, but I will soon grow old and look horrible as time ravages me. It isn’t fair that we have only a few short years. If only I could remain young forever, I would give anything!”

  Sage approached him and reached out for his hand. “Dorian, it isn’t as bad as all that.”