The Passion by Donna Boyd

scent and posture and sounds from the throat, and what we cal ourselves is something no human can ever know. There is no word for it. So you see why we have no argument with whatever word you choose—'loup-garou,' werewolf—they have no meaning to us, but seem to serve your purpose."
    She then wanted to know which of his
    acquaintances were werewolf and which were not; and among those who were, which were coming to his bal , and how might she tel the difference? He threw up his hands in exasperation.
    Over the next few days Tessa learned to distinguish some werewolves by the bril iance of their eyes, the fineness of their bone structure, and the length and luxuriousness of their hair, which Alexander confirmed grew so exceedingly fast as to make it almost impossible to keep barbered. She learned of the werewolf's great love of music and spectacle, and of the large numbers of them who made their fortunes in the arts. Occasional y Alexander would drop the name of a famous actor who was werewolf, or a diva of the opera or a violinist who caused great crowds to weep whenever he played. And although Tessa knew Alexander took pleasure in teasing her about such matters, on this she did not doubt him.
    They loved to eat and were, even the least of them, grand gourmets, yet as a species they were exceptional y lean and energetic. Their sense of smel was so highly refined that special soaps were required by the laundresses to remove latent odors from clothing which humans would never detect but which werewolves found unbearably offensive. Their vision, though extraordinary by human standards, was their weakest point, and nearsightedness was often a problem—although, Tessa was given to understand, even the least accomplished werewolf could see better in the dark than could the average human in clear daylight.
    Though Alexander—and, to a lesser extent, Poinceau, Crol iere and even Gault—teased her with suggestions, Tessa never gained a clear idea as to how many of their kind there were or where they might be found. And she discovered no easy or foolproof way to distinguish them in a crowd.
    With each passing day Tessa put together bits and pieces of the truth about these strange creatures among whom she lived, but the complete picture continued to elude her. Stil , it was weeks before she could ask the one question that had been grinding at her mind from the beginning.
    Alexander had taken her walking along the Seine. It was a clear sunny day and just cold enough for Tessa to enjoy promenading in her new fur-trimmed coat and matching hat. As always, she loved being seen with Alexander, the beautiful man of such exceptional presence that he caused heads to turn, both male and female, wherever he went. She flattered herself to think he liked being seen with her as wel , because he seemed to enjoy taking her about, whether in his open carriage or mounted on the sleek bay mare which contrasted so nicely with his favorite chestnut, or sometimes in his flashy, noisy motorcar. It had occurred to her that he liked taking her out for the same reason he liked driving the motorcar on the streets of Paris: because it created a stir.
    They made a striking couple, the tal , long-haired werewolf and the smal brunette human, and they attracted their fair share of attention from others who had chosen this fine day to strol the promenade and to see and be seen. For a time she played her game of trying to identify which of those to whom Alexander bowed and raised his hat were werewolf and which were human, but he seemed determined to confound her.
    "No, chérie , it is not the length of the hair or the structure of the cheekbones or whether one is tal er than one's human counterpart. It is purely a matter of genetic superiority, which you cannot change and surely wil never be able to detect. And don't put your brows together that way—it spoils the look of your face."
    She scowled anyway, watching as he swept off his top hat and made a low bow to a