Under a Rogue Moon

Chapter 9-1

Chapter 9The moon hung low in the sky, distorted to gigantic proportions by the atmosphere. Its golden light illuminated the Kent countryside almost as if it was day, warming the night beyond temperatures Flanna could expect, making it simpler to navigate over the rolling hills. She ran, though the purpose of her flight eluded her at the moment. She only knew the thudding of her heartbeat inside her chest and the soft whisper of the grass beneath her feet.

Rounding the crest of a familiar hill, she saw lights at its base, beckoning her to look closer. Here, the air was cooler. The valley blocked the ambience from the moon behind her, and its high slopes kept the earth blanketed in its autumn chill. Flanna started to shiver as she made her way down the hill, but she attributed it merely to the weather conditions. It didn’t occur to her to blame it on anything else until she neared the lights.

It was a house, small even by British standards, with a thatched roof in sore disrepair. A stone fence surrounded the property, but time had not been kind to it, chipping away at the edifice so that rubble lay all around. Over the gate was an arched web of dead flowers and vines, just as forgotten as the rest of the place. As Flanna passed below it, a bird flew off from its perch, sending a shower of tiny twigs and leaves into her hair.

The lights came from the front windows. There were no curtains covering the glass, nothing to even partially obscure the interior. A lamp with a fringed shade stood at its center, casting its luminance through the panes so that yellow squares littered the garden. Beyond that, Flanna could see her grandmother puttering around, the television flickering silently from the far wall. She frowned. This wasn’t her house. Why was Nan here?

A low baying suddenly filled the night air. Whirling around, Flanna raced to the wall, eyes scanning the horizon in search of the sound’s source, but the valley appeared just as it had when she’d descended. But she knew that sound, knew it from nightmares made real once a month. That was a werewolf. And it was very, very close.

Without thought, she ran for the front door, only to find it locked firmly against her push. “Nan!” she shouted, pounding at the aged wood. Splinters drove themselves beneath her skin, but she was oblivious to the pain as she tried desperately to get her grandmother’s attention. “Nan!” she repeated. “Open the door! Please! It’s me. Flanna! Please, open the door!”

Her cries went unheeded. No footsteps approached to let her in, no voice called out to give her other instruction.

Another howl split the night. It was louder now, closer, and true fear began to leak through Flanna’s reserves. Ignoring the voice of her father inside her head ordering her to go off in search of the wolf, she ran around the side of the building, looking for another door or a window that would allow her to get in. There was nothing until she reached the rear, where the back door lay broken on the ground.

Something had torn it from its hinges, but Flanna didn’t wait to see what could have caused it. Drawing the knife she had strapped to her calf, she slowed down and crept to the open entrance, peering around the jamb to see what she might find inside.

Oddly, she still couldn’t hear the television. All that she could make out was the soft clink of a spoon inside a teacup. Nan must be sitting down for her nightly shows, she thought.

Flanna stepped inside the decrepit kitchen. In spite of the scent of tea in the air, it looked just as unused as the rest of the house. There wasn’t even a hum from the small refrigerator in the corner. But something had broken in. Something was still here. She just had to find it before it found her nan.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of dark fur disappearing around the edge of the wall. There was no doubt in her mind that it was the werewolf, though how it could prove so stealthy under the influence of a full moon, she had no idea. This wasn’t the time for ruminations, though. This was a time for action. Taking a deep breath, she made a dash for the other room.

She skidded in a pool of blood just on the other side of the doorway. Catching herself with the edge of the wall before she fell onto her bottom, Flanna’s eyes widened when she saw the hulking creature crouched over her grandmother’s body on the floor. Though its back was to her, there was no mistaking that it was a werewolf, the largest she’d ever seen. Well over six feet tall, it had sable-colored fur rippling across its muscled back, each haunch as thick around as her entire body. Paws as long as her forearm ended with deadly claws, but it was the flash of its canines that truly terrified her. Though she couldn’t see its face from where she was at its right, she could see its teeth, too-white and then too-red, as the monster began to tear into her grandmother’s torso, blood spattering across the wooden floor.

She tried to move, but couldn’t. Her muscles refused to act, though she desperately wanted to get up and save her nan while she could.

Another wolf’s howl echoed from outside, and the tympani of Flanna’s heart doubled as her head whipped around to stare at the gaping hole of the back door. That wasn’t possible. The monster was already inside the house; it couldn’t be outside baying at the moon at the same time.

Which meant there were two of them.

She screamed. In the vacuum of her immobility, it was all she could do.

* * * *

Strong hands were on her shoulders, shaking her awake. Through her fog, Flanna heard Jason’s voice calling her name, worry in his tone. Panic still made her muscles leaden, but as she pushed her way back into consciousness, she slowly gained more control.

Her lashes fluttered open. Jason’s face filled her vision, his eyes catching the stray moonbeams and gleaming silver, his brows drawn together in obvious unease. One of the hands he’d had on her shoulders came up to push her hair off her face, and when she felt the wet trail his fingertips left behind, she realized she must have been crying.

“It’s okay,” he murmured when their eyes met. “Whatever it was, it was just a dream. It’s not real.”

Her lips felt dry. Running the tip of her tongue across them, Flanna struggled to sit up. “I don’t remember falling asleep,” she said groggily. “What time is it?”

“Almost five.” His arm scooped around her back, guiding her upward until she could see that she was in the barn. Jason noticed her slow scan of her environment. “You fell asleep on my shoulder about an hour ago,” he explained. “I brought you in here because I didn’t think I’d get you up that narrow staircase to your room without bumping your head and waking you up.”

It came back to her then, real memory forcing its way past the fake images of her dream, driving down the fear that still surged through her veins. They’d been sitting on the bench in the back garden, taking a break from one of the patrols Flanna insisted on conducting around the house every so often. Jason had been talking about growing up in Florida, and the sound of his voice had lulled her into relaxing when she didn’t want to. She must have fallen asleep in the middle of one of his stories.

His arm was still around her, warm and heavy. Sighing, Flanna leaned against the brace he offered, her eyes closing again. “I dreamt we failed,” she whispered. “I dreamt—”

“Don’t think about it,” Jason interrupted. “That’s just your fear talking. It’s not going to happen.”

Burrowing deeper into his embrace, she breathed in his warm scent. “You don’t know that.”

“I know you. And I know me. And I think we make a pretty good team. Romm doesn’t stand a chance.”

She didn’t believe him, but she was fairly certain that he believed every word he said. It was reassuring in a way. Not even her father put that kind of trust in her.

Gradually, as the last vestiges of sleep fell away, Flanna became increasingly aware of his lean body beneath her cheek. She was almost afraid of opening her eyes; he’d see that she was all right now and pull away, which, she realized with alarm, was exactly what she didn’t want him to do. He smelled like heaven, and the hard press of his chest was reminding her what it felt like to have other hard parts of his body pressed to her. Would it be so bad to let happen what he obviously wanted?

Carefully she shifted, bringing her right hand to rest on his stomach. For a moment, Jason tensed, his muscles growing even more taut beneath her palm. She almost thought he was going to pull away. But then his fingers began drawing lazy circles at the small of her back, sending shivers up and down her spine, and his free hand came up to cover hers on his abdomen.

“You should probably go inside and get some real sleep,” he said quietly. “It’s going to be time to talk to your father before you know it.”

“No more sleep,” Flanna insisted.

“It was just—”

She peeled herself away, already missing the scent of his skin, and sat up to gaze at him with her pulse starting to throb in her throat. “No more,” she repeated.

A frown flickered behind those brilliant blue eyes, but before Jason could open his mouth to argue with her, Flanna leaned forward and kissed him.

She liked his lips. They were softer than any others she had kissed, and they danced across hers with an assured desire that she found impossible to resist. She liked that he had tiny laugh lines at the corners, the proof that he was more accustomed to smiling than not. But most of all, she liked how hungry they were, reacting to her touch with an eagerness she’d never before experienced.

Before either could think about it, both mouths parted, allowing tongues to search and explore, tasting and sucking as the heat between them rose. Jason’s hand at her back tightened, held her more firmly as she got more comfortable and straddled his lap. Even through his jeans, his arousal pressed against her p***y, the denim adding extra force, and Flanna caught herself grinding against him in an attempt to strengthen the friction.

“Jason…” she murmured. Her nails raked up his arms, drawing a sharp hiss of pleasure from him, but before she could dive in for a second kiss, he was pushing her away, keeping her at arms’ length.

“What are you doing?” he asked. His eyes were dark with desire, but there was also hesitation, an uncertainty that surprised her. “This isn’t what you want. Not like this.”

“This time you’re wrong,” she said.

But he was having none of it. “You want this to try and forget your nightmare. I get that. I just…if you and I ever happen, I don’t want it to be some mindless f**k, Flanna, and that’s what this would be for you.”

Her skin was humming from the anticipation of touching him, but Flanna knew she was going to have to do some heavy persuading to convince him he was mistaken. “You think I don’t want you?” she asked. “You kiss me, and…I forget about everything but you. You said it yourself. I kissed you back. There was a reason for that.” Her fingers fluttered over his chest, brushing across the hard, flat n*****s, but as they started to dip lower where their pelvises were still touching, he grabbed her wrists in a tight grip.

“I’m not like those guys you pick up at Rage,” Jason said, his voice suddenly hard.

For a split second, she’d forgotten he knew about that. “No, no, you’re not. The difference is, I like you.” She leaned forward, desperate for him to see just how serious she was about this. “You help me remember why I do all this in the first place. I trust you for…well, for everything, which doesn’t happen a whole hell of a lot, let me tell you. The difference is, Jason…I don’t want you to be gone in the morning.”

He was silent for so long that she was sure that she’d lost her opportunity. Then, his grasp on her relaxed, his thumb stroking the delicate veins inside her wrist.