Chapter 2

His body screamed out with need.

With a mind horribly twisted with evil, he thought of her, of the mysterious woman draped in shadows, of the blood that rushed freely through her veins. She was the one who refused to let him run free. But why? How had she done it? How had this woman, this delicate wisp of a woman, managed to shackle him to this icy rock wall with cords of steel imbedded so deeply into the stone? What kept him from tearing her flesh, drinking her blood?

Did she have some power over him?

Maybe, he thought, but that was before.Beforethe moon. Beforethe hunger. Beforethe night became shrouded in darkness.

His head jerked around when he saw her move again.

His eyes immediately anchored on her stirring figure. No longer standing still, she dared to creep down the steep steps, to prowl through the shadows while the harsh light of the moon made her shadow loom large and monstrous behind her. He watched her furtive movements. Slow, so very slow, she came, one careful step at a time.

Now he knew whose fragrant blood filled the cavernous room. It was hers. Spicy, rich, and it flowed freely through her veins, tempting him. He could feel himself becoming almost dizzy at the possibility of a human kill. He felt another pinch and looked down at the mice still nipping at his heels. The small creatures no longer enticed him. He didn’t need them now. He had better prey, human prey!

His tongue licked the pungent air. The exotic aroma called to him, beguiled him. The delicious scent caused him to writhe and struggle harder, to pull at the chains while evil boiled inside him, threatening to erupt.

It happened!

Like a mighty explosion, his bonds burst from the wall and he leapt forward. A growling rage erupted from his wolf-like mouth, the hellish sound bouncing from wall to wall of the cavernous dungeon. Like a bad dream, his taloned feet scraped eerily along the cement floor as his lumbering bulk rushed heavily toward her.

* * * *

“Oh, God, no!” the woman screamed, turning abruptly to get back up the steps. She stumbled, twisting her ankle.

Trapped!

She turned toward the horror, hoping he would recognize the sound of her voice. “Cristo! No!” It had no effect on him. She managed to pull herself up and give him a shouting command. “Heel, Cristo! Heel!”

He kept coming.

The horrorkept coming!

The woman stumbled backward, trying desperately to get away from the snarling beast, the mountainous body, the eyes that held cold death within their sapphire gaze, but it was no use. She knew she would never be able to climb the steep steps, so she reached down into her boot.

In her hand, a cold, glittering blade appeared.

Slowly she drew herself up while holding onto the weak rail. Her fear grew, sobs choked her, and tears blinded her. She felt her sanity draining away as she watched his nightmarish bulk move closer and closer. With a trembling hand, she squeezed the knife harder, held it defensively. “Look at me, Cristo,” she shouted desperately, trying one last time to jolt his memory. “It’s me! It’s—”

Before the words were out of her mouth, the creature gave a sudden leap, and she found herself held within his killing grasp. He brutally grabbed at her hair, his talons digging deep into her scalp as he jerked her head backward, exposing her neck.

“Cristo! Cristo!” she continued to shout, but the beast remained deaf to her cries. While his razor-edged teeth inched closer and closer to her pulsing throat, she finally squeezed her tearful eyes shut and sank the knife deep into his chest.

* * * *

The beast stopped suddenly and wilted at her feet while a swirl of cold death dimmed his eyes. As he lay wounded and bleeding, the mutation slowly reversed itself.

Then he knew the truth.

During every full moon, this woman brought him into the cellar and shackled him to the wall. No, it wasn’t to hurt him, but to protect him. From himself, from killing innocent people, and from gunshots, knives, angry hunters who sought to kill him.

He could feel the life slowly draining out of him as he looked into the loving face of his mother. Seeing her tears and pain, he rasped, “Don’t cry, Mother. We both know…it…it’s better…this…way.”

Seconds later his body slumped, the life his mother held so dear, gone.

* * * *

She fell over him and wailed out her grief for hours it seemed, while blood flowed from the scratches he had made on her scalp. As it continued to flow down her face, her anguish reached its height, and something snapped inside her, releasing a hatred deeper and stronger than anything she’d ever felt. She jerked her bloody head upward and glared into the face of the moon, her seething voice directed to those she couldn’t see.