Wolf Moon Pt. 01

'You don't need to touch a person, in order to conjure up fear... the mind is quite powerful enough to achieve all manner of emotions, without the intrusion of physical touch.'

Upon digesting these words, a shiver passed straight up Grace's spine, making the hairs on the back of her neck bristle. She knew her physical reaction had nothing to do with the intense cold; that created quite a separate kind of shivering. No, this man had almost made her feel...warmed and grateful, perhaps because it felt like he might be acting as her protector? But it was more than that if she were completely honest. Did she feel aroused? Instantly, Grace dismissed the thought. It must be a combination of cold and fear playing havoc with her normally sane mind. Indeed, it most certainly was that. But the man wasn't wrong in his observation; her mind was scurrying away with her right now, just listening to the soothing timbre of his incredible voice.

Just then, the man squatted down on the same level as her, but unlike the others, she didn't feel scared by his proximity. Staring deep into his eyes, she could make out a swirling intensity there.

'What's your name?' he asked gently.

'Grace.'

'Your full name?'

'Grace Amelia Taylor,' she replied, instantly looking confused. She wasn't planning on sharing quite so much information.

'My name is Benedict,' he explained, before adding. 'And why are you out here alone, Grace?'

'Long story,' she huffed, gaining strength from his presence. 'But mostly because my ex-boyfriend's a jerk.' Grace found herself savouring the "ex" being placed at the front of Ethan's status. Wanker.

'Would you like me to accompany you to a place of safety?' he asked gently.

'Yes...please,' she stuttered, feeling intensely grateful. She didn't even want to consider what these four men had been planning, but her gut instinct told her it probably wasn't anything good. Of course, this entire scenario could just be a trick to lull her into a false sense of security, but somehow she didn't think so. And, although she might not be one hundred percent sure she could trust Benedict, Grace fancied her chances against one man much more than four.

'Very well,' he agreed, holding out his hand to help Grace to her feet and allowing her to catch her first glimpse of him in the pale moonlight. Incredibly, he was slightly taller and looked physically more powerful than the other men. 'Gentlemen,' Benedict added rather pointedly, sending them a swift nod, before guiding Grace in the opposite direction to her aggressors.

***

'This is an extremely poor choice of night to be wandering alone,' observed Benedict, as he glanced at his watch; a heavy, undoubtedly very expensive item which he wore on his left wrist. 'Regretfully, the moor is not safe tonight.'

'It's a damn sight safer than where I was,' replied Grace darkly, trying to ignore the blister which was growing on her heel, thanks to her tightly-fitting shoes.

'Oh?'

'Yeah, I was previously in a car, just about to physically assault someone.'

'Even so, I really wouldn't feel comfortable about leaving you here, without my protection. Can I walk you back to your car?'

'I don't have one. I was in my boyfriend's car and he drove off. Although it wasn't entirely his fault,' admitted Grace quickly, as she saw Benedict's face screw up with distaste. 'I did storm off without him.'

'But still... So, where do you live?'

Grace named the nearest town which was at least ten miles away. Once again, Benedict glanced at his watch, and then up at the moon.

'When I found you, I was in the middle of...a task,' he said carefully. 'A task that I'm still obliged to fulfil with some urgency.'

Grace looked at him attentively but said nothing.

'Given it's so late, might I offer you a room for the night at my home? Then transport can be arranged for you in the morning?'

'Um...well...yes, I suppose so. Thank you.' Her response was filled with stuttering because Benedict was shrugging the thick, furry coat from his own body and placing it tenderly around her shoulders. Instantly, the heat of the garment infiltrated her frozen skin, warming her as effectively as a steaming mug of soup. Grace hugged his coat closer, acknowledging that it smelt hearteningly familiar. Like earth and nature and goodness. A wholesome smell which was as reassuringly dependable as the earth turning on its axis, providing the knowledge that each day the sun will rise and the sun will set, no matter what.

Confused, Grace shook her head with absolutely no idea where that philosophical and somewhat random thought had come from. There must have been much more booze in that punch they'd spent most of the night drinking, than she'd first thought.

'Where do you live?' she asked, trying to draw attention away from the unexpected direction her brain was attempting to take her.

'Just over one mile south west from our current position,' Benedict explained, pointing in the direction of a distant valley. At that moment, a cloud unexpectedly began to drift over the moon, darkening the sky and making it almost impossible to see. In what felt like no time at all, a sleety snow had started to drift down upon them.

'We must hurry,' he urged, although Grace wasn't sure if his insistence was for her comfort or his task.

'I'm trying,' groaned Grace, attempting to step up the pace, while hiding the pain that dared to cross her features. 'But I can't go any faster in these heels.'

'I understand. Would you permit me to carry you?'

It was a request that Grace would normally refuse, but taking everything into account, it was actually quite a sensible suggestion. She quietly accepted the offer and before she knew it, Grace had been lifted tenderly into his powerful arms. For balance, she wrapped an arm around Benedict's shoulders, encountering rippling muscles beneath the soft material of the shirt she clung onto.

'Hold on, then,' he murmured, before breaking out into a fast sprint.

Grace literally couldn't comprehend his strength or stamina. Hardly panting, this super-fit guy raced effortlessly across the countryside. The clouds had smothered the light of the moon now, but still, despite the darkness, Benedict was as foot-sure as if it had been the middle of the day. Either his senses were incredibly good, or they were being phenomenally lucky. Not wishing to ponder too much on which option was most likely, Grace simply closed her eyes. With any luck, the last few hours might turn out to be a bad dream.

Minutes later, they arrived at an enormous set of stone pillars, between which hung a giant wrought-iron gate. As Benedict easily pulled the gate open, she caught sight of a small plaque, lit by a single lamp. It read:

Canis Hall

With her interest piqued, Grace attempted to sit up a little straighter in Benedict's arms as he jogged down a long, unlit driveway. The sleet was falling heavily now, making visibility almost impossible. That was until he rounded the corner at the edge of a tree line and an enormous building appeared in view. What could only be described as a mansion, Canis Hall was a huge gothic building. Constructed from grey stone many centuries before, it came complete with multiple chimneys, turrets and a huge archway around the front door. Strewn with gargoyles, it was not a building designed to be welcoming and yet it had its own undeniable charm. Without pause, Benedict directed them straight towards the entrance and inside.

The first thing that surprised Grace was the heat of the house's interior. The second thing was the apparent luxury of their surroundings. The design was palatial. Looks were clearly very deceptive in this instance because Benedict hadn't struck her as particularly affluent when they'd first met. And then, as Grace found herself lowered gently to the ground, all other thoughts were swept clean out of her head, when she got her first proper look at the man himself.

Benedict was striking in the extreme. Tall, well-built and with a strong, handsome face, his appearance was rounded off by shaggy dark hair, neat ears and the most piercing eyes imaginable. Almost amber in colour, she could only guess that he had some kind of genetic abnormality because Grace had literally never seen a person with eyes that colour before in her life. But although his features were most unusual, as an ensemble, it worked. The result was undoubtedly one incredibly attractive man. Grace swallowed hard, suddenly feeling quite overwhelmed at the thought she'd been held in his arms for an extended length of time.

Shaking his head like a dog, Benedict quite unexpectedly peeled the freezing, wet shirt from his back, exposing a thickly muscled and surprisingly hairy body. Discarding the garment carelessly on the floor of the entrance hall, he turned to study Grace.

'Let me show you to your room before I leave,' he offered, holding out a large hand in the direction of an enormous, sweeping staircase. Staring, Grace observed the thick ropes of muscle criss-crossing his back and shoulders. Compared to the bodies of other men who had removed their clothing in her presence, it was almost as though Benedict was an alien being. She had literally never seen a body like it.

'Thank you,' she breathed, feeling quite overwhelmed in the presence of such raw masculinity.

The word room didn't do the location she stepped into justice by any stretch of the imagination; at a minimum, it was a suite. As well as a sitting area, incredible bathroom and a large bedroom, a small but fully stocked kitchen was also provided.

'This is...amazing,' she admitted, walking around the rooms with a slack jaw. It was better than any hotel she had ever frequented. 'Thank you so much.'

'You're welcome,' he replied, with a curt nod. Having grabbed a dry shirt en route, Benedict was now fully clothed once more, much to Grace's disappointment. She had rather been enjoying the view. 'I only have one request to make of you.'

'And what's that?'

'I really don't have time to explain why, but I want you to lock yourself inside your room tonight,' he explained.

'Oh...kay.' Grace's forehead wrinkled with concern, but she didn't question his request.

'Don't open the door to anyone tonight, including me. Just trust me when I tell you it's for your own good. I'll be back in a couple of hours when I've finished my task. Goodnight Ms Taylor,' he said solemnly, before doing something most unexpected and sending her the briefest wink. Instantly, Grace felt her tummy roll over with excitement, as though she were on the very top of a rollercoaster, waiting for the ride to commence. Following Benedict to the door, she watched him leave her room. He firmly closed the door behind himself and then called through the heavy wooden panelling.

'Secure the door now, please.'

Glancing down, Grace saw a large, old-fashioned key on the inside of the lock. Doing as she was told, the metal mechanism clicked satisfyingly.

'Thank you. Good night,' he said. Seconds later, Benedict's footsteps were echoing back down the long corridor. She was alone once more.

***

Although fully aware that it was the middle of the night, thanks to her unsatisfying sex session with Ethan followed by a terrifying dash through the freezing countryside, Grace was struggling to think of anything she longed for more than a warm bath. Thankfully, both the hot water and bubble bath were plentiful and she was soon soaking in luxuriously soapy heaven, able to feel the warmth seeping all the way through to her chilled bones.

Wrapping herself in a warm towel afterwards, Grace padded through to the kitchen. There, she grabbed a snack and a glass of water, before discovering a large, clean shirt hanging in an adjacent wardrobe, which would do perfectly as a nightshirt. Having snuggled into bed, out of habit, she checked her phone before turning out the light, only to find a text from Ethan. The tone of his words weren't pleasant, as good as ordering her to confirm she was safe. Righteous anger coursed through her. She wasn't so much annoyed at his request to engage in a threesome; after all, each to their own. No, what had really riled Grace was the way he'd been seeing other women behind her back, after insisting their relationship should be monogamous and exclusive. Bloody hypocrite. As a result, her text reply was a relatively simple one to compose. It simply stated:

"Go fuck yourself."

Switching off the bedside lamp, her head sank deliciously into a soft, feather pillow and within minutes, her exhausted body and mind had surrendered to the arms of Morpheus.

***

Grace had no idea how long she'd been asleep for, although given it was still dark outside, she guessed no more than a couple of hours. It took her a short time to re-orientate herself to the new surroundings and remember the horrors of the night before. Lying there in the dark, she heard an eerie howling outside, far too close for comfort. It sounded almost...like a wolf? But everyone knew wolves didn't exist in Britain, so it must just be her imagination playing tricks on her. She was certain the noise was responsible for her sleep being unexpectedly disturbed though.

Creeping out of bed, she edged towards the huge window and pulled back a corner of the curtain to glance outside. The sleet-filled clouds had moved away from their location by this time, leaving only a huge, low-hanging full moon. Thanks to a huge sky, devoid of buildings or many trees out here on the moor, the night sky was a thing of wonder to behold. In the inky blackness, the moon glowed so brightly, it could almost have been mistaken for a false sun. The iridescent white orb, peppered with grey valleys and craters, was a phenomenally beautiful thing to behold and Grace found herself just staring at it for the longest time.

Wide awake now, despite her lack of sleep, Grace heard the howling once again and felt a shiver of fear pass up her neck and into the very base of her skull. Was she still alone in this great house? Was she even safe? Instinctively, she wanted to seek out Benedict; after all, he had acted beautifully as her protector so far. She was pretty sure he could provide a simple explanation as to why she could hear howling right outside her window. So, even though he had very clearly told her not to, Grace wrapped herself in a bathrobe and quietly unlocked the door to her room.

Stepping carefully over the threshold, she paused for a second to listen. Having ascertained that the great house was silent, she tiptoed along the landing and crept down the staircase, screwing up her face in a pained manner, each and every time one of the ancient stairs creaked from being subjected to her weight. The light from the moon shining through the vast windows very adequately helped to guide her way. When she reached the large entrance hall, further illumination was provided by the low, orange light of a roaring fire, emanating from one of the adjoining rooms. Continuing to move as quietly as she could, Grace made her way closer, in order to gain a better look.

Peering tentatively around the edge of the open door, Grace realised she was holding her breath, bracing herself for whatever might be visible in the room beyond. To her relief, all she could see was a large sitting room containing a crackling fire. In front of that fire, in one of several armchairs sat Benedict. With eyes closed, he had a glass of port balanced in his hand which had slipped to a dangerously acute angle. Instinctively walking forward to remove the beverage from her slumbering acquaintance, Grace caused the floorboards beneath her feet to creak. Benedict's eyes immediately snapped open, observing her with shock.

'I thought I told you to stay locked in your room!' he exclaimed, quickly rising to his feet while glancing about with concern.

'I heard noises outside,' exclaimed Grace in order to justify herself, trying not to allow his reproachful tone to make her feel like a naughty schoolgirl.

'I don't doubt you did,' he confirmed, marching straight past her and out of the room. Grace's eyes followed him across the entrance hall and to the front door, which he immediately locked and bolted. It felt like a strange thing to do; surely, locking the door was something the homeowner would do prior to falling asleep? Had he been waiting for someone to join him at this unearthly hour? Returning to Grace's side, she noted that he now looked more relaxed, having completed his security-related duties.

'Would you like something to drink? A port, perhaps?' he enquired, his head cocking slightly as he dragged in a deep breath.

'Yes. Thank you.'

With a nod, Benedict headed over to an adjacent sideboard that held a range of bottles. Having selected a clean glass, he poured out a generous measure of the ruby liquid, before handing it across to Grace and beckoning her to sit in a chair beside him. This she did, legs tucked beneath her, grateful for the warmth from the hearth. Shyly, Grace glanced momentarily across at the man beside her. He was still wearing the shirt he'd changed into earlier, although several buttons were now undone towards the neck. His hairy chest was on display, providing Grace with a stark reminder of the amazing body she'd both glimpsed, and been carried aloft by, earlier that same evening. Surprised by a fizzing feeling starting to bubble low down in her abdomen, she swallowed and averted her gaze, instead focusing hard on the mantelpiece.

'Gosh! It's almost four o'clock,' she observed, in a poor attempt to break the silence that had grown between them. 'We're right in the middle of the witching hour.'

'More like the wolfing hour,' Benedict responded, sounding amused. Grace glanced across at him once more, to observe him smiling slightly for the first time. The crinkles at the sides of his eyes made him look even more handsome, along with a set of very clean, white teeth. She noted that his canines were slightly pointed. For some strange reason, the thought made her nipples tighten in response, as her mind was filled with images of Benedict gently biting into the soft, sensitive skin. Chewing against her bottom lip, Grace instantly dismissed such wild thoughts, putting them down to the effects of drinking even more alcohol, after what had already been a pretty heavy night. Unsure of how to respond, she glanced out of the adjacent window to gaze upon the horizon.

'It's beautiful,' she sighed dreamily, observing the moon almost filling the glazing.

'Mmmm. Is it?' enquired Benedict, not looking convinced.

'I think so,' confirmed Grace. 'I've always loved the beauty of the moon and the night sky. And it's a full moon tonight, if I'm not mistaken.'

'It's a Wolf Moon,' he grunted, briefly shuffling in his seat. 'Its maximum was at two twenty A.M. Its strength is waning now,' he added. If Grace didn't know better, she'd have said he looked almost relieved. Having found a comfortable position, Benedict took a controlled sip of his port.

'But you make it sound like...surely there aren't wolves living in Britain?'

'A night for pranksters, that's all,' he explained, with a dismissive shake of his head.

'Because of the moon?'

This time, Benedict just shrugged noncommittally.

'Each full moon has a name, which varies between communities across the world,' he went on to explain after a short pause, his deep, sexy tones washing over Grace like the soothing stroke of a lover's hand. 'We call the full moon in January a Wolf Moon, then the Hunger Moon in February, sometimes also referred to as the Storm or Snow Moon. In March is the Milk Moon, and so on.'

'Oh right...I didn't know that. You're very knowledgeable.'

'In some subjects,' he agreed. 'In the subjects that interest me.'

For some time, they sat in companionable silence, until Benedict inhaled sharply, turning to face Grace.