Nightcall

Prologue

Full moon tonight.

I looked up at it longingly, sweltering in the heat of my bedroom and under the thick duvet on top of me. It was unusually warm for March but James would be here soon and I was feeling a bit shy. As per custom, my bedroom window was ajar and the small breeze promised that the room would cool off quickly once he arrived. On nights like these, James was never particularly concerned with silly things like room temperature or the status of the window after he had climbed through it.

I waited anxiously, wracked with anticipation. The night was intensely quiet and – there! Snow crunching beneath hurried footsteps. I quivered and turned away from the window slowly. Short taps came from behind me and then James slid the window open. There was no screen, not after the first time he tore through it.

He was panting heavily as he crawled into the room and my heart hammered in my chest. Sometimes his monthly visit would occur over multiple nights around the full moon but this time it seemed he had held out until the urges became too strong. They always surged to extreme when the moon was fullest and tonight it lit up the room.

I heard him lope across the room and lean his face down to mine. He smelled like the forest and his shaggy beard brushed my bare shoulder.

"Ke-," he stuttered, still panting heavily. He couldn't speak; when the full moon rose, his body contorted and he became something inhuman. Folklore might call him a werewolf but centuries of breeding between their kind and ours had all but gotten rid of wolfish features. All that remained of the transformation was an intensification of physical prowess and overwhelming urge towards predation. Tonight, I served myself up to him.

"Ke-," he tried again, trying to say my name. James used to call me Ken, short for Kenna, so it was almost close enough. I rolled over gingerly, looking into his deep burgundy eyes. Sweat shone through the mess of facial hair and he looked back at me hungrily, sitting now on the edge of my bed.

"Ke-," he murmured as he put his hands onto my forearms, held me down and lunged at my neck, sharp teeth grazing the skin but not breaking it as he held me down. I squeaked in terror but the familiar pleasure of fear rolled through my body and I sighed softly.

Instead of biting, he rolled his tongue around my throat, bringing it up my neck to trace my jaw. He paused, nipped my ear and stood up. He never looked me in the eyes. We hadn't kissed since the break-up.

James and I had met two years before, at a networking event for young writers. He was an academic, looking to move into writing fiction. I wrote book reviews for magazines and was used to getting attention at those events, men seeking a night out with me in hopes of scoring a review despite the strict professional standards I held myself to. James was different. He hadn't even written a book yet but he wanted to take me out anyways.

I wasn't sure about him at first. He was tall and very handsome but rather plain beyond that. His face seemed to brood and the first time he caught my eye across the convention hall I sensed something different about him, something that made me say yes to a drink, and then a date. Even after he failed to prove himself to be more than a gentle and tender person, I felt something grow inside of me to match what he seemed to be hiding. I thought I might find him out during sex. I had hoped it would be the sex.

James was the perfect boyfriend, perfectly pleasant but also the boyfriend you dump when you realize you're not particularly interested in an uneventful, mildly satisfying life. He was always amicable, quiet, and polite when he turned down my request for something less tame in bed.

"I'm really not into that," he had said. "I understand it but I can't bring myself to physically hurt anyone."

Despite our mediocre, monotonous-but-loving physical interactions, my sexual attraction to him grew. I was frustrated, wanting him to fuck me a certain way and believing he would even after he turned me down. As our dates turned into a relationship, I found he was keeping me at arm's length and this fanned the flame of desire deeper as I became obsessed with finding out why. He would disappear for days, or a week at a time and I fantasized relentlessly about what his secret was, that I would uncover a dark and mysterious side to him.

Eventually, I did.

I looked up at James, a hulking silhouette towering over me. He avoided looking at my face and tore the duvet away. I was naked, like usual, having learned early on that his nails, sharpened claws, would not hesitate to shred anything in his way.

He grabbed my hips and flipped me over. I moaned gently as he pulled my ass into the air and kneeled behind me. The cold breeze made my entire body feel alert, trembling slightly as I waited for what felt like an eternity. Eventually James leaned down and gave a long, wet lick between my legs before he bit down hard on the back of my thigh and I yelped. This time he broke skin and the area throbbed with pleasurable heat. I clutched my pillow, arousal making my hands and legs shake.

"Please..." I said softly, knowing the words meant near-nothing to him. James came here to take from me what he needed and my impatience meant nothing to him. The pleasure I derived from our monthly interactions meant nothing to him. My deep satisfaction played no part in what he did to me. The thought made me moan out loud.

He positioned the tip of his member against me and draped his body over mine, one hand holding himself up and the other digging his nails into my side. He sank his teeth into my shoulder and thrust, making me moan again as I closed my eyes and gave myself over to him fully.

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