Blood Moon 1
Tuck turned impatiently when he yet again reached the farthest wall of the room, and paced back across the thick Asian carpet covering the floor. Unconsciously nibbling on his lower lip and tapping the thumb and index finger of his right hand together, he first glanced at the tall, leanly shaped man reclining lazily on the divan across the room, then at the old clock at his other side, and finally at the thick, panel covered iron door that lead out of the underground quarters where he lived with his master.
He reached the end of his path and had to change direction again to be able to continue his pacing. He kept tapping his thumb and finger together and he kept glancing at the man and the clock and the door, but he failed to see the moon rising this night because there were no windows down here. And still he didn't have to. He need only take a good look at the black-haired vampire on the divan to know.
Tuck came up to the wall yet again and when he turned around this time he couldn't avoid seeing the annoyed look on his master's face.
"What?!" he snapped even though he hadn't meant to.
"Stop pacing the room, kid. You are making me dizzy." Dain spoke slowly, as if to a dimwitted child, and it made Tuck even more worried. Dain knew Tuck wasn't a small kid, nor stupid; Dain never treated him like he didn't understand. But then again, this night, perhaps he didn't.
The night of the Blood Moon. It happened only once every 500 hundred years and maybe not even then. It was an unpredictable occurrence but if you knew how to read the signs you could tell when it was forthcoming.
Dain knew how to read the signs and had told him, only a few days past, that soon a Blood Moon would rise again.
That simple statement had scared the shit out of Tuck since he had heard the same rumors that every loyal ever heard, and he had poured through every one of Dain's ancient volumes in search of any explanation to the phenomenon and what he could do to help his master. He had found nothing of value in those books, written by dumbass monks over 500 years ago, that Dain had kept for his amusement, and Tuck had been forced to ask one of Shiva's loyals for help. What those old scrolls had told him was far from comforting.
Tuck now knew how werewolves had first come into existence.
And now he worried that his master would go out tonight, fall under the spell of the Blood Moon – alluring as it was to the undead – and in his blood fever create a new werewolf. Tuck didn't now if Dain had ever happened to do so before in his long lifetime, but this night Tuck knew Dain had all the reasons to want to.
Tuck had asked Dain if he had created a werewolf on the last Blood Moon, but he had said no, that he had been too young a vampire himself to be able to do so.
But this night Tuck knew Dain would be seeking the hunter, consciously or unconsciously to himself, because the hunter was an equal and strong, and the need to establish dominance between the two would be the vampire's most urgent need. Tuck hoped Dain was mature enough and strong enough to resist the powerful calling of the Blood Moon.
~*~
The changes were already happening in his body. The slow, gradual heightening of his already sharp senses; the elongating of his fangs, even the second pairs growing longer; the color of his eyes and the tint of the world.
Dain glanced once at his fingers and wasn't surprised to see the signs of claws growing out. Only older vampires got those in addition to the fangs. Dain knew he was old, but he had hoped he wasn't that old. He sighed wistfully and turned his attention back to the ridiculous romance novel he was reading.
Tuck kept pacing the room and throwing anxious glances at him, making Dain want to snap at him or snap his neck. Dain's temper was another sign that the moon was rising and even though he had fed properly the night before, he knew he would feel the hunger ten fold this night.
It began as in itch in his mouth, his teeth tingling and his tongue restlessly caressing against the roof of his mouth. His breathing quickened as his senses told him the night was cool and waiting for him. The world took on a red taint as he acknowledged the hunger spreading through his veins and he glanced up to see Tuck had stopped pacing to stare at him, apprehension written all over his young face.
He looked at the boy one moment too long and the young, fresh veins in the boy's neck became visible to his heightened senses. The hunger clamored for him to sate it and he tore his eyes away with a low snarl.
Tuck started and took two steps back when Dain rose from the divan, his movements fluid and predatory.
"Stay inside tonight, Tuck, and you will be safe," Dain told him, not for fear of biting the boy himself, but knowing that a few of the other highbloods wouldn't mind him loosing his closest ally. And under the lure of the Blood Moon they would be without fault.
Tuck nodded, still staring at Dain's red eyes and the tips of his fangs just visible between his lips, and asked him to be careful. But Dain hardly heard him since the blood in his veins started roaring as soon as he opened the door and smelled the breeze.
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