A low, mournful howl pierced the silence of the night, dragging Lena out of a restless sleep. She sat up in bed, her chest heaving as the cries filled the night air. For a moment, she stayed still, hoping the eerie noise would fade, but it only grew louder, joined by other howls that seemed to carry a strange harmony.
Throwing off the covers, she padded to the window, peering out into the darkness. The estate was still and quiet, save for the haunting chorus coming from somewhere deep in the forest. The full moon hung low in the sky, bathing the estate in a pale light that sent a strange shiver down her spine.
She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to calm the inexplicable unease curling within her but when it became clear that sleep wouldn't come, she slipped out of her room, following the faint light spilling from downstairs.
In the kitchen, she found Mrs. Henley, who was perched at the table with a steaming cup of tea. The older woman looked up, her face softening with concern.
"Couldn't sleep, dear?"
"It's the howling," Lena admitted, settling into a chair across from her. "I've never heard anything like it before."
Mrs. Henley offered a small smile, the kind that hinted at secrets she wouldn't share. "You'll hear it often around here, especially on nights like this. The full moon always stirs them up."
"Them?" Lena frowned. "You mean wolves?"
The older woman's eyes flashed with something Lena couldn't place. "Of course. What else would it be?"
Lena turned to the window, her gaze drawn to the moon again. "It's beautiful," she murmured, more to herself than to Mrs. Henley.
"Full moons are… significant," Mrs. Henley said cautiously. "They tend to bring out certain qualities in people. Restlessness. Energy. Sometimes even transformation."
Lena turned back to her, puzzled. "Transformation?"
Mrs. Henley gave her a measured look. "Do you feel different on full moons?"
"No," Lena said, shaking her head. "Why would I?"
Mrs. Henley's gaze lingered for a moment before she muttered something under her breath, a string of words Lena couldn't catch.
"What did you say?" Lena asked, leaning closer.
"Nothing, dear," the older woman replied quickly, standing to rinse her mug. "Just an old habit of talking to myself. Don't pay me any mind."
A distant noise interrupted them—a door closing somewhere in the house. Mrs. Henley's expression relaxed.
"That'll be Damien," she said, drying her hands. "Don't worry, dear. Go back to bed. You'll feel better in the morning."
Lena nodded, but her curiosity wouldn't let her simply go back to bed. Instead, she wandered upstairs again. Her feet moved of their own accord, carrying her down the hallway. She stopped abruptly when she noticed a door slightly ajar. A faint light spilled into the hallway, and she could hear the sound of water running.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she stepped closer, peeking inside.
Damien stood with his back to her. His wet hair clung to his neck, droplets of water tracing the curve of his shoulders and down the ridges of his muscles. A towel hung precariously low on his hips in a way that made Lena's throat go dry.
Lena knew she should leave, but her feet wouldn't move. Her breath caught in her throat, and heat rose to her cheeks as her eyes roamed over the broad expanse of his back.
"I can feel you staring, Lena."
Her heart stuttered. He hadn't even turned around.
"Like what you see?" He teased.
"I-I wasn't—" she stammered, taking a step back.
Damien turned slightly, just enough for her to catch the smirk tugging at his lips. His eyes beamed with amusement, but there was something else in his gaze, something that made her pulse quicken.
"You don't have to explain," he said, his gaze locking onto hers. "Curiosity is natural."
Her breath quickened, and she pressed herself against the doorframe. She opened her mouth to say something—anything—but words failed her.
"I—um—I was just going back to my room," she managed to say, though her voice sounded weak even to her own ears.
Damien stepped closer, the light from the bedside lamp catching the sharp lines of his jaw and the intensity in his eyes. The air between them crackled, and Lena found herself unable to look away.
"Were you?" he asked, his voice laced with challenge.
"Yes," she said, but it sounded more like a question than a statement.
He took another step forward, and she instinctively took a step back, her pulse pounding beneath her skin.
"You've got that look again," he said, his gaze dropping briefly to her lips before meeting her eyes again.
"What look?" she whispered.
"The one that says you want answers," Damien replied, his tone dropping to a near growl. "But you're not ready for them yet. You're not ready for this."
Lena swallowed hard, her cheeks burning as his words sank in.
"I should go," she said, her voice trembling.
Damien didn't stop her, but his gaze followed her every movement as she turned and hurried back to her room.
Once inside, she leaned against the door, her heart thudding so loudly she was sure it would wake the entire house.
What was that?