Tristan sat in his opulent velvet armchair, one of two that sat in the cavernous room. The medieval castle had been in his family for generations; it was won fair and square in a dual, from a nobleman many moons ago. His ancestor, Nicholas Curran, had literally destroyed Count Tramell on a cool night under the full moon, thus taking the Count's fiancee, Catherine, as his own. The rest, as they say, is history.

Tristan stared at the roaring fire in front of him, the flames fanned higher by the wind that wound its way into the draughty, old castle. He had inherited a crumbling heap. His father, John Gray Curran, had squandered the family inheritance. Tristan was his bastard son. His 'father' engaged in a torrid affair with his mother, Elizabeth McGraw, which lasted for nine and a half weeks. By all accounts, his mother was lucky to get away with her life. It wasn't until his eighteenth birthday that Tristan realised exactly what his mother meant when she said he changed overnight. She had frequently referred to him as a beast, but Tristan had no idea what that really meant.

His mother once told him that true love would find a way to break the curse. She had hoped that would be the case with John, but he kept her at bay after the attack. John returned to his wife and denied Tristan's mothers's existence. They had no children, therefore the deeds to the castle, and grounds, passed to Tristan. He spent what was left of his own meagre savings in propping the old thing up, but the money was now gone.

The sound of a car pulling up outside on the gravelled driveway brought him to his senses. He threw another log on the fire, quickly checked his appearance in the hallway mirror, under the gothic archway leading to the main door. He pulled back the bolts smoothly, about the only thing in the castle that didn't shriek or moan. He was standing on the top step by the time the little red Mazda pulled to a stop.

The car door opened, and a pair of very well turned ankles slid out, followed out by the longest legs Tristan had ever seen. His mouth dropped open a little at the sight of her again. Some beauty could not be retained by memory alone. She was dressed in a well cut steel grey dress. It struggled to restrain her ample assets. Tristan had been smitten with her since their first meeting at the bank. There followed a period of wooing on his behalf until she finally succumbed. Tonight was the first time she had visited his home. Tristan was, naturally, a gentleman after all.

"Ah, Miss Lead, so good of you to come."

"Why, Mister Bray, so kind an invitation. How could I refuse? And please, call me Anna."

"And I am, of course, Tristan."

"I thought this was the Curran estate."

"Yes, it is, although I am a Bray, John Curran was my father."

Anna glanced back at her lovely little red Mazda, and then up at the handsome young man, holding the door open for her. She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her left ear, before fixing her beautiful green eyes on him, and said, "The car was a lovely gift, but perhaps a little too much?"

"But red roses would have been too predictable, do you not think?" he replied, meeting her gaze, and feeling the stirrings of something deep inside him. "I have prepared something for us to eat."

"You cook as well? I am impressed."

"What can I say? I am one of those changed, modern men," Tristan replied with one of his most charming smiles, causing his guest to cast her eyes down demurely.

Tristan had known the night was to be special, but now it could be exhilarating. As Anna walked past him into the interior of the castle, he caught a much closer sense of her scent. It was intoxicating. His brown eyes widened, his mouth opened a little, and his trousers became a little less roomy. Tristan followed her inside, watching as she walked, admiring her beautifully sculpted body; the curve of her rear; the narrow shoulders and wonderfully, exquisite long neck, partially covered by her shoulder-length black hair.

As they walked into the main room, Anna could feel the warmth from the fire mingling with the warmth she felt for this handsome young man with whom she had become so enamoured.

"So what are we having for dinner this evening?"

Tristan smiled, "My old housekeeper, Ms Forrest, gave me her recipe for what she refers to as her 'Bunny Boiler'."

Anna's eyebrows raised, "Rabbit, then?"

"Poached, no less. I am a hunter/gatherer after all. I love a bit of game."

"I'll bet," replied Anna, giving him a very seductive look, "and I wonder what's on the menu for dessert?"

"Death by chocolate," Tristan was enjoying himself with this young woman, and couldn't wait for the preliminaries to be over. He had a feeling that tonight was to be a very rare treat indeed.

"Wow. This really is overkill, Tristan."

"You have no idea, Anna. You look ravishing this evening, my dear."

"Well, this dress is to die for."

Tristan showed Anna through the dining room. The long wooden table dominating the room. Anna gasped at the enormous piece of wood.

"I hope I can take your breath away in some other ways this evening," he ventured, again with the smile. Tristan's pulse was quickening and his nerve endings were on fire. This woman was different. Maybe his mother was right. Maybe she was the one to finally lift the curse.

The two young romancers enjoyed a hurried dinner, full of mindless, and shameless flirting. Each trying to outdo the other in raising the other's ardour. By the end of the meal, neither party was under any illusion that things would take a more physical turn as some point that evening.

Anna Lead was mesmerised by this young man. There was something so primal about him. She could see it every time she gazed into his dark brown eyes. The atmosphere between them was electrifying, and she couldn't get enough of it. As the evening played out, she wanted nothing more than to devour her handsome host. An opportunity she hoped would shortly present itself.

Tristan Bray's head was swimming in the company of this young woman. He hung on her every word. He drank in her smell. His synapses were firing and he knew she could feel it to. He thought there was more to this than it merely being his time of the month.

As the sun began its languid glide to the horizon, Tristan ventured his final gambit of the night.

"Anna, we are both consenting adults. I think we both know where this is going, but how far do you want to go?"

"Why, Tristan, I surely don't know what you mean!" She was toying with him but when she looked at him there was something else there now. There was a fire burning within him. There was a spark of danger in his eye.

He almost growled in response, "Anna, don't toy with me. I am deadly serious now. I like 'games'. Do you want to play?"

"Like 'snakes and ladders'. There's a snake I'd like to see."

Why was she baiting him?

There was anger in Tristan's eyes and voice now. "Perhaps you should leave, before it is too late."

"What do you mean, too late?" Anna was starting to get scared, and she was loving it. She wanted this man more than anything. There was a real animal magnetism at play. She couldn't explain it.

Tristan didn't answer, he was pacing up and down the room. Almost prowling. He paused by the window and looked up into the beckoning dark. The moon was just becoming visible. He glared at Anna, making her jump.

"In or out Anna?"

Anna heard her voice speak with no conscious thought behind it, "In. Show me what you've got."

Tristan grabbed her by the hand, and almost dragged her down the hallway. He took out a large key and inserted it into one of the old castle doors. Anna was trembling. The pressure of his hand on her arm was painful, but also exhilarating. She was horny. She ran a hand across the back of Tristan's neck. She found it odd that the hairs there felt very coarse. Tristan led her inside to an old stone staircase. The stairs descended deeply and darkly. When they reached the bottom, Tristan pushed her against another door and roughly kissed her. She entered into it with abandon, and on release she bit his lip, drawing blood.

"I bite," she whispered in his ear.

"Me too."

Tristan opened the door, and pushed Anna into the darkness. Something crunched under her feet, and there a faint metallic smell in the air.

"Where are we?" Anna gasped breathlessly, pulling Tristan towards her.

He pulled away, roughly. "My playroom. It's where I like to romp."

"Are we going to stay in the dark?"

"You won't want to see it coming."

Anna laughed. This was getting interesting she thought. Tristan grabbed her hand and thrust it into a manacle that was hanging from the ceiling in the centre of the room. He did the same with the other hand. Anna could still stand, but her arms were suspended above her head. She could hear Tristan removing his clothes.

"And how are you going to remove mine?"

Tristan didn't reply, but Anna felt something sharp cut across her midriff, felt her dress fall apart and slip from her body. She started to smile, but then she felt a coldness on her stomach, like a wet grape being dragged across it.

"Tristan?"

No reply, just a laugh, and deep breathing.

"Tristan?" Anna spoke again, in a louder voice. The fear was taking over the excitement. She could hear shuffling in the corner; the sound of things breaking under foot on the floor. Then she felt a rough wet tongue run along her inner thigh and between her legs. She let out a long moan, as she began to quiver.

"I'm going to make you howl." A voice in the darkness, it sounded like Tristan but deeper and more gravelly.

"Oh, yes, you are!" Anna purred, just before she let out a bloodcurdling scream as sharp teeth tore into her stomach.

Tristan's transformation was complete. He shook his heavy grey coat and bit into Anna's waist; shook her like a chew toy. With a hefty jerk, he ripped her arms out of their sockets leaving them hanging from the manacles. He threw her dying body against the wall, pounced on it and devoured the dying flesh.

The moon was full outside, high in the sky. Once Tristan had finished his play, he lay on a corner of the underground room, gnawing on a bone, and occasionally letting out a yelp, or a howl. He soon fell fast asleep.

The next morning, Tristan awoke feeling alive, and refreshed. He looked around his playroom and let out a sigh. I guess she wasn't the one after all. As he walked across the room towards the door, he bent down and retrieved the remnant of the dress Anna had been wearing the night before. It really had been a beautiful piece of attire.

"What colour was it again?" he spoke into the stillness, "oh yes. Steel grey. I wonder how many shades of grey there actually are."