Only chapter in 3rd Person. R&R please! I don't own a thing!
"What are you thinking about?" He whispers, running his thumb along her bottom lip. Her forehead presses into his, hands rested on his chest.
"Everything. I'm thinking about everything." She closes her thick lashed eyes as she speaks. He pecks her on the lips three times before he responds.
"Are we moving too fast?" He whispers tightly, trying not to let it show that he desperately wants her to say no.
"No," She grins, "Not too fast at all...ask me again."
"Ask you what?" He laughs in response, arms tightening around her waist.
"Ask me what I'm thinking about." She giggles.
"Okay. What are you thinking about?"
"This," she steps back just enough to reach back and unzip her dress, letting it fall to the wooden floor. His Adan's apple bobs as his dark eyes trace her form. Her teeth catch her bottom lip as she watches him, stepping out of the frilly material.
"Kiss me," she breathes. He complies, fingers pressing into the divot of her spine. Their lips move in synch, in patterns that felt natural. One set of her long fingers slide along his shoulder and neck to lace into his short black hair; the other grips his forearm.
He backs her up until they reach the bed, kissing her with more fervor and settling between her legs. She smiles against his mouth-into their kiss. He smiles down at her in response as he sits up and shrugs out of his jacket and strips his shirt: leaving him in a white wifebeater tank top.
It reminds her of Derek, causing a pang in her stomach.
"You wear far too many clothes," She says in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. He grins, boyish and lopsided, ducking his head to leave white-hot kisses along the length of her throat.
She moans, head tilting back to grant him more access.
"What if Allison finds out?" He blurts out.
"I don't want to think about your ex-girlfriend while I'm in bed with you," she murmurs, one small hand sliding along the rigid skin beneath his undershirt. Her other hand traces the bands on his arm.
It sends tingles through his body and suddenly any thoughts of Allison are clouded with a more immediate desire for the girl underneath him.
He kisses her, more aggressively now, teeth and tongues gnashing together. His hand moves down her side, until he sees the paragraph tattooed on her skin. It's written in cursive in French.
"What does this say?"
"Faites confiance qu'à vous-même. Ce n'est pas la faute de l'alpha je suis parti. C'est parce que les Argents. Donc, vivre pour nous deux. Tomber en amour. Trouvez le bel homme que je sais que vous méritez."
She says, keeping their eyes locked, "It was what my brother said to me in his letter for me after he killed himself. He told me to fall in love and to live for both of us."
"Wow." He says, his eyes feeling slightly wet. She never said anything about Callum before. At his distraction, she tugs the last clothing on his upper body off.
"No more sad things. I want you," Her voice turns seductive at the last three words.
The girl's sepia hair pitches around her as she flips them over and touches her lips to the top of her chest, working her way down with flicks of her little pink tongue against his salty skin.
He groans, hips meeting hers in reaction. She had to be some kind of witch because she was bringing out feelings in him that Allison never even skimmed the surface of. No, not a witch, a Siren. Like from Greek Mythology. If her personality didn't call to men, her body was certainly enough.
She throws her leg over his hips, straddling him. His hands immediately rest on her hipbones.
"Scott..." She trails off, eyes bright in the darkness of his bedroom. It's the first time Scott really notices her eyes; navy with golden specks near the irises.
"You're beautiful," he whispers, sitting up to press their chests together. She feels the heat from his skin through the fabric of her lace bra. The boiling in her blood is hotter than hellfire. His large hand slides up her spine in search for a bra clasp. She starts to laugh when he fumbles around on her back, unable to find it.
"The clasp is on the front." She breathes.
"They make bras that clasp in the front?!" His black eyes widen. She smirks at him, taking his hand and guiding it to the clasp.
"Does that answer your question?" A laugh breaks from her throat as Scott switches their positions at werewolf speed, pinning her too thin wrists above her head.
His eyes are yellow now, canines poking out and pressing against his bottom lip. She isn't afraid like Allison. It makes him more handsome to her. The Ex-Hunter pulls her wrist free and brushes her fingers across his fangs.
"You-you aren't scared?" His voice growls.
"Of course not," she replies, pressing her lips hard into his and lacing her fingers in his hair.
Scott leans in and leaves the same irritating kisses on her tummy that she gave him earlier. She moans, arching her back and screwing her eyes closed. Once again the brunette rips her wrist out of his hold and unbuttons his jeans, scooting them down his strong legs with her feet.
With one hand under her lower-back, he lifts her and moves higher up the bed. Their lips met again, bruising hers as her head hit the pillow. The wolf was in control now.
"Scott, please," Hearing her moan his name is too much. Scott bends down and sinks his teeth into her hip.
"No!" She protests. It's too late. She screams high-pitched at the agony from the Bite. Her fist met his cheek, sending him hitting the floor. After gritting her teeth, she stands up.
She screams again, knees collapsing. Scott pulls on sweatpants and slides a tee shirt down her quivering body.
"We have to get you to the hospital, Jor." He whispers, drawing her arm around his shoulders.
"No. D-Derek. I need Derek." She replies, eyebrows furrowed as she fights the pain filling every single cell in her body. An agonizing nausea punches a hole through her stomach and she drops to her knees. Without warning, she grasps a trashcan and pukes. It's bloody pink bile.
"Jordan!" He kneels beside her, holding her soft hair back, "Hold onto this."
Her fingers close around the metal wastebasket as he wraps both arms around her and carries her down the stairs. Melissa McCall's eyes go wide as she witnesses a second bloody up chuck.
"Oh My God. Scott, what happened?"
"He...Bit Me." She coughs. Her head met his shoulder limply.
"I need to get her to Derek's."
"Okay. Make sure she keeps her eyes open," her nursing training spoke up. The teen nods, sprinting to his motorcycle and setting her down in front of him, arms locked firmly around her waist.
"Derek!" Scott shouts as he pulls up to the Hale house he'd been at just hours ago. No-one is there. Cursing, he lifts his cellphone and the Alpha answers.
"Do you know what time it is, Scott?!"
"What happens when a Beta bites someone?" He asks, cutting the sleepy man off. In bed, Derek bolts upright at the question.
"What the hell did you do?"
"I bit Jordan," Is all it takes for Derek to pull on some pants, wake Isaac, and drive to them to his old home.
Meanwhile, she gets sicker. Her skin is ghostly white, face flushed, a rising fever.
Translation:
Faites confiance qu'à vous-même. Ce n'est pas la faute de l'alpha je suis parti. C'est parce que les Argents. Donc, vivre pour nous deux. Tomber en amour. Trouvez le bel homme que je sais que vous méritez.
Trust only yourself. It's not the Alpha's fault I'm gone. This is because of the Argents. So live for both of us. Fall in love. Find the handsome man I know you deserve.