Forgot to post this yesterday, oops.

Hope you enjoy!

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He heard her before anything else; the unsteady click of heels as she picked her way through detritus and tree roots, the thump, thump of her heart, and the rush of air as she breathed. Next was her smell: aconitum spiced with pepper/anger, straw/nervousness, and iron/determination.

How very interesting.

A minute or so later she entered through the door. He was more than willing to admit the first thing that caught his eye were her blood-red heels. The rest of her, all adult and sophisticated in dark gray and red, was just as stunning. "Hello Lydia."

"Peter."

Her voice was cold and knife sharp. It gave him a pleasant chill. "To what do I own the pleasure of your company?"

"You."

He arched an eyebrow and smirked. "I didn't know you found me so irresistible."

Pepper/anger almost overwhelmed even her scent of aconitum; but physically she remained calm and collected. "Hardly." He was only barely surprised that she was telling the truth. She crossed her arms and iron/determination returned. "No, this is about your mental bullying during the past few weeks. Because if you think I'm going to let it stand you've got another think coming."

She was glorious and he relished his body's reactions: how his cock grew hard and electricity raced up his spine. Her assertion also pulled his wolf to the surface and he gave her a toothy grin. And gods above he wanted her.

He lunged, not to attack, but to test her. Anything less than her best was unacceptable for his mate.

She didn't scream, or run away. Lydia Martin stood her ground. While the urge to knock her down and mark her everywhere still roared within him he managed to pull himself short a few steps from her.

His smile turned genuine. "Well, well, well. Lydia seems to have learned something. Care to share it with the rest of the class?"

For a moment her lips twitched and her scent was shot through with ozone/?. He wondered what he could do to incite that scent again, he'd though he knew all her emotions. She uncrossed her arms and tilted her chin up, looking him straight in the eye, challenging him. "You have no power over me, and you never did."

Peter chuckled; not because she was wrong, or to belittle her, but because it evoked a memory from before that filled him with a now foreign warmth. He took a step closer, "and if you're wrong?"

Sharpie/confusion flashed through her, as if she hadn't even considered it. The warmth grew and his wolf gave a happy yip.

"But I'm not," despite her best efforts he heard the slight tremor in her voice.

Part of him wanted to call her out on it, the other conceded that she was allowed a little human frailty. . .for now. He stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her, one at her waist, the other at her shoulders. "And how will you redress this wrong?"

For a few moments there was silence and he bit back a wolf-whine as she stood and seemed to endure his embrace.

"Maybe I won't do anything at all," she finally answered. Sulfur/indifference made his nose itch. His wolf snared at her apathy.

And when she started to move he let her go, his fingers on her waist curling slightly to trace her scars.

He watched her leave and found he was smiling. Not a 'yes' but not a 'no' either. He could be patient.

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After she left the Hale house she headed towards Allison's. But when all she got there was Allison's grandfather, a creepy-ass leer, and "she's not here, but you're more than welcome to wait for her;" she left.

She headed to Stiles', more than willing to use his crush and lack of brain to mouth filter against him. The now-Sheriff-again answered the door. His smile was warm, "hello Lydia."

She returned it with one of her own, "is Stiles in?"

He nodded and stepped aside. "He's in his room, head on up. Though you might want to knock first." He shrugged as if to say, 'what can you do?'.

"Thanks," she said as she brushed past him.

For a moment as she climbed up the stairs memories of being seven and coming over to hang out with Stiles and his awesome mom threaten to consume her. But only for a moment, then she pushed past them and continued on her way. At least being cool-hearted was good for something.

She debated for a moment on whether she should actually knock or just barge in. Habitual politeness made her knock.

The door opened and Stiles looked completely surprised. "Lydia! You were not the person I was expecting. But may I say you are looking quite nice today."

She found she didn't care, and instead of easing into her question she just straight up asked: "who can teach me how to protect myself from werewolves?"

For a moment he gaped at her, and then that lovely lack of brain to mouth filter kicked in, "Doctor Deaton."

Which she never would have guessed in a million years. "The vet?"

He nodded, and she smiled and gave him a pat on the cheek. "Thanks Stiles."

She was out the front door by the time he caught up. He grabbed her arm to stop her and she glared at him. "Lydia. . .how did you find out?"

She twisted her arm and broke his grip, "well it was certainly no thanks to you."

Stiles recoiled at her tone. "I wanted to tell you! But. . ."

"But what?" She hissed, voice full of contempt. "The secrecy of your little club more important than my own sanity?"

Stiles looked like a dying fish. A familiar tired ache began to well up, and she waved off whatever half-assed excuse he was going to give her. "You know what Stiles? I don't care anymore. Just as long as you all don't bother me anymore I'll be fine."

She was about to climb into her car when Stiles apparently found his voice again. "We can't protect you if you don't trust us Lydia."

She gave him a look, "who says I need your protection?"

And with that she headed off to the vet's.

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The bell above the door jingled as she entered. Her eyes went to Deaton standing behind the counter, and for a brief moment she wondered if he was waiting for her or if it was completely serendipitous. Either way it didn't really matter. "Stiles told me you could teach me how to protect myself."

Deaton just smiled, opened the partition, and beckoned her forward.

When she got home she ignored her father and step-mother's pleasantries and headed up to her room. She'd wait until tomorrow to lay down the mountain ash, less chance of being interrupted that way, but laying down dried wolfsbane blossoms on most the flat surfaces of her room was easy. Even if handling them reminded her of things she didn't want to remember.

Staring at the pale yellow, that blended in quite well with the white windowsills, blossoms now covering everything didn't make her feel safer, but Deaton had assured her it would work. "There are two hundred and fifty different species of aconitum. And each affects werewolves in a different manner. When werewolves smell this one it instills in them the urge to run away, that's why this species is called wolfsbane. The urge is so intense that even strong-willed wolves will be hard pressed to resist."

He never asked why she needed protection, just gave various items to her and explained how each worked and how to use them correctly, for which she was grateful. But something about the way he acted told her he already knew why.

As she headed down for dinner her mind was already figuring out the best uses for the powered aconitum he gave her. And wondering if she could bribe Mr. Harris with the offer of taking over his tutoring sessions if he'd let her use the senior chem lab.