Hey guys! Happy Full Moon! Thanks so much for the likes and follows for this story! This is my first M rated story so I'm doing my best at the mature sections! I'm writing this as fast as I can so keep an eye out for regular updates! Leave a review and hope you enjoy!

~ Sheila Wolfe ^~^


Chapter 4

The next morning, Stiles awoke to hunger pains in his stomach. He tried to ignore them, but after a few minutes of restless tossing and turning, he finally gave up and opened his eyes. Even without a clock, he could tell it was way too early to be up. The faint gray light outside the window hinted at the approaching dawn but the room itself was still dark.

Across the room, shadows hid the other bed from view. Stiles considered checking to see if Derek was still sleeping but quickly decided against the death wish. Instead, he tiptoed across the room and slipped out the door as quietly as possible.

In the living room, he found Isaac stretched across the couch and snoring loud enough to put Scott to shame. Stiles silently snuck into the kitchen and took inventory on what there was to eat. Out of the breakfast food, a granola bar seemed the simplest, and quietest, selection. He poured a glass of orange juice and munched on his meal, deciding on what he should do next.

Everyone would be asleep for another few hours so whatever he did would have to be quiet. It wasn't so easy, though, when everyone else was a werewolf with superhearing. Stiles was genuinely surprised he hadn't woken anyone up yet.

Outside the patio doors, thick fog was swirling through the trees and scattering what little light there was into a hazy gray. Sliding the doors open, Stiles took a hesitant step onto the deck. It was cool but not quite cold. Perfect jogging weather.

Finishing off the last of his breakfast, he bravely ventured back to the guest room, staying just long enough to grab his shoes and red hoodie before retreating. He refused to even glance across the room.

Out on the deck where there was less of a threat to wake sleeping wolves, Stiles tied his sneakers and tugged the jacket on. He followed the patio stairs down to where a worn walking path snaked its way through the tress. Tugging his hood up, Stiles started a brisk pace and followed the trail, leaving the house behind.

He didn't go far; the last thing he needed to do was get lost in the woods. He jogged for maybe a good mile or so before finally stopping.

That's when he noticed the uncomfortable silence. He listened but the only noises he could hear were his own panted breaths echoing off the trees. It was odd and unnerving. Sure it was early but he expected at least some birds or something to be making noise.

Suddenly, a deafening snap echoed in the woods to Stiles' right. He jumped and spun around but all he could see were the trees silhouetted in the fog. Another snap behind him made him spin again, fear starting to set in when he still saw nothing.

"Hello?" he called tentatively, fear strangling his voice as he circled slowly, trying to distinguish shapes in the fog.

Tree, rock, tree, bush, tree, tree, bush, rock, tree, tree, Derek, tree, rock…

Wait.

Derek was suddenly leaning against a nearby tree, arms crossed and green eyes watching Stiles with what appeared to be a mix of questioning accusation and amusement.

"Holy shit!" Stiles cursed as he stumbled back in fright, clutching at his abused heart. Forget homicidal lizards or killer alphas, his death would probably be from one of the many jump scares caused by teleporting werewolves.

"Could you not play 'Give the Human a Heart Attack'?" he gasped, catching his balance on a nearby pine. "Seriously, there are easier ways to kill me!"

Derek only raised one of his dark eyebrows at the accusation before finally speaking. "You really shouldn't wander off alone."

Stiles stared blankly at him for a moment, unsure if there was concern hidden in the suggestion or some sort of threat. Quickly finding his voice again, he managed to splutter out, "Ha-have you been following me this whole time?!"

"Not the whole time." Pushing off the tree, he took slow steps forward, never breaking eye contact as he continued. "I sensed when you were gone. It didn't take me long to track your scent and catch up."

"And why would you do that?" Stiles asked uneasily. Derek was staring at him as he stalked closer, like a predator on the hunt. The idea rooted the boy to the spot, afraid to even twitch.

Brown eyes traced the muscles rippling under the thin material of Derek's t-shirt. Stiles subconsciously wet his lips, blushing furiously when he saw Derek's eyes follow the movement, and glanced down at the ground before his imagination could take over.

The wolf stopped just in front of him to answer the question Stiles had almost forgotten he had asked. "That's what an alpha does. He looks out for his pack."

Stiles jerked his head up to gape in shock. There was no way he was having this conversation with Derek. Sure, Scott might consider him pack but Derek? The guy barely put up with him as an acquaintance! Yet here he was, showing concern in his own creepy stalker-ish way.

"Even me?" the younger male chuckled, a bit of hysteria slipping into the sound as he took a step back. "The weak, hyperactive human that you can't stand?"

This cannot be the same Derek Hale.

Stiles suddenly found that his personal space wasn't so personal anymore. In a blur, Derek's hands were fisted in the front of his hoodie and Stiles' back was roughly shoved against a tree.

Okay, maybe it was the same Derek…

Derek's face hovered just inches from his own, his gray-green eyes hard and face set in its usual stony expression.

"Especially you, Stiles," the wolf growled just loud enough for the boy to hear. "You're pack and I will to protect you."

The boy's brain ground to a halt. He tried to form words but his mouth just moved soundlessly before snapping closed with an audible click. As he attempted to restart his train of thought, Derek loosened the killer grip on his hoodie but didn't quite let go.

"You know, the hood does seem fitting," Derek commented, quirking a corner of his mouth up in what was probably the closest thing to a smile Stiles had ever seen.

It took a moment for Stiles to understand the irony. Glancing down at his jacket, he giggled nervously. "Yeah, I guess I am kinda like Red Riding Hood, huh?"

"That depends." The wolf suddenly turned more predatory as he crowded even closer into Stiles space, eyes subtly flashing red. "Are you afraid of the big bad wolf?"

Through his clothes, the boy could feel the heat of Derek's body pressed up against his. Stiles' heart started pounding fast and loud in his ears. Desire shot through his body, pooling deep in his belly as he bit back a whimper. He was liking this waaaay too much. For an embarrassing moment, he remembered that Derek could probably smell his arousal and his face burned.

When he glanced at the werewolf to see if his hormones were going to sign his death warrant, Stiles was shocked to find Derek's intense gaze staring at him strangely. If Stiles had to put a word to the expression, it would have to be hungry.

That thought mixed with the Red Riding Hood remark and Stiles' currently Adderall-less state resulted in him thoughtlessly blurting out, "You're not going to eat my grandma, are you?"

As soon as it was said, Stiles wanted to sink into the ground and never come out again. He mentally slapped himself as the mood died on its feet. Derek huffed and rolled his eyes, backing out of Stiles personal bubble. An awkward silence followed, neither sure what to say. Stiles looked everywhere but at Derek, his body still raging with hormones.

"You should head back," Derek finally spoke, his voice rough and deep. Stiles nodded mutely, pushing off the tree and shakily making his way to the path. When he glanced back, Derek was already gone, disappeared back into the woods.

The sun was starting to come up, the fog melting away as warm rays of light bled through the trees. Birds were singing above as the forest woke up for a new day. The others would be up soon.

Stiles glanced around, wondering if he was being watched by his unseen protector. He took a few calming breaths, ignoring the faint, musky smell of Derek still clinging to his jacket, and started a brisk jog all the way back to the house.

By the time he climbed the steps of the patio, the sun was shining brightly and he could hear the rest of the pack up and about. Through the glass, he could see them squabbling over something as they cooked breakfast. They all turned to look at him as he entered the house, waving sheepishly at them in greeting.

"There you are!" Allison smiled, turning away from the frying pan of eggs she was scrambling to wave a spatula at him. "Where have you been?"

"I went for a walk," he quickly explained, gesturing spastically over his shoulder to the path that they probably couldn't even see. "The woods are really nice. We should take a hike later or something."

Scott nodded in understanding, walking over to throw an arm around his friend's shoulders. "How's the head?"

"It's fine," he shrugged. "Just had to sleep it off."

"Did you want some break-" Scott suddenly cut off, turning towards Stiles to take a tentative sniff. His dark eyes widened as he jumped back. "Dude what the hell!? Why do you smell like Derek?!"

Stiles froze, dread clamping down on his heart. Around the kitchen, the other werewolves were staring, obviously now picking up on the curious scent. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Stiles decided to tell them what happened.

"I, uh, ran into Derek while I was out walking."

Well, some of what happened.

Scott narrowed his eyes. "Did you literally run into him? Your jacket reeks!"

His story was slipping. Time for Stiles to do what he did best.

"Oh yeah, we had a little hug therapy session," he shrugged. "Talked about our feelings, made daisy chains, it was a great bonding experience. Too bad you guys missed it." And that's when everyone rolled their eyes and stopped listening. Perfect.

"You sure you're okay?" Scott asked suspiciously, giving another snort.

"Dude, will you quit smelling me! I'm fine! Tell you what, I'll go get a shower then we can go do whatever werewolves are supposed to do on vacation." Before Scott could argue, Stiles had already sprinted for his room, relieved to find that Derek hadn't come back yet and he was finally alone.