I'm pretty nervous about posting this, so I've decided to add this warning - This is dark. Very, very dark. This chapter has finally earned this fic's M Rating and contains some fairly graphic violence. If you think that's something that's going to bother you, please don't read it. I honestly don't want to upset anyone. Hopefully, you'll all see that it's important to the overall story.

He took a step closer and Lydia's blood ran cold as she stared into the glowing eyes of the man she most feared. Gleaming amber orbs met her scared green eyes and she took a deep breath,

hoping she was just having another one of her nightmares.

"Wrong wolf, sweetheart."

Lydia's breath caught in her throat and, for a second, time stood still. Peter's eyes freely roamed up and down her body, hungrily drinking her all in, causing Lydia to wrap her arms protectively around herself.

"I knew red would be your colour," he breathed, smiling at her, his elongated fangs flashing dangerously in the moonlight.

Lydia shivered at his words, this time nothing to do with the cold that seemed to settle on the house. Wrapping her arms even tighter around herself, she tried to fix a determined look on her face.

"Stay away from me." She meant to sound strong and hated herself when her voice came out shaking and shrill.

He laughed, the sound too loud for the small room, and Lydia flinched. Taking a step towards her, Peter tilted his head and regarded her calmly.

Lydia stood her ground for a moment, staring back at him with wide, fearful eyes.

"I mean it. Stay away from me," she whispered, taking a step back and feeling the cold wall against her back. Her eyes darted around the room, but he was between her and the only exit, and was advancing slowly towards her, like a predator hunting it's prey.

In a heartbeat, he closed the last few feet between them with an unnatural speed, suddenly standing so close that Lydia could smell the whiskey on his breath. He swayed towards her, and she screwed her face up and turned her head to the side. Trying to squirm away, she found his hands resting on either side of her head, barring her escape. He brought his hand up to trace gently down the side of her face, a long sharp claw tracing down to catch slightly on her lip.

She wanted to fight, wanted to bring her fists up and release all her anger, but her body wasn't obeying, and she stood still, frozen with fear. His hand continued it's journey down, his eyes hungrily following it's path as he stroked down the side of her neck. He came to rest his hand on her shoulder, his thumb resting ominously over her throat. His fingertips slipped under the strap of her dress and pushed it to the side, revealing her bare shoulder. Lydia tensed as he lowered his face to the pale skin he had unveiled, ready for the pain of a bite. She released her breath in a quiet sob as, instead, he pressed a soft kiss to the skin there.

"Oh Lydia," he sighed against her shoulder. "Why him? What does Derek have that I don't have?" He tipped his head back and smirked at her, his voice whiny like a child's. He was playing with her.

"A heart," she spat, before suddenly bringing her knee up and catching him squarely between his legs. He buckled, his werewolf strength failing him for a moment as pain overcame him and she took her chance to push at him with all her might. She might have got further if it wasn't for the damn dress. It billowed out behind her and he made a grab for it, pulling her back and launching himself at her. He landed on top of her heavily and the air rushed out of her lungs. They struggled with each other, his hands grabbing at her roughly, her hands flailing ineffectually at him. Her feet kicked out at him, trying to scramble away, but his hands dug into her hips and slid her back to him. She cried out as she felt the rough debris on the floor scratch into her back. She carried on fighting wildly, throwing punches that seem to do nothing to deter him as he pressed her down into the dirty floor, his full weight suffocating on top of her. His hand once again found her shoulder, pulling her dress to the side, and for the first time that night, she feared him as a man, not as a wolf. The fight seemed almost already won and Lydia feebly bucked her hips one last time, trying to throw him off her. She failed and stilled, breathing hard, salty tears flowing freely down her face.

"Please..." she breathed softly, sobbing quietly, and flexing the fingers that were now pinned down next to her head.

He smiled down at her, a smile that would have been warm, if not for the long fangs that were bared at her. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest and she knew he could hear it. She was transfixed by those fangs, sharp and deadly in the darkness. She knew she was immune to the bite. She couldn't turn. She would die. The wild look in his glowing eyes said that he was lost - The wolf inside was winning and without control, he would go too far and she would bleed to death, right here on the dusty floor. She didn't want to die. With a start, she realised she hadn't really been living - She had been wasting her life lying, spending time with people she couldn't stand, drifting through life like a ghost.

"We could have been so good together," he said, looking genuinely upset. With every ounce of concentration that was left in her aching body, she managed to contort her tear stained face into a small smile. She wanted to live.

"We still could be?" She whispered, trying her best to keep her eyes soft and open. She forced the bile back down her throat when he ground against her in response. He seemed to be buying it. His head dropped heavily against the shoulder he'd wrenched her dress off and she shuddered as she felt his breath against her flesh.

"Nice try," he muttered, before sinking his teeth deep into her pale shoulder. She screamed out in pain, her body convulsing as she felt him tear a chunk out of her, hot blood spilling onto the dusty floorboards. He pulled back to look at her, her blood smeared all over his grinning mouth before he moved back down her body, his hands stroking down her sides as he went. As he sat back on his heels, she realised this was her chance. His weight was no longer pinning her down and he was distracted, his fingertips digging into her hips. She tried to push herself up, but immediately flopped back down, knowing without looking that the bite in her shoulder was worse than she first thought. Pain shot through her body and she felt weak and dizzy.

She could do nothing but stare straight up at the charred ceiling, trying to keep her breathing even. She glanced down at Peter, who was crouching over her, his hands skimming down to the hem of her dress. His hands slid under the fabric and he pushed the red satin up to her hips, exposing her smooth legs to the cold night air. She tried to move to cover herself, feeling exposed to his darkened eyes, but her limbs felt like they were made of lead. Her breathing was laboured, each breath ripping a little whimper from her as she felt the blood continue to ooze from her shoulder.

Peter leaned down, his face close to the pale silken flesh of her thigh. She squeezed her eyes shut, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. She was going to die. She knew it now. Two faces flashed into her mind as she felt the beginnings of darkness tugging at her. Sharp teeth grazed against the inside of her thigh, and prayed that the blackness would consume her quickly. Her mind felt sluggish and she smiled to herself, warm brown eyes and intense red ones swimming into her vision, tearing her away from the reality of where she was.

Her eyes were closed when Peter's hot hands were suddenly gone, wrenched away from her still body. She was cold now. So cold. The room was filled with sound and movement but she was too cold and too tired to even open her eyes. The sounds of growling and snarling were echoing in her ears, and she thought she heard someone calling her name. The voice was frantic and familar, but he sounded so far away and she wanted to get back, come back to both of them. Warm, soft hands were at her throat, feeling for a pulse. You're too late, she thought. At least she was dying in the beautiful dress, she thought idly to herself, before blacking out.

The End.

BAZINGA! Ha! Can you imagine?! Jeez. That'd be evil.

No, I jest. Obviously there's more to come. So... you were warned about all the violence. Hope it hasn't put anyone off. It's over now. We got through it... together. I'm proud of all of us. Maybe you'll be rewarded with a little somethin' somethin' in the next chapter ;)

Soooo.. yeah, as always, I love reviews! I'm slightly nervous that all the reviews are just gonna be "WHAT DID YOU DO TO LYDIA?!" and similar, but, even if that's the case, I love the idea of people taking the time out of their day to tell me what they're thinking about this fic, so lay it on me, guys. Comments about the writing would be great, but even if you just wanna yell at me for being mean to little Lydia, that's ok too. :)

xxx