Chapter 11

Chris had the maps laid out on his desk to mark the signs of werewolf activity he'd observed earlier that day. After the field assessment he had stopped at Melissa's place for the lesson and this was the first chance he got to update his records. There was something strange about the new pack, he could feel it but he didn't yet know what it was.

When he heard the knock on his front door, he reached into his desk drawer for a gun. Not that a burglar or a supernatural threat would be so considerate as to knock, but he had no friends who would just drop by, either. He checked the feed from the security camera and was surprised to see Melissa McCall on the monitor screen. She was wearing a dress and her hair was untied. His first thought was that he was dreaming again.

A lingering sense of paranoia made him take the gun to open the door.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi, come on in," he greeted her and opened the door for her. "What's wrong?"

She glanced at the gun he held casually in his right hand, but didn't comment. He breathed in her scent when she passed by, in the close confines of his hallway. He hoped she didn't notice, aware that adding that to the way he reacted during the lesson, she might think him a total creep. And the only reason she wasn't already sure he was a creep was because she didn't know that he had surveillance cameras outside her house and had hacked in the hospital's CC system. With all the good reasons in the world, that behavior amounted to creepiness. Except… he didn't have only pure reasons anymore. He was deriving some enjoyment out of watching her.

"I don't know," she answered and followed him into his office

"Do you want a drink?" Chris asked, as a matter of protocol, and reached for the whiskey bottle.

"No, thanks," she said, but seemed to change her mind. "Actually… yeah, sure."

He poured her the drink and did his best not to touch her when he handed her the glass. He was still shaken by the kiss they had shared and the bit of scotch he had drunk before her arrival was working against his lucidity.

He focused on her words, valiantly ignoring how beautiful she looked in that simple dress. Stubbornly refusing to hope that she came to him in the flesh for the same reasons she had come so often in his dreams.

"It's painful to admit that I just can't do any better at defending myself. I've been in situations where my decisions meant life or death for someone. I'm an ER nurse and I had to do triage when the doctors were too busy. I can't afford to be ashamed to admit that I'm not getting better. So, the self-defense lessons should stop. You can still come to train Natalie. Here's the key to my house, you can still use the basement whenever you want."

He looked at the key she was holding out for him to take. When he didn't move, she just placed it on his desk, unfazed by his apparent reluctance.

"You're right about the other thing, though. I can play chess well enough to understand that you have to protect me because I'm a piece on the board. I am a weak spot in Scott's armor, so you have to counteract the threat against me."

Chris wondered if she had learned chess from the sheriff. Stilinski and his son were the only chess players he knew in Beacon Hills. If so, the sheriff had been a more successful teacher than him.

She fell silent. He watched her take a very small sip of the whiskey. He couldn't help feeling disappointed by her choice. He was going to miss the feel of her body squirming against him. Usually powerless. At his mercy. Bad, bad thoughts! When he spoke, he was in his usual professorial role.

"Knowing our limitations and accepting them is a wise choice. I'm sorry I wasn't able to get rid of the threat already," he said.

"It's not just about this threat," she interrupted him. "I still want to help however else I can. You will find and neutralize this threat, I'm sure. But we both know the beacon is still active. Others will come. Please, Chris, you have to let me help you."

Such passion in this woman! So much need to stand up against the dark… Chris remembered her son's decision to fight against the sentence of the dead pool. His refusal to accept any more deaths. He had wondered then where did that strength come from in that boy. He could see the root of his character in the woman before him.

"Ok," he said.

It seemed to relax her a little. When she spoke again her voice was calmer.

"I trust you. I'll do what you ask, when you ask it. I trust you even now, when I know you're keeping something from me. If you give me the chance to prove it to you, I will show you that you can trust me, too."

"Trust…" Chris repeated the word in a strange tone, as if he was analyzing a foreign word. "You ask for my trust…"

He didn't want to offend her, but she didn't know what she was asking. She was standing in front of him. Resolute. Still. Giving him space. Forcing him to fill in the silence. He tried to find a way to explain her just how complex was this issue for him. He did trust her, quite a lot, but that trust could not be absolute. After everything he'd been through, he would never be able to believe that anyone would be on his side no matter what circumstances. Anyone could betray for the right price. Melissa's price was obviously the well-being of her son. She would betray him to save Scott. If they had to work together, he had to make her see the difference between the emotional, blind trust she seemed to want, and the promise of help and support which was an understanding between allies.

"You know I am a hunter. I was raised to obey orders. To be a good operative. To find the best way to get things done in the field. To win any battle."

He took his glass but didn't drink. He needed every scrap of lucidity he could muster. He knew he was on the brink of a bad decision. One that had nothing to do with the fight against darkness.

"I trusted my father who raised me to obey the Code and my trust made me blind to his actions. To his choice to break that very code to an extent I could not have imagined."

He couldn't stand still anymore. His nerves were frayed. He started pacing.

"I trusted my wife to make the hard choices for us. And she chose to die after she made the choice to kill an innocent. When she chose to die, I was unable to find another solution."

He couldn't tell her who the innocent was. It would serve no purpose to burden her with hatred and darkness.

"I trusted my sister, and she killed innocents. She lied to me for years. And when she was changed, she was so far gone into darkness, she did not choose to die."

He had contained his father and his sister. He had not stopped his wife from following the code. He should not allow his connection with this woman to become a weakness for him.

"You're right. I'm not telling you everything. You have my commitment, my word. Even my trust to a certain extent. But speaking from experience, you should be careful putting your trust in anyone. Even me."

"If I don't trust you… I'd have to give up hope," she said.

She sounded sincere. She wasn't trying to persuade him of anything. She was just stating her view of the world. And apparently in her world, he represented hope.

"I don't have supernatural powers. But I know people. I saw you fight. You stood up for what was right even when it was against orders. Against your training. You followed your soul."

She abandoned her glass on the table and came to where he was standing. When she mentioned his soul, she rested her palm flat against his chest. With the anatomical precision of a trained nurse, she placed her hand exactly over his heart. With the biological inevitability of a man in his prime, his heart began to beat faster.

The hell with trust! The hell with danger! The hell with overthinking it! He was close to the woman he desired and all he had to do to satiate the hunger was to reach out and take what she was offering even if she wasn't aware she was doing it.

Her palm was burning him through the thin cotton layer of his t-shirt. Chris had avoided looking in her eyes all evening, afraid that she might see just how far he was from the knight in shining armor she was imagining him to be. He knew that his pupils were probably dilated and she would not miss this against the contrast of his blue irises, nor would she misinterpret it. This woman knew his body from all the times she had taken care of his wounds, and knew his temper from the times they fought together or trained together. Looking into her eyes in his present state of arousal would be the same as a werewolf showing his glowing eyes.

Seconds were passing. Her hand was still on his chest. His heart was beating faster and faster. This was as close as anyone would ever get to holding his still beating heart. He turned his head a fraction to align his gaze to hers. From her sharp intake of breath, he knew that she read him. It was so unfair that her eyes were dark, he couldn't judge if she was aroused. She saved him the internal debate with another tell-tale sign. Under his scrutiny, Melissa licked her lips involuntarily.

For the first time, Chris allowed himself to touch her with a deliberate sensual intention. He traced her jawline with his fingers, but he was in no mood for tenderness. He had assessed her over the past few weeks and in his loneliness, he had created seduction scenarios. If he gave her the chance to back away, she was going to run. He had to bring her past the point where she could deny she wanted him. He slid his hand into her hair, cradling the back of her head, and gently but firmly held her still when he lowered his lips to hers.

Her first reaction was to try to run, but his left arm was around her waist and it took very little pressure to keep her still. He wanted to savor the moment. He kept the left hand at the small of her back, his right was in her hair. He brought his mouth to hers, but didn't take the kiss. His lips were tingling from the mere proximity. His whole body was screaming, but he kept still. Her palm was still pressed against his chest, and it was no longer just resting there. She was pushing him away. Not hard, but the pressure was there. He knew he could force the matter. Knew that she was aroused enough to love it. Judging by her reaction to the lesson that went astray, she enjoyed to have him in control. But before all that, he needed her to surrender to him.

It took a few seconds until Melissa's hand no longer pushed, but fisted his t-shirt and she closed the infinitesimal gap between their mouths. Her lips were touching his, of her own free will and Chris gave up any notions of holding back.