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"Stiles, it's lovely here. Why is this the first time I've ever been here?" I gush at Stiles as we walk along the dusty road in a small village in Dunsmuir.
The street is decorated prettily with small boutiques and cheap diners or ice cream stalls. The people here are sparse, population limited. It's a change of scenery than being in the busy city of Beacon Hills. Where 24/7 the sound of cop cars, ambulances and fire engines are constantly heard. The early morning beep of traffic and kids and teenagers constantly running up and down streets. Then of course everything supernatural that comes with it.
Even the air is different, like it's fresh and hasn't ever been touched by anything evil. And the folk here show nothing but kindness.
Stiles wasn't messing when he said about getting out of Beacon Hills, we left last night and all he kept telling me when I asked was "It's a surprise Lyds, just contain yourself."
It wasn't until I saw the sign that read 'Welcome to Dunsmuir' it clicked that that's where we were headed. The village is called Mossbrae, in which off in the distance you can see a waterfall, chucking water off it's ledge like there's no tomorrow.
"Isn't it obvious? I was waiting for you to emotionally breakdown so I can bring you to this!" He jokes, his hand clasping mine. We promised not to talk supernatural for the duration we are here, which is only tonight then tomorrow it's Beacon Hills and work again. So we've been talking about anything but that, reminiscing on old times, telling each other cute stories, talking wedding...
"I should've known." I smile, we stop at a railing overlooking the town as we are on high ground. In the distance I think I can hear the ocean roar and lap the sand. The morning air is crisp, and all that can be heard is the birds tweeting and the insects buzzing. No-ones awake. It's six-thirty. We arrived here early in the morning, checked into the hotel but I didn't want to waste a minute of our break. So we parked, dumped our bags and made our way to whatever-this-street-is-called.
"My mother used to take me here." He admits softly, his breath making a cloud in the air. I look up at him, his hair ruffled from the gentle breeze, his eyes slightly hazy from lack of sleep but nevertheless bright and wide-eyed. "We'd go together when dad was on weekend courses, or if he had to do community work at another station, it was her favorite place."
"You never told me," I reply softly, turning his head towards me, running my fingers through his hair. His cheeks are rosy and ears are red and cold. Then I realize, he never talks about his mom as much as he used too. Everyday he'd bring her into context, or tell me about a time when he was little. I never acknowledged until now that slowly he stopped bringing her up as much.
"Stiles?" I ask, my forehead pressing against him, cold forehead against cold forehead.
"Lydia..." He mirrors, a small smile on his face. His eyes searching mine intently, amber burning into emerald.
The slight wind whips my hair around my face, making my eyes squint.
"You never talk about her anymore," I tell him quietly, my voice small as I regret what I say, afraid he will be hurt by my words. "Claudia."
"Because I don't have to."
"Why?"
"Because you distract me from her," He tells me gently, his lips ghosting mine.
"How?" I ask.
"Because I love you." He whispers softly, my lips fall open as I breathe against his mouth, "And after my mum, no-one has ever occupied my thoughts as much as you."
A heat runs up my spine, hugs my hips and rushes between my thighs. I stand taller, meeting his lips but not kissing him quite yet. I'm flattered that the man I love has more room for me in his mind, in his heart than his own mother. How is it possible to love someone so much, your heart aches at just the thought of it?
I press my lips against his, a warmth heating up my chest and reaching down to my toes, curling around my spine.
"I just wish she could've seen this, seen us." He sighs, I meet his eye expecting to see sad, puppy eyes. But instead they have a glint of happiness. Like he's so grateful we're having this moment, this day, this conversation.
"Oh, Stiles. She can see it." I smile at him, running a hand in circles on his neck.
His lips brush mine. Not innocently, like a tease -hot, fiery, passionate and demanding. I want to pull away before I lose myself but I can't seem to…In this minty-sweet moment, my senses have been seduced and I can no longer think straight. "Lydia" he whispers slowly, prolonging each letter as if to savor them. I smile, my heart fluttering at his voice as I clasp my hands on either side of his face.
"What do you say we go back to that hotel?" I ask him, standing on my tip-toes trying to clench my thighs together. That kiss has made everything heated inside me, made my core ache with lust. I'm trying to find leverage so I can contain myself.
"It's like you read my mind." He laughs softly, he pulls away and tugs on my hand. If we were feeling tired before because of our sleepless night, we've just woken ourselves up.
"So what's the plan for today?" I ask him as we lie on the white, soft sheets of the hotel bed, he's still wrapped in the towel from the shower. I'm only wearing panties and sprawled out on the bed. He's running a hand in patterns on my back, making my stomach flutter with delight. Forgetting everything that's been happening in the past month.
"Whatever you want," He smiles, gazing at me, a sheen of admiration in his amber eyes.
"Well, you're the one who seems to know this place so well." I counter, rolling onto my back, stopping his hand tracing up my spine. Although turning over doesn't stop him from trailing his fingers slowly, dangerously up my chest, around my collar bone and back down, ghosting my breasts.
"We could stay here all day and you know... talk and stuff." He suggests, he presses a kiss to my temple, and I lift my head up slightly, so I can see him. Clearly he means to have sex until we can't walk straight.
"Or..."
"Or we could take the time to plan the wedding, hit a few shops. Go on the beach." He hints, although I think it's clear he'd rather fuck all day long. I start wishing that this was how everyday went for us, we'd decide on going out or lazy sex all day. But no, it's ridden with anxieties, fears and supernatural.
"Baby, you okay?" Stiles asks me, as my face must clearly fall, I nod at him and try my best to look into his soft, sweet eyes. "You don't have to lie to me."
"We promised we wouldn't talk about it." I say, my voice small like a child. Stiles runs a thumb under my jaw, forcing my eyes to meet his.
"If you're thinking about it then tell me, don't drown in your own thoughts." It. He refers to the supernatural as it. How he read y mind so easily, and is smart enough to not say the word, as if not acknowledging it.
"I just wished our life was like this everyday, is all." I tell him shrugging, he nods and breathes heavily onto my skin.
"Lyds, I promise you when this is all over we won't ever face it again, we'll move away, I'll quit my job. I don't know, I don't care, I just hate seeing you like this." He tells me, his voice so gentle and full of love it makes a warm ache spread through my chest.
"Beacon Hills is home." I tell him, I shrug slightly as if silently telling him to drop the matter now. We'll be in Beacon Hills for as long as we live and that is that. No matter how many times we discuss the matter, we know we'll end up in Beacon Hills.
I lift my lips up to place a kiss on his jaw, his nose nudges mine and then he softly, very carefully puts a kiss on my lips, his chest squashed against mine. "So what do you want to do?"
"I want to watch you get all excited and happy planning our wedding." Stiles smiles at me, his eyes molten in affection.
"Sounds like a plan." I smile up at him, he quirks an eyebrow and kisses me once more, then unintentionally caresses my breast as he moves his hand to one side of my body to balance himself. I gasp when he does so, my nipple pebbling at he feeling of the rough pad of his thumb catching on it.
"Is someone feeling sensitive today?" He asks, his voice so husky and raspy at the moment it makes me wet between my thighs. It's like he had such a kick from the way I gasped, especially since it was an accident, that it turned him on. Now we'll be doing a round two.
"I'm due my period, that's why." I say almost defensively, pinching at his side out of spit. He just smiles at me, and bites my nose playfully.
"You really think that little pinch was going to hurt me?" He mocks, now pinching my sides skittishly. I squirm beneath his toned body, laughing and trying to dodge the way he peppers me with kisses.
"Oh, I know something that will." I say in a sing-song voice. I roll my hips up into him, grinding as hard as I can as I try my best to muster up my most sultry voice as I whisper "Stiles" in his ear.
So with that his forehead slams against mine and he breathes into my mouth, as if he's providing me with more life, fueling me up and making me more energetic.
His sinful hands finger the waste band of my panties, letting them trace patterns in my hip as I kiss his neck, softly nibbling. Then he slowly, ticklishly drags his nails up my body making my skin form goose bumps and making my stomach do somersaults. I release a moan as he pinches my nipple, his hand then cupping my breast and giving it a little squeeze.
My lips catch his as I roll my hips into his again as his hand travels back down to my panties, slowly tugging them down. I catch his moan and he catches mine.
By the time we actually leave the hotel room, the sheets are crumpled, our clothes are slightly creased and we're both buzzed with a warm, fuzzy feeling in the middle of our hearts. A contentedness we haven't known for such a long time.
"What if we got married here?" Stiles suggests as we sit in a diner, him ramming down a burger and fries down his mouth, me politely eating some chicken Caesar wrap, that tastes so bland I just want to rip the burger out of Stiles' hand and scoff it.
"Here?" I ask, slightly taken off guard by what he's suggesting. Beacon Hills is the town we've defended time after time and he doesn't even want to get married there?
"Yeah, I mean, it's a beautiful town and it would be like having my mom here too." He suggests, offering me a chip which I decline.
"Well I guess so, I mean we wold have to get all the wedding guests out here though." I say shrugging, not sure how I feel about the idea of getting married in a town completely foreign to me, especially since Beacon Hills is our home.
"I know that tone," Stiles accuses, his eyes narrowing, "That tone is a lying-tone. You aren't even gong to consider it. You're mind is made up."
I hand him a napkin as he gets ketchup on the side of his face, "That is so not true, Stiles!" He wipes his mouth, eyes widening as he meets mine. "Just watch me, we'll book a visit at the local church, or venue-whatever." I ramble, hanging onto the hope I might fall in love with venue, or he'll change his mind.
He raises his eyebrows, almost challenging me. "Whatever you say."
With that, we pay for the bill, leave and then start looking around for estate agents who can sort us out a venue, or at least tour us. It takes us an hour of trudging along cobbled streets, and an hour of Stiles making jokes he thinks are funny to find a small chapel alongside the waterfall with blue and white paint, stain glass windows and old, colorful canvas paintings.
"Stiles, this is so beautiful." I whisper, scared to disturb the tweeting birds who sit in the lush trees above. The chapel is pretty secluded from the rest of the town, almost like it's part of another world.
"See." He says softly, I roll my eyes, carefully stepping into the church, finding a tall woman, blonde hair and red lipstick talking to another couple. Maybe a few years older than Stiles and I. She resembles Marilyn Monroe.
The woman with blonde hair, who seems to be the one in authority, looks up at me and Stiles entering and offers us a nod, holding a hand up as if to say "One minute."
I tug on Stiles' hand pulling him inside the Church, he stumbles behind me, holding onto my waist to balance himself. He doesn't let go.
The woman speaks with the couple for a few minutes longer, they're to far away for us to hear, but when the couple gives us a nod as they walk out we're greeted by a woman whose hair is brighter than the sun, now she's closer. Her eyes a basil green, skin porcelain, but in a nice way.
"What can I do for you guys today?" She asks. My heart stops. A glint of gold. A trick of the light. A symbol on her tooth. My mouth goes dry as I look up at Stiles, trying to send an uneasy look through my eyes while trying to keep a smile plastered on my face, the way I used to in High School. That was definitely a hieroglyphic on her tooth, no doubt.
"Uh- We were wondering what you do about weddings being held here?" He asks, from what I tell not being able to sense my dread. I feel my stomach turn and I blink away the moisture that starts forming in my eyes. Of course leaving town wouldn't stop this, all it does is delay the inevitable. All these deaths that create a more stronger pattern, a pattern only the supernatural can muster.
"Yes, of course. Follow me." She smiles, her teeth visible now. A symbol carefully engraved on her tooth, in bold gold. It's unmistakable.
She turns on her heel, walking away from us. I look at Stiles, squeeze his hand. He smiles at first, as if he thinks that was just me being affectionate. Then his face falls and he looks back between the woman and I. I give him a slight nod, and he grips my hand tighter. He leads us to the other end of the chapel, where the woman waits for us, her smile toothy. Like she's taunting me, like she knows and makes me want to go mad.
"I hate to sound rude, but we have to be going shortly, we were just wondering if you do hold weddings here?" Stiles ask, his tone still light, concealing any feeling of danger. Or worry.
"It's quite alright. To answer your question, yes. We hold them here, do you want to talk prices?" She asks, I squeeze Stiles' hand in fear. I want to leave. I don't want to be in this room anymore. My body starts to heat up, my head spins then pounds. My palm sweat against Stiles' firm grip. My hearing goes muffled like it does underwater, then everything goes black.
When I rouse my head is fuzzy, and that doesn't help to the fact my head is bopping up and down every once in a while. I hear a car engine against my ear and a seat belt rub against my neck.
A wave of panic flushes through me. What if I've been kidnapped? But the splutter of an engine that follows ensures me I am in the comfort of the jeep. Stiles' jeep. Old, smelly and nostalgic at the memories that once took place here. My heart calms and I open my eyes.
I'm sat with my back against the window, a cozy blanket draped over my legs and my feet touching Stiles' legs. He drives with one hand, the other placed firmly on my leg, rubbing small circles into my skin. His lip is caught between his teeth, his brows furrowed in thought, or worry. Then I feel his phone vibrate in his pocket, I flinch slightly but shut my eyes immediately before Stiles has the chance to see I'm awake.
"Lyds, you awake?" He asks, his voice quiet. I don't reply, hoping he only asked that if he felt me flinch. His hand comes off of my leg, and he fishes down into his pocket at the still ringing phone. I curse him silently, I've told him so many times not to answer the phone when he's driving. I begin to hear the soft patter of rain on the windows.
"Scott?" I hear Stiles' voice, "Yeah I'll be back in... thirty-minutes. Tops." He sighs and makes a turn, making me jolt in the car. "Scott, she's seeing something- I don't know! It's some banshee thing, clearly."
A pause.
"I'm worried about her man, I can't lose her." I hear him say. The last few words tug at my heart so much, I almost cry through closed eyes. He mutters a few other things down the phone then hangs up, his hand back on my leg.
"Lydia," He says, shaking me slightly, I stir and turn around as best as I can in the seat. "Wake up."
I slowly peel my eyes open. Stiles' eye are blood-shot red, like he's been crying. His hair is spiked at the top of his head where he must've ran his hands through it so much. My mouth is dry and I croak out a "Hello". Noticing how dark it is outside. How long have we bee driving?
"Car rides are no fun when you're asleep." Stiles jokes, his smile looking a little forced. I sit up, placing my legs down on the floor as I feel pins and needles creep its way down my legs, into my feet.
"What happened?"
"You collapsed, from fear I think." Stiles tells me, his arms tense in worry, his eyes fix back onto the road, then back to me.
"I'm so sorry, I just- I don't know what happened-" I ramble, tears making there way to my eyes, falling onto my cheeks, splashing onto my top.
"Shh, shh. You have nothing to be sorry for." He tells me softly, reaching over to squeeze my knee whilst he keeps his eyes on the dimly lit street. But I do, I want to yell at him. Just the way his whole face has changed in the matter of a few hours says it all, he's worried, anxious and scared. All because of me.
"We'll figure this all out, I promise." He says. And we don't say much to each other the rest of the way. The journey seems to take hours in the silence that fills the car. The dread that fills my bones seems to escape my body, only to hang heavily in the air. We're greeted by Scott when we finally get home, him and Stiles stay up chatting for a few hours while I go to bed. I don't sleep. My body is tired, not only with exhaustion but with fear and anxiety. Like my body is screaming out to me, telling me that I need to stop worrying so much, but I can't do anything about it.
In the next few days that pass there's even more 'suicides'. Cyanide poisoning after cyanide poisoning which literally makes no sense. I have an eternal feeling of pending death, the more that deaths happen the stronger it gets. And it won't go away.