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Chapter Five: Dangerous

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When Allison's mother – Victoria – suggested she go 'wash off the stench of those hunters', Megan didn't put up much resistance. Truth was, she was all-too-aware of how awful she smelled beneath the hunters' scents clinging to her person. Months spent washing in grubby motel showers, diner bathrooms, and even occasionally a river or lake, had taken their toll.

Megan sighed as the hot water from the shower head pummelled her skin, making it tingle pleasantly, and tried to recall the last time she'd had a decent wash.

Not since before James' murder…

A lump formed in her throat at the realisation. Swallowing back a sob, she leaned her forehead against the cool tiled wall and willed herself not to outright cry. She'd done enough of that in the beginning, during the rare moments she'd been able to stop running, pause to think and eat and sleep. More tears wouldn't bring him back. Nothing would.

Sucking in a shaky, fortifying breath, she picked up one of the bottles Allison had pointed out to her earlier to distract herself. Shampoo. Beyond the tang of chemicals, she identified the scent as honey and squeezed a dollop – not too much – onto her palm. Unlike the cheap stuff she'd been using lately, it easily built up a foam as she kneaded it into her hair.

When she was done she wrapped herself in a fluffy towel, twisting another into a turban on her head. Soft footsteps reached her ears a moment before there came a knock on the bathroom door.

"Hey, it's Allison. I've brought you clean clothes."

Megan opened the door to find the girl smiling at her.

"You look better." Her eyes widened as she realised what she'd just said. "I mean-"

Megan huffed a laugh, sweeping her hand through the air in a dismissive gesture. "It's okay. I imagine I looked like a wild thing."

"Well…" The smile returned. "A little. So mom picked these out." She indicated the bundle in her hands. "She's pretty good at guessing sizes."

Megan accepted the clothes with thanks.

"And could you come downstairs when you're dressed? Dad and the others should be back soon. He'll need to talk to you."

Megan hesitated briefly before nodding. It was enough to earn her reassuring look.

"You'll be fine," said Allison. "It's just protocol. Dad has major trust issues." She rolled her eyes while Megan tried really hard to keep her heartbeat even, exactly like James had taught her. "So I'll leave you to it."

Megan shut the door on Allison's retreating back and went about getting dressed, slipping on her old underwear that Victoria had quickly washed and dried. Over those went a pair of cropped jeans that accommodated her wide – or as her grandmother had liked to say, 'birthing' – hips. The black long-sleeved tee was another story, however. It had a v-neck that dipped too low for Megan's liking, and was uncomfortably snug in the chest area. But remembering Allison and Victoria's figures, Megan supposed she was lucky to have something that wouldn't actually tear at the seams.

As she towel-dried her hair, Megan heard the front door open and voices come wafting up the stairs. She tipped her head, concentrating. There were three newcomers. Two men and a woman.

"I was just having a little fun," said the woman.

"That could cost us a renewal of the pact," said one of the men angrily. Hearing the authority behind his words, Megan guessed he was the alpha.

"It's not like I bit the kid," defended the woman.

The alpha ignored her. "And you. Did he see you?"

"It might work in our favour," said the second man. His voice oozed like something viscous, not sweet enough to be honey. "Would he kill his own uncle?"

"You come from a family of hunters," said the alpha tersely. "You tell me."

Allison joined the conversation before he could answer. "What happened?"

The alpha sighed. "Nothing bad. Did you find her?"

"Yeah. She'll be down in a minute."

Someone was making their way up the stairs.

"Where are you going?" asked the alpha.

"Nature calls," said the other man sarcastically. "If that's okay with you?"

The alpha growled. "Don't test my patience, Peter." He said nothing more but moved out of Megan's hearing range. The footsteps soon continued up the stairs.

Gathering the used towels, Megan made her way to the door and opened it just as the man named Peter reached the second floor. He stopped, surprised, before giving her a very deliberate once over. Megan felt her skin crawl.

"So you're the omega." He came towards her with slow, predatory steps.

Megan stepped aside instead of answering. "I've finished with the bathroom." She tried moving passed him but he raised a hand to the wall, blocking her path.

That was when she smelled it. The faintest trace of Derek, Scott, and Stiles' scents. Not strong enough to have come from physical contact, but probably carried onto his clothes by the wind.

Swallowing nervously, Megan looked up into Peter's face and remembered what she'd overheard earlier. She didn't need to be told who his nephew was. They had the same bone structure, the same dimple in their chins, the same nerve-wracking presence. Although Megan sensed that Derek, despite his threats, was by far the less dangerous of the two.

"Is there a name that goes with that pretty face?"

"Megan." She looked away uncomfortably and startled when she felt his fingers ghost over her cheek. Her grip tightened on the towels and she heard a faint tearing sound. Her claws lengthening into the fabric.

"I'm not surprised Derek couldn't kill you."

"The alpha wants to talk to me." Megan stepped determinedly forward, relieved when Peter's arm fell away. She didn't look back as she made her way downstairs, but could feel him watching her, his eyes boring a hole into the back of her head.

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TBC.