Santana's attraction to Rachel had always been there. On the surface, somewhat a curiosity to her wilder instincts, but nothing more than idle appreciation. The girl smelled like plain vanilla and rose, a little intriguing but easily washed away by everyone around her, only becoming more interesting when she would sing or perform, the scent growing deeper, richer. Santana would sit up and pay more attention in reaction to the subtle changes, but she did this for everyone else. Rachel was ignorable, nothing special.
But as soon as the same girl swept in the front doors of the high school the first day of senior year, something had changed. At first, Santana picked up a new spiciness to Rachel's scent, something that made her look at her a little longer. There was a maturity to the girl that hadn't been evident before, a new weight to her words and actions. She smelled delicious, suddenly desirable, and the lines and curves of her body seared directly into Santana's awareness. Every little thing Santana had found attractive before suddenly seemed more.
The cute, aggravating way she talked. The wardrobe that somehow managed to flatter her figure. The nervous fidgets and the silly faces she made while singing. Her lips, her eyes, her body, her legs. Santana was interested, attracted, both her body and mind gravitating towards the other girl.
Almost immediately, she stirred, following this new appraisal, adding another layer of awareness as Santana watched and tried to make sense of the new impulses she'd only had a taste of before. Impulses that her shifter ultimately started piggybacking, magnifying, the feral part of Santana growing more and more fixated on Rachel.
As the days passed, as she spent more time around the other girl, she became immersed in her newfound increased appreciation. The more she explored Rachel's reality, taking in everything about her, the more she saw. And everything she saw encouraged the hunger slowly growing inside of her.
By the second full moon after school, she'd known the inevitable. That morning, she'd woken up naked and shivering, covered in sweat and curled up on something hard and chilling, rough against her skin. Disorientated, twitching when Break My Stride suddenly blared from somewhere above her, she'd sat up, a hand to her head. Quickly realizing she wasn't in her own backyard, her eyes had darted around in panic, sniffing furiously to try to get an idea of where she was.
Rachel's scent hitting her just as the music was shut off, the last traces of her fading shift had made Santana immediately perk up, comprehension crashing into her. She'd remembered her deliberate trek across town in the middle of the night, her methodical exploration of Rachel's house and neighborhood. She'd remembered her making it absolutely clear that she was claiming the area, making one more circuit before disappearing into the wild land on the outskirts of Lima, only padding back as the sky grew lighter, full and ready to make her intentions known.
Listening to the sounds of Rachel rising from her bed and moving around, a slow pleased smirk had crossed Santana's face. The last house she'd done the same to had been Brittany's, two years ago, her best friend's house having been her destination each full moon until their relationship eventually smoothed out and cooled off. Until no part of her no longer viewed Brittany as hers.
But waking up that morning at Rachel's house had just confirmed what Santana had already resolved. She was attracted to Rachel. She wanted Rachel. And she was going to have Rachel.
At least, she'd smirked again, waiting for Rachel to leave the room to scale her tree and slip in through the open window to grab something to wear for her trip back home, pausing to bring Rachel's pillow up to her nose before agilely jumping back down to the ground, nothing the other girl had done had told her Rachel wouldn't want it.
Yes. Rachel was going to be hers.
And now, as Santana watched Rachel and the other girls struggling to set up the volleyball net in Tina's backyard, she enjoyed the wind blowing past them towards her. Comfortably seated in one of the chairs near the backdoor, happily chewing on a roast beef sandwich weak with everything but roast beef, she laughed at a dirty remark that left Quinn's lips.
Catching her laugh, Quinn glared over at her. "Hey," she called out, "How about helping us, maybe?"
"Yeah," Rachel chimed in, clutching one of the poles of the net close to her chest, keeping it steady as Tina tugged on the other pole to test the tautness, "Why should we let you even use this if you don't help?"
Santana raised her eyebrows over her designer sunglasses. "'Cuz I's got mad skills and whoever's on my team's gonna win?" She took another bite of her sandwich through a wide, taunting grin.
Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Doesn't matter if you speak the truth, you're still being a bitch."
Tina stifled a laugh, pulling once more on the pole, making Rachel's body waver forward until she set her feet and leaned backwards.
"Takes one to know one, 'Cedes. And Tina. You know, if you keep tugging on that pole," Santana called out, standing up as she heard Brittany's mom's car rolling up in the front, "You better be prepared for what's going to come out of it."
A chorus of ewws and groans and laughs followed her, and Santana kept half her attention on separating out Rachel's voice as she approached the dark green van, finishing her sandwich in two big bites.
"S!" Brittany exclaimed, straightening and waving from where she was pulling two filled gym bags stuffed to the limit from the side.
Santana smiled, closing her eyes briefly as she sucked in the pleasing scent of Brittany, some of her always present energy calming even with the traces of her cat and boyfriend still clinging to her. "Let me get that," she answered, easily pulling the bags out and off. Nodding at Brittany's mother, she froze. "Brittany," she growled, looking down at the bag in her right hand as the van drove off, "Why is Lord Tubbington here?" Feeling her hackles rising, she stiff-armedly thrust the bag at Brittany, unable to keep a deep snarl from taking over her face. Glaring at the bag where a now obviously noticeable hissing and shifting was going on inside, she could feel more growls building in her chest.
Normally she and Lord Tubbington had an uneasy truce, but this close to Santana's shift, she was not amused.
Her head tilted, studying Santana closely, Brittany reached up and patted Santana's cheek. "Don't worry," she smiled, turning on her heel, hugging the bag close, "Tina told me I could keep him in her room. It's his birthday, so I didn't want to leave him alone. I did last year and he got so depressed he vomited on my bed and took up drinking again."
Watching her walk away, Santana's whole focus was on keeping her control, clamping down on the agitated motion under her skin. Lord Tubbington was just a cat. Nothing fucking important to challenge. Her teeth grinding in her jaw, she forced herself to breathe through her mouth.
But then familiar feet approached the front door from inside, Rachel swinging the door open before Brittany could get to it.
"Oh, hi, Rachel! I'd stop to say hi, but I have to get Lord Tubbington away from Santana before they start fighting," Brittany greeted, leaning in to whisper as she passed by her, "When it's her time of the month, San gets territorial. Maybe you should come inside too?"
Rachel.
Rachel should leave Santana outside because she was having a fight with Lord Tubbington? Frowning, Rachel didn't have time to respond before the blonde disappeared inside, chastising the moving bag in her arms to, "…stop it, you know she's only like this once a month. You don't need to be rude."
Shaking her head, Rachel turned back to Santana standing on the sidewalk. "Hey," she smiled, trying to make out the other girl's expression, "We finally got the net up and are about to start a practice game until Kurt gets here." When Santana didn't respond, her shoulders raising a little, her hands crushing the strap of the bag she held, the lower part of her face looking sharp and tight below her sunglasses, Rachel swallowed; she felt pinned to the spot even if she couldn't see Santana's eyes, awareness and a trickle of fear running down her back making her heart speed up. "Santana?"
And then Santana was stalking forward, movements stiff and jerky before melting into swift, smooth strides, almost loping by the time she came upon Rachel. "Easy," she purred, hefting Brittany's bag to her shoulder, stopping next to Rachel's side, teeth looking disturbingly sharp as her lips lifted, "If I were to attack you, it would be in an entirely different way."