Lydia studied Derek, the look in her eyes calculating as she watched his every movement. He sat across from where she and Stiles were seated on Scott's couch, folded in on himself in one of the large overstuffed chairs in the living room. He hadn't said much since the meeting started and mostly kept his eyes downcast once everyone had enthusiastically welcomed him back to the pack. He only glanced up when Stiles was talking, and she smirked inwardly. The fact that they'd been able to conceal their relationship from anyone at all amazed her. Now that she knew about it and could watch them while they were in each other's presence, it was ridiculously obvious that there was something between them.

"I still don't think it's a new pack," Stiles objected stubbornly, and Lydia bit back a grin when Derek lifted his gaze to Stiles' in interest. "I mean, no offense, but you guys don't actually look like dog-headed men even during a full moon. You just look like you hit puberty with a vengeance and no one ever showed you how to use a razor."

Derek cracked a smile. "So what do you think they are?" he asked, his tone challenging.

Stiles' eyes darkened and Lydia shivered. The thought of being in a room with these two when they finally came together turned her on more than just a little. When she'd proposed her idea she'd known it would mean being involved with Derek sexually, but she'd thought of it in an abstract way. He was attractive, it wouldn't be a hardship to have sex with him. Now, though, she could feel herself being drawn to the pair of them almost as much as she was to Stiles himself.

Stiles shifted next to her, sitting forward as he animatedly began to discuss his research on the Cynocephalus. "It really makes the most sense," he concluded. "All the reports specifically mention men with the heads of dogs, not men who look especially furry. They've been heard barking at each other, never talking. And there've been a lot of small animals that have gone missing. Werewolves don't eat raw animals unless there isn't anything else available."

A proud smile spread across Derek's face that Lydia was certain meant nothing to anyone else, but the pleased flush that colored Stiles' cheeks told her he'd noticed. He settled back into the couch and slid his arm around her waist, tucking his fingertips under the edge of her ass instead of resting them on her hip. Derek's eyes dropped to where Stiles' fingers made small impressions in her flesh, and when he raised his eyes it was her eyes he met, not Stiles'.

The gleam in them struck her suddenly, and she found it difficult to catch her breath. He'd been so resistant to the idea that his obvious change of heart confused her, but it was also exciting. Images flashed through her head of Derek bracing himself over Stiles, his muscular arms bulging from holding his weight steady as he thrust into her boyfriend. In her mind, Derek turned his head slightly to look at her as she watched them ravenously, and smiled. "Get over here," he growled, and she felt a rush of arousal between her thighs.

A soft chuckle interrupted her daydream and she snapped back to reality, staring into Derek's amused gaze. The realization hit her that her arousal wasn't limited to her fantasy and Derek was well aware of her thoughts. Following that was mortification at the thought that Scott and Isaac could smell her as easily as Derek could. She darted a glance at the two wolves, wincing in anticipation of their knowing smirks.

Isaac was smirking, but he was looking at Stiles instead of at her. Scott was rolling his eyes in annoyance. Lydia sighed under her breath, relieved that of course they thought she was thinking about having sex with Stiles. Why in the world would they assume she was fantasizing about watching Derek and Stiles and then getting to join in?

Stiles was, as always, adorably clueless. He was completely unaware of her thoughts and the reactions of the three wolves, and started chattering in response to something Allison had said. Lydia realized she hadn't been following the conversation at all and mentally crossed her fingers no one asked her a question.

"So what do you think, Lydia?" Isaac asked, that damned smirk permanently engraved on his lips. Of course he'd be the one to call her out. Smarmy little asshole.

"I don't know, I wasn't listening," she said breezily. There was no reason to try to deny it, everyone but Stiles and Allison was aware her mind was in the bedroom instead of Scott's living room. "Whatever you guys decide is fine with me."

Allison eyed her speculatively. "Is everything okay?" she asked Lydia, her voice quiet. "You don't seem like you're all here."

Isaac snorted and Lydia glared at him. "I'm fine," she said shortly. "I just have a lot on my mind and I'm not particularly interested in more dog-boys who howl at the moon and kill things. Been there, done that." She stood abruptly, smoothing her skirt down her thighs. "I'm heading home. I'll leave the rest of the Beacon Hills brain trust to figure out a plan of attack."

Stiles looked up at her in concern. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, sweetie, I'm fine. Just call me when you're done here." She gave him a reassuring smile before turning away and glancing at Derek. When she caught his eye she nodded almost imperceptibly, including him in the request.

She felt an odd sense of euphoria, and of power, as she left the McCall house. It had been several days since Derek had agreed to her request and he'd asked for some time to mentally prepare, but it seemed as if he was ready now. She wondered what would happen after the pack meeting was over. Would Stiles and Derek find their way to her house? Don't wait for them to come to you.

Grinning wickedly, Lydia sent Stiles a quick text and then hopped in her little blue car, humming cheerfully as she headed for the loft.