there's nowhere else for me to go
They say blood smells like pennies, but the truth is, pennies smell like blood. The truth is, everything smells like blood, because blood smells like everything, because it's everywhere: veins and banks and tubes and bags and air and water and dirt. Blood is a better fertilizer than shit, than the store-bought crap mass-produced to fertilize. There's blood pumping hearts and jumping pulses, tainting the water and the grass and all that beautiful fresh air people love to talk about, that nature smell, that's blood and shit and blood in the shit, too.
You tasted Kate Argent's blood once; it was an accident. Your first time with a human, your first time at all, and you want to be careful and gentle and safe but she's lying there looking bored and you're thinking about the humans she must have had, the ones who didn't have to hold back, and she says, Hurt me, I can take it.
She says, All bark and no bite? Sweetie. Disappointed, you're disappointing. You're no good at this, how can you be no good at this? She's human, how can she be more animal than you?
She says, C'mon, puppy. Show me your teeth.
You're not a puppy, you're a predator. You could chew her up and spit her out if you wanted to. But you don't want to. You want to be careful and gentle and safe, you don't want to scare her. You don't want to break her.
You're a monster, but you don't want to be one.
She wants you to be one.
So you snarl, you let your teeth grow and sharpen, your nails turn to claws, you let her think you're feral.
Look at you, she says. Oh, sweetie. Look at you.
You're not sweet and she's not fragile, except in all the ways that matter. You scrape your claws on her headboard; she laughs. You love her but you hate her laugh, the way it curls like a secret, goes sharp like the hunter's knife in Laura's story book. You love her but it sounds like the joke's on you, like Peter's face when you fall for one of his pranks again. (You love Peter but your wolf doesn't trust him; your wolf doesn't trust Kate, either, but she's strange, human, non-pack, she's the first one who got this close, your wolf's just protective, your wolf's just paranoid, your wolf doesn't trust Peter and Peter is pack, so. So there.)
Just for a second, you let go.
It's not a bite; it's barely a scratch, but her blood is on your teeth and you're shrinking back into yourself, making yourself harmless, you're reaching out with human hands to reassure, to soothe, to fix the damage. There's something dark in her eyes now, something new, and her blood tastes like blood and bleach and batteries, like gun oil and wolfsbane, and your wolf screams warnings and you scream shut up shut up shut up, stop ruining this for me, I love her, I love her I love her I love her, I know what I'm doing, I don't need your help. You've never wanted to be human before, and you still don't, not really, but she makes you wish there was less of you, or more of you, makes you wish you knew what she wanted so you could change and be right, so she'd stop laughing. There's blood on your teeth, and she's not laughing; she's looking at you like a predator looks at prey, like she can hurt you if she wants to, and the thing is, you love her, and the thing is, in all the ways that matter, she can.
(The thing is, she does, and you still love her under all the hate; you love Peter too, even after he takes Laura. It's deeper than instinct, deeper than wolves; if you could reach under your spine and pull it out, you would, but you'll always be trusting and naïve and hopeful, you'll always be an idiot, even if you lie and say you're dead inside, even if you swear you'll never care again, all you do is care, that's the point, that's why you keep breaking, that's why you keep putting yourself back together again.)
You tasted Kate Argent's blood once, you didn't want to but it was all you wanted, you wanted to be the animal you thought she wanted, you wanted to be right, you wanted to be enough, you wanted to be extraordinary, but with it thick on your tongue you didn't feel powerful, you felt weak and tired of being both sides of you, of being wrong, always.
With Gerard's black blood on your tongue you have the strangest sense of deja vu. You could vomit, you could lay down and die, you could burst into tears or burst out laughing. You're weak and tired of pretending to be strong; you're an idiot and you're tired of pretending to have the answers; you're Alpha except in all the ways that matter, because in all the ways that matter you're still sixteen and an idiot, showing your teeth because you don't have anything else to offer.
(You won't forgive Scott, but it won't matter; you'll still die for him even if it's him cutting your heart out, cutting you in half. It's deeper than wolves and deeper than spines, it's you being stupid again. You'll save his life and he'll fuck you over, and you won't forgive him but you won't learn, either. You can't teach an old dog new tricks, and you feel older than you have any right to be, and you've been tricked a thousand times and you'll be tricked a thousand more, and you'll swallow blood because there's blood on everything, blood in everything, blood in air and water and shit, you'll swallow blood because it's everything you'll ever get to keep, you'll swallow shit because it's all anyone will ever give you, and you'll hate them, but you'll love them in all the ways that matter, because they took the time to spit in your face, because they're the ones who stop you from breaking, and they're the ones who stop you from putting yourself back together, and you don't deserve together. Your house is blood and bone and ash because you're an idiot in all the ways that matter, and shit is all you'll ever deserve.)
tag to 2.12, master plan.
chapter title from my backwards walk by frightened rabbit.