Some smut in it, warning in the text.
27th January 2011 - Thursday
Derek and Charlie popped their heads up almost simultaneously, the man just a tad faster than the woman. The night outside the window was pierced by a wolf call audible only to the two of them, the call of an Alpha calling to his pack. They both knew what the sound meant, trouble was approaching.
The werewolf disentangled himself from the blanket they were both covered with, snuggled into each other on the couch. By now they were reading in comfortable silence, not feeling the need to talk. She was grading the last of the tests she was due to hand in the next morning, and he was familiarising himself with more titles relating to her unofficial profession. Over the past few days they had developed a comfortable routine and a shared trust, a certain bond that neither of them was prepared to name by any particular word.
The witch threw him a worried glance, but did not say a word, knowing that it did not make the slightest sense. Someone had to investigate the situation and, if need be, help Scott, who surely would not be able to resist the call. The determination Derek felt was all the stronger for the fact that they had been unable to find any trace for almost a week that would give them even the slightest clue as to the monster's identity. They silently agreed that he would be the best one for the task. So the woman remained curled up on the sofa while he left.
Derek's instincts and the sound of gunfire led him to the industrial district. The first thing he sensed when he arrived was the metallic smell of blood. He didn't have to search long for traces, the trail was fresh and still warm, the dark maroon drops guiding him like a string. He felt a sinister gaze upon him, though he could not decide if he himself was in danger. He raised his gaze, unerringly directing it to the roof of the nearest warehouse, and spotted it. A huge fur-covered gnarled silhouette that looked more like a beast from a nightmare than a human, or even his own werewolfish appearance.
The alpha was clearly beckoning him on, hopping up onto the next higher roof, completely unhurried and growling at him. Derek knew he should be careful, that the blood and smell of gunpowder were indicative of the Hunters' presence, but he had to find out who the man was, who had killed his sister and why he had done it. Was it just about status and power? Getting to the roof of the building was not difficult for the werewolf, he easily caught on to every protrusion in the wall and jumped much higher than a normal human. He set off in pursuit.
He was so focused on his goal that for a moment he completely forgot about the presence of the Hunters. As he leapt between the roofs, the silence was broken by a gunshot, and he almost immediately felt a pain in his shoulder that made him curl up all over. He fell from a height of two stores, unable to complete the jump. The painful impact on the ground forced all the air out of his lungs. He tried to gather his strength, but the shock prevented him from doing so. He heard a vehicle approaching and, with an effort, rose to a sitting position and looked around to see if anyone was approaching. He lifted the sleeve of his blouse to see the wound. There was a round hole in his forearm, shimmering iridescently. This didn't bode well for him, especially as his body wasn't even trying to heal, and after a while, blue vapours began to rise from the wound. Instinct took over him, it had been instilled in him from birth that in case of danger he was to hide and wait out the worst. With difficulty, he got up on his feet and moved away, in the opposite direction to that from which he had come. He could not bring unknown enemy forces down on Charlotte's head. He would wait so that the Hunters could not track him down, try to heal himself, and if he failed, seek the help of the witch.
Chris Argent got out of a black SUV that had stopped on the other side of the building, nervously looking around. He was worried that someone would spot him and was nervous about his daughter catching him leaving the house in the middle of the night.
'Get in!' in an aggressive tone, he turned to the attractive blonde, younger than himself, who came out to meet him. Some feature in their faces made them resemble each other, but the age difference made it hard to determine whether they were siblings or rather parent and child.
'What? Not even a "hello, nice to see you"?' awed the woman, with a hint of amusement in her voice. Over her shoulder she had a sniper rifle slung, which she carried with the kind of nonchalance that any other wman would hold a handbag.
'At the moment all I've got is "Please put the assault rifle away before someone notice' the man continued to look carefully around, honouring the girl with just a glance.
'That's the brother I love' she laughed and smiled broadly, then changed the subject. 'I know there are two. And one of them just attacked me.'
'Alpha?'
'I don't know.'
'One of them is going to lead us to the other. He can't do that if he's dead' announced Chris reproachfully.
'And I can't help kill either of them if one of them kills me first' she stated the obvious, shrugging her shoulders, clearly unconcerned by the man's words.
'How long will it take?' He asked, looking around helplessly, clearly having given up.
'I'd give him 48 hours' the woman pursed her lips in thought. 'If that.' she elaborated, then headed for her car to stow the gun and follow her brother to his house.
28th January 2011 - Friday
Charlotte was tired after a sleepless night, and waited until dawn for Derek to return, but he did not show up, causing her to have noticeable dark circles under her eyes that morning and not even strong coffee could restore her energy. She was worried and angry, on top of the fact that she was due to attend another funeral that day, the second this week, immediately after her classes. She didn't know Mr Meyers, but she felt responsible; if she discovered who the murderous Alpha was, the older man would surely live.
She was just handing out the tests she had graded last evening, just before Derek left, when she heard a conversation between two of her charges.
'If Derek's not the Alpha... If he's not the one who bit you... who did?' Asked Stiles, not even bothering to lower his voice. It wasn't a bad tactic, given that probably most of his peers thought the boys were talking about some computer game or something.
'I don't know... ' Scott had the decency not to turn to his friend sitting in the bench behind him, he just tilted his head slightly.
'Did the Alpha kill the bus driver?' he didn't let up, twisting around in his seat.
'I don't know' the young werewolf's voice was drained of energy and all hope. This fact made the sheriff's son sink into his thoughts for a moment.
'Does Allison's dad know about the Alpha?'
'I don't know!' finally Scott couldn't stand it and shouted, drawing the attention of the other students. When he saw their gazes fixed on him, he slid down his chair a little and grimaced. At the same moment, the teacher approached him, placing a test on the tabletop in front of him with a grade of D- and the comment: "Not like you! See me after class". As if in contrast, Stiles earned himself an A grade, the highest grade that could be earned.
'Dude, you need to get study more' commented a friend, peering over the werewolf's shoulder and noticing the red writing at the top of the page. When Scott just sighed, the boy continued. And that was a joke. It's one test, Mrs Benoit will definitely let you correct it. You need help studying?'
'I'm studying with Allison at her house after school' the black-haired boy declined, in a slightly more cheerful tone.
'That's my boy!' commented his friend, modulating his voice playfully.
'We're just studying.'
'No, you're not' laughed Stiles, and seeing the other boy's uncomprehending look he said: Not if I'm forces to live vicariously through you. If you go to her house and squander that colosal opportunity I'll have you professionally de-balled. Got it?'
'Yes' Scott measured his friend with a disbelieving look, trying to reassure him not to draw undue attention to them again. 'If you stop with the questions.'
'Done. No more talk of Alphas or Derek' the husky boy raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. 'Especially Derek... He still scares me...' he finished under his breath.
None of the three of them could have predicted that later that day, the aforementioned werewolf would turn up at the school, looking for help. Charlotte had already managed to leave and was staying in the graveyard, and the boys still had a few lessons separating them from the weekend.
Mingled between the students, with his head down, trying to conserve as much energy as possible and pick up any familiar scent, was Derek walking. His nose led him to Jackson Whittemore, who only moments earlier had poked Scott hard with his shoulder. It was the smell of a teenage werewolf that brought the poor-looking man to him.
'Where's Scott McCall?' spoke a voice, almost right next to the lacrosse team captain's ear, as he pulled from his locker the books he needed for his next lesson.
'Why should I tell you?'The teenager measured him with a contemptuous glance. Derek's skin was waxy and covered in sweat. There were dark circles under his eyes.
'Because I asked you politely. And I only do that once,' almost growled the werewolf, perfectly sensing the smell of superiority emanating from the boy, which was getting on his already tarnished nerves.
'Okay, tough guy,' snorted the kid. 'How about I help you if you tell me what you're selling him?' he prompted, without getting an answer. ' What is it? Dianabol? HGH?
'Steroids...' Derek raised an eyebrow disbelievingly.
'No, Girl Scout Cookies. What do you think, I'm talking about?' You could hear hectolitres of venom in the young man's voice. 'And by the way, whatever else you're selling? I'd stop sampling the merchandise. You look wrecked.' he measured the man with pity.
The werewolf clenched his teeth and felt a trickle of blood run down his hand, warm and sticky. He had less and less time. He moved forward, ignoring the yummy man, but the man stopped him, aggressively grabbing his arm. Jackson didn't even have time to realise when he himself was violently pressed face first against the lockers, nails digging painfully into his neck. However, just as quickly as he felt the pain, his assailant disappeared, leaving him sprawled, all alone, in the now empty corridor.
Derek ducked around the corner, terrified, staring at his wolf claws, covered in the boy's blood. He was beginning to lose control, and he was in the middle of a school full of students. He knew that if he didn't find any of the initiated three quickly, the wound would be the least of his problems. He tried to focus, examining the building around him with all his senses. He sensed his hearing and his sense of smell, but decided to focus on the former when it became apparent that there were too many scents mingling in the school, from sweaty clothes to overly perfumed, hormone-boosting teenage girls. To his ears came the increased hum of whispers, the scuffling of chalk on the blackboard, music coming from someone's headphones and even a phone call. Eventually, he managed to catch the familiar name 'Scott' in this cacophony. Two girls were talking to each other about the exact teenager he needed at that moment. One of the girls must have been Hunter's daughter, just announcing to a friend that before meeting Scott, who seemed so different, she hadn't planned on having a boyfriend until college. The werewolf snorted inwardly, regretting that she hadn't stood firm in her resolve, but after a moment he realised that just knowing her could be very useful to him at this point. Derek had only managed to hear that his last resort was having an after school date when the school bell sounded just above his head, inflicting a piercing pain. This brought him back down to earth and, along with the wave of students pouring out of the building, he moved towards the car park.
Almost at the last moment, he managed to dash out right in front of the bonnet of Stile's just departing blue Roscoe, stopping it. This action, however, used up the residual energy to keep him on his feet and before Stiles had time to jump out of the car, the werewolf tumbled heavily, landing on his back.
'Are you kidding me? This guy is all over the place,' commented the teenage driver, getting out and noticing that his friend was already kneeling beside the older werewolf.
'I was shot' he explained to the terrified boys who were leaning over him.
'Why aren't you healing?' Scott didn't understand.
'I can't. It was a different kind of bullet...' he was finding it harder and harder to catch his breath, he could feel his body temperature rising dangerously.
'A silver bullet?' Asked an excited Stiles.
'No, you idiot...'
'Wait a second. That's what she meant when she said 48 hours.' Scott understood at that moment the conversation of the hunters he had overheard that night.
'What? Who said 48 hours?' Derek had trouble focusing his gaze on the teenager's face.
'The one who shot you...' Scott explained, dismayed to discover that the older man's eyes were beginning to glow an electrifying blue. 'What are you doing? Stop that!'
'That's what I'm trying to tell you. I can't.'- growled the wounded man, and the sound of car horns blasted into his ears. The rest of the students wanted to leave the car park, but were prevented from doing so by Stiles' jeep.
Scott, seeing Derek losing consciousness, grabbed him under the arms and demanded his friend's help. More and more students were beginning to take an interest in the commotion they had caused. The boys were struggling to place the man's inert body in the husky's car when the werewolf regained consciousness just enough to tell Scott that he needed to find out what kind of bullet had shot him, which he had a great opportunity to do by being invited to the Hunters' house that day.
'Why should I help you?' asked the nervous teenager.
'Because you need me.'
'Fine, fine. I'll try.' he surrendered, turning to his friend. 'Get him out of here.'
'I hate you for this,' growled Stiles at the teenage werewolf, moving out of the school car park with a screech of tyres.
'What was he doing here?' Scott was approached by Allison, with a suspicious look on her face, clearly thinking of the man who had given her a lift home after Lydia's party, not the hyperactive Stiles.
'Uh... Stiles is giving him a ride. It's a long story. I'll tell you at your house. Okay?'
'I thought you said you weren't friends with him.'
'I'm not. Not really.' the teenager began to tangle. 'We're still studying together, right? Meet at your place?' He awkwardly jumped to another topic, watching the changing expression on the girl's face, but over her shoulder he spotted Jackson. The boy's eyebrows were pulled down in angry thoughtfulness as he observed the whole situation and calculated something in his mind until Lydia approached him.
'Who was that?'
'No one' the captain tried to dispose of the girl.
'He definitely looked like SOMEONE' she followed the receding jeep with her eyes, then returned her eyes to her boyfriend. 'And what's on your neck?'
Scott, despite riding his bike, arrived outside Allison's house at the same time as the girl was finishing parking her car. Puzzled, she started to ask him why he had been acting so strangely lately, seeing her boyfriend's obvious irritation.
'I think I'm just stressed about classes. I'm not doing as good this year.' he explained, following her up the stairs.
'Not doing as well' she corrected, smiling.
'Exactly.'
'Maybe we should start with English,' she laughed, letting the boy into her room. He looked around the room, noticing that it was in a very austere state, no bookshelves or pictures on the walls, instead full of moving boxes.
'I'm still unpacking' explained Allison, who suddenly felt embarrassed by the state of her room.
' Haven't you been here for over a month?'
'I'm taking my time.'
'I know you wanted to start with History so I asked Mrs Benoit for some study papers...' started Scott, pulling off his sweatshirt and looking to unpack his backpack.
Allison interrupted him by coming up to him and kissing him, completely surprising the boy with this. The kiss was gentle and innocent at first, but she moved a little closer to him, standing on tiptoe. Shocked, he squatted down on the bed that stood just behind him and pulled her to him. Both of them, still in their clothes, began to explore each other's bodies with their hands, completely losing themselves in a feeling that was new to both of them.
The boy felt a rush of adrenaline and some strange tingling in his fingertips, which he first explained to himself with excitement, but after a moment he noticed that instead of the usual human nails, there were wolf claws on the tips of his fingers. He drew in air violently, thus pulling Allison away from the kisses she was bestowing on his neck.
-'What's wrong?' She asked, concerned.
'Nothing. I just don't want to make you feel like you have to do something you don't want to do' he sobbed out with difficulty, hiding his hands under the blanket.
'I' not doing anything I don't want to do' the girl smiled radiantly, resting her head on her hand and looking down at him.'Are you?'
'You're seriously asking that question?' They were just about to go back to kissing when the silence was broken by the ringing of Scott's phone, completely spoiling their mood.
The boy didn't manage to answer, but a message from Stiles appeared on the display: "Did you find it yet", to which he quickly replied: "Need more time," then switched the phone off. Putting it in his jacket pocket, he noticed one of the open boxes and its contents, which caught his eye. On top of it lay a frame with a photograph showing Allison's father and a young, blonde-haired woman. The exact same one that had shot Derek last night. He grabbed it in his hand taking it out and showing it to the girl.
'Who's this?'
' That's my Dad's sister, Kate. Except she's more like my sister' she explained. 'She just got here last night.'
'Last night?'
'Yeah, she had some car trouble.;
'What kind of car trouble?' Scott was curious.
'Just...' she stoped there for a second. 'Car trouble.'
'She looks familiar...'
'She actually used to live in Beacon Hills, maybe you saw her once.' Allison fell silent, thinking about something.
Scott put down the photo and reached for the rest of the contents of the box, pulling out more photographs and paintings.
'Did you take all of these?'
'Back when I thought I could be a photographer.' she laughed I stopped when I realized I was terrible at it. The framing's off, bad lighting.' She took the pictures out of his hands. 'That's when I tried painting. Terrible at that too.' She open another box, holding several journals. 'That was the year of the attempt at poetry. Terrible doesn't even come close to destribe that.'
'What are you good at?' Scott asked, looking into her eyes, genuinely curious.
'I'll show you' she thought for a moment before adding. - 'If you promise not to laugh...'
She led him into the garage, cluttered with even more boxes than her room. She turned on the light and led him past two sizable SUVs parked inside.
'I used to enter tournaments, my Dad used to cheer me on, but I think I got bored. Promise you won't laugh,' she asked, leaning over some crates while the teenager looked around curiously, looking for something that might give him a clue to Stiles and Derek.
'I promise,' he said reflexively and jumped back as he looked at the girl. She was aiming straight at him, with a bow. 'What the hell is that?'
'It's a compound bow' she explained with a smile. 'And I'm pretty sure it requires an arrow to be harmful.'
'That's what you're good at? Archery?' Scott stated, and the air escaped him as the sight of the bow brought back unpleasant memories of the last full moon.
'I was nationally ranked when I was competing. My Dad wanted me to keep going. He thought maybe I could go to the Olympics. But I just didn't like it enough. And you said you wouldn't laugh' she reminded reproachfully.
'Trust me. I'm not laughing.' as he finished saying these words, it became apparent that they carried even more weight than he had assumed. His gaze paused on the opposite wall of the garage, where there was a barred cupboard, and in it, as if on display, were a dusting of all sorts of machine guns and sniper rifles, as well as a few pistols and other weapons he hadn't even tried to name. On one of the opaque doors inside was a logo with the name of the company: Argent Arms International.
'Oh, I guess I should explain...' Allison frowned, seeing the look on his face clearly indicating that the boy was in shock. 'Don't worry. We're not some kind of separatist gun nut falimy. My dad sells firearms to law enforcement.'
'Oh. That's... That's good. Are you planning on joining the family business?' Scott asked, struggling to tear his gaze away from the, chilling, sight.
'You tell me. Would I look hot with a gun?' She asked, flirtatiously smiling and wrapping her arms around him.
'Hotter without,' the teenager smiled, looking deeply into her eyes and kissing her. Unfortunately, this time too, they were interrupted by a sudden sound. The garage door opened with a creak and Allison pulled him with her, hiding behind one of the cars.
The girl's father entered the room, carrying a box of some sort in his hands. His sister's voice came from inside the house.
'Chris, don't expect the women to do all the heavy lifting out here. Get your ass out of the fifties and come help with the groceries.'
Argent set the cardboard box down on a pile of other similar ones and announced that he was going. However, something caught his attention, causing him to step back and look around the garage. He leaned his hand against the car behind which the teenagers were hiding and looked straight at them, completely unsurprised.
'You two mind helping?' The pair nodded their heads in agreement, which, seeing, the man smiled and headed towards the house. 'Great.'
They had already finished unpacking the groceries from the car parked outside the house when Scott received another text message from a friend: "Derek not looking good". He sighed heavily, realising that he had not done his job. He looked helplessly at Allison. It was already starting to get dark, he had less and less time.
'Do you want to keep studying?' He asked hopefully, avoiding her father's gaze.
'I think, she'll concentrate better on her own,' came the cool reply from the man, who did not wait for his daughter to speak.' You, on your bike,' he indicated to the teenager his means of transport, then turned to the girl. 'You. Inside.'
'Chris, really?' Kate approached them, spreading her arms in a gesture of disbelief. 'They were making out in the garage. Not shooting amateur porn' she said, defiantly looking her brother in the eye, then put her hand on Scott's shoulder and announced, smiling almost flirtatiously. 'You, with the adorable brown eyes. Drop the bike. You;re staying for dinner.'
The older man measured all three of them with a cool gaze, but did not object. He waited until the women had disappeared into the house and turned back to the boy.
'Do you like steak?' He asked, completely submitting to his commanding sister's will.
Scott merely nodded without uttering a word, feeling a huge weight fall from his chest. There was still a chance to find the bullet and save Derek. All was not lost.
'You don't mind?' the boy made sure, walking through the door.
'Actually, no. It'll give us a chance to get to know each other.' the man smiled, but something about that smile sent shivers down Scott's spine.
The teenager was helping his girlfriend set the dining room table as her parents and aunt prepared dinner in the kitchen next door. His hands were shaking and he had the feeling that it was his life hanging in the balance, not that of a familiar werewolf.
'He doesn't hate you, he's just protective,' Allison tried to reassure him.
'He hates me.'
'I wouldn't call it hate.'
'Intense dislike?' suggested Scott, smiling nervously as he spread napkins by the plates. He usually only ate with his mum in such a setting at Christmas. 'Should I just not say anything?'
'No, I want you to say stuff. Just don't say anything stupid.' she hung her head for a moment, then added cheerfully. 'Not that you're going to. Just be the amazingly charming, sweet guy you always are. Be yourself. He'll like you if you're confident.'
'Do I look confident?'
'You will when you stop sweating,' she handed him a handkerchief so he could wipe his drip-drenched forehead.
'Oh God...' the boy could sense, from the change in her scent, that the girl was just as frightened as he was, though making a good face.
They sat down at the table at last, in tense silence. At the head sat Chris Argent, as head of the house, having his sister on his left and Scott on his right. Next to the boy sat Allison, nervously sipping her water, and next to her, facing her husband, was the girl's mum, Victoria. The teenager himself didn't know which of the adults scared him the most. Was the cool but smiling man, following his every move like a bird of prey. Or the disturbingly sexy young aunt, throwing funny remarks around, clearly enjoying the restraint of everyone around her. Or perhaps, finally, the other woman, older, with short-cropped red hair and terrifying bright eyes that could turn him into a block of ice if he looked into them.
'You want something to drink other than water, Scott?' the latter asked him, seeing that the teenager had held the glass to his lips a moment too long without swallowing.
'We could get you a beer' prompted Mr Argent, raising his eyebrows to emphasise the question, at which his daughter looked at him quizzically. 'Tequila?'
- Dad!
'You don't drink, Scott?' couldn't believe the man, when the boy shook his head with negation.
'I'm not old enough to.'
'That doesn't seem to stop many teenagers.' Victoria whined.
'No, but it should' stated Scott, without thinking, finally a little more confident.
'Good answer!' concluded Kate cheerfully. 'Total lie, but well played, Scott. You may yet survive the night.' she added, looking defiantly at her brother, who was doing his best to ignore her.
'You ever smoked pot?' fired the man, pointing at the boy with the knife he held in his hand, with which he had just been cutting meat.
'Oh, please,' laughed the blonde loudly. 'Changing the channel to something a little less conservative... Allison says you're on the lacrosse team. I don't know much about it, I always more a basketball girl' she didn't wait for a response and took her own advice, completely ignoring the abashed looks her niece's parents exchanged between them. 'How do you play?'
'You know hockey' Scott relaxed a little, smiling. 'It's kind of like that only on grass instead of ice.'
'Hockey on grass is called field hokey' Chris interjected, interrupting his food and throwing a defiant look at the teenager. Allison measured her father with an angry stare.
'So it's like field hokey except the sticks have nets.' the girl explained, wanting to help the boy.
Scott felt the phone in his pocket vibrate, but rejected the call, seeing that it was Stiles.
'Can you slap check like hokey?' Kate inquired, clearly wanting to keep the conversation going, although it was hard to judge whether she wanted to help the teenager or spite her brother.
'Yeah. But only the gloves or stick.'
'Sounds violent' Kate stated, puffing out her lips. 'I like it.'
'Scott's amazing too. Dad was at the first game with me. Wasn't he good?' smiled Allison, grateful to her aunt for helping to blunt her father's attacks.
'He was fine' concluded Chris, clearly trying not to compliment the boy.
'He scored the last shot. The winning shot' paired the girl, at which her aunt smiled, taking obvious pleasure in this confrontation.
'True. But he didn't score at all untill the last few minutes.'
'His first shot ripped through the goalie's net. It was incredible!'
'I think the goalie probably had a defective stick. But yeah, Scott played well.' every sentence from his daughter, Chris had to comment.
Allison took a sip of water and set the glass down with a clink, leaning back against the backrest. She couldn't believe that her beloved dad could bring her into such disrepute in Scott's eyes. The werewolf heard her heartbeat accelerate rapidly and, after a moment's hesitation, took her hand, tucked under the table. It worked, the girl relaxed visibly.
'You know... ' broke the heavy silence of the teenager, at first uncertainly, but then in a more cheerful tone. 'On second thought, I'll take that shot of tequila.' he looked Argent straight in the eye, defiantly, expecting his reaction. He felt Allison's fingers tighten on his hand and could almost see the smile blossoming on her face, even though he wasn't looking at her.
The adults froze, then all laughed quietly, understanding that the boy was joking. After a while, he managed to find an excuse to leave the table for a moment and call Stiles. The man, finally impatient, handed the receiver back to the wounded werewolf.
'Did you find it?' came the question, asked in a recognisable but much weaker voice than usual.
'How the hell am I supposed to find one bullet? They have a million. This house is the freaking Walmart of guns!'
'You don't find it, I'm dead.'
'I'm starting to think that wouldn't be such a bad thing.'
'So think about this...' the werewolf's voice was breaking down, and somewhere in the background Scott could hear the voices of Stiles and someone else, a woman. He guessed that his friend had called the history teacher, whom he seemed to trust implicitly, for help.
The werewolf, meanwhile, was explaining to Scott that without his help, he was sure the teenager would end up dead, as he didn't stand a chance against the terrifying Alpha himself. The man didn't even let him answer and hung up, leaving the distraught teenager in the middle of a hallway in the Werewolf Hunters' house with no idea what to do next.
Scott's gaze stopped on the door in front of him. It was protected by an electronic lock, which gave him hope that this was where he would find what he needed. So he grabbed the handle, but as soon as he pressed it a quiet buzzing sounded, indicating a working alarm.
'You look like a lost puppy,' he heard a quiet voice behind him and turned abruptly. In the hallway, leaning against the wall stood Allisons' aunt, measuring him with sparkling light brown eyes.
'Just trying to find the bathroom.'
'Bathroom?' She took a few steps towards him. The boy didn't know whether to feel threatened or excited. The woman was definitely sending strange signals that he couldn't read. 'Does that look like a bathroom?' she pointed with her chin to the electronic lock on the door he had just wanted to open.
'No... ' They answered simultaneously.
'Use the one in the guest room' she pointed him to the room she occupied.
Scott thanked her and entered the dark bedroom, turning on the light. The room was clearly no one's permanent residence, perfectly neutral, in shades of beige and brown. He directed his steps immediately to the bathroom, but froze, sensing a strange smell in the air. He looked around and noticed a bag sticking out from under the bed, from which the smell was wafting. As he reached for it, the hair on his arms went astray and a sensation like electric sparks ran between his fingers. He undid the zip and spotted a black metal box between his clothes. He opened it, it was filled with clips, but his attention was caught by another box, this time wooden, with a flower engraved on the lid. He opened it. There were ten holes carved into the centre, in which the cartridges rested. One was missing. He grabbed another, leaving two holes now free. On contacting the skin with the cartridge, he felt his eyes glow gold. He knew he had found what he had come for.
He hastily put everything together exactly as it was before he moved anything, only putting the cartridge deep into his pocket. He spotted the inscription still on the wooden wrapping: "Aconit Napel Bleu Nordique", which he translated with his phone and sent to his friend. Maybe the name itself would be useful too. Before he left the room he jumped quickly into the bathroom to flush and wash his hands for the sake of appearances.
He returned to the dining room but did not sit down at the table, full of anxiety, declaring that he should be going home by now and thanking hthem for dinner.
'Oh no!' objected Kate. 'Stay for dessert. I want to hear more about you. Sit down'' she pointed to the boy's chair, not expecting resistance. The boy agreed, intimidated by her commanding attitude.
'Allison was saying you work for a veterinarian' the girl's mum was clearly trying to hide the tension, the remnants of which could still be felt in the room.
'I told them how you put the cast on the dog I hit' the teenager elaborated when Scott sensed his phone vibrating urgently.
'What's your boss think of the animal attacks? Any theories?' Chris got curious.
'Everybody's saying mountain lion.'
'That would have to be a pretty large mountain lion' snorted the blonde at this statement, bringing a smile to Victoria's face with her words as well.
'What do you think, Scott?' asked the redhead.
'I wouldn't really know. We get mostly dogs and cats at the clinic. Nothing that vicious.'
'Never had to deal with a rabid dog?' asked Argent, looking up at the ceiling, as if searching it for the patience he was running out of. Scott shook his head in denial.'I grew up wiht a lot of dogs. I saw one get rabies from a bat. It was transferred through the bite. Sad, but kind of fascinating. People think a rabid dog just suddenly goes mad. It's actually a lot more gradual.' he explained, thus weighing down the mood at the table, his daughter stopped smiling, listening intently, with her head bowed. The first stage is subtle changes in behavior. They're restless, morose. It's the second stage that everyone knows. The "furious phase". That's when they attack. And we're talking any moving object. Did you know a caged, rabid dog will break its own teeth trying to chew through the bars?It'll even rear back and snap its own spine. Can you imagine the amount of force it takes to do that?' he said each word slowly and carefully, staring into the teenager's face. There was no shadow of any emotion in his cold grey eyes, they seemed dead. It's a complete character reversal. This harmless animal turns into a perfectly vicious killer. And it all starts with one bite.'
The boy tore his gaze away from the man and looked around. Kate, who was sitting opposite him, seemed to be struggling to hold back a smile of joy at hearing the story.
'But it died, didn't it?' interrupted Allison, quietly.
'Yeah, well,' replied her mother. 'Your grandfather shot it.'
'Because he wanted to put it out of its misery' explained the teenager to herself.
'Because it was too dangerous' corrected her father. 'Something that out of control is better off dead.'
Scott swallowed his saliva loudly, wondering if he could have betrayed himself with anything? Did the Argents know he had been bitten? Did they think he was a rabid dog? His heart was palpitating in his chest, trying to leap onto the table. His hands were sweating, but with all his willpower he tried to remain calm, concentrating on the steady heartbeat of Allison, who was sitting right next to him.
Fortunately, it didn't take them long to eat their dessert. Allison fetched his backpack from her room and escorted him to the door.
'I'm incredibly sorry for that being the worst, most horribly awkward dinner ever in the history of horribly awkward dinners' said the girl.
'It wasn't the worst. There was the dinner where my parents told me they were getting divorced.'' he sang out, trying to make her laugh. ' This is a close second.'
Allison pulled him close, wanting to kiss him. But the boy noticed that they were being closely watched the whole time by the girl's father, sipping whisky. This did not discourage her, however, and she kissed him on the lips. The moment was interrupted by Kate, approaching them with a brisk step.
'One second, guys. I have to ask Scott something.' she stammered for a moment, shoving her hands in the back pockets of her trousers and looking at the teenager intently. 'What did you take from my bag?'
The boy became confused, flooded with a wave of fear.
'You need me to repeat my question or ennunciate any more clearly?' she inquired as her brother, interested in the confusion, joined her. 'My bag was open in the guest roo. It was zipped shut when I left it.' she explained. 'Scott came in to use the bathroom. He left. My bag was open.'
'He didn't take anything... ' groaned Allison, and her cheeks turned scarlet.
'SOMETHING was taken from my bag' her aunt insisted.'And I hate to be the accuser, Scott, because I do like those adorable brown eyes. I don;t know if you're a Klepto, curious, or just stupid, but answer the question. WHAT DID YOU TAKE?'
'Nothing, I swear ' the boy was sure he'd left everything exactly as he'd found it, but he could feel himself starting to sweat. He couldn't think of any explanation for the bullet he had just clenched in a fist pressed deep into his trouser pocket.
'You don't mind proving it, do you?' Kate looked at him with cold eyes, completely calm, like a predator on its prey.
'Are you serious?' Allison became indignant.
'How about you show us what's in your pockets?' offered the blonde, her brother looking at her closely but not saying a word, even at her daughter's request. 'Come on, Scott, prove me wrong.'
'I'll prove you wrong' Allison couldn't stand the tension and raised her hands in a gesture of surrender, directing the attention of everyone gathered in the corridor to herself. 'It wasn't Scott going through your bag. It was me' everyone looked at her, shocked. Their surprise deepened further when the girl pulled a wrapped condom from her pocket and proudly presented everyone with the silverware rustling in her hand. Scott glanced at her, then restrainedly turned his face back to the front door to avoid looking at the adults.
Kate bit her lip, completely taken aback, and Chris turned pale with rage. They looked at each other, then wordlessly let the boy leave.
During the bus driver's funeral, listening to the conversations of the deceased's friends, she learned that he had once been an insurance investigator. When she returned home she called Luise, hoping her cousin remembered anything. It turned out she did. Mr Meyers was investigating a fire at the Hale house.
Barely had she finished her conversation with her cousin, the phone in her hand rang again. The number on the display was unfamiliar to her, but she answered nevertheless, with a strange tremor in her hand. Stiles' voice rang out in the receiver, in which she could hear nervousness.
'Mrs Benoit... I need help, I have an injured werewolf in my car...'
'Scott... What's wrong with him? Where are you guys?'
'No, it's not Scott, it's Derek. Scott is trying to find a cure in the Argents. We don't know what to do and I thought maybe...'
'Come get me!' she ordered and hung up. She was terrified, probably even more so than the boy she had just spoken to. She walked out in front of the house and noticed that her student's blue Jeep was already there. She reached it to hear the exchange of words between those sitting inside.
'Are you dying?' Stiles asked.
'Not yet' Derek's skin was white and covered in sweat. 'I have a last resort.'
'What do you mean? What last resort?' At this point she interrupted Stiles by opening the driver's door and telling him to let her through to the back seat of the car.
She asked Derek to show her the wound, and as he rolled up the sleeve of the blouse he was wearing when he last left her, it became apparent that there was a gaping hole in his forearm with inflamed edges, from which black-coloured, clearly visible veins spread.
'Oh my god...' Stiles, who had managed to return to his seat immediately turned green in the face as he looked at his passenger. 'What is that? Is that contagious? Maybe you should just get out?'
'Start the car' replied Derek, sighing heavily, 'Now.'
'I don't think you should be giving orders the way you look,' the teenager was indignant. 'In fact, I think if I wanted to, I could probably drag your werewolv ass out to the middle of the road and leave you for dead.'
Charlotte watched her pupil with mute admiration for his courage and at the same time pity for his stupidity. The werewolf definitely didn't look good, but that didn't mean he was the least bit less dangerous.
'Start the car,' he growled through his teeth, 'Or I'm going to rip your throut out with my teeth.'
They stared at each other in silence for a moment, a not entirely silent threat in the air. Stiles gave in first, almost in disbelief, turning away from the man, starting the engine.
It was already starting to get dark, and they were driving aimlessly, as Derek had forbidden them to drive both to the burnt house and back to the witch's house. He clearly didn't want the boy to guess that he'd known his teacher for longer than the few moments they'd spent in Stiles' jeep. Charlotte didn't insist, though she felt a tad hurt. They had never discussed whether they would keep their acquaintance a secret, but it also didn't seem that important to her now that his life was in danger.
The teenager accompanying them finally managed to get through to Scott.
'What am I supposed to do with him?' He asked his friend.
'Take him somewhere, anywhere...'
'By the way, he's starting to smell.' Charlotte had to hold back a nervous giggle, even though she wasn't laughing at all. The werewolf, meanwhile, measured Stiles with a murderous stare that was clearly starting to lose its power.
'Like what?' came the voice on the phone.
'Like death' as the word was spoken, the witch realised it was real. There was a faint smell in the air that could only indicate one thing, the infection was progressing and her lover was in a worse and worse condition.
'Okay. Take him to the animal clinic.'
'What about your boss?'
'He's gone by now. There's spare key in a box behind the dumpster in the back.'
'You're not goint to believe where he's telling me to take you',' sighed the teenager heavily, handing the phone to the werewolf.
'Well, werewolves aren't that far from dogs anyway, so the vet probably won't be the worst idea,' she quietly pronounced sitting in the back seat, but only Stiles heard her and smiled broadly, trying to keep from laughing. Derek, on the other hand, was talking to Scott, which eventually attracted the teacher's attention.
'The Alpha called you out againstyour will. He's going to do it again. And next time you either kill with him or you get killed. You need me. Find the bullet.' the werewolf finished and handed the phone back to Stiles, who started the car again.
'Alpha called Scott? Why don't I know anything about this?' She directed her question to Stiles, she had to keep up appearances, there was clear anger in her voice. If something had happened to one of her charges, she wouldn't give it up. The injured Derek was enough of a problem. Stiles tried for a moment to explain to her why she didn't actually know anything about the whole affair, but had to quickly interrupt to open the door to the treatment room, which they had finally managed to reach.
As they entered the treatment room, Charlotte was helping Derek pull off his shirt. Stiles looked at them for a moment, trying to make phone contact with Scott. The boy furrowed his brow, studying them with his eyes, clearly sensing that the two adults knew each other. The teacher was undressing the werewolf with too much skill for the eye of a teenager. He himself sometimes had far more trouble undressing himself than the witch had with pulling the shirt off the werewolf.
'I should be healed by now...' wheezed Derek, visibly crooked with pain, as he looked through the cabinets of veterinary tools.
'Does Blue Nordic monkshood mean anything to you?' Asked Stiles, staring at the display of his phone.
'It's a rare variety of Wolfsbane. He has to bring me the bullet' the werewolf measured the boy with his eyes, while the witch herself was also looking for something in the drawers. She furrowed her eyebrows as she spotted several jars in one of the drawers with familiar contents that vets were unlikely to use.
'Why?'
'Because without it, I'm dead.'
The wound was looking worse and worse. The skin around the bullet hole was getting more and more inflamed and Derek was breathing harder and harder.
'Well, that doesn't look like anything some Echinacea and a good night's sleep couldn't take care off' tried to kid himself Stiles, looking everywhere but at the wound.
'When the infection reaches my heart, it'ill kill me...'
'Positivity just isn't in your vocabulary, is it?' growled Charlotte, heartily fed up with the fear that clenched its fist tighter and tighter on her stomach. She closed the drawer with the strange contents, knowing she had a bigger problem for now.
'If he doesn't get here with the bullet in time... last resort.'
'Which is?' Stiles wondered.
''You're going to cut off my arm,' Derek raised an automatic saw for amputating animal limbs in his hand, to which the boy ran out of words. He stood at the metal table motionless, moving only his mouth, like a fish out of water.
The witch rolled her eyes when she heard the exchange of words between the two, the man had a visible tendency to be dramatic. She pushed past the werewolf towards the table, pulling him behind her. She directed Stiles' hands on Derek's arm and had him hold it firmly.
'We need to remove the bullet first, it's what's poisoning the body,' she explained, lifting the curved pliers in her hand. 'It won't be the most pleasant experience, clench your teeth.'
Without warning or undue hesitation, she inserted the tip of the tool into the wound and began to rotate it in search of resistance. When she finally managed to grasp the metal shard, she pulled hard. She had to overcome the resistance of the tissue, which was trying to heal around the wound all the time, despite the aconite impeding the process. Both tool and projectile exited the wound with a slight crunch, at the sound of which the younger of the men turned green and the older merely gnashed his teeth, suppressing a cry of pain. More blood gushed onto the tabletop, black mixed with red. At this sight, Charlie grabbed a tourniquet and pulled it over the werewolf's arm, above the elbow.
The procedure definitely didn't appease Derek, who moved the saw towards Stiles. The man squeezed the trigger of the device, and when it made its distinctive sound, he put it down on the countertop in disgust.
'Oh my god... What if you bleed out?'
'It'll heal. If it works' he was clearly losing strength.
'But your arm won't grow back... ' stated the witch, looking at him with growing concern.
'I don't know if I can do it...' began the boy.
'Why not?' almost growled the werewolf.
'Because of the cutting through flesh, the sawing of bone, and especially the blood.'
'You faint at the sight of blood?' Charlotte asked in disbelief.
'No, but I might at the sight of a chopped off arm...'
'How about this: either you cut off my arm or I rip off your head.'
'I'm not buiyng your threats anymore.' Before the boy could finish, Derek grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him back over the table. 'Okay, bought, sold, I'll do it, I'll do it.' Before the werewolf had time to let the boy go, he leaned over the edge of the tabletop and vomited black blood.'Holly god, what the hell is that?'
'My body... trying... to heal' the man explained with a gasp.
'It's not doinga very good job' commented Charlie, looking at the wound with trepidation, the veins were becoming more and more visible and were already starting to reach above the turniquet.
'Now... You have to do this now.' The werewolf was struggling to lift his head.
'Seriously, I can't do it...' Stiles started to pull away.
'Just do it! ' he shouted with his last strength, resting his forehead against the metal tabletop.
'Okay, okay... ' Stiles took the saw in his hand and applied it slowly to the man's arm, trying it on. Charlotte watched anxiously, grabbing Derek's shoulders to hold him down in case he should lash out. 'Okay... Let's go!' shouted Stiles, the moment the front door of the clinic slammed, and they heard Scott's voice from afar.
'Stiles!' the teenager ran into the treatment room and swept the scene with his eyes. 'What the hell are you doing?'
'You just prevented a lifetime of nightmares'- sighed Stiles, dismissing the device from himself.
'Did you get it?' Charlie asked and immediately snatched the cartridge from the teenager's hands. She separated the casing from the bullet with a scalpel and spilled the contents onto a small piece of countertop that wasn't stained with blood. Derek, in the meantime, had managed to lose consciousness, falling to the floor. Scott rushed over to him, to see if the injured man was still alive, it seemed so, but just barelly.
Charlotte took a lighter from her trouser pocket and lit the powder, which flared violently due to the presence of gunpowder. The smell of burnt herbs and slightly bluish smoke spread around the room. She collected the ashes in her hand and crouched down by the patient. Probably a thousand healing spells ran through her thoughts at once, though none of them would do without proper, time-consuming preparation. She put her hand to the bullet hole which content she had removed only moments before, spreading the ash around, then pressed it in deeper, plunging her index finger into the wound, up to the base of her nail. Both boys, watching her intently, squirmed in disgust.
The procedure woke Derek up, the wound began to smoke and he let out a shriek mixed with a growl. His body arched in a spasm of pain. For a moment it seemed too late, but after a moment the veins began to fade, the visible sign of infection to recede, until finally even the bullet hole sealed up, as if by magic.
'That. Was. Awesome. Yes!' exclaimed Stiles, shaking off the shock.
Derek lifted himself from the floor with difficulty, enlisting Charlotte's help, resting most of his own weight on her.
'Are you okay?' Scott asked, trying to take the burden from his teacher.
'Except for the agonizing pain'. replied Derek with irony and a scowl on his face.
'I'm guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a sign of good health' commented the sheriff's son, but fell instantly silent as the werewolf's gaze lingered on him.
'We saved your life. That means you're going to leave us alone. You got that?' Scott seemed very agitated, the witch wondered what had actually happened between the two werewolves.'And if you don't I go back to Allison's dad and tell him everything...' he threatened.
'You're going to trust them? You think they can help you?' Derek asked in disbelief.
'Why not? They're a lot freaking nicer than you are.'
'I can show you exactly how nice they are' replied Derek, and in his eyes Charlie saw a dangerous glint. She knew exactly where the werewolf wanted to take the boy, she had been there herself recently, investigating one of the leads, the Long Term Care Unit.
Stiles drive them to her car, she offered to drive the werewolves to their destination. The husky took his friend's bike and decided he'd had enough excitement for tonight, so he said goodbye and left them in her driveway. Charlotte thanked herself in spirit for her forethought and leaving the black Camaro in a locked garage so that Scott couldn't realise the other werewolf had ever been to her place.
She drove them back to the hospital and waited in the car park, having no desire to run into the now familiar, not very friendly staff.
The man led the teenager through the deserted corridors of the hospital, looking around to see if anyone saw them. When they reached the room marked 137, he pushed the boy into the room and quietly closed the door behind them. The room was bathed in moonlight pouring in through a large window on one of the walls. Only after a moment did Scott realise that they were not alone in the room. A man was sitting in a wheelchair, facing the window, completely oblivious to them. The boy could not see his face, only his arms resting inertly against the back of the chair and his hands resting gently on the armrests. As he approached, he saw that the man was unresponsive, staring dead ahead, unable to see what he was looking at.
Derek stood in front of the man, looking at him, with his jaw clenched tightly, anger bubbling from his stance.
'Who is he?' asked the teenager quietly, still studying the profile of the catatonic man. There was something familiar about him, perhaps the outline of a nose, or the shape of a forehead, but the boy couldn't pinpoint it until he looked at his companion.
'My uncle, Peter Hale,' the werewolf struggled to say the words, and it all became clear to Scott. They both had a similar profile, although the darkness made an exact comparison difficult.
'Is he... Like you? A werewolf?'
'He was. Now he's barely even human,' Derek stated, his face once again nailed into a mask of indifference. 'Six years ago, my sister and I were at school, when our house caught fires. Eleven people were trapped inside. He was the only survivor...' The werewolf really didn't want to tell the kid about it, however, he knew he had to. The witch had almost forced him to promise to do so when they were working out a plan to help the boy. She was right, if he wanted to gain Scott's trust, he had to trust him at least a little bit himself and share the story, especially since Stiles would surely discover all the details himself soon enough, or at least that's what Charlie claimed.
'How are you so sure they set the fire? asked the teenager, starting to piece together the facts with disbelief. If it wasn't the Argents, the werewolf certainly wouldn't have brought him here.
'They're the only ones who knew about us' he measured the kid with a glance, he had better proof, but he wasn't going to tell anyone about it. He wouldn't tell Laura, nor would he tell the witch or some puppy, it was a burden he had to carry himself.
'Then they had a reason.' tried to explain Scott, not sure whether to himself or his interlocutor.
'Like what?' Asked Derek in disbelief, grabbing the chair where his uncle was sitting and turning it so that the boy finally saw the whole situation. Peter's head rolled inertly onto his shoulder, the moonlight falling on the right side of his face, hitherto hidden from the boy's view. The teenager took a step in, startled by the sight of the burn scar, distorting the outline of his head and completely changing the shape of his ear, uncovered because some of the hair above it had never been able to grow back, on his burnt skin. It was a miracle that the man retained both eyes. The marks trailed down his neck, disappearing under his hospital shirt, and appeared again, on his right hand. 'What justify this?' the man waited a moment so that the teenager had time to realise what he was actually seeing, then took up: 'They say they'll only kill an adult and only with absolute proof. But there were members of my family who were perfectly ordinary in that fire. This is what they do. It's what Allison will do.
They both stiffened, sensing that something had changed. The door to the room creaked open and in stood a nurse in a white gown and tightly braided hair of a slightly lighter shade than Charlotte's hair. Her name badge proclaimed that her name was Jennifer.
'What are you doing here? How did you get in here?' Her voice was annoying, too high-pitched and a little squawky. She was about to reach for the button, summoning security, but froze in mid-motion, looking at the older werewolf's face, which she spotted in the moonlight. -'ait... Are you a relative?'
Derek didn't answer, dodging her in the doorway. Scott followed, not knowing what else to do. The woman led them away with a curious look, then entered the room they had just left.
As the two werewolves walked back to the witch's car, Scott was silent almost the entire way to his house, trying to digest the sight that Peter Hale was presenting. Charlotte couldn't bear the tense silence that fell between them.
'Scott, go home, go to bed, it's been an adventurous day. This one here' she pointed to Derek. 'I'll drive him home too and everyone will have time to calm down and think. There's no point in making any decisions in the state you're both in.'
As the boy disappeared into his house and her Chevelle had already covered a few blocks, the werewolf sitting next to her finally broke the silence.
'How is it that you always arrange your words so that they are not lies?'
'Years of practice,' she replied immediately. 'But I'm surprised Scott hasn't figured out yet that you're staying with me... Shouldn't he smell it or something?'
'He doesn't know how to take full advantage of his senses yet,' Derek explained. 'But don't imagine I don't know that you can somehow control your scent...' She looked at him puzzled, she knew she could temporarily hide her presence from others, but the spell she was using was more of an illusion. The werewolf, seeing her questioning look, elaborated 'I'm the one who smells you more than the other way around. Which could be explained by the fact that I live with you, if it actually only worked that way.'
'I don't understand, then how does it work? Don't tell me that the scent of werewolves somehow transfers differently...'
'Not in werewolves, in lovers' he fell silent, they never defined exactly what word they should use when talking about what was between them. 'The male always leaves a stronger mark than the female. The male marks the female, thus giving a sign to possible rivals.'
'So you've marked me as your property?' she raised an eyebrow, parking the car in the driveway. 'Does that mean all the guys in the neighbourhood will subconsciously avoid me for fear of messing up with the big, bad werewolf?' she laughed, trying to trivialise the strange tightness in her stomach she felt.
He didn't answer her, getting out of the car and starting for home, dragging her behind him.
PEGI +18
As soon as the front door slammed behind them, Derek pushed Charlotte against the wall and pressed his thirsty lips to hers. In the same time, almost reflexively, she threw her arms around his shoulders and pulled herself up, standing on her tiptoes.
With rough movements, he pulled her shirt off her and covered her shoulder and cleavage with tiny kisses. She wasn't wearing a bra, and the sight of her small breasts the colour of milk made saliva flow into his mouth. He took one of her nipples in his mouth and gently bit it, eliciting a moan from her. Her fingers combed through his hair and grabbed a few strands, pulling and tousling them, letting him know that she liked what he was doing.
One of her hands captured his forearm, wanting to direct his hand where she wanted to feel it most, but she froze, feeling the sticky substance under her fingers. His hand was still covered in black and red blood that hadn't even had time to dry.
She sighed heavily and pushed him away from her. She picked up both their shirts from the floor, wondering when the one belonging to him had managed to land there. She sighed once more, noticing that both clothes were dirty and tattered. She moved towards the kitchen, where she threw the shirts into the sink and poured cold water over them.
Derek followed her, not leaving her side. When she stopped, he put his arms around her waist and, standing behind her, placed another kiss, this time on the back of her neck. She grasped his still recently injured hand and with one of the wet shirts wiped the blood from it.
'Come on... A little blood certainly doesn't bother you...' she heard his quiet voice directly in her ear.
'It doesn't bother Darkness, but it does me.' She replied slowly, turning to face him and leaning against the tabletop. Her still naked chest drew his gaze like a magnet. Her nipples, irritated by the cool air, were swollen and pink, begging for his attention, but she seemed not to notice her nakedness.
'I don't want to succumb to it every time you come near me, and the smell of blood makes everything difficult,' she announced and finally looked into his eyes.
His pupils dilated to the limit, fully showing how aroused he was by the sight and proximity of her. She wanted to let herself be swept away by the passion like every time before, but something was holding her back. She couldn't manage her feelings, and the dark tentacles wrapped tighter and tighter around her insides, slowly taking away her free will.
She didn't have the strength to fight it that evening, so she decided she would try another time. So she let the Darkness take over, and her eyes glowed an unnatural green.
The air was filled with a scent that Derek already associated only with them, together, entwined in a passionate embrace. He, too, allowed himself to loosen the leash on which he always kept his wolf. The flash of blue in his irises made the Darkness in her boil.
They threw themselves at each other like hungry animals. After a moment they were both completely naked, Derek's back hitting the floor hard as Charlie straddlesd his hips. She accepted him into her without a moment's hesitation or preparation. She was hot and wet, and he groaned in delight.
For a moment he wondered what it would be like if he were Alpha and his need to dominate was stronger. Would they fight for dominance every time, could they be together like this, would it turn into a fight to the death, with blood and flesh wounds? He found that at the moment he didn't give a damn. He was completely at the mercy of the Witch and the Darkness within her, and he liked it. Probably a little too much.
He gripped her hips in his hands to steady her movements, chaotic and passionate, both of them panting hard. He watched with pleasure as her hair rippled around her body, lifted by an invisible wind, her white skin adorned with freckles and tattoos covered in droplets of sweat slowly trickling down, drenching his own body. He knew he wouldn't last long that day. The pain he had experienced and the adrenaline that was still coursing through his veins had put him over the edge. She didn't seem to mind, he could see by the pretty curl of her lips and the frown of her brows that she didn't need much anymore either.
And he was right, coming he clenched his fingers tighter on her hips, almost howling with pleasure, like a wolf to the moon, when he heard her scream filled with ecstasy. She fell hard against him, pressing her breasts against his chest. Her head was near his ear, and he could feel her lips whispering some words, but even his sensitive wolf senses could not hear what exactly the woman was saying. After a moment she fell silent and he felt her lips form a smile.
'Let's move to somewhere more comfortable and warmer, hm?
END OF PEGI +18
Meanwhile, in the Argents' living room, the war meeting was underway. It did not include all members of the family, only Kate and Chris, but that did not make it in any way less serious.
'The one that attacked me was big. It had width and power. The one I shot was lean and fast...' the woman recounted, fiddling with a long, chiming match.
'That would be Derek Hale,' assessed Chris, sitting on the sofa and following his sister with his eyes.
'Are you sure?' She clicked a match in her hands.
'Mostly' the man calmly sipped his whiskey.
'And we're sure it's just the two of them?'
'Not yet. But if Derek's alive he'll lead us to the Alpha...' he watched his sister turn off the gas in the fireplace.
'Take the pack leader. Then take the pack.' she pouted her lips, rising, her eyes lit up with an almost morbid fanaticism.
'And we do it according to the code.' Chris reminded her.
'You and the code' she laughed.
'It's there for a reason; he reminded seriously.
'Of course...' she said, clicking the match again and watching the flame for a moment. When the faint smell of gas reached her nose, she threw the glowing stick into the clearing, triggering a controlled explosion of flammable gas. 'I always play by the rules,' she announced, then winked at her brother and left the room, leaving him alone, deep in thought.
A moment later, the door to the living room opened and there stood Victoria, stiffly erect and serious as usual, measuring her husband with a cold gaze.
'We're supposed to be at a meeting at school on Monday, Allison just gave me a spreadsheet of her grades. Do you know who teaches her history?' She asked, sitting down next to her husband and handing him a piece of paper with a list of subjects and names of teachers.
The man scanned the page quickly, wrinkling his eyebrows as he saw that his daughter could have better grades. Finally, he stopped at the one name his wife had mentioned - Charlotte Benoit. All emotion flew from his face, leaving only a mask. He glanced at Victoria with blue eyes and sighed loudly. He didn't say a word. He didn't need to. They both knew that Alpha had just become one of the smaller problems they would have to face.
'It might not be her,' he whispered, deep down terrified that his sister would hear them. 'We don't need to inform him until we're sure. Maybe it's just a coincidence...' he tried to kid himself, which didn't go down very well. He didn't believe in coincidences. However, he managed to reassure Victoria, who merely nodded and left to get ready for bed.
Chris rubbed his tired face with his hand and poured himself a whiskey. He knew that the woman he had seen in Derek Hale's company seemed familiar to him, but until now he had been unable to connect the face with the name. He'd rather he hadn't succeeded. He had to come up with a plan to stop Kate discovering that there was a Witch in Beacon. Otherwise there would be bloodshed, and much more bloodshed than the Code envisaged. He had to prevent as many deaths as possible that the future was going to bring. He had to delay as much as possible the flow of information that would eventually lead to his father's appearance in the city. Otherwise, everything he had built up so far with such difficulty would crumble into rubble.