#obsidian mirrors strike back. or rather get struck

[uncontrol-freak]

>692068617665206C6F7374206D7920666169746820696E20776861742773206F757473696465<

[florafey]

Malogranatum - 6

To Whom the Desperate Call

Persephone awoke with the sun but remained in bed for much longer, content to keep her eyes closed and bask in the memories of the previous night. The sun was warm against her curled body and if she dozed deep enough, it almost felt like the feeling Hades had given her low in her belly. It was strange and new but not unwelcome. 

She had been granted the attention of the god of the Underworld for the remaining hours of her stay at the party. As far as she was aware, the party was still going strong but Demeter’s ignorance of her daughter’s disobedience demanded Persephone wake up in her own bed and relatively on time. Fear of her mother’s wrath was the only thing strong enough to force Persephone to bid Hades an early good night so she could descend back to the mortal realm. Hades had understood, had laughed even, at Persephone’s excuse. Apparently he was quite familiar with Demeter’s overbearance. 

The feeling of his hands still lingered on Persephone’s skin. He hadn’t touched her more than what was necessary or polite, but each time his fingers had brushed her skin was seared into her memory and would never be forgotten. Kissing her hand in greeting and farewell. Tilting her chin up to look her in the eye. Brushing her fingers when handing her a drink. Persephone curled her hands into her bedsheets, her pulse starting to race. What did this mean? Why was she responding this way to him? Was he responding the same way to her?

~~~~~

Far below the realm in which Persephone lay in the sun, the god of Underworld sat at his expansive oak desk. Neat by habit, the desk’s contents were currently strewn about in an uncharacteristically chaotic pattern. Hades’ attention was not on the business he needed to be attending to. It hadn’t been for quite some time. He sat languidly in his chair, long legs stretched out, an arm over the back. An uncharacteristically relaxed stance to go along with an uncharacteristic desk. 

He knew he shouldn’t have gone to his brother’s foolish party. But how was he supposed to know she was going to be there? Demeter’s daughter was the last goddess he expected to see striding confidently across Zeus’ lawn, her mother nowhere to be seen. She was also the last person he expected to march right up to him and lie to his face with her almond eyes crinkled in the most compelling smile he’d ever had the pleasure of having directed at him. And he had been on the receiving end of many a pleasing expression. 

Damn if that girl didn’t distract him. He had work to do, and lots of it, but everytime he tried to focus on something his mind would stubbornly pull towards Persephone, like a puppy trying to reach his toy. It was not pleasing. If he didn’t like Persephone so much he would be angry with her for distracting him like this. And to what end? Every footstep in his kingdom belonged to someone else. Every voice that dared raise itself to his ears had a different pitch than hers. Every lock of curled hair was far from resembling Persephone’s so what did it matter?

Hades pushed back from his desk in a sudden burst of movement, rising to his full height. Cerberus rose one of his heads from his lounged position by the door. His eyes told Hades that he knew what his master was feeling. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” Hades’ voice was rough with disuse; he had allowed himself to sit in distracted silence for a few hours too long. Cerberus blinked and did little else. When he finally laid his large head back on his paws, Hades caught a glimpse of the daisy still stuck through his collar. It had been there for over a day now but it remained perfectly intact. Of course a flower gifted by the goddess of spring would fail to wilt. Something about the sight of it struck Hades in a certain, unfamiliar way. As much as he wanted to pluck the flower from Cerberus’ collar and crumple it in his hand to get rid of the memory of her, his fingers were gentle as he pulled it out and placed it on his desk. The god of the Underworld allowed himself to reminisce on the softness of Persephone’s skin before shaking himself and leaving to find a cold bath. 

~~~~~

It was only when Persephone heard Demeter’s voice outside her window that she finally pushed her sheets back and rose for the day. Demeter was in one of the back fields, close enough that her voice drifted into the room but far enough away that Persephone couldn’t make out what she was saying. An unfamiliar voice had begun speaking in turn; Persephone hurried to get dressed. She pushed the door open and stepped outside as she finished tying her curls back, but she only got a few steps into the grass before her eyes found her mother and froze. 

Persephone recognized the woman her mother was speaking to. The goddess, rather. Nike had been rather adamant about her dislike for this certain goddess; it was impossible for Persephone not to recognize her. 

Nemesis’ hair glinted obsidian in the sunlight as she gave Persephone a curling smile. Persephone’s skin broke out in goosebumps despite the warm sunlight. What could Nemesis possibly want from Demeter? She had never come here before. She wouldn’t have come with the intention of informing Demeter where Persephone had been last night, would she? Nemesis was still dressed in her party clothes; there was every possibility that she had come straight from the revel and even intended on returning. For a brief moment Persephone wondered if Hades was still there too, but then Demeter turned, Persephone caught sight of her mother’s face, and her mind went blank. 

With a malicious wink, Nemesis disappeared, and Persephone knew exactly why she had come. Demeter was striding towards her now and there was nothing Persephone could do except hold her chin up and keep her breaths even. 

“How dare you!” The screaming started well before Demeter was within reach. “After everything I do for you, after all I go through to make sure you’re safe, this is how you repay me? You sneak out with one of your whoring goddess friends and spend the night on Olympus? You insufferable, spoiled, ungrateful child! I never should have let you out of my sight!”

“Mother, please-”

“You’ll do well to keep your mouth shut! You’ve disgraced me, you’ve humiliated yourself, and you will consider yourself lucky if you ever see any of those wretches ever again!”

“Mother, be reasonable! Nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened?” Demeter’s voice had risen into a shriek. The nymphs would be listening but they would be wise enough to stay well out of sight. “Nothing happened? My daughter intentionally scorns the hard work of her mother only to defile herself in front of all of Olympus, and she dares tell me that nothing happened?”

Persephone backed away from the hand that grasped for her. “Defiled myself? What do you mean? Whatever Nemesis told you isn’t true, ask Nike or Aphrodite-”

Demeter’s next swipe at her daughter was successful and she caught Persephone’s jaw in a vice-like grip. She pulled Persephone so close that she could smell the sweet scent of blossoms on her mother’s skin. 

“What about Hades?” Demeter hissed the name like it burned her tongue. “What about him? Should I ask him what happened last night?”

So Nemesis’ lie was far more treacherous than Persephone had expected. Humiliation blushed across her face and down her neck. Demeter was so close it was impossible for her to miss it, and in the blindness of rage she mistook her daughter’s embarrassment for an admission of guilt. Her fingers tightened into Persephone’s skin but she ignored her daughter’s pain. 

“You disgust me, you filthy whore! So this is my punishment for allowing you a night’s fun? You fall on your back for the first god to look twice at you? You should be ashamed of yourself! I cannot believe-”

“Then ask him!” Persephone closed her hand around her mother’s wrist and pried her face out of her grasp. “You listen to the words of a goddess you barely know without first asking your own daughter! You speak of trust yet fail to show any. You preach safety yet raise a hand against your own flesh and blood. You can’t believe what Nemesis told you? So ask Hades. You know where he lives.”

Shock registered in Demeter’s eyes. Persephone had never spoken to her in this manner before. But Persephone’s jaw throbbed, her pride and trust were both wounded, and so she refused to be apologetic. There was fire in her mother’s eyes, however, and Persephone was wise enough to steady herself for the fight.

~~~~~

Hades leaned back against the marble edge of the pool and tipped his head back to rest against the floor. He was fucked. Deeply screwed. In hot water. Literally, he was in cold water rather than hot, but despite his best efforts, his mind was no more in order than it had been an hour ago. 

The nymph that had just disappeared through the passage had helped take the edge off, but this was an affliction of the mind, not just of the body. And the nymph hadn’t been...like her. She had been too thin, too pale, her hair too straight and her smile too wide. Persephone was none of those things. Fuck. 

He stayed in the pool until he started shivering, and then stayed in a few minutes longer. The harder he tried to think of something else, anything else, the more he thought of Persephone. Just the sound of her name was enough to send him spiraling. He dried himself and dressed, determined to get through the day’s work. If he could not get Persephone off his mind then so be it. She would have to come along with him. His immaculate black suit cut a striking figure in the mirror, the very edges of his tattoos whispering at the edge of his sleeves and neckline, his dark hair curling loosely as it dried. 

He was stunned with how smoothly Persephone had floated up to him, seemingly undeterred by his presence. Hades knew the effect he often had on mortals and deities alike, so when the young goddess of spring had waltzed up to him and extended her hand in introduction, it was enough to almost make him laugh. He couldn’t get enough of her. He told himself to stop before he derailed himself for another few hours, and he pulled the doors open, calling for Cerberus as he made his way through his kingdom. 

~~~~~

Persephone told herself she wouldn’t cry. Not like this, not in front of her mother, not while she had the last scraps of dignity to cling to. But the warm tears poured down her cheeks no matter how hard she wished them away. This only fueled Demeter’s anger, and soon her open palms were striking Persephone as well as her words. This was not the first time Demeter had hit her daughter but it was the first time Persephone had felt so trapped by her mother’s anger. Usually she was able to sweet-talk or apologize or, in some of the worst cases, disappear for an afternoon, but with Demeter’s fist in her hair, she had nowhere to go. 

She struggled against her mother, crying, demanding to be let go and remaining unheard over the torrent of curses. Persephone shut her eyes and tried to block out her mother’s screams. They were almost indistinguishable at this point but the sheer volume alone was making Persephone’s ears ring. With a final tug, Persephone ripped free from her mother, stumbling back and desperately trying to blink the tears out of her vision. Demeter was quick to snatch for her again but Persephone ducked nimbly and was running past her mother with the quickness of someone who was well-practiced in the art. 

She didn’t look to see if her mother bothered to chase after her. Her bare feet flew across the warm, sun-drenched fields, with no destination in mind except away. Anywhere but here. But as Persephone ran, a feeling settled over her, a feeling she had found to be growing more familiar. She knew what she was going to do. There was one place she could go and not be trapped.

Persephone dropped her to knees, stumbling as she went. Fresh tears ran down her face as she realized her mother was not behind her; tears of relief or hurt that Demeter didn’t care enough to see if she was alright, Persephone did not know. She fisted her hands into the warm soil, feeling the dirt slide into her palms and under her fingers. She bent over her hands, smelling the earth and feeling it’s heartbeat. She reached down, down, down into the earth. Down past the dirt and stone and precious gems that belonged to someone else. She felt his kingdom underneath her and that was enough to bring her to speak. 

“Hades,” she whispered, “Hades, please.” 

She had no idea what was the proper way to summon the god of the Underworld. Some deities were choosy about how they were to be called upon and would not appear if the ritual was not done in a certain way. Persephone prayed Hades was not one of those deities. She dug deeper into the earth.

“Hades, I call you to come. I ask forgiveness if this is not the way, but I need your help.”

She glanced up. Demeter was striding towards her, fury written boldly across her face. Persephone did not know if her mother could hear to whom she was appealing her case, but she did not care. Let her hear. Let her know. 

“Persephone! Come here at once! I’m not finished with you!” She was drawing closer. Persephone’s hands curled into fists in the soil. Her tears melted into the earth.

“Hades!” She cried. “Hades!” 

~~~~~

Below the earth, past the caves and stone and glittering jewels, Hades, the god of the Underworld, heard his name echoing off the walls of his kingdom and rose from his throne. 

[slugmanslime]

Coming Undone (Ch. 2)

As previously mentioned, this is a re-write of Cant Get Enough, all leading up to the final chapter, soon to be posted! I was re-reading the previous chapters to get worked into the last one, and it didn’t jive with me at all; the story is now new and improved lol

You can also find all the chapters of this story and more on my AO3 and FF.net accounts ^~^

Chapter Two: Fight Back

Pairings: past!Son Goku/ChiChi, Piccolo/ChiChi Warnings: Mentions of MC Death, Male/Female Violence, Blood Mention Fic Type: Multi-Chapter 2/4 Word Count: 2,981

“Open the door, ChiChi. We aren’t done here.”

While the living room hadn’t been initially cold, thanks to the mild summer weather that had been blessing the valley the last week, it suddenly became much warmer, almost too warm. ChiChi became aware of crickets chirping in the grass, bats fluttering among the tree branches, the rushing of the river at the bottom of the knoll where their house rested. Her palm left the door knob slick with sweat when she pulled away, allowing Piccolo to swing the door open with an elderly creak, dirty frying pan clutched in one hand.

Dark smears of blood were already drying to his right cheek, his right ear swollen and the tip torn and still dripping. Warm yellow light cascaded from the center of the room, casting ChiChi’s shadow against the wall. The Namek seemed almost serene, obsidian eyes slitted with a fierceness she had only seen him possess in battle. Their poses mirrored each other, arms slack at their sides, mute and cautious. Piccolo was the first to break the silence as he shoved the pan into her chest, gentle enough not to bruise her, ultimately forcing her to catch it before it clattered to the ground once again.

“If you want to take whatever this is out on me, then fine. Your kids don’t need to know, nobody does. But if we’re going to fight, at least use your fists.” The way he spoke was heated and rough, as if he couldn’t quite contain the anger and shock bubbling inside him. That wasn’t to say she didn’t blame him; in fact, the prospect of a fight excited her for the first time since… well, before Gohan was born. But with Piccolo? He had every right to demand this of her now, given her lapse in self-control, and she was surprised he hadn’t already initiated one. Then again, she wasn’t; Piccolo had found balance after merging with Kami, more than he had ever had by himself.

Instead of answering him, ChiChi managed to tear her eyes away from his imposing figure, turning her back to him as she shuffled into the kitchen. The frying pan, one edge caked in moist dirt and pieces of grass, was placed inside the sink delicately, and she turned on the faucet, allowing hot water to fill it. Calloused fingers gripped the edge of the porcelain, squeezing until her knuckles turned white. Gohan was home less and less, either away studying at the library, or training with the very man she had struck. Even Goten wanted to spend more time following the duo around or playing Robot Pirate Brigade with Trunks than at home with her; every day after his lessons, he was out the door like a little rocket. She grew more listless with every passing day, week, month, watching them grow up. They were all that ChiChi had left of the Saiyan she had loved. Poor Goten hadn’t even met his father, which made the fact that he was Goku’s spitting image even more difficult for her; she saw Goku as he was that day by the river all those years ago, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, every time she gazed down at her youngest son.

A squeak in the floorboards as Piccolo shifted his weight broke her train of thoughts, and she blinked, eyes focusing on the overflowing pan before her. Shutting off the faucet, ChiChi turned to face her unwanted house guest, who was looking more and more unsure of his offer. Piccolo’s eyes never seemed to leave her, his brooding expression dredging up feelings that she just wanted to get rid of. So what if he’d tried to support them since Goku had been gone? It’s not like she ever asked him too—in fact, Piccolo was well aware of her desire to be an independent mother to her boys. She had been doing just that for the better part of she and Goku’s marriage, so why did his… death, have to change anything? It was exactly why she became irate every time Piccolo thought to mention it. Maybe now was her chance to prove herself, that she didn’t need him, she didn’t… want him.

“You have yerself a deal.” The worn yellow apron she always donned for housework found its way onto the kitchen table in a wad. There was a fierce determination in her step as she marched past Piccolo, mouth set in a grim line as she shoved her sleeves to her elbow, crumpling the fabric carelessly. ChiChi had a feeling that things were going to get messy; absently, she was glad that she hadn’t finished the laundry today.

While Piccolo allowed her to pass, her shoulder brushing his side, he hadn’t followed her. He was always one for taking his time, observing a situation to calculate the next best move. His patience and his battle prowess proved to be a deadly combination, not only in physical fights but verbal ones as well. And yet, here he was, running his mouth to the hot-headed mother of Saiyan hybrids like he had a bluff that needed calling. He had known ChiChi for years now; they exchanged barbs in nearly every conversation, mostly because they were some of the most bullheaded people you could ever have the misfortune of meeting. Couple this with the love they shared for Gohan and Goten, and the fights only got worse.

The fact that ChiChi had gotten violent could only be bad news; the ChiChi that Piccolo knew could use only the verbal threat of violence to sway people’s decisions, hardly ever resorting to using her trusty pan. Perhaps it was her emotional instability that worried him the most; it was palpable in her ki aura, emitting little sparks and ripples in her glow. It had bothered him for weeks now, always pricking the back of his mind when he tried to meditate. He had thought, ‘What’s the harm in confrontation? She’s never hidden things from me before?’

This. This is the harm in confrontation.

The Namekian took a deep breath, the air tinged with the scent of garden herbs, and sighed. Heavy feet guided him to stand before ChiChi, who had grown impatient in his musings; a hungry glint shined in her eyes, or maybe that was just a trick of the moon, he wasn’t sure. What Piccolo was sure of, however, is how excited ChiChi was. The muscles in her arms rippled as she stretched, and for a moment he saw her in her prime: body covered in lithe muscles, a humble smile paired with ferocious eyes flashing with coy fortitude. Piccolo was young then, as she was, but he remembered something squirming in his gut as he watched her fight, and for once he had momentarily lapsed in his desire for Goku’s absolute destruction.

The memory blurred, shifted, and Piccolo was back in the present as ChiChi was the first to strike, darting forwards on tiger’s feet with a feral smile to match. The blows she struck to Piccolo’s chest were forceful, the resounding thuds echoing in the clearing followed by his soft pants. His thick, corded arms stayed firmly at his side however, his posture shifting only to keep him upright, his right foot shifting backwards for balance; she showed no mercy, regardless. A few more blows to his abdomin and chest left her with aching knuckles and a sense of dissatisfaction at how little he reacted, forcing her to change her angle. Toned calves from hours of standing to cook and clean left the Namek close to reeling as they slammed into his face. The way ChiChi landed on the ground after her kick brought back that familiar squirming feeling, swirling inside him like the spots clouding his vision; perspiration beaded on her furrowed brow, and he blinked, panting, staring down at her.

“I’m getting’ real sick o’ this! You told me to fight with my fists, but this ain’t a fight if you aren’t defendin’ yerself!” Frustration seeped through her words, teeth grit against any desperation that tried to escape with it. Reluctantly, Piccolo’s stature shifted into a more defensive one, rather than that of a punching bag.

This development was enough to please ChiChi it appeared, if the way she leapt at him with renewed fervor was anything to judge by. Blocking her advances was his way of testing the waters, his forearms bludgeoned by her tiny, powerful fists and feet. That squishiness… The more time he spent around the Sons, the more he became of his distinct dislike of this feeling. At first, Piccolo had chalked it up to his respect for her fighting experience, since he had been a witness to her abilities the day that she and Goku became engaged. Maybe it had never gone away because the opportunity to test his skill against her own never presented itself!

But why then, did it strike him whenever she thanked him (albeit begrudgingly) for his help around the property? Why did it assail him when he caught sight of her smiling when her boys came running through the door for dinner after their training sessions? Damnit, why did Piccolo have to wrestle with it even now when ChiChi was obviously trying to knock his block off?!

The chorus of rushing river water and nighttime creatures combined provided the background for their intimate spar, transforming into a backdrop to their cacophony of grunts, gasps, and growls. As time marched on into the cool dead of night, the cicadas came out to sing, drowning out the previous harmony of the forest. The sharp trill of their screaming ignited the tempo of the fight, giving the more experienced fighter, Piccolo, the upper hand. Not that he abused it of course; ChiChi slipped up once or twice, leaving her coughing and retching from a particularly brutal blow to her gut. Perhaps it was too nice of Piccolo to pause and allow her time to recover, but he was nothing now but the champion of a fair fight; a far cry from the demon he had spawned from all those years ago. ChiChi on the other hand, simmering with pent-up anguish and the nearly overwhelming desire to come out on top for once with the hand that life had dealt, refused to be the one left on the ground this time.

Her late husband was not the only one with a thick skull, and the unsuspecting Namekian was forced to learn this the hard way. One moment, he was debating whether to help her up from the dirt or not, and the next, a jet-black missile launched itself halfway through his stomach, effectively expelling all the air from his lungs. Just to add insult to injury, once she managed to rise to her feet, ChiChi clasped her fists together and summarily brought them down right between his antennae with a shout. He could have sworn Nail and Kami felt it as well, considering how tender the spot was (good riddance, serves them right for always bugging him during a spar).

As if their fighting had been synchronized to the forest, while the duo panted and attempted to catch their breath, the shrieking of the cicadas faded, replaced by the mellow concerto of the night. ChiChi hadn’t felt this aware of herself in ages, it dawned on her then; every blooming bruise, every nick in her skin, every drop of blood oozing from the cuts—her body was thrumming with energy and exhausted all at once. And here she was, swaying if not standing above the tallest man she knew, who was groaning ever so softly as he knelt in the grass at her feet. But warm pleasure in the pit of her stomach was ignited when the Namek finally gazed up at her. His lip was split, and his ear even more swollen than before, but his usual gruffness was replaced by a fond smile, his eyes shimmering with something that sent ChiChi’s heart into her throat.

“I think I understand now why Goku loved you… ChiChi.”

ChiChi felt the pain, confusion, and isolation she had harbored for the whole planet start to boil over. The faint handprint on his cheek didn’t register to her until the stinging in her palm brought her back to reality, crouched before him with tear-blurred vision. Of course, he didn’t seem to mind, barring the slight bewildered expression that replaced the warm, rarely open one he had worn. Choking back a tired, worn sob, ChiChi sank to her knees, fists curled into her chest.

“Stop talkin’ about him! If he really ever loved me at all, that was a long time ago, and he’s gone now, anyways. If he- if he really loved me, or the boys, or his friends- he woulda come back! Doesn’t he know I need him? Doesn’t he get how hard this is sometimes? Doesn’t he know what- what it’s like tah be… alone?” Afraid. That’s what she was, at the root of it all. She suffocated Gohan and Goten, struggling to keep them close to her while her anger at the world, at Goku, spilled over into her relationship with them. And here she was, pouring her heart out to the most emotionally inexperienced person quite possibly on the planet.

‘No shit, you giant green lump. Are you just going to stare at her?’ Nail grumbled subconsciously.

‘I’m working on it, pipe down!’ Piccolo growled internally, panic creeping in. Why did everything that came out of his mouth make her cry all of a sudden?

Shifting his body, Piccolo put himself eye-level with her warily, as if ChiChi was some wild beast that would attack at the slightest provocation. That gross, squirming feeling wrenched wildly at the sight of her bloodshot, watery brown eyes; her soft huffing and the crinkling of her nose made it apparent how hard she was trying to not let the tears escape.

“I have to be honest with you… I don’t think he ever did. People always flocked to him, searching for help or wanting some of his time. Goku never really wanted that but, he took it in stride. Staying dead was the most selfless thing he’d ever done, in his eyes. He loved you, ChiChi, he wanted to protect you. To protect all of us.” As he spoke, her entire expression softened, the fight slowly draining out of her to leave a vulnerable shell… something Piccolo had never witnessed before; their faces were inches apart, their breath mingling.

“Would it make me a bad wife if I wanted him all to myself? No… would it make me a bad friend?” It was a relief for him when she averted her eyes, bringing a hand up to cup her own cheek in thoughtful distress. Piccolo felt like he could breathe again, his heart relaxing now that he wasn’t caught in her stare. She looked rough, honestly; her hair was tangled, hanging limp down her back, and her face was red and blotchy from her onslaught of tears.

The Namek had developed a soft spot for small, defenseless things since he’d kidnapped Gohan as a child, against his will of course. But… here he was, timidly reaching out to place his own clawed hand over the small, muddy one she had pressed against her face; his fingers were so much longer than hers that his claws slid into her hair, coarse and soft at the same time.

The path of the moon seemed to pause, cricket song and the sound of flowing water disappearing behind the blood rushing in his ears. ChiChi stiffened under his touch, not in fear, rather, in surprise; he was aware of her fingers wriggling under his hand, as if to determine that he was really touching her.

“You’re not a bad wife. Or a bad mother. Your kids love you more than anything, ChiChi. I just wish you knew that you aren’t actually alone.” That sounded suspiciously friendly and there wasn’t anything Piccolo could do to keep Nail from snickering at him distantly. Not that he cared; no, the only thing he was focused on was the way that ChiChi looked at him.

Like he was the only thing she could see. Like he had shown her an oasis in the middle of the desert. Like he was… not Goku, but something damn close.

The night had become cooler, but Piccolo’s face was warm, blush spreading from the tip of his ears to the hollow of his throat. He couldn’t help but notice how thick her hair was, encasing his fingers as he pushed his hand forwards into her inky locks. Oddly enough, the sniffling woman seemed appreciative of the motion, her own hand abandoning her cheek as her head reluctantly leaned into his hand.

It wasn’t on purpose, he would try to convince himself later. The moon had shone down on her skin just right, making ChiChi glow like a warrior queen and making his heart sputter indignantly. Just like that, his lips pressed against her forehead and left a purple smear of blood, marring the porcelain shade—but it was more of the way that she gaped up at him in surprise that had him kicking himself. A reflex that he had picked up from this very woman—when someone you love is hurting, kisses make them feel better right?

Even though Piccolo had tensed for another slap, or perhaps a punch this time, he was met with nothing but ChiChi’s laughter. It started off as a few stunned, hesitant giggles, but quickly morphed into squeaky belly laughs. Her eyes were dry now, the grin on her face making them squint, and she wrapped her grubby fingers around his wrist, holding his hand in place as if she didn’t want her episode to drive him away.

Great, she finally snapped. Now what?

[moonliteshadow]

【#Solo;— Wild Hearts.】by: @LunaExitiale.

The night was cool and I could feel my skin prickle as a soft breeze filtered through the tiny hairs on my arm. I do this sometimes, just walk in the woods at night. These woods are far enough from Beacon Hills that so few people will be up here at this hour and it’s good sometimes to be alone, in the dark. It’s quiet, save for the sounds of the nocturnal beasts.

The soft shuffling of the leaves as a fox rummages the forest floor for signs of dinner. The distant hoot’s of the owls high in the trees. Out here I can feel it all and it’s not like feeling with your hands; it’s feeling with your soul. Sometimes, I miss being out there, in the night; free and wild. I’ve never told #Stiles that because I don’t think he would understand it. What’s it’s like being trapped in a body that doesn’t feel like mine.

I supposed it’s gotten better but sometimes, just every so often; I come out here and I close my eyes and I imagine myself running through the woods no where to go, no deadlines to meet, no expectations to live up to; just existing. That’s how it was, being a coyote; just…free.

My eyes shot open at the faintest sound. The snap of a twig ripping me from my reverie. No one ever came out here this late, I was certain of that and I had every sound in these wood etched into my mind. I knew this place better than my own bedroom back at home and that sound was definitely out of place. I heard it again and I moved to sit up. I had been laying on the stump of a large tree, large enough in fact I could fit my entire body on top of it.

Another sound and it seemed now that whatever was making these sounds was doing it almost deliberately. It wasn’t an animal, that was for sure and for a second I thought perhaps #Stiles had come for me but he wouldn’t have known these woods well enough to track me here, unless #Scott was with him but I doubted it; I would have smelled them coming from a mile away.

I lifted my nose towards the sky, catching a scent that was both familiar and still mysterious. I must have smelled whoever or [whatever] it was that was out there. I scooted off the stump, silently setting my bare feet upon the moist grass. My eyes glowed slightly, I could see the blue reflecting against the damp ground. I decided for now to put the claws and glowy eyes away on the off-chance this was a normal person.

Despite that, however, I was almost certain the thing lurking in the darkness right now was [not] a normal person. If it had been I would have heard them coming long before now. Again, I sniffed at the air, the scent stronger now. They were close. I crouched, sheathing my form in the shadows of the trees but that’s when I saw it; a wolf, larger than any wolf I’ve seen but that wasn’t even the weirdest part; this wolf, it’s eyes were glowing a bright azure, this was no ordinary wolf.

 The wolf had to be at least 2 times the size of any normal one and he’d have at least double that on a normal coyote. I supposed it’s possible I could take him but even #Scott, a true Alpha, can’t turn full wolf and so something told me I didn’t want to tangle with this one but as he neared me I thought that I might not have a choice.

The hulking animal narrowed his cerulean orbs upon me, momentarily obscuring them until they were tiny slits on his otherwise obsidian features but it didn’t seem as though he were rearing for a fight but rather trying to place my face.

I decided to take a chance. Before when I smelled him, and I knew it was a him by now; male wolves give off pheromones and that is what mixed with the more familiar scent before. #Scott doesn’t know this but I could likely smell him coming, provided the wind was working in my favor, for miles and miles. I hadn’t tested the theory in human form but as a coyote I knew when there was a rabbit even before I caught sight of the thing; it never stood a chance.

I moved from my battle crouch and instead allowed the moon to pierce through the leaves of the trees enough to light my features. Once the wolf got a better look at me his eyes seemed to widen into small saucers upon his face, lighting the patch of grass in front of him. That’s when it happened, he took a few timid steps backward as if to allow himself more room and then the distinctive sound of shifting bones and flesh upon flesh filled the night air.

It only took a moment for the male to shift from a large wild dog into that of a human. He faced away from me at first and I took a cautious step back just in case he decided he was still looking to fight. My knees bent subtly and as he began to turn, his nude form shifting in the dim light; the moon catching small beads of sweat upon his body that seemed to give him an almost ethereal glow, I knew him, even before I saw his face.

“Theo,” I breathed his name as if I were holding a breath I didn’t know I had caught in my throat. He wore that same arrogant grin, standing there before me as if her were striking a pose. His strong fingers gripping either arm as he crossed them over his broad chest. I knew I shouldn’t look, for more reasons than the fact that #Stiles wouldn’t like it. Most girls shy away from this kind of thing but I wasn’t most girls. After all, nearly the entire pack has seen me naked by now.

#Theo Raeken stood there brazenly nude, showing no signs of bashfulness and I was hardly going to shield my eyes but as they found there way down the chiseled curves of his chest, towards the V that seemed to lead the way right towards his genital region I supposed I couldn’t hide my shock.

Okay, I spent the better half of my life as a dog. I’ve seen everything a coyote could see, even an alpha wolf in full form and let me just say some dogs are hung like, well, lets just say [not] like dogs and #Theo, as I suppose would likely earn me glares from every single one of my friends, was hung like an alpha.

I turned my face then, making as though I were scanning the horizon. I could feel the moon as it reached it’s peak in the sky. I had learned to control my instincts as any Were could, so the full moon did little to effect my primal ways anymore than making me long for the days I had nothing more to do than sleep all day and hunt all night.

“Malia,” his voice was smooth and it held a tone to it that sent a shiver down my spine and I allowed my gaze to return to him. This time careful not to look anywhere but his eyes. Most wolves in the wild wouldn’t have done that, look an alpha in their eyes, but #Theo wasn’t an alpha; in fact he was the lowest animal on the totem pole, #Theo was an omega and I was just bold enough to get into a staring contest with him if that’s what it took.

Being alone out here, even with a guy who for the most part has shone that he’s loyal, had me on edge but I wasn’t about to let him know it.

He seemed amused by my actions and I struggled for a way to seem less awkward as I straightened my poster subtly and mirrored him by twisting my arms over my chest. To say I was curious about how it was he could shift on command like that would be the understatement of the century. If I could shift at will I could run whenever my coyote heart desired and perhaps I would be less restless all the time. I know it would certainly do #Stiles some good if he weren’t my go-to when I needed to release stress, or not.

The thought had me shifting my weight from one foot to the other, this seemed like the most inopportune moment to be thinking about sex. He stepped forward, dropping his arms to his side and I steeled myself in place, “What are you doing out here?” I asked, it wasn’t what I wanted to ask and he seemed to give me an all too knowing look as he stopped a mere few feet from me.

“That isn’t what you want to know, Malia.” He spoke in this haughty matter of fact tone that had my palms tingling with the need to smack some sense into him. I mean, who the hell did he think he was? I pursed my lips, a single brow hiking with indignantly, “First, you don’t know me…” I said lamely, as I pushed a lost tendril behind my ear in aggravation, “Second… you [don’t] know me.” I said, annoyed that I had nothing better to retort than that.

#Theo turned his head away, a short bout of laughter filtering into the soft breeze which wafted his scent towards me again. His scent, someone both distinctly human and animal, mixed with the pheromones that still lingered upon his skin. It gave me an almost skin crawly feeling the way he smelled; managing to be both sickly sweet and highly alluring all at once.

I shook my head in exasperation, “You didn’t answer my question,” his head flicked back abruptly, his piercing cobalt eyes somehow zeroing in on me in the darkness, forcing me to hold his gaze as if compelling me to not look away, “That’s because that isn’t the right question.” He replied argumentatively.

A soft scoff enters the air and dissipates almost as soon as it leaves my lips, “Alright, what the hell [is] the question? I’ll ask, you can answer then you can tell me why the hell you’re in my woods on a full moon.” His brow lifted in surprise as if he didn’t expect me to talk to him like that. Vaguely, I wondered if perhaps he was used to getting what he wanted. He struck me as the type who had grown accustomed to people just doing as he asked.

If I were any other girl, the human kind, I supposed I would find him attractive. My first reaction when I saw him was almost an instinctive attraction, not because I wanted him but because that tends to be the way of the beta. They are drawn to their alpha as if they could sense him no matter where they were. I remember this because I found it strange that an omega would have that allure about him.

“Alright, I’ll play,” he said, canting his body in a way that seemed to allow the moon’s light to hit every single curve of his chest and abs. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Malia, but when Scott found you, you were just a pup. Unable to shift out of your coyote form and now that you’ve seen that it’s possible to shift at will your first thought was, ‘How’?”

I pressed my lips together in a thin line, I didn’t much like that he could pluck that thought from my mind as if I had spoken it aloud but I wasn’t about to admit he was right. #Stiles didn’t trust him and despite #Theo’s actions being more or less on the up and up I find it’s always smart to trust #Stiles’ instincts.

I mimicked the sound of a buzzer before speaking, “Wrong answer; my first question was…” I stepped forward slightly, my body language more predatory than before as if to dare him to question me on this and as I spoke again I took special care sounding out each syllable in a slow and precise manner, “What. The. Hell. Are. You. Doing. In. [My] Woods?”

#Theo’s eyes narrowed on me ever so slightly. His expression remained blank though like he couldn’t quite figure me out, which to my surprise had me feeling a little smug with myself. “Suit yourself,” he finally spoke, stepping back slightly as if to surrender this particular battle to me. “I didn’t know these were [your] woods.” He said but I had a hard time believing it, after all, we were literally a mile outside my backyard and my scent would likely have been all over the place.

I considered his words carefully, trying to figure on the best way to respond. #Stiles had spent quite a few months trying to hammer into my head that normal people don’t always say the first thing that pops into their head because usually it’s the [wrong] thing. Like that one time I told #Kira I would eat her if it came down to the survival between she and I. She didn’t much like that part of the conversation.

I pursed my lips, eyeing his features for any sign he might be lying before allowing the surrounding noises to silence while I zeroed in on his heart beat. It remained steady but I knew even that wasn’t the best way to tell if someone is lying, especially if their a wolf and #Theo, despite our first assumptions, was no ordinary wolf.

I knew better than to stand here, wondering things about him; wanting to know more about how he can shift at will. #Stiles wouldn’t like it and what’s more they would all be curious to know how a supposedly brand new omega had the power he does and that’s not just mentioning his shift but the aura of the alpha he has.

Perhaps #Scott wouldn’t really understand how that works, he’s the one who has it, not the one who answers to it. So he wouldn’t feel it on #Theo like I do and I doubted #Kira would feel it because she’s something else entirely. Even as he stood there, a lazy grin upon his lips, not a care in the world and zero self consciousness about being naked in front of me, I could feel it. This pull about him, as if he were the sun and I was just some lesser planet who had no choice but to orbit around him.

It had been a couple minutes as I stood here, trying to decipher his true intentions; I was certain he knew exactly what I was doing and even that he was allowing me to. I still had my doubts, I practically live in these woods now and before I actually [did] live in them, so how didn’t he smell me? I wanted to ask that but something made me stop, something almost tangible but unseen.

He had been right about one thing, I wanted to know, I [needed] to know; “How did you do that?” I finally ask, a defeated look flashing upon my visage but his expression wasn’t triumphant or arrogant as my meaning went without saying. Instead, he took the same step forward, that grin still clinging to his lips as he spoke, “I can show you.”

I wasn’t entirely sure I liked the sound of that. I mean I supposed the words were simple enough, show me? Okay, he was just going to give me the secret and then this entire exchange will be over and I can go home and pretend like it never happened. Inwardly, I knew no matter how much I tried to convince myself of that it couldn’t be that simple. If it were everyone would do it.

“What do you mean show me?” I asked, the look on his face gave nothing away. It never seemed to change away from the same air of vague amusement and arrogance. “Like there’s some magical words and poof it happens?” I asking, annoyed with how stupid I probably sounded. #Theo laughed, a chilling sound that left the hair on the back of my neck standing on end.

“It’s not that simple, Malia, few were’s can master it but we already know it’s in you.” He explained, his head leaning forward slightly as he spoke the last part. “We know you can make the shift, Scott probably doesn’t even know there’s a way to do it.” I considered his words and what I knew about my parents. The desert wolf, as far as I knew, could in fact shift completely and who knows what #Peter can do.

I nodded, “I think it’s…” I hesitated to give him anymore information than he already seemed to have but decided if I wanted to learn then I would need to trust him, at least as much as I could. “I think it’s in my blood… My mom,” I scoffed at the word, that woman was never my mother, I killed my mother.

The memory caused me to noticeably wince and #Theo stepped forward, his face actually twisting with concern as his hand touched ever so softly to my elbow. My first reaction was to flinch away from him but there it was again, the pull, the thrall; the alpha in him calling to the beta in me.

It was equal parts disconcerting and almost too hard to resist, “What is it? What’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes searching mine for answers, “It’s nothing… I just know my mom could do it is all.” I said, hoping I sounded convincing.

I was pretty sure he knew there was more to it than that but he let it go for now, moving to stand beside me. I had all but forgotten he had been naked during this entire conversation until this moment. When I could feel the heat off his skin emanating through the cool air as his arm brushed mine while he maneuvered to stand at my side.

So yeah, I’ve seen a naked guy before; I’ve slept with #Stiles in the carnal sense.. /a lot/ but I never really /saw/ him. I mean we were naked but I wasn’t exactly paying attention to that, after all, I was distracted with the sex part of it all.

I pursed my lips and shook my head, inwardly scolding myself for thinking about sex /again/. This wasn’t about that, alright, he was naked; whatever. This was about getting something I needed out of him and not in the orgasmic sense but the sense in which I can learn how to control my shift so that I can be free again; at least momentarily.

I didn’t realize he’d been talking until he snapped two fingers in front of my face. I shook away the cloud of thought to focus on him, “Where’d you go?” He asked, the look that he somehow had an inside joke that only he knew about was back on his face as he spoke.

“Nowhere, I’m listening.” He quirked a brow before finally nodding and turning to face the open woods. “Learning to control the were; the shift, it isn’t something you can think about.” He canted his head to look at me again. “It’s not something you can conjure in your mind, it’s something you have to /feel/ and once you can grasp what it truly means to do what we can then you’ll open the portal to powers you may not even know you have.”

I watched him a moment as he spoke, the words forming upon his lips are slow and precise as if he practiced saying them many times before actually reciting them to me now but his eyes were transfixed on something in the darkness, almost glazed over with adoration. #Theo not only believed what he was saying but he seemed to look upon it as if it were some kind of religious belief. Abruptly, his piercing azure irises flicked to mine as if I’d spoken his name and I flinched, looking away.

He straightened slightly and moved to stand back from me, “Meet me back here…” He said in a way that didn’t give me the opportunity to say no, “When?” I asked instead. “Tomorrow, same time.” And with that his body shifted in an unnatural way before the sounds of bone and skin shifting and stretching filled the night again.

It was all of a second it took for him to shift. If I would have blinked I’m certain I would have missed it. His more canine eyes found mine, seemingly closing the distance between us with a simple look and he gave a wolfish snort. His pelt was all black, save for a white patch on his chest but as he turned away and trotted off he all but vanished into the darkness.

I stared after him long after the sound of his footfalls dissipated into the night replaced with an almost eerie silence. It was predawn, the once black sky, scattered stars and bright full moon would soon be replaced with a burst of red, orange and yellow as the sun made it’s ascent into the sky. I wouldn’t have time for sleep before school, not that I could anyway, but I knew I had a long day ahead.

It didn’t take long to get back to the house where my dad still lay silent in bed. I gave my bed an almost weary glance before heading off for the shower where I washed away the scent of night and #Theo. #Stiles wouldn’t have known the difference between his scent or the vanilla berry shampoo I used but #Scott might and the last thing I needed was to try to explain that away.

It’s not like I could just explain to them that he’s going to teach me how to shift at will, maybe #Scott would get it but #Stiles never would. He doesn’t trust #Theo as far as his human self could throw him. I didn’t want to put that on him but even as I rationalized it inside my mind something about it still felt forbidden and dirty.

It’s not like we were sneaking out at night to do anything bad, right? So why did I feel so guilty? I turned it over in my head a million times on the way to school, “Is there even the slightest chance you’d tell me what was wrong if I asked?” My dad questioned as we pulled up in front of the High School. I glanced at him and tried to smile reassuringly, “Just didn’t sleep is all.” I told him. He seemed unsure about my answer but let it go and sent me on my way with an uneasy grin.

I pulled my bag further up my shoulder as I made my way inside. It didn’t take long for #Stiles to find me, followed by #Lydia and #Scott. Soon, the gang had gathered and each talked animatedly about what was to come during the day and the most recent attacks. I knew there was more important things; something was attacking the student of Beacon Hills High and not just that but kidnapping the dead and yet I couldn’t focus on anything my friends had to say.

“Hey, are you okay?” #Stiles asked only to me as our friends continued their conversation. I looked up at him, pasting on the same smile for him as I did for my dad, “Yeah, I’m fine. I just didn’t sleep much.” His brow creased with concern as his arm, which had been loosely wrapped around my waist, tightened slightly. “This stuff got you worried?” He asked but I knew in some ways it was more about him deflected his own feelings onto me.

#Stiles does that sometimes, not like force them on me but he likes to feel as though we’re on the same page. That if I was worried then maybe his own fears wouldn’t feel so irrational. I understood it, I supposed but at the same time there were moments when I didn’t understand at all why he bothered feeling a certain way about things. I guess I still had a ways to go sometimes when it came to human emotions.

“A little,” I lied, well, it wasn’t a complete lie; to say I wasn’t a little concerned about these deaths isn’t true, I was but right now I couldn’t focus on them, I couldn’t think passed #Theo, our conversation and what he said about unlocking powers I didn’t know I had and now, I felt guilty for lying to #Stiles about it.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips against my forehead. He lingered there a moment before the bell rang which alerted us that classes were starting. I knew I wouldn’t get anything productive done today but as our friends scattered and #Stiles called for me to save him a seat at lunch I found myself wandering the halls aimlessly. Class wasn’t going to happen today but if I wasn’t there for lunch #Stiles would know something was up so I simply decided to disappear into the library.

The stacks in the far back of the library were covered in dust and smelled of old books and save for a horny couple or two no one went back there so that’s where I settled, my eyes sweeping the book covers until they came across one simply titled “Therianthropy.”

The term “therianthropy” comes from the Greel theríon [θηρίον], meaning “wild animal” or “beast” (implicitly mammalian); and anthrōpos [ἄνθρωπος], meaning “human being.” It was used to refer to animal transformation folklore of Europe as early as 1901. Sometimes the term “zoanthropy” is used instead. Therianthropy was used to describe spiritual beliefs in animal transformation in a 1915 Japanese publication, “A History of the Japanese People from the Earliest Times to the End of the Meiji Era.” One source, “The Human Predator,” raises the possibility the term may have been used as early as the 16th century in criminal trials of suspected werewolves.

My eyes scanned the words of the book, each word seemingly more confusing than the last. Most of these refered to werewolves only as other were’s such as myself and the Desert Wolf weren’t exactly well-known species of shapeshifters. In the book it explains the varieties of ‘beliefs’ but nothing concrete as most of the world wouldn’t believe in it even if they saw it for themselves.

Most human minds will rationalize what they can about the supernatural world and then block out the rest. It’s easier to believe that kind of world doesn’t exist than to try to make sense of the things in this life that will never make logical sense. I mean when you think about it; I’m a girl who can change into a wild animal, logistically that would be impossible and yet…

I shook my head, my thoughts interrupted by the sound of the bell that signaled it was lunch. I didn’t exactly want to sit through lunch acting like I was fine, everything was fine. Okay, nothing happened; I’m only guilty of wanting to understand who and what I am better than I already do but #Stiles wouldn’t get it, he wouldn’t understand why it had to be #Theo who helped me and if I told him all he would do is tell #Scott who would raise the question to the entire group and this isn’t about them; it’s about me.

I pushed the book back into it’s slot and after gathering up my things I made my way into the cafeteria. I knew I didn’t have to look for him #Stiles always found me, almost as if he were the one with the coyote senses but instead it was more like a Malia low-jack and there he was, materializing at my side as I went through the motions of getting pizza and my small carton of milk and smiling slightly at the cafeteria ladies as they tried to strike up conversations.

#Stiles spoke animatedly at my side about some experiment he had done in his biology class and as long as I grunted that I was listening at certain intervals then he would assume I heard him and had urged him to continue. Soon, our friends joined and he went about re-accounting the experience to them which allowed my thoughts to wander at least for the time.

I had just picked up a cold fry and was about to stuff it into my mouth chewing and swallowing it down when really I was just going through the motions but as I was about to retrieve another I caught sight of him. #Theo Raeken had positioned himself just outside the window and on the other side of the teacher lot to the side of the school.

He didn’t move, he didn’t even blink; he just stood there staring in at me. The intensity of his stare was an almost tangible force that somehow managing to close the distance as invisible tendrils caressed my flesh. I had just closed my eyes, allowing my other senses to take over but was jerked out of my mind at the sound of #Stiles and the bell over his voice. “Malia, you coming to English?” he asked, concern lacing his words.

I turn back to where #Theo had stood but he was gone, as he had never stood there at all. I turned back to #Stiles, twisting my face in a way that I hoped looked genuine. “Actually, this cafeteria food isn’t setting right,” I lied. I hoped he wouldn’t give it too much thought. Considering my healing powers, which weren’t quite as extensive as #Scott’s but were still better than any human’s, would likely knock out any upset my stomach might have rather quickly but he seemed to buy it as his face scrunched with concern.

“Maybe you should go lay down…” he told me. There was something else there, hidden behind his brown eyes. I knew there was more and for once I wished reading minds was one of my powers. I nodded anyhow, keeping up the facade. “Yeah,” I agreed. “I’ll be home right after school with pizza from that place you like, across town.” I flashed him a small smile. It was true; I liked that pizza best and the prospect of it had my mouth watering but I wasn’t going to #Stiles’ house right now.

After he left me I turned on a heel and headed for the parking lot where I saw #Theo. I glanced around, I knew he was here, I could sense him. “I know you’re out here, why were you staring at me like that? What if Stiles saw you?” #Theo’s voice sounded before I actually saw him, “He’s already suspicious of my intentions, I doubt they could get much worse.” He said.

I shock my head, “Oh no, they could get worse… Trust me. It’s Stiles, his superpower is sussing out the truth and exposing it.” I said, slightly agitated with the truth in my words, “Aren’t you worried?” #Theo said, “Hmm?” I said, mildly distracted by my own thoughts. “Aren’t you worried he will find out?” He asked. I shrugged, “He will.” I answered plainly. “He will find out eventually and when he does…”

My words trail off, pursing my lips slightly; “I guess I’ll just hope he can understand why I needed to do this… Why I needed to know.” #Theo’s lips twitched into a smile, one that seemed to imply he knew something I didn’t. “Soon they will all understand.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, his piercing blue irises found my eyes. Once more that feeling of being touched when he wasn’t even close had taken me over. His words roiling through my head as she simply stood and stared. “What did you mean?” I asked again but instead of answering the sounds of shifting bones and stretching skin sang in my ear and I found myself glancing around to ensure no one was around to see.

Soon, instead of #Theo what stood before me was an onyx wolf. Black fur covered every inch of his body save for the patch of white on his chest. The wolf approached me, he was far too big to be a normal wild dog and his head came up to about my hip as his snout nudged my hand.

My eyes narrowed slightly as again his cold nose touched to my hand as if her were any ole house pet begging to have his ears scratched. I allowed my fingers to comb through his thick fur; he was soft, like running my hand through the hair of a puppy and yet now that he was in his wolf form I could feel the allure of the Alpha in him.

He snorted softly as if to remind me about our plan tonight before stepping back, my hand dropping to my side before he starts away from me and into the woods. I glanced around again, praying no one had seen what had happened and since no one came running out to me I assumed no one did.

I stared at the pile of clothes left in #Theo’s wake and decide to pick them up. If at the very least so I have them to give him later. Thinking about what his saying rather than him being there naked might make this entire process easier and also so it wouldn’t be weird for someone to just find them in the parking lot.

I stuffed them into my pack and before long I had arrived at #Stiles’ house. His dad would be at work for several more hours yet and my dad would likely be gone as well. I could be alone, I could give myself some time to think but I knew, judging by the position of the sun, that in a little over 2 hours #Stiles would be home and he would want to ask questions that I would have to lie to.

That thought alone left my stomach feeling all the disgusting I had implied I’d been feeling at school. I didn’t enjoy this one bit. #Stiles was the first person in my life I had ever cared about in this way. In the way that it physically made me sick to lie to him and yet I knew I had to.

There was a part of me that wanted to share this with him, that soon I might learn how to shift at will; that it might be able to help #Scott and give me the outlet I need too and yet there’s another part, the more prominent part, that knew I could never tell him. Not only would he not understand, even if it was someone else teaching me, but since it is #Theo he’d probably insist he go along and that’s only if he didn’t try to talk me out of it first.

No, this is something I had to do on my own, for me. I made my way into his room and after taking a moment to log his scent to memory, I found some paper and scrawled a note across it. It was another lie, telling him I had decided to spend the evening at home with my dad and that I would see him tomorrow but it was as close to the truth as I could get.

He’d call me when he found the note and if I responded at all it would likely be in a text so I didn’t have to hear his voice, the disappointment of not seeing me or sleeping in the same bed as we’ve done so many nights before. Tonight, I wouldn’t be able to go from what I was doing with #Theo and then crawl into #Stiles’ bed like nothing was wrong.

I’m not doing anything wrong, I reminded myself for the 100th time in the last hour. Needing to understand what I am and what I can do isn’t wrong. I told myself after leaving #Stiles’ house behind, “Then why does it feel like it?” I asked myself aloud. “Why do I feel so dirty?” I spoke again. I turned back to catch a glimpse of his house in the distance, “I really hope that you can understand.”

The day hours seemed to drag on deliberately slow as if the day itself was trying to tell me this was wrong. It, like most other arguments, couldn’t convince me. I needed to do this, as I am now, as I’ve been since #Scott called me back, made me more human than animal, I’m incomplete. I need to understand what I can do and truth be told if there was any other way, any other person who could show me then I would go to them but there isn’t.

#Peter, who only turned full wolf as an Alpha, was locked deep within Eichen House and even if I wanted to go back to that hell hole getting to him would be impossible. Clearly, my mother, The Desert Wolf, wasn’t going to be entirely forthcoming with the details and that leaves #Theo. The only person, that I know of, who could possibly understand what I’m going through.

I went over the same words more times than I’d care to count, convincing myself, rationalizing my actions; something I never would have done before. I shake my head, the soft light upon my side table the only thing that kept me from complete darkness now that the clock read 11:45.

#Stiles did call and he texted a couple times as well. I replied with short noncommittal responses which seemed to appease him enough that he didn’t just show up on my front porch and if his last text was any indication he’d been sleeping now for nearly an hour. My dad, who was now snoring in his room across the hall, had been asleep for about that long as well.

I moved quietly through my room, shoving pillows in my bed as if it would somehow fool my dad. If I were being honest it’s likely he’s noticed every time I left to stay at #Stiles’ house and he simply hasn’t said anything because I was always home before he woke. Tonight would be no different.

I snatched up my book bag and after quickly relieving it of school books and papers, I pushed it up and over my shoulder before vanishing soundlessly through my open window. The night air was cool and moist. The moon hung in the sky, the shape of a face almost mocking me as I made it through the woods to the same spot I had been so many times before but tonight it felt almost forbidden.

#Theo had made it there before I did; I could tell as I smelled him long before I arrived. He stood there, facing away from me. He had a pair of pants on but no shirt and his pale skin seemed to almost to glow as the moon’s rays bounced off it. I made no sound but as I approached he turned, startling me a moment.

He has far better senses than I do, it was both disconcerting and encouraging. His lips twisted into a wry grin as his eyes zeroed in on me. “What’s the bag for?” he asked, quirking his head as if to look directly at the book bag on my back. “Clothes,” I could just see his brow elevate in question. “The ones you left in the parking lot at school.”

His lips twisted up further, “Well I came prepared today… I saw how shy you were about it last night.”

“I wasn’t shy about it.” I said perhaps too fast and #Theo nodded knowingly before taking the pack from me and dropping it upon the large stump. “Of course you weren’t.” I wrinkled my nose in mild annoyance. His eyes raked down my form as if I were the one who was naked when in reality I wore the same sort of thing I often wore.

Shorts, boots, a loose fitting T-shirt and a jacket and yet the way he leered at me made me feel as though I were completely bare here before him. “What—What are you doing?” I asked. #Theo’s eyes pierced through the night and closed the distance between us as they meet mine once more.

“You might want to take some of your clothes off too.” he suggested. I crossed my arms over my chest as if to hide myself from him, “Why?” I asked stupidly. I knew the answer even before he said but I waited for his answer anyhow. “To shift.” He said plainly. I nipped at my lower lip and conceded to his reasoning before kicking off my boots and peeling my socks away to shove them into the shoes.

Afterwards, I also removed my jacket and T-shirt to reveal a smaller, tighter tank top and again despite having all the important bits covered I still felt entirely naked under his scrutiny. “That’ll do, you probably won’t shift the first time anyway.”

“What? Why?” I asked, genuinely agitated with the realization. “Well it took most your life to shift and even then it was only for survival.” he offered. It wasn’t until recently that I truly understood what happened back then. In the crash. For most of my life I blamed myself. I killed them. I killed my family and that’s why being a coyote was so much easier but now I know different. I know it wasn’t me, it was The Desert Wolf; my mother, and I shifted to escape.

I flinched slightly at the memory and again at the memory of when #Theo figured it out, or when I told him. He moved towards me then and gripped my arm. His hand was so warm I would have been convinced he’d just taken it off a heater and though the gesture was meant to be calming and genuine I found myself flinching away from it as if he’d burned me.

“Let’s just get this over with.” I spoke in a tone that sounded harsher than I’d actually meant but I was determined, more now than before, to learn how to control it; not just for me but so when the time came I could kill her. I could kill my [real] mother.

“Easy there, Tiger…” #Theo said, his words seemed teasing but his tone was almost worried as again his hand touched my skin. I craned my head to look at him, “What?” I asked exasperatedly. He pursed his lips and took a measured step toward me. His hand felt like touching the sun, hot without burning me and yet he couldn’t be any warmer than I was. I subtly moved in a way that had him dropping his hand but it also allowed him to get closer to me.

I nipped at my lip, eyeing him wearily as he stood close enough to touch, “I get it,” he said but seemed to pause as if his meaning should be apparent. I shook my head slightly, “Get what?” #Theo’s lips curled up subtly but the ghost of a smile fell away as quick as it came. “I get that you [need] this and not just because you want to be able to run when you’re feeling restless.”

I found myself annoyed that I had been so transparent or that he somehow had this understanding of me that even I didn’t have. Either way, it left me feeling agitated and bare. “Don’t do that!” I hissed, moving away and turning to face the woods.

The night had grown still, all sounds seemingly stopped so that only #Theo and I could be heard. As if even the night wanted to hear what was happening here. A soft sound came from his lips, like a clicking before I could feel him behind me. The heat off his skin emanating through the cool night air, kissing my own. “What am I doing?” he asked.

I swiveled around, my face twisting with irritation. “You’re [not] stupid,” I offered in accusing tone. “Thank you?” he said in question. I scoffed, my gaze flicking away from him again before I finally offered an explanation. “That thing, you know the thing,” I reconnected my gaze with his but when I did his eyes were glowing.

Wide amber saucers that shone bright enough to have pierced the night and light his features almost menacingly. My own, seemingly following suit, lit as well. The blue mingling with the gold mixed into an almost purple haze between us. “Dogs don’t travel in packs just for survivals.” He said, bypassing my entire tirade. “It’s in our nature, to be with others, being apart of a pack is like having a family that would kill for you.”

His voice seemed to dip as he went on explaining, as though he were a bard telling an ancient tale about warriors and Gods. “Would Scott kill for you?” #Theo asked abruptly and I’ll admit the question caught me off-guard but as I tucked a loose tendril behind my ear I found myself shaking my head. “No, Scott doesn’t kill.” His lips twisted upwards in disapproval and some other emotion that I couldn’t quite pin-point.

“In a fight between beasts sometimes you have to be ready to kill. It’s very literally a dog-eat-dog world out there and if you don’t learn to take a life to save one then your emissary will surely get the better of you,” his words rang truer to me than it might ever for #Scott. I glanced away from his stare, the glow of my eyes shining against the moistened grass.

“Scott’s a true alpha and he’s always found a way around killing someone.” #Theo appeared right in front of me now, entirely too close. So close in fact his body touched mine and I struggled to remain still as he caught my gaze again. “An Alpha shouldn’t be out for themselves, they should be able to keep their pack safe. Never assume the enemy will go easy on you, or him for that matter, just because he’s never killed anyone. Actually, they may find that as a weakness, and opening and they [will] go in for the killing blow and you need to be prepared.”

It was there again, the pull of an Alpha. The pull I never felt quite this strong out of #Scott and I couldn’t look away now if I wanted to. “Do you feel that?” He asked. Somehow I knew what he meant, he meant the connection, the unseen tendrils between us that kept us tethered in this moment. I nodded, “When a [true] Alpha takes his command all others fall in line and the same goes for Were’s only the bond between Alpha and Beta is different. When an Alpha achieves full transition, his pack not only gains the same ability but has no choice but to shift as well. It’s pack mentality, you won’t make the change…” his words trailed off as if to let those last words sink in.

He finally blinked and I couldn’t help but feel slightly relieved to be released from whatever hold he had over me. I shook my head as if to clear away the haze before eyeing him wearily, “You’ll [never] change…” he repeated in a softer, less commanding, voice but emphasizing the word ‘never’ so as to really pound it in before continuing, “Until you submit.”

He couldn’t be serious. I may have checked out for a few years but even I knew what Fifty Shades of Gray was, mostly because the girls in Beacon Hills High School would rave over how Christian Gray was like the [ultimate man] and yet I always found the idea of allowing a man to control me in any way, least of all a sexual way, entirely unappealing. Perhaps I was used to being in control of my own life but it wasn’t until this moment that I realized I was never in control, the beast was, the coyote.

Once the animal took over I never really made it back, not until #Scott found me and ever since then I haven’t been able to return. Still, I wasn’t about to roll over and expose my under parts to #Theo. I didn’t like the idea of him thinking he had any sort of power over me but in the grand scheme if I fought too hard against it perhaps he was right, I would never make the change.

I purse my lips, allowing my countenance to shift incredulously, “Submit to what? To you?” I scoffed softly, shaking my head. Within the last few minutes it seemed the entire mood shifted to something more feral like some unseen animalistic need had taken hold. #Theo’s eyes remained on me but he didn’t answer, not at first. Instead, he moved so that he stood behind me.

His hands coiled around my upper arms and the heat, that had become all too familiar at this point, seemed to spread through my body from the point of contact until I was bathed in a comfortable warmth as though a fire had been lit before me. “Close your eyes,” he said, his voice closing any remaining distance between our bodies as his lips pressed against the shell of my ear.

It felt dirty, forbidden; being here with him so close to me. All too intimate and suddenly my thoughts went to #Stiles. Until now I had only been this close to him and until now I hadn’t considered ever being close to anyone else and yet here I am, in the woods; a darkness swallowing us as if the night itself wanted to conceal this exchange from prying eyes.

“Malia,” #Theo’s voice plucked me out of my thoughts and brought me back to reality and I jerked out of his grasp. “What is this? You’re supposed to be teaching me how to control it, the coyote, not…” I flung a hand out towards him, my eyes raking down his half nude form. “Whatever the hell [you’re] doing.” I felt lame, I couldn’t articulate my thoughts in the way #Lydia could and I didn’t pull off the unassuming vixen thing that #Kira did; I was just me.

Malia Tate…Hale and I wasn’t normal by any means. I didn’t do flirty or cute, I’m blunt and abrasive and I very rarely practice tact and yet with #Theo it’s like I can barely form a thought. He was like…[math]. Something I couldn’t figure out, something that completely baffled me and I didn’t like it in the least. A soft sound came from his lips, a sigh perhaps and he ran a hand through his hair in an almost exasperated manner.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” he offered, turning back towards the large stump, where he had found me only last night. Was it really only yesterday? It seemed so long ago, it seemed as though so much has happened in the last 24 hours that it had to have been longer than that. I shake my head, “It’s definitely a bad idea,” I agreed but I also felt determined to make this bad decision despite all the reasons I shouldn’t.

“But…” I said and he turned his head to look back at me. “I have to do this.” #Theo’s expression fell into something indiscernible. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, not that I ever could, but now his entire expression was devoid of any emotion whatsoever and it left me feeling nervous about what he might say next.

“I get it,” he finally speaks, twisting his body so that he was facing me again. “Stiles and Scott painted me as this menacing person,”

“You may have played a small role in that.” I offered and he smirked slightly before nodding. “I did but only because I need them.” I quirk a brow but before I could ask the question that had popped into my head he went on. “Regardless, I’m not the bad guy here, Malia. There are greater threats out there and you need to be prepared for what’s to come.” Again I wanted to ask what he meant by that but I wasn’t able to voice it as he stepped towards me.

“Let me help you.” The words sounded less like a request, less like he was asking me to trust him but instead commanding it. The power in his voice was there again, touching me, caressing my skin in a way that left it prickling up. “I can’t help you if you don’t trust me.”

It felt wrong again, forbidden like the fruit in the Garden of Eden. What I was about to do, putting my trust in #Theo Raeken, despite all the protests, despite what #Stiles and #Scott might think. Like getting into bed with the enemy, even if it might be for some rather understandable reasons and perhaps some reasons #Scott would never approve of.

I pull in a breath and it felt very much like signing my soul over to the devil and once I uttered the words there would be no going back but against my better judgement I spoke, “I trust you.”