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Underneath Your Skin

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Glancing up at the night sky, you dimly noticed that there was a full moon overhead, and not a cloud in sight to block its glow. That should’ve been a sign you heeded, but being away from this town for the last few months had made you had made you naive.

You were home from college, on summer break, and had picked up a part-time job at the nearby grocery store, for some extra cash while you were in town. Tonight, you had been stuck with the closing shift, so it was a little after 11pm when you were finally able to leave the store. Lydia had invited you to a small party at her place...well, it might be “small” by her standards, but was likely to include just about any and everyone else who was home for the summer. You had agreed to stop by after your shift, and so had stuffed some clothes and basic necessities in your purse. You had changed out of your drab work uniform before leaving the store, and now wore a purple, flowy skirt that reached mid-thigh, and a simple black tee that was comfortable, yet showed just the right amount of cleavage to pass as party-worthy.

Since Lydia’s house wasn’t too far from the store, you had decided to walk there, taking a shortcut through the woods. Yes, you knew how that sounded: typical “dumb girl in the woods, alone, at night” cliché. However, it was only a 15-minute walk, and the shortcut was actually a pretty popular nature trail, frequented by bikers and groups of speed walkers during the day. It even had random lamps along the sides, illuminating large patches of the dirt in circles of light. Of course, there weren’t any bikers or other individuals walking along it now, with it being so late, but you weren’t worried. You had grown up here, had walked this path dozens of times, hundreds even. It wasn’t like you were wandering around in the middle of nowhere, with no clue where to go.

However, that didn’t stop you from clutching your purse strap tighter to your side at the sudden rustle of bushes off to your left. Whipping your head around, your eyes scanned the edge of the path. You swore you saw two small flashes of blue through the dark, but they were gone so quickly that it was probably just your mind playing tricks on you. You continued to stare at the spot, slowing down your pace a bit. When nothing else happened, you mentally slapped yourself for being so jumpy, and continued on. It’s probably just a squirrel or a rabbit.

Another rustle made you gasp, this one also directly to your left. It was as if, whatever it was, was keeping up with your pace. The thought caused goosebumps to prickle along your arms, and you decided to take your speed up a notch, legs pumping at a brisk pace that was more power walking and less leisurely stroll. Reaching into the front pocket of your purse and pulling out a cell phone, you pushed your thumb down on the home button, illuminating the screen. There was one missed text from Lydia.

Where are you?

Thumbs moving over the screen, you typed back, On my way, be there soon.

You felt a little more at ease as you pressed send, but still kept the phone clenched in your hand, rather than put it back in the purse. You saw the confirmation that the message had been delivered, so locked the phone and lifted your head to stare ahead.

There was someone on the path about 20 feet in front of you.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you came to an abrupt stop at the sight of a large form standing right in the middle of the trail. It was in between the circles of light, shrouded mostly in darkness but for their silhouette, which was juxtaposed against the glow from the lamps. The outline of the creature appeared to be male...and human. Or so you thought, until it lifted its head, face completely hidden in shadows...except for the twin blue flames that glowed at you from the dark. It was the same blue you had seen flash by you in the was the blue of its eyes.

Werewolf, your mind screamed. The second thought that popped into your brain was that there were only two werewolves currently in Beacon Hills that had those blue eyes...and you knew for a fact that it wasn’t Derek on the path ahead of you.

Not wanting to wait and see why Peter Hale was stalking you through the woods, since the answer couldn’t possibly be in your favor, you started taking shaky steps backwards, eyes wide with fear. You had been about halfway to your destination, but if given the choice between going back to the closed store or going forward to Lydia’s, and past him...well, you’d take the store. Even though it made your retreat slow and slightly unsteady, you were too afraid to turn around and put your back to him. You had heard enough from Scott and the others to know that Peter was capable of anything, that he had even murdered his own flesh and blood. Cold chills ran up your spine, despite the warm summer air, as you continued to slowly back up and put more distance between the two of you.

He finally moved, taking a step forward, which brought him into a circle of lamplight. He was wearing a faded green, long-sleeved Henley and dark pants, his form tall and broad...and strong enough to snap you in two, if he so desired. His gaze was fixated on you, and he jerked his head to the side, before taking another step forward, as if trying to restrain himself.

“Don’t run,” he bit out through clenched teeth. “If you do, my wolf will chase you.”

The words were low and strained, but they carried to you, causing you to hesitate mid-step, as if your body was obeying his command of its own accord. But then, you made the mistake of glancing downward, and saw that his hands were tipped in long, razor-sharp claws. Claws that could rip you to shreds with one strike. Nope, that was enough playing calm, you decided.

Turning, you started to sprint back the way you had come, praying that he wouldn’t follow. Those prayers went unanswered, and you barely made it a few steps before he was on you. He was supernaturally quick, and you hadn’t even heard him come up behind you. The momentum of him slamming into your back sent the two of you toppling off the side of the path, and into the dark. Peter gave a snarl as he grabbed your wrist, to keep you from nose diving to the ground. He twirled you around to face him, before harshly pinning your back against a nearby tree. His broad chest was pressed into your own, his large body dwarfing yours completely, so that you wouldn’t even be visible to anyone standing behind him. The hot puffs of his breath on the side of your face were loud and rasping...and something told you that they weren’t that way from exertion.

The rough bark of the tree dug into your shoulders and back, causing you to squirm, in an effort to ease the discomfort. This only served to make him push you up against the tree harder, a small cry of pain breaking from your throat, as your thin shirt did little to protect your skin from the sharp bite of wood. You felt warm pressure and the slight sensation of pinpricks at your waist, and knew that they were from his hands, the claws pressing into you and keeping you from moving again.

“Hold. Still.” More growl than actual words, they came out low and muffled as he spoke around his enlarged canines. Body instantly obeying, you froze in his hold, eyes closing tightly as you tried to focus on regulating your breaths and not having a heart attack. Although, a heart attack might be a better way to go than at the teeth and claws of Peter Hale.

You stayed that way for a few long moments, until both of your breathing seemed to slow down to a more normal pace. He hadn’t let up on the pressure of his body against your own, and you couldn’t tell which felt more solid: him or the tree. You felt so small and helpless, totally at his mercy...and you prayed that mercy was on his agenda tonight.

Finally feeling brave enough, you slowly opened your eyes. All that was directly in front of you was darkness, courtesy of Peter’s chest blocking out everything, even the distant lamplight from the path. Raising your head, eyes trailed upwards, an inch at a time. He was hunched down a bit, his head lowered so that it was right above your own. The moonlight played through the trees just enough to dimly illuminate the planes of his skin.

You could make out his throat, strong and solid above the V-neck of the Henley. His chin and mouth were in shadow, but that was fine, since you didn’t want to see if he had his fangs out or not. Continuing upward, you took in his bladed nose and one sharp cheekbone, since only half of his face was visible in the moonlight. Then you got to his eyes...and sucked in a breath.

They were still glowing, the blue so bright that it seemed to burn into you. Almost mesmerized, you stared back, silently. He tilted his head to the side, examining you, and the move was so animalistic and predatory, that you wondered if he really had any humanity left...or if he was all monster.

The tilt caused the shadows to move off his face, illuminating his other cheek and throwing the side of his neck into the shadows. It also brought his mouth into view, and you stared, horrified, as his lips curled up on one side, a tiny growl escaping him, as he showcased his gleaming fangs.

You tried to remain still, really you did. But it was all too much: the sight of his glowing eyes, coupled with his fangs right in front of you and his hands at your waist, the slight brush of claws poking through the thin fabric of your shirt. Much as you didn’t want to play the role of his prey, your body didn’t give you a choice in the matter, and you began to tremble. It started in your legs, moving upwards until your entire body was practically vibrating with fear, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

“Please,” you whispered, the words so low that they were probably inaudible to human ears. But you knew that Peter could hear you. His gaze dropped down to your lips, eyes squinted slightly, a sign that he was listening.

“Please...d-don’t hurt me,” you begged, the last word ending on a small, hiccupped sob.

His smirk intensified, as if he found the situation humorous. And, chances were, he did.

“Don’t hurt you...not even a little?” he taunted. “Now, where is the fun in that?”

Your trembling increased, and you hoarsely replied, “I promise not to tell anyone I saw you. P-please, just let me go...we’ll forget this ever happened.”

He gave a dark chuckle of amusement. “You’re the silly girl who decided to walk through the woods during a full moon, with the expectation that you would come out unscathed.”

Deciding to take the focus off your own bodily harm, you switched topics, hoping that, if you kept him talking, maybe he could be convinced to let you go.

“I...I didn’t think the full moon affected werewolves...that it was a myth,” you whispered shakily, afraid that, if you spoke too loudly, it would set him off.

“It heightens everything, brings the wolf to the surface, making it harder to tame down. Like right now, I can smell the sweetness of your fear…” He brought his face in close, so that the tip of his fangs grazed across the side of your throat, as he inhaled deeply through his nose. “How it’s tinged with the deeper musk of your cunt.”

You gasped harshly at his words, shocked by the vulgarity of them. You were even more shocked to feel a small rush of heat dart through your stomach and down between your thighs.

Peter hummed, inhaling deeply again. And you just knew that he could smell your arousal. He ran his lips up your neck, nosing at the underside of your chin. You had the unmistakable urge to lean your head back, to expose your throat to give in. But what would you be giving in to, exactly? Death?

The thought jerked you back to your senses. Trying to slide your body to the side, and away from his mouth, only resulted in his claws digging in harder at your waist, and you swore you felt at least one of them pierce through the shirt and top layer of your skin. You couldn’t help the whimper of fear that left your lips when you felt his teeth latch around the lobe of your ear, biting down just enough to sting, before he licked over the hurt with his warm, wet tongue.

“No...Stop,” you breathed, not sure if you were trying to actually convince him that you didn’t want this...or convince your own traitorous body.

Peter ignored you, this time nipping at the flesh of your throat. The sharp points of his fangs against your jugular propelled you into motion. Lifting one of the hands that had been hanging limply at your side, you made a fist and slammed it into his chest. Your protest went unnoticed, and he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he gave a low chuckle and wrapped long, claw-tipped fingers around your wrist, lifting it above your head and pressing the back of your hand into the dry bark of the tree.

Your other hand stayed clenched down at your side. You itched to hit him with it, as well, but knew you would only end up with both hands restrained. And then you would be totally trapped… Like you aren’t already, you thought.

As if to reinforce the idea that you weren’t going anywhere, Peter pressed his hips forward, effectively pinning your lower half against the tree...and pressing a very sizable erection into your stomach.

You lost the ability to breathe, as you realized, that not only was he enjoying this on a psychotic, predator-meets-prey level, but he was also aroused. Suddenly, a whole new fear was added to the situation. You had thought he meant to maim or kill you, but weren’t so certain. Or maybe he’ll just kill you after, your brain whispered.

He moved his hips against you again, this time in a slow grind, his intentions unmistakable. His large, hard body pressed into you, to the point that you were surprised it was still possible to draw in air. When he moved a third time, rolling his hips against your lower body, you let out a breathy moan.

You weren’t sure who was more surprised by the sound: you or him. Both of you froze, and Peter pulled his head back from where he had been scenting the dip of your neck to look at your face. Mortified, you stared back at him, a flush creeping up over your cheeks, as his lips parted into a cocky grin that would’ve made you roll your eyes, if it weren’t for the terrifying view of his fangs poking through.

“Well well well,” he taunted. “Is someone enjoying this?”

“No!” you immediately replied, but the denial fell flat, even to your own ears.

He ran the hand at your waist up over the front of your torso and chest, before dipping one claw beneath the low-cut front of your shirt. Before you could even process a response to his touch, he jerked his hand quickly downwards, slicing the shirt clean down the middle with his claw, and leaving you with only the tattered remains and your navy-blue bra.

Your chest heaved with fear, which caught Peter’s gaze, and he watched your soft flesh rise up and down with each breath. He traced the same claw that had cut your shirt back up over your exposed skin, tracing across your stomach and the front of your bra, before dipping down in between the two mounds of flesh showcased by the delicate garment.

You should’ve begged, screamed, said something. But, instead, you stood frozen and silent, watching with a morbid fascination as Peter expertly sliced through the front of the bra, as well. The warm air hit your flesh, and a low rumble escaped his chest at the sight of your exposed breasts.

His eyes flickered up to your face, scanning your features. You knew that he could see clearly in the dark, that there was no point in trying to hide your expression. He must’ve liked what he saw, because his eyelids drooped slightly and his lips parted on a breath.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

No, you weren’t, you couldn’t possibly...could you? It was honestly impossible to get a handle on the myriad of emotions flooding through you. Fear, panic, embarrassment, and...yes, there was excitement there, as well. You weren’t sure when you had become so fucked in the head, as to actually get aroused by a half-man, half-beast ripping your clothes unwillingly from your body, but here you were. You knew that if he let you go, if he stepped away, you’d run with no hesitation. But he didn’t...and you weren’t exactly trying to fight him, at this point.

Your lack of response didn’t seem to bother him, as his attention was drawn back downwards. He was staring at your body, almost studying it, as if he could learn every dip and curve and commit it to memory. When a large, warm palm cupped your left breast, you couldn’t help the whimper that fell from your lips, nor control the way your back instinctively arched, pressing your flesh closer into his hand.

A rough squeeze was your reward, followed by the dip of his head, his mouth running across your shoulder and down over your collarbone, tongue caressing the slope of your breast before his mouth latched onto your already-hard nipple. You didn’t even try to hold back this time, letting out a pleasured cry as he set to work with his lips and tongue and teeth. Even the slight pressure from his fangs served to fuel the fire that had started to heat up between your thighs.

His hand caressed your other breast, claws running around your areola before one pressed in on the tip of your nipple, causing you to freeze. You realized, with a jolt of fear, how easily he could cut you, could do irreparable damage to your flesh. And why did that thought both terrify you, and also cause an embarrassing trickle of wetness to stain your panties? You looked down, torn between the erotic sight of Peter’s mouth at one breast, the blue of his eyes simmering between half-closed lids, and the horrifying sight of his claw pressing in on your nipple until, with a gasp, you felt the flesh give underneath the pressure. A drop of blood welled up around where he had broken through the skin, before it started to slowly roll down your breast. Lifting his head, Peter watched as the red droplet hung at the curve of your breast, before it dripped off and fell to the ground.

He gave a growl, as a second drop of blood started to fall, moving his face to lick up the red rivulet, before replacing his claw with his mouth on your nipple. He sucked harshly at the small cut, and you couldn’t keep still, the sting more pain than pleasure. The hand at your side flew up to grab at his bicep, not tugging him away, just holding on, as if he were an anchor in the storm of sensations that were racing through your body.

You felt the hard muscles flex underneath your fingers, and couldn’t help but run your hand up his arm and over his shoulder, before bringing it down over the front of his pectoral muscle, both delighted and intimidated by his muscular build. His head lifted from your breast, and your legs suddenly felt wobbly at the sight of his lips tinged with a drop of red...a drop of your blood.

What the fuck are you thinking, feeling up a god damn werewolf while he sucks blood from your tit in the middle of the forest? Why aren’t you fighting?!

Spurred by the thought, you shoved against his chest and twisted your torso, in an attempt to dislodge him. It was about as effective as a caught mouse trying to dislodge a hungry cat. He looked almost amused by your struggles, as he caught your other hand and lifted it above your head, so that both your wrists were trapped in one of his large hands.

“Peter,” you gasped, the fingers of his free hand tracing down your body, tweaking your reddened and sore nipple, which still had some residual blood smeared on it.

“Yes, little one?” he purred, tracing down over your hip and the fabric of your skirt, until he came into contact with the bare skin of your thigh. He slowly inched his fingers up the inside of your leg, taking the fabric with him.

“We can’t...I don’t want to…” you broke off on a moan, at the feel of his palm cupping your sex possessively. The only barrier between your flesh and his was a flimsy pair of panties.

“If you don’t want to, then why are you soaked through, sweetheart?” he inquired, before pulling your panties to the side and tracing one finger along your exposed slit. He pushed in slightly, barely dipping his finger into your wetness, the scrape of his claw making a cold spike of fear dart up your spine.

Bringing his lips to your ear, he husked, “It sure feels like you want this.”

Before you could respond, he ripped the panties from your body and pulled the skirt down your legs. You were thankful that he didn’t destroy that too, although it was the only piece of clothing that had survived, so far. The tatters of your shirt and bra went next, fluttering down to the ground as he ripped the useless garments from your shoulders.

Suddenly, you were standing naked before him, completely exposed and unable to run. Hands still restraining your own, he put a few inches of space between your lower bodies, pausing for a moment to take you in. His lips curled upwards into a snarl, as he took in the wetness that was shining on your inner thighs. Embarrassment burned hot in your belly, and fear still had icy tendrils wrapped around your limbs, but there was also a low throbbing in your cunt, and it was sick of being denied.

Watching his face intently, you slowly parted your legs, so that you were standing straddled in front of him, offering yourself to him. The effect was immediate, nostrils flaring as he scented your cunt, eyes blazing even brighter, as a low growl rumbled from between his lips.

“Mine,” he roughly stated. “You’re mine.”

Later, you would look back and squirm with embarrassment, but right then, you didn’t care. Instead of denying it, you lifted your head back, so that it rested against the tree, exposing the length of your throat to him, in a signal of surrender. Of submission.

His hand released your wrists, as he grabbed the bottom of his shirt and jerked it up over his head before tossing it off to the side, into the dark. You had a quick moment to take in his bare chest, half-hidden by shadows. You could make out the flexing muscles in his shoulders and arms, the rippling of his abs, how his waist tapered down to narrow hips, where he was currently in the process of taking off his pants.

Gasping, you watched as his cock was revealed, long and thick and holy hell, he’s huge. This was a mistake, what in the world had you been thinking, provoking him...encouraging this.

You knew it was pointless, but still had to try, muscles bunching as you prepared to jump to the side, in a last-ditch effort to sprint as far away from him as you possibly could. You didn’t even get a chance to execute the idea before he stepped forward, lightning fast, hands spinning you around so that you were pushed back against the tree, this time face-first.

Hands flew up on either side of your face to break your momentum, before you got a mouth full of bark. And then Peter was behind you, his hot, naked body pressing into the length of your back as he inserted a hard thigh between your legs and used it to spread you wide before him. Hot breaths blasted over the back of your neck, and he gave a small snarl with each exhale, sounding more animal than human.

With one hand gripping your hip in an unbreakable hold, his other hand lined his cock up to your entrance, causing you to gasp and jerk away from him. The hand at your hip tightened, claws digging into your skin as he rubbed his cock between your folds, slicking up his dick with your wetness.

Oh god, this was really happening. You were about to get fucked up against a tree by Peter fucking Hale, whether you wanted it or not. Shamefully, you realized that there was indeed a part of you that wanted this. A part that ached to be claimed by him, to feel all that power working you over until you couldn’t remember your own name.

“You ready for me, sweetheart?” he cooed in your ear, before leaning down and nipping at your shoulder.

Unable to deny yourself any longer, you nodded shakily, and gave a whispered, “Yes.”

With that, he slid inside you, the thrust long and slow and burying him to the hilt. You keened and gripped the bark with your nails, as he impaled you on his cock and forced your walls to stretch around him. He was so thick and so deep, utterly dominating you with that one move, and you were unable to do anything except take it.

He barely gave you any time to adjust before he pulled out and thrust back in again, quicker this time, but just as deep. You cried out his name, utterly overwhelmed by the feeling of his cock inside you, while he panted out harsh breaths and brought one hand around to grip your breast tightly. It was the same breast he had cut earlier, and the small zing of pain only intensified your pleasure, as he started a pace that was fast and rough. His hips snapped against yours, as the obscene sounds of your fucking started to fill the forest.

Hands still braced against the tree, you let your head fall back onto his shoulder, then instinctively tilted it to the side, giving him access to your neck. The movement didn’t go unnoticed, and he brought his mouth down to your flesh, nipping and sucking marks into the column of your throat before moving down to the slope of your shoulder.

He was grunting with each thrust, hips grinding up into you at the end of each stroke, as if he was trying to see just how far inside he could go. One hand left your hip and was placed on the tree, right next to your own. The sight of your small, human hand beside his large, claw-tipped one sent a taboo thrill through you. If anyone were to happen upon you, the sight was sure to be a memorable one. The frail, helpless human girl, being fucked up against a tree by a beast with glowing eyes and claws, dried blood on her tit as she cried out and shuddered around the werewolf’s cock. Just the thought of that image, of the two of you together, was enough to push you up to the edge, your pussy tightening around Peter in a way that made him groan.

The hand at your hip moved to your stomach, claws dragging across your flesh roughly, as if he was too far gone to restrain himself. You knew, from the faint sting that followed his fingers, that there were going to be red claw marks across your sensitive belly after this. In fact, you were bound to find lots of small cuts and bruises on your body, come morning. Reminders that you were, as he had so boldly stated, his.

The same hand moved downward, and you pushed your head further back into his chest at the feel of his fingers sliding over the front of your mons. Eyes staring up at the moon, you let out a sharp cry as he zeroed in on your clit, rubbing in harsh, fast circles. Thankfully, he kept his claws out of the way, but the fact that they were right there, at so sensitive an area of your body...the idea that he had so much power and strength and could at any moment lose control and slice your skin...that fear turned you on so much that you whimpered his name, a needy plea for him to never stop.

“That’s it,” he purred. “Be a good girl and come for your alpha.”

His words, paired with the heavy drag of his cock and rough beat of his fingers, pushed you over the edge, the orgasm slamming into your body. You gave a harsh cry, his name falling from your lips and echoing around the dark woods, as the pleasure took you apart, sending pieces of you flying all throughout the forest. He gave a harsh snarl at the feel of your pussy spasming around him, and the hand on the tree flew up to wrap around your throat, holding you steady. At that same instant, he leaned down and, with no hesitation, sunk his fangs into your shoulder.

Your cries become a scream, as searing pain mixed with the pleasure, forming a harsh swirl of sensations. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to struggle to get away, or push closer, and the fear and uncertainty served to send you into a second orgasm before your first one was even finished. Mouth open on a silent scream, you shuddered as the waves of pleasure slammed into you over and over again, so intense that you couldn’t even make a noise at this point, could only gasp and shake, completely giving yourself over to Peter.

Gripping at his forearm, nails digging into his flesh, you let him take your full weight, unable to trust your quivering legs to keep you upright. The waves of pleasure rolled through you, tinged with an underlying burn in your shoulder, when he removed his fangs from your flesh and gave a yell that sounded almost like a howl. His hips stuttered and he pushed you forward, slamming you into the tree as he ground his cock inside you as deep as it could go. You felt the thick ropes of his come release inside you, his claws digging gashes into the tree and tightening around your throat, as he rode out his own orgasm.

You didn’t even notice the scratch of the bark on your front, too high off the euphoria of multiple orgasms and the knowledge that you had just been bitten and claimed and utterly destroyed by the man behind you. After a few moments, where the only sounds were your harsh breathing and the rustle of wind through the trees, Peter turned you around to face him. You saw, with both relief and a bit of disappointment, that his eyes had stopped glowing, though his fangs were still present. Fangs that had just been inside your flesh, you thought with a pleasant shudder.

His eyes ran down over you, taking in the thin red lines across your stomach, the dried blood on your breast, the pinprick marks on your waist and hips. He then lifted his gaze to your shoulder, his fingers coming up to trace over the bite, which probably looked worse than it currently felt. His touch was almost gentle as he inspected the wound.

“It won’t turn you,” he said, pressing in on the flesh just enough to make you gasp with pain, his eyes flying up to your own, to catalog your reaction.

“I know.” You hadn’t been worried about that. Only a bite from an alpha could turn a human, and Peter had lost his alpha status a while ago.

Leaning down, so that his nose was level with your throat, he inhaled, scenting your flesh. You wondered what he smelled, in that moment. Still a bit of fear, most likely, and blood, but those were probably overpowered by the scent of sweat and sex. Of your combined bodily fluids, which had started to trickle down your inner thigh. By the arrogant smirk that crossed his face, you knew that you were right. His nose ran along your cheek as he pulled his face back slightly, your mouth parting as his lips came within mere centimeters of your own.

“Until we meet again, sweetheart,” he whispered, pressing your mouths together in a light kiss, before tugging your lower lip with his teeth and pulling away. It was the first, and only, kiss the two of you had shared, tonight.

Your eyes had fluttered closed at the contact, and by the time you opened them, he was gone.

Looking around, you realized that he had disappeared off into the night, leaving you to gather your clothes off the ground. After a full minute of searching unsuccessfully for your panties, you gave up, pulling the skirt up your legs and pulling the tatters of your shirt around you, before stumbling back to the dirt path. You should’ve felt better, once you were within the circles of lamplight, but you instead felt exposed. Standing in the middle of the trail, it was only then that you realized you had dropped both your phone and purse, both of them lying abandoned on the side of the path. Walking over and picking them up, you stuffed your destroyed bra into the purse, then flicked on the phone. You saw six texts and three missed phone calls, all from Lydia. You wondered how the hell you were going to explain this to her.

Sending a quick, I’m fine, but I won’t make it for the party, you threw the phone back in your bag. You’d take the trail to your own place, get yourself together, and then call her to confirm that you were indeed alive and okay. There was no way you could see her, or anyone else, tonight.

Looking up, the full moon still peeked down between the trees, a silent, mocking voyeur of your evening. Although, if you were being honest, it hadn’t been all horrible. After all, how many creatures, human or otherwise, could say that they had tumbled with the legendary Peter Hale, and came away unscathed.

A howl sounded from deep within the forest, causing a smile to tip your lips. You gave a huffed laugh, all fear suddenly gone, as you continued down the path, and towards home.