Broken Kiss (a Teen Wolf story)

Part 27

            He crossed the space between them slowly, his gaze locked on her. His hand slid up to her neck. His thumb tipped her chin up and his blue eyes seared everything else away.

            “Are you sure?” he asked.

            It wasn’t a simple question about tonight. She’d seen the shudder that worked through him when Parrish had suggested that he was controlling her.

            She’d lost her mind once. She knew the difference between reality and someone else’s designs for her. Even after the bite, when she’d been floating on Peter’s suggestion, she’d known something was wrong. A false reality tasted different from an alternate reality. The underworld had been real, even though all its angles and textures had been off. To not be able to determine what was real, and what wasn’t – that would be a special kind of hell.

            Reaching up, Lydia repositioned his hand so that his fingers were aligned with her spine.

            “Try,” she said. “Try to get into my head.”

            “No.” He jerked his hand away, shaking his head when she grabbed it again. “Lydia, Jesus! No.”

            “You don’t believe in us. Despite all those things you just told me, you don’t actually believe in us.”

            He shook his head again, the tendons of his wrist standing out as he held his hand back from her insistent pulling.

            “There is nothing I want more than to be with you, but there is no reason for this.”

            “You were ready to leave, Peter. One person wandered in and asked a single question, and you were ready to bolt. Because you don’t believe in us.”

            “That isn’t true. Didn’t you hear me? I love you.”

            She stopped pulling. How badly had she wanted to hear those words? How badly did she hope they were true?

            “Then what is it?” she asked.

            “Nothing. There isn’t anything.” He shook his head, but he looked stricken. The light fluctuated chaotically in his eyes. He wasn’t the kind of person who held back. Spontaneity was pretty much one of his defining characteristics.

            “You don’t believe in you,” she whispered, realization dawning. “You don’t trust yourself.”

            “I won’t hurt you,” he said, his chin dropping. “I won’t hurt you again.”

            It was as though he was trying to convince her, but she wasn’t the one who needed convincing. She’d been adrift for a matter of days. He had spent years falling deeper and deeper into madness, and the wolf side of him – which could heal him from almost any wound – hadn’t been able to help with his mind. He wasn’t certain. Maybe he questioned far more than them. She knew what that felt like, too.

            “Peter, do this. Try, so that you’ll see that I’m not with you because you wanted it so badly that you compelled me.” She moved closer, stroking her hand over his chest. “So you’ll know that, when I touch you, when I kiss you, it’s by my choice.”

            She rose up and brushed her lips over his. It felt illicit. She hadn’t planned to keep them secret, or for them to happen at all. But it was still thrilling when his arms closed around her. He smoothed a strand of hair away from her face, then his hand slid, haltingly, around the back of her neck. He broke their kiss and leaned his forehead against hers. His eyes remained closed.