Amelia 'Mia' Argent has been raised to fear the supernatural. Coming from a long lineage of werewolf hunters, she is being trained to hunt and one day become the leader of her team. But when her family moves to Beacon Hills in search for an Alpha, t...
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The sleep didn't last long.
Mia jolted awake a couple hours later, gasping for air. Her throat was dry and burning, like she had swallowed hot coal, and yet the rest of her body felt ice cold. Sweat was running down her neck and forehead.
Above all that, there was pain.
It was sharp and white hot, piercing through her shoulder and traveling up to her head. Her joints felt like they were about to rip, leg and arm muscles aching. It took her some time to orientate herself amongst the choking sensations, but even then, she could barely move. Her body was spasming and twitching, out of her control.
"Mia," she immediately clung to Derek's voice, a distraction from this hell, "Look at me."
"I can't," she whimpered. She couldn't focus her eyes properly, "I can't. I–"
"It's okay," his voice was soothing and patient, "It's okay. I can help you."
"It's cold," she gritted her teeth together to stop them from chattering, "It hurts so bad. Please, I can't– I can't die like this."
She wasn't sure if her words were even intelligible, or if she was mumbling nonsense, but she felt the bed dip as Derek carefully crawled in. He situated himself against the headboard and leaned back. His body radiated warmth and Mia's brain, lead by pure instinct at this point, immediately made her cling onto that heat.
In hindsight, the entire situation felt a bit ironic - a hunter glued to a werewolf in bed, depending on him to survive.
"Here," Derek whispered. He pulled her closer to him, navigating them so that her head was resting on his chest. He wrapped the blankets around her again, then reached for her wrist in the darkness, "Give me your hand."
She wasn't sure how that would help, but she let him intertwine their fingers anyways. She heard Derek's breath catch as her pain slowly started fading away. Gathering her last bits of strength, she looked down at their hands. Derek's veins were black, traveling up his arm. He was somehow taking her pain and transferring it to himself. His hands were shaking, muscles tense.
"Stop," she lifted her eyes up to his face, "Don't do that. Don't–"
Her words got caught in her throat. Derek was crying.
His eyes were shut tight, and his face betrayed no emotion, but there were definitely tears on his cheeks. Mia stared at him in shock, before slipping her hand out of his grip. She was already feeling a little better and she didn't want Derek to be in pain the entire night.
Now that her throat wasn't burning and her limbs didn't feel like they were ripping apart, the pain was replaced by fatigue, pulling her back to sleep. The sweat was starting to cool off, making her shiver more. She burrowed deeper into Derek and closed her eyes.
