And there it is. The yellow-gold eyes are separated by a thick, ridged nose that seems like an extension of a heavily ribbed forehead, framed on the sides by furry sideburns and on the bottom by a mouthful of fangs. It's not pretty, and it's not at all what Sky's ever imagined, curled up next to his mother hearing her paint pictures full of howling wolves and silver moonlight, but there's no denying it.
"I thought werewolves were supposed to be super strong. And like, healing powers or something."
The guy's golden eyes bulge slightly, jaw dropping a little as he looks at Sky's perfectly crafted innocent nonchalance.
"I'm not - there's no such -" the werewolf splutters. As if that's fooling anyone.
"You are, there are," Sky scoffs, because she's pretty sure she's right and she's also pretty sure they don't have time for this. "Do you want my help or not?"
"I..."
He sounds frustrated, conflicted, a heavy weight on a single
letter. Sky thinks there's probably some kind of great internal upheaval between human and animal instincts right now - the human side of this man wants to say yes, but the animal instinct would never accept help from a potential threat.
"I'm not a hunter," Sky tells him. She raises both hands to shoulder height, palms out, and slouches slightly in an effort to make a less imposing figure. "I promise. My name's Sky, I'm a junior in high school. My dad and I just moved here this week. He's the new sheriff, and I'm nothing if not a cop's daughter, which means I can't in good conscience leave you out here on your own."
There's silence for a long moment, and Sky lets it sit. She means it wholeheartedly, and if it takes a few minutes of thinking about it for the guy to believe her, that's okay.
"Scott," the werewolf says finally, breaking the quiet stretching between them. "Okay."
"Hey Scott," Sky says gently. She's taking a few more steps forward, carefully keeping both her hands visible, until she and Scott are only a few feet apart. "How can I help?"
"I can't touch the arrow shaft," Scott grits out. "Wolfsbane. And I don't have..." he gestures helplessly at his shirtless torso.
YOU ARE READING
Stilinski's Home for Wayward Wolves
Про оборотнейSummary: “At least your puppies knock first,” Sky snorts. “Here I thought their alpha raised them to be well-mannered.” “There’s a sign,” Derek responds stiffly. Sky, whose curiosity outweighs even her hardest of grudges, abandons her chilly façad...
