𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅 ━━ LYDIA MARTIN

52

ONCE THEY WERE back in Lydia's room, the strawberry blonde was quick to stare at him, giving him an 'are you serious' look while he made his way over to her bed and lazily plopped down on it.

"Don't look at me like that."

"You literally just told my mom that you—" she paused, figuring that this conversation wouldn't go anywhere. Instead, she shook her head and sighed, changing the subject, "any calls from Deaton?"

"No."

She walked towards her bed and sat down beside him while he stayed lying, "is it supposed to take this long?"

"I don't know." He kept his eyes fixed on the ceiling as she glanced at him, "so your mom's been taken?"

"Possibly."

She refrained herself from rolling her eyes at his answer. "I didn't know she was here, in Beacon Hills. But wait– you were looking for her right?" Realisation dawned upon her, "– you didn't know she was here either, did you?"

"No, genius," he muttered sarcastically, "I didn't."

"Deaton knew?" At that point, she had completely turned to look at him, her back now resting against the headboard and her legs crossed while his body lying horizontally in front of her.

"Yeah," his hand reached out to his pocket before he took out a pack of cigarettes. Then he removed a lighter from his other pocket while she stared at his actions, keeping her lips pursed.

"Smoking will kill you," she muttered after a minute of silence, watching as he lit up the cigarette. He chuckled at her words, "I have an insane death resistance, you'll be surprised."

"Are werewolves immune to cancer?"

"Probably," he shrugged.

"Well, I'm not," Lydia informed, a hint of sarcasm in her tone, "so it will be highly appreciated if you tone down on the smoking while you're with me."

Reid spared her a glance then turned his head to the side, towards the window before blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth. After removing the cigarette from his lips, he placed it on his palm in an attempt to extinguish it which made Lydia's eyes widened.

"What the hell are you doing?" she had to prevent a gasp from getting out as she quickly grabbed the cigarette from his hand, "oh my god, are you insane?"

"What, I was just trying to put it out–" she didn't let him finish his sentence as she tossed it in the nearby trash can in the corner of her room and grabbed his hand to stare at his palm, finding it all healed.

She let out a sigh of relief while he chuckled at her expression which made her glare at him, "you're a dick, you know that?"

"And so I've been told," he shot her an amused look, "your heart's beating like really fast."

"You hurt yourself," she rolled her eyes, admitting, "I got scared."

"I love that you can't lie to me," he grinned as she sighed, "I hate it." After a few seconds of silence, she asked, "what are you going to do?"

He furrowed his brows in confusion, "when? what do you mean?"

"When you find your mom," she spoke, keeping her voice low as if she was scared she'd cross a line and he'd get pissed.

"Stick to the plan," he turned to face her, now resting on his sides. She narrowed her eyes questioningly, "which is?"

"Kill her," his blunt answer made her sigh. For some reason, she wasn't surprised by it.

"Okay, so you killed your dad and now you want to kill your mom too," she muttered, nodding to herself as she tried to wrap her head around it, "that's great, really nice. Why though? Why do you want her dead?"

He stared at her for a few seconds, knowing she was waiting for an answer but he couldn't bring himself to tell her. So instead, he rolled back to his previous position and drifted his eyes to the ceiling, staring at it again as if it was the most interesting thing he's ever seen.

"Stop doing that," she groaned and allowed herself to get close to him and straddle him. He glanced at her, raising his brows at her sudden movement but said nothing as he placed his hands on her hips to adjust her. He gave her an innocent look, "doing what?"

"Dismissing my questions," she placed her hands on his chest, tracing arrow pendant he had hanging around his neck. She had noticed it before but never really paid attention to it. Now that she was thinking about it, she realised that he had it on all the time.

"Has nobody ever told you that communication is important in a relationship?"

He dragged his tongue across his lower lip before shaking his head at her, "not really, no. I didn't know we were in a relationship."

"Well, aren't we?"

"I don't know," he rubbed his thumb in circles on either side of her hips, "would you like to be?"

"I think I would," she nodded, a smile breaking onto her face. His own lips twitched up, "yeah?"

She nodded again, humming, "yes."

"Great, we should officialise it."

Lydia rolled her eyes and shook her head, "no, we should talk."

"No, we should fuck—"

"— Talk first." She interrupted earning a loud groan from him, "we can talk while fucking."

"Not that kind of talk," she adjusted herself on him only to regret it when she felt him rub against her. The fact that she's always wearing a dress with nothing but her underwear underneath made him let out a string of curses under his breath, his fingers involuntarily digging into her hips to keep her still.

She cleared her throat, ignoring the pulsing in her core and continued to trace her fingers around tip of the arrow. "You always have this on."

"Yeah," he muttered, his hand subconsciously sliding from her hips to her thighs. She didn't pay attention to it and continued staring at the pendant. "Does it have any meaning?"

He hummed, drawing random shapes on her skin as she tried to ignore it. "The arrow's a reminder of all the hunters I've killed– taken them from their families."

"So..." She looked up at him, "you regret killing them?"

"Something like that," he mumbled, his hand going under her dress, itching closer to her underwear and she didn't stop him. Instead, she asked, "why do you kill them if you know you'll regret it?"

"I can't stop myself," he replied, keeping his eyes fixed on her lips. He gritted his teeth before biting his own lips hard enough to draw blood when she moved on top of him again, feeling his hard–on pressed against her heat. He didn't know whether she was doing it on purpose or not.

"I have this—" in one swift movement, he had rolled them over so he was on top of her while she lied on her back. He traced the waistband on her underwear and tugged on it, wanting it off. Lydia lifted her hips slightly and he wasted no time in taking it off as he lowered his head in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent, "— insane urge to kill."