transcendent ༜stiles stilinski༜ [1] (UNDER EDITING)

9| Nexus

Stiles speeds through the empty streets. I grunt as I begin to turn. I let out a strident scream. Stiles stops the car quickly and jumbles out of his seat. He hurries to my side of the car and opens the door.

"Stiles, run," I warn him. "I could hurt you."

"No. I'm not going anywhere."

"I-I can't control it, Stiles. It- It hurts."

Stiles takes off my seat belt and the pain worsens. I push myself out of the car and fall to the ground. The pain is indescribable and tortuous.

Stiles touches my back. I grab his arm, flip him over my head, and pin him to the ground. I let out a macabre roar. I raise my hand and my claws extract.

"Aura!" He shouts.

I stop. I get off Stiles and back away from him quickly. He gets up and walk towards me.

"Oh my God, Stiles. I'm so sorry," I plead. "Please go. I could hurt you."

"You're not going to hurt me," he conciliates.

Stiles grabs my hand and I tremble at his touch afraid of what I might do to him. He puts another hand on the side of my face.

"See?"

His thumb brushes against my lips and shiver runs through me. My cheeks turn red.

"You're different from any other werewolf Derek told me about. He said that there's only three eye colors. Blue for when you take the life of an innocent. Gold is common. That's what every werewolf starts with. And then red. The eye color of an alpha. But yours are different. Purple," he states. "Sometimes it's like a complete reflection of the moon. What's so special-"

"I guarantee you, Stiles. You do not want to finish that sentence."

"Duly noted. And your roar. It's not like Scott's. It's piercing it has an inhumane amplitude. It's sonic."

"Maybe I'm not a werewolf."

"But you are. You can't ignore the facts." I groan in frustration.

I lean against the tree. I've changed back. He tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. I bite my lip and look down at the ground.

"It hurts when you change?" He asks.

"Yeah. It's like... I can't explain it. It just hurts."

"Okay, all we have to do now is find out what the hell you are and how we can fix this?"

I look at his hand and take it in mine. It's wrapped in bandages but you can see the red and blue bruises. I touch it and he winces. He looks at me, shyly.

"It's broken. What happened?"

"I kind of broke a tray at lunch and then I, you know, punched a locker," he says.

"Why?" I ask him. I put my hand on his chest and listen to (and feel) his heartbeat. "And before you answer, you can't lie to me. I can already hear your heart rate rising."

"Yeah, well," he laughs slightly, "that's not because I'm going to lie."

"Hm?"

"Jackson said somethings to me in school and I just got upset."

"This is way beyond upset. You broke a tray and punched a locker, which hearing me say out loud is actually a bit unbelievable."

"Believe me, I'm as shocked as you are."