Fatal ➵ Peter Hale [COMPLETED]

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twelve

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       Dea woke with a loud gasp, trying to inhale as much air as she could, only to groan at the pain in her body that reminded her of what happened not that long ago.

       She looked down at herself, checking her wounds only to see that they seemed to have been taken care of with stitches and such, though they were still in the process of healing.

       "Ah, I guess Sleeping Beauty's awake." She recognised that cocky tone from anywhere. Peter.

       She looked up, jaws clenched as she asked, "Where am I? How did I get here?"

       Peter stood up from leaning against the doorway to her bedroom and said, "Don't you recognise your own apartment, or did those blows to the head knock out more then just a bit of blood?" A look plastered on his face that almost seemed foreign, a look of anger and worry.

       Dea looked around, finally registering that she was indeed in her own apartment. "Oh." She said.

       Peter raised his eyebrows, his anger increasing as he growled, "Oh? Thats all you have to say?" His eyes flashed blue, before returning to normal as a low growl rumbled in his chest.

       Dea's face morphed into one of calmness to anger as she stood up, albeit slowly and painfully and said, "What the hell do you want me to say, Peter? I really don't have the time to deal with you right now, I've got too much I need to deal with and I've only just woken up." She strutted angrily toward her wardrobe, quickly pulling out something quick and suitable to wear, only for Peter to snatch it out of her hands.

       "You seem to be under the impression that you're allowed to leave. Last time I checked, you're going to do more harm than good in your condition." He said, a stern look on his face as clawed through the clothes before throwing the away.

       "Are you kidding me, Peter? I'm an adult, I can make my own damn decisions." She snarled at him, eyes flashing red as her anger grew.

       "Apparently, not very good ones."

       "There are people dying, innocent people, Peter. We don't have time for this, don't you get it? Someone you care about could be next, like Derek or C---" Dea yelled angrily, only to be cut off by Peter.

       "Or you? Like you nearly did yesterday when two of the people you trusted most turned on you. This is what you don't get Dea, I---" This time, his eyes remained a haunting blue as he stared at Dea, tension growing thick.

       "You what? What is there to get, Peter? Enlighten me." The room grew silent, the tension almost suffocating them as they stared furiously at each other.

       Dea shook her head. He was being unreasonable, keeping her here when innocent people were dying, or were about to. She had to help, she was the only one that knew Deucalion well, his tricks, the way he thought. Peter just couldn't keep her here because of a couple of battle wounds, he just couldn't no matter what his absurd reason was.

       She looked up at Peter, opening her mouth to speak more defiance against his actions only for her words to die in her throat, a sharp sting in her neck.