Alpha Hale

Chapter 5

Stiles had only driven a few miles before his brain started operating cognitively enough to consider the risks of his actions. He switched off the radio, needing complete silence to approach this from all angles. Okay, so he was covered in Scott’s scent which was creeping him out a little and could possibly traumatise him for all eternity but the damage was done. Now he had to figure out a new plan.

Right, new plan. Thinking of one would be a good idea. His fingers drummed a random beat across the wheel as he drove, mind going in all directions at once and most of them ending terribly.

Although, he did still have Derek’s jacket in his backpack. Maybe he could try to overwhelm Scott’s scent with the alpha's, it was naturally dominant, anyway. If he put it back on now then he could just insist that they’d be sitting really close to one another all day…

Like Derek would believe that. Geez, he wasn’t stupid.

So, that plan was out the window. And speaking of windows, what the hell was that?

Stiles eased off the accelerator, twisting his neck to stare over his shoulder with interest at the splash of colour that had flitted past his peripheral vision in the rapidly dwindling sunlight, filtering through the obscurity of the woods. For a second there, he’d thought he’d seen pink. But like bright pink.

Pink. In the woods, which had no right being unusually coloured.

His eyes narrowed, and he scanned the side of the road, wondering if he was totally losing his mind as he squinted into the semi darkness of the late afternoon. The trees as always looked pretty ominous. Maybe he was just being paranoid, hyped up on Derek related emotions. And then he saw it. The sudden flash of pink contrasting against the dead leaves, shredded into misshapen pieces. Of material. As if from someone’s clothing.

Oh, fuck.

Something dark moved in front of it, obscuring the bit of colour that had caught his eye and he barely managed to smother a garbled scream of terror as he comprehended exactly what he was looking at.

The rogue werewolf.

The dark thing heard him anyway, and Stiles was already dialling Derek’s cell phone, jamming his foot to press down on the accelerator so he could get the hell outta there. The jeep moved about an inch and then there was a terrible screeching of tyres against the asphalt as the engine over revved itself, straining to push forward.

His brain was taken over by panic and Stiles didn’t understand how this could possibly be happening. He had a sudden urge to lock all of the doors, but it was unlikely that that would prevent the werewolf. Derek picked up on the first ring, but Stiles didn’t even notice, turning slowly to look at the hulking, great mass of wolf that had seized the back of his car.

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice came out muffled beneath his sweaty grip.

He was utterly speechless, staring down the gigantic tonne of werewolf casually holding up the end of his jeep like it was a toy truck. He was so fucking screwed. And even if he hadn’t been totally absorbed by his own life or death situation, he probably still wouldn’t have been able to answer.

This was bad. Bad, very, very bad.

And then the werewolf howled, not in an I’m-the-alpha-and-a-badass kind of way but an I’m-hungry-and-this-looks-like-a-pretty-tasty-snack-wrapped-up-in-metal kind of howl. It was as if the jeep was a cereal box with a prize hidden inside and Stiles was the prize.

God, and even the most sensible kids ate them. He was so dead.

The werewolf opened its jaws in a terrifying display of poor dental hygiene and Stiles swore, scrambling away from sudden vision of horror. The jeep’s engine stalled and suddenly the freaking werewolf vanished.