Broken Kiss (a Teen Wolf story)

Part 2

        Peter never should have gone to the girl, and he knew it. Fragile as she was, Lydia wasn’t safe for him. She was too smart, too insistent, too damn passionate. His claws sprang from his hands and Peter flexed then curled his hands, trying to force them to retract as he walked the main street of Beacon Hills. High school kids burst out of an ice cream shop, the boys posturing, playing at being tough. The girls giggled, urging them on.

            Lydia wasn’t like that, hadn’t been like that before her transformation, though she’d tried to play the part. He barely remembered biting her, his blood had been boiling for so long. For years, he’d lived on a diet of vengeance and pain. Then her sweet blood had crossed her tongue, snapping him awake, but by then it was too late to stop.

            He wanted her, but for one floating moment, he wondered what it would be like to win her. Better to eliminate thoughts like that. There was nothing to gain by winning her. She had money, but not enough to matter to him. And her power was too unstable to wager on. Without money or power, she was useless to him. A distraction, nothing more.

            He had to get the girl out of his mind.

            “Mr. Hale?” a man asked.

            His lip curled, but Peter smoothed his expression before he turned. He needn’t have bothered. It wasn’t anyone important. The deputy. Barely more than a pup, but with that same earnestness that Sheriff Stilinski possessed. Was there anything more despicable than an earnest man?

            “My name is Jordan Parrish,” the human went on when Peter didn’t answer. “I’m a deputy with the Beacon Hills sheriff’s department.”

            No, wait. He wasn’t human, not anymore. There was something off in his scent, something earthy but sharp.

            Peter raised his chin. “Did I forget to pay a parking ticket, Deputy?”

            “No.” Color rose in the kid’s cheeks. Earnest, humble. He’d better not start talking about God and redemption or Peter would have to gut him on the spot and that – he sighed – would result in unpleasant things like cleaning blood from his sweater and arguing with Derek.

            And Lydia wouldn’t like it.

            It might bring her though, summon her in one of those wide-eyed fits where she connected with something larger and more mysterious than the moon.

            “I wanted to talk to you,” Parrish said. “Ask you some questions.”

            Peter stiffened. “Are these questions going to involve handcuffs and alibis?”

            “No.” Parrish smiled, his shoulders dropping a little. He took a step closer, close enough that Peter could grab him around the throat, and said quietly, “I was hoping to talk to you about creatures. About…about what I might be.”

            Peter rolled his eyes. Parrish was too honest for a worthwhile exchange of favors, and he was pro-Scott McCall. Neither of these characteristics were commendable. “You might be taking too long of a break from your patrol. You might be confused. It’s okay, kid. I’m a little confused too these days. But I can’t help you.”

            “Oh.” Parrish’s eyes hardened, and something rolled through them. Not a wolf. No, he wasn’t that. It was something older, more constant. He straightened, his thumbs hooking into his gun belt as he accepted the answer. “Lydia thought you might know. She said you had…extensive experience. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

            And there it was, the bell that tolled through his mind, shoving away all other thoughts, every time he thought of her. His canines ached, wanting to break free. Peter glanced around, catching his reflection in a storefront window. No light from his eyes, not yet. But he was close. As always, he’d found himself watching her – watching over her. But this time he’d shown himself. And she’d reacted. Oh, how she’d reacted. Her scent remained on his clothes, his hands. Pleasant, teasing. But she’d also given her attention to this…whatever he was.

             “You walked through fire,” Peter said lightly, his eyes half-lidding, “maybe you’re a salamander.”

            The kid’s eyebrows shot up. “A lizard?”

            Peter shrugged. “Better not show that form to Lydia. She had a bad experience with the last lizard boy that crawled through town.”

            He turned and walked away, claws digging into his palm. Ignoring her wasn’t an option. The town was too small. There were too many reminders. There was one way to get the red-haired temptress out of his head, to eliminate the distraction, and that was by claiming her and getting her out of his system. He smiled sharply. It was a necessary chore, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy it.