Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I love you as one loves certain obscure things,   

secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

            I took a deep breath, inhaling through my nose and letting it out slowly. Then I pasted a smile on my face and pulled open the door to the Beacon Hills Police Station.

            “Hi. I’m Eden Morgan. Need to see the sheriff. Is he in?”

            The young deputy lifted his head. “He’s, uh, working on some—”

            “It’s fine. Thank you,” I called, waving at the deputy and giving three sharp raps against the sheriff’s glass before sticking my head into the office. “Knock knock.”

            “Sorry, Sheriff,” said the deputy from behind me. “I told her you were busy.”

            “Don’t worry about it, Parrish,” the sheriff said, dropping his pen on his desk and standing. He smiled and came around the front, leaning against the edge. “I learned a long time ago that there’s always time to talk to a pretty lady.”

            I grinned, and Parrish closed the door.

            “It’s good to see you, sweetheart.” He crossed his arms easily, face pleasant. “You in town long?”

            “Actually,” I said slowly, “I took a position here with the high school. You’re looking at the new BHHS Visual Arts teacher.” I held my arms out at my sides and gave jazz hands. “Ta da!”

            “Really?” His eyes lit with excitement, making the deep sea-blue a few shades lighter. “That’s great.”

            “Yep. I go in Monday for professional development, then classes start Tuesday.”

            “Yeah, I know. I have a countdown clock. Stiles has been climbing the walls, driving me nuts.” He grinned. “Where you staying?”

            “I’ve been staying at the motel on Grissom Street, but I haven’t found a decent place to rent yet. Still looking. I figured I’d—”

            “There’s room at the house, you know.”

            I grimaced. “I mean, I wouldn’t want it to be weird, like with Stiles...”

            “Eden, it’s Stiles. The kid is the definition of weird.”

            “Yeah, but he’s good weird.” I chewed my lip. “You sure it’d be okay? I promise it’ll only be a couple weeks.”

            “Of course I’m sure.” He straightened, pulling me to him and giving a tight squeeze. “I’m glad you’re here, honey.”

            “Me too, Dad.” I closed my eyes and smiled. “Me too.”

--

            It’d taken approximately three hours to get ready for my first day as a Beacon Hills High employee because for a woman casually approaching thirty, I had an abnormally high volume of ripped jeans.  I stared at myself in the dingy motel mirror, checking makeup: just enough to add color to my cheeks and a dab of mascara to highlight my lashes. I leaned close and examined my eyes. They matched my father’s shade, the only physical trait I’d gotten from him. Everything else was gifted from my mom, from the wheat-colored hair that had a proclivity to frizz when the humidity got too high, to the plump curves that only accentuated my short stature. I’d gotten most of my personality from Claire, too. Like her, I was easy-going—hence the use of her first name since I’d been about fifteen—and slow to anger.

Most of the time, anyway. I had moments where my mouth overran my brain, but they were few and far between.

My parents had been high school sweethearts and I, as my mom loved to remind me, had been a delightfully unplanned keepsake of first love. First loves seldom last, though, and my dad had enlisted when he’d graduated. I was born a few months later, and even though he’d been adamant about marrying my mom in order to “do the right thing,” they’d come to a mutual understanding and co-parented splendidly. Dad had eventually married Claudia, who’d been fairly accepting of the whole lovechild thing. Stiles had come along later, and I had been old enough to enjoy playing the role of big sister whenever I’d gotten the chance.

I looked at my reflection and groaned. I still hadn’t gotten around to taking my stuff to my dad’s house, partly out of laziness and partly because I didn’t feel right about staying there. What if something happened to them because of me? What if they got hurt? What if I hurt them?

My eyes flashed green-gold and I closed them, breathing deep to slow my racing heartbeat. When I opened them again, they were back to normal, vertical pupils back to ordinary spheres, and I could almost convince myself that I’d imagined the whole thing.

Almost.

--

            It was late, and I lightly dropped my head to my desk. I’d gotten all preparations for the next week out of the way and had even managed to read the employee handbook cover to cover. I was across the hall from the new English teacher, a bright-eyed young woman who seemed nice enough, though maybe a little desperate to be liked. Not that I could blame her. Beacon High had a pretty high turnover rate where teachers were concerned.

I stood and stretched, popping my back in a couple of places. I looked out the window and sighed—everything outside was quiet and dimly lit. “Dammit.” I pulled out my phone and checked the time. 9:38 p.m. Dialing my dad’s number as I grabbed up my purse, I headed toward the parking lot. “Hey, Dad. Listen, about that room...”

            “It’s all set. I had Stiles clean his crap out of it and vacuum. All set.”

            I sighed and forced a pleasant tone. “Great. I’m gonna go pick up my stuff from the motel, then.”

            “You seen your brother? He can help—”

 “It’s fine, dad. I can get it.” I saw Stiles’s jeep in the parking lot and frowned. What was he doing here this time of night? Before the school year even started?

“All right. I’m on duty tonight, but I’ll leave a key in the mailbox in case Stiles is out.”

            “Okay. Love you, Dad.” I hung up and dropped my phone in my purse, then adjusted the strap and headed for my half-brother’s jeep.  “Hey,” I called, lifting a hand as Stiles caught sight of me and scrambled from the driver’s seat.

            “Hey. Hey! What—what’re you doing? Here? At night? You should be home.”

            I cut my eyes to movement at the edge of the woods. “Was that Scott? What are you guys doing?” I took in his fidgeting and sighed. “Ah, crap, you aren’t vandalizing something, are you?”

            He squinted. “What? Seriously, vandalism?”

            “Well, what’re you two doing here?” I looked back toward the tree line. “Why the hell is he traipsing around in the woods at night?”

            Stiles gave a frustrated groan. “He’s buying weed.”

            I snorted. “You’re full of shit.” I reached out, lightning fast, and grabbed his hand, catching his pinkie finger in a hold I’d used to get him to behave since he was eight. “Spill it, Slinky!” I said, using his childhood nickname.

            “Ow! Ow! Fine!” He shook out his hand when I released him. “Dammit. You’re like a one-woman Spanish Inquisition. And don’t call me that!” He huffed a breath. “We’re meeting a friend who doesn’t really like…people.”

            I examined him closely, but his brown eyes were honest. “Fair enough. I guess I’ll see you at home, then?”

            He raised his eyebrows. “Guess so.”

            “Don’t stay out too late. And tell Scott he shouldn’t go into the woods at night. There’re bears and stuff.”    

Stiles opened his mouth to reply, but a gruff howl from the woods cut him off. I whirled toward the sound. “What was that?”

“You need to go,” Stiles said, taking me by the shoulders and nudging me toward my car. “No, listen to me,” he said when I tried to protest. “Go. Now. Go!”

Scott came bursting from the tree line like something was hot on his heels. “Stiles, start the car! Start the car!”

“Shit!” Stiles changed direction, shoving me toward the jeep. “In, in, in! Get in!” He all but stuffed me into the tiny backseat and slid behind the wheel, cranking the engine. He threw it in reverse and headed for Scott.

“What’re you doing? You’re going to run him over!”

“Move your head!” Stiles coasted to a stop and the other boy jumped in as he shifted gears.

Scott stuck his head out the window, looking frantically toward the trees. “Go, Stiles!”

            “Dude, it’s a standard. I can’t just slam on the gas.” The jeep accelerated and Stiles wheeled out of the parking lot.

            I jumped as the roar sounded again, but this time it was distant. “Which one of you is going to tell me what’s going on here?” I asked. “What was that sound? It sounded…”

“Big? Bad?” Stiles offered. “Wolfish?” he added under his breath.

“Stiles, take me back to my car.” I didn’t miss the way Stiles met Scott’s eyes, or the slight nod the other kid gave.

“It’s probably long gone by now,” Scott said quietly. “It’s okay.”

“What’s gone?” I asked. “Boys, what is going on?”

Stiles pulled over and made a U-turn. “Don’t worry about it. It’s a…a lacrosse thing.”

I gawked. “A lacrosse thing?” I reached between the seats and smacked him on the shoulder, then whacked Scott for good measure, like they might have still been the rowdy children I used to babysit. “You—tell me—what’s going on—right—now!”

“Okay! It was a werewolf!” Scott said, ducking away from my swatting hand.

“Dude, really? You can’t just tell her—I don’t know why I bother,” Stiles muttered, shaking his head.

“Dude, she was hitting me!”

“And you just—blugh,” Stiles said, gesturing near his mouth. “Just word puke. That’s what you did there.” He gave a weary sigh. “I mean why don’t we just take out a billboard that says Beacon Hills: Nightmare Headquarters.”

I stared at them, waiting for teasing grins, but they were serious. “The fuck?”

“Look,” Stiles said. “I’ll ride with you to the motel and fill you in, and Scott can drive the jeep. Okay? I’ll help you get your stuff.” He met my eyes in the rearview and smiled. “It’ll be fine.”

I nodded, wondering what the hell was going on in quiet little Beacon Hills.

--

            “So.” Stiles drummed his fingers on the dashboard and waited for me to speak.

            “Tell me what I’m supposed to say here, man.” My knuckles were white on the steering wheel and I actually preferred to think that my brother was crazy, but I knew things now. Last year, I might’ve laughed it off or talked to both boys about delusions and make-believe, but a lot had happened to open my eyes.

“Ideally, you’d say you forgot what we were talking about and that you have no recollection of seeing Scott come out of the woods.” He turned to look at me in the low light. “No?”

“Werewolves.” I glanced at him and he nodded. “In Beacon Hills.”

“Well, I mean, I’m sure they’re other places too. We just have a…ya know…higher population per capita…” He fidgeted with the back of his neck. “That was an Omega, though. Probably a drifter. Not really happy with Scott looking him up, obviously.”

“So assuming I believe you and don’t think you’re completely insane,” I said, pausing to turn the car into the motel parking lot, “why in god’s name would you guys be out looking for it?”

“To assess the threat to—” He grimaced. “Ok, how much do you want to know?”

My brows rose. “How much is there? Tell me everything.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “From the top: sophomore year Dad got a call about a dead body and me and Scott went to try to find it. Dad busted me and I left Scott in the woods and he got bit by a wolf that turned out to be Derek Hale’s comatose uncle.”

“Hale? I know that name. There was a fi—”

“A fire. Yeah, it was a whole thing. Anyway, Allison Argent—Scott’s ex-girlfriend—her family are hunters and they tried to kill Scott and Derek pretty much all the time up until a few months ago, which took a toll on the dating scene.”

I stared at him. “Scott’s a werewolf?” He nodded. “And the Hale guy?”

“Derek. And Peter, his uncle. Well, he was. Then he died and Derek took over as alpha, but now Peter’s alive again somehow thanks to Lydia, but he’s just a regular werewolf.”

I nodded slowly. “And Scott’s girlfriend…”

“Ex,” he corrected. “Monster hunters. Technically ‘werewolf hunters’,” he said with air-quotes, “but they pretty much killed anything not human. It’s been a pretty messed-up year,” he added, nodding. “Oh, and Lydia’s…maybe psychic. Oh, and, uh, her ex turned into a rage-lizard with paralyzing venom, but he moved to London after Derek killed him and he came back as a werewolf, so...”

I took a few precious quiet seconds and blinked. “What the shit? Are you screwing with me right now?”

He shook his head.

I rubbed my eyes. “Ok. Um, does Dad know any of this?”

“Absolutely not,” he hastily assured me. “I’ve been thinking about telling him because the supernatural sorta bleeds over into his job, like with cases and stuff, but…I dunno. I just haven’t found the right time. Plus he’d think I was nuts. But Scott’s mom knows.” He chewed the inside of his cheek and looked at me, opened his door and followed me to my room when I exited the car. “It gets really damn hard lying to people about why we’re always sneaking around doing stuff.” He plopped down on the double bed and turned on the TV. “Oh, uh, also? School tends to be ground-zero for all the supernatural stuff, so you might want to avoid keeping late hours you did like tonight. Especially when class starts.”

“Awesome. Thanks for that.” I tossed a duffle bag at him. “Shut up and start packing.”

--

I had halfway unpacked and had taken a shower before bed, but as I stared at my reflection in the little mirror in my dad’s guest room, I found I wasn’t ready to go to sleep. I watched my eyes, but they remained their natural color. Shaking my head and muttering to myself, I went down the hall to retrieve an extra pillow. When I got back to the bedroom and closed the door, a hand closed over my mouth.

 “Shh, shh…it’s okay,” Scott whispered as I struggled. He winced when my elbow caught him in the ribs. “Eden, don’t scream.” He released me and I spun away, taking a step back.

“What—how the hell did you get in here?” His cologne was strong in my nose. No, not cologne. I could smell him. And he smelled like…dirt and trees?

He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I just want to talk.”

“I’d be a lot more inclined to talk to you if you hadn’t scared the crap out of me, you absolute little creep! Now get out!”

Scott’s gaze darted to a series of puckered scars that decorated the top of my left breast, barely visible from beneath the neckline of my tank top. He brushed his fingertips over the scars, not seeming to notice he was essentially touching my boob, then lifted his surprised gaze to mine. “What are you, Ede?” he asked. “I could smell—”  

Power surged through me at his touch and I shoved him away, sending him careening into the desk across the room. “None of your business!”

The bedroom door burst open and Stiles appeared, baseball bat at the ready. He glanced at Scott, but it wasn’t until he looked at me that he fumbled the bat. “What the—”

I threw everything I could get my hands on—books, shoes, picture frames. “Get out!” I shouted, launching another projectile. “Both of you! Now!”

“Eden, relax,” Stiles said. “Calm down.” He glanced at Scott and tilted his head toward the hallway. Scott nodded and skirted the mess, attempted to give me an apologetic smile. It looked more like a grimace, but at least he tried.

Stiles was still looking at me like I was a stranger, but he lowered the bat and approached slowly, like one might do a frightened animal. “What happened?”

I knew what he was asking, had no doubt that my eyes had changed. I tasted blood on my tongue where my teeth had sharpened and caught the inside of my lip. But I refused to acknowledge it. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Your eyes are glowing,” Stiles said. “So unless you picked up some fun new parlor tricks while you lived in Reno, something else is going on with you.”

I huffed out a breath and began picking up the mess I’d made. Stiles crossed his arms over his skinny chest and leaned against the desk. I glared at him. “What?”

“I’m just waiting for you to tell me what’s going on,” he said.

“Nothing!”

Stiles threw his arms out, indicating the destroyed bedroom. “I dropped the bomb of bombs on you earlier tonight and you didn’t even flinch! Not to mention you just tossed a werewolf like a friggin’ frisbee. Normal people don’t do that.”

My shoulders slumped and I shook my head. “Just…please go back to bed. You have practice in the morning, and I have to work.”

He hesitated, then slowly moved toward the door. “You should trust me enough to tell me what the hell’s going on with you. Believe me, I can probably help. I’m not going to let it go.”

“I didn’t expect you would,” I muttered. “But later, Stiles. Please…not tonight.”

He wasn’t happy, but he left and went to his room, presumably with Scott in tow.

I collapsed onto my bed and buried my face in the pillow. I knew I was being unreasonable, but Stiles was a kid. He shouldn’t have to shoulder the shit I’d be putting on him if he knew the truth. I’d figure it out myself. Granted, I hadn’t expected a werewolf outbreak to be waiting for me when I’d returned to Beacon Hills, but that didn’t have anything to do with me. For now, I was safe. Maybe.

Chapter Text

I’d barely crawled out of bed before Stiles was bombarding me with questions, so rather than keep putting it off, I spilled my guts over coffee and Cocoa Pebbles. He took it all in stride, which clearly says a lot about what’s been going on in his life lately. As we parted ways in the driveway, taking our own vehicles to school, he swore he’d get their little gang on it and figure out what to do.

Turns out being distracted by worries over my impending creature feature while operating an old-school guillotine paper cutter is not conducive to a productive work day. When the principal saw the amount of blood pouring from the side of my hand, he’d ordered me to the hospital.

This new start was sucking so far. For all my bluster, I was in so over my head I was drowning.

After my attack, I’d gone to every charlatan between Reno and Denver, but eventually I’d found someone real, a druid who’d charged an exorbitant amount of money for a spell that had temporarily suppressed my curse.

But the spell was gone, and I could feel my power building, and with my brother being at the core of a group of supernatural creatures being hunted and challenged by other supernatural creatures, it wouldn’t take long until I was altogether crazy. Or worse, a monster that threatened everyone I cared about.

I groaned and got out of the car. I went in through the ER. “Hi,” I said to the nurse on duty. “Could you page Melissa McCall for me?”

While I waited, I scanned each face, trying to be in control of my situation. Lack of situational awareness is what had gotten me into this mess to begin with.

“Can I help—Eden? Is that you?”

I smiled. “Hi, Mrs. McCall.”

Melissa laughed. “Please don’t call me that. Anyone over the age of twenty gets to call me Melissa.” She took a look at my hand and frowned. “What happened?”

“Paper cutter,” I said.

“Come on,” Melissa said, waving me forward. “We’ll get you to a cubicle.” She led me to a quiet, empty room, then went to work cleaning the wound.

“Stiles gave me the Cliff’s Notes version of things that’s been going on,” I said.

Melissa grunted. “Yeah, it’s been an interesting time.”

“Um, when you found out…about Scott…were you scared of him?” I winced as she swabbed the cut.

Melissa sighed. “I was. It was hard to process, really. And then, suddenly, it wasn’t. Because I saw how brave he’d become, how strong and…well, not mature, but…” She shook her head and opened a tube of medical glue. “Different. But not different at the same time. I didn’t know about it for quite some time after he’d been turned, so I don’t know exactly how hard it was—is—for him. But he uses it to be the best version of himself. And his friends are just as fierce,” she said. “Stiles isn’t a werewolf or a werewolf hunter, but he’s with them every step of the way. You should be proud of him.”

“I’m always proud of him.”

“So…not that it’s any of my business, but are you going to tell me what happened to you? Given the amount of blood on your clothes, this cut should be twice the size it is, which means you’re already healing.”

I sighed. “I don’t want to put the boys and their friends in danger, Melissa. I can figure it out myself.”

“Oh, because that’s worked out so well for you so far?” she asked wryly, arching a brow. “Out with it.”

I focused my attention on her actions as she took care of my hand. “I was living in Reno, working at a little private school. I met a guy at a coffee shop, and he was…perfect. Beautiful and nice and charming. Basically sex on legs, ya know?”

“I have vague memories of the type,” she said with a smile. “What happened?”

“We went to fool around, and I found out he wasn’t as beautiful and nice as I’d thought. Or as human.”

Melissa’s eyes swam with sympathy. “Oh, honey.”

“It wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been,” I said. “He bit me, took a pretty good chunk out of my skin.” My hand went to the old wound, fingertips playing over the scars left by his dagger-like teeth. “I passed out, and when I woke up, he was gone. It took months before I even found out what he was. I just knew he wasn’t human, and…I didn’t think I was anymore, either.”

“What was he?”

“Incubus,” I said. The word hung in my throat, and I cleared it. “Technically, something called a graw-shee? I found this witch in Denver who explained it all. Apparently incubi and succubi are some form of this Ghrasidhe thing. Anyway, she did a suppression spell. The bite, i-it’s like a virus, and the spell works like antibiotics. Slows it down, keeps it under control for the most part. Seemed to work pretty good for a few months. But I tried to call her a couple weeks ago, and apparently another client wasn’t as pleased with services rendered, because her roommate said somebody’d killed her and burned her shop to the ground.”

“So you decided to come back to Beacon Hills?”

I nodded. “There’s a guy I want to reach out to—a contact of the witch in Denver. I about freaked when I learned he lived here.” I was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t think I can stay long, Melissa,” I whispered, voice breaking. “This isn’t once-a-month werewolf stuff. It’s constant. And I can feel it growing, getting stronger. I think…I think other creatures exacerbate it or something.” I wiped at a stray tear. “I can’t put Stiles in that kind of danger, not when he’s already doing such a good job of doing it himself. And my dad is clueless about everything, so he’s especially vulnerable. When it blows, I don’t know what I’ll do to stop it. I’ll become a monster, just like in my nightmares and—” I broke off, struggling for breath as tears streamed down my face.

Well versed in the signs of panic attacks, Melissa put a hand on the back of my head and urged me to lean over. “Deep breaths, honey,” she soothed, voice soft. “You’re okay. Shh.” Her cell phone chirped and she rubbed slow circles on my back as she checked a text. “It’s Scott. He said help’s on the way.” She typed a response, then sat me up and cupped my face. “You’re going to be fine, Eden. You aren’t alone.” She held out a hand. “Come on.”

I wiped my cheeks and pulled myself together, then followed Melissa out into the hall. I stopped short as we rounded the corner and spied Scott and Stiles speaking close together in hushed tones, and I knew that I was the topic of conversation. They stopped talking as we approached.

“She’ll be fine,” Melissa said when Stiles rushed over.

He gripped my arms with bony fingers, giving me a little shake. “You scared the hell out of me.”

I scoffed and eased out of his hold. “It was barely a scratch.”

He passed me maroon and white button-up with the high school logo embroidered on it. “Yeah, you might want to change out of your excessively bloody shirt before you try to convince anyone of that,” he said.

“Did you steal this from the counselor’s office?” I asked.

“I like to think of it as extended borrowing.” He shrugged. “Anyway, we have a plan.”

My eyes widened. “Really? That was fast. Let’s hear it.”

“If you can turn,” Stiles said, “and get that first surge of power out of the way, then it’ll be easier to learn to control. So, you’ll do that, then work on learning to control your stuff.”

I blinked slowly. “You want me to turn? Are you crazy?”

“After Peter bit me,” Scott said, “my first full moon was the hardest. After that, I had a lot more control.”

“Except for when he and Allison first broke up, but…that’s probably unrelated,” Stiles added.

“Let me get this straight. You want to let the virus mature and change me, and then…what? Hope I don’t kill anyone?”

Stiles canted his head. “Well, when you put it like that it sounds like a terrible plan.”

“It is a terrible plan! Let me find and talk to the druid. Maybe he can spell me.”

“You can’t suppress it forever,” Stiles said. “The longer you try, the more unstable and dangerous it becomes. Whatever it is, it’s part of you now. You have to let it out and learn to control it.”

I swallowed and glanced at my brother. “What if I hurt somebody?” I whispered, wrapping my arms around my middle.

“We won’t let that happen,” he promised. His big brown eyes locked on me, worry and fear shining bright. “You have to—I can’t…” He chewed his cheek and then tried again, eyes brimming with tears. “I can’t lose you. I can’t lose any more people.”

My poor baby brother. He’d always been anxious, always felt loss deeply.

Melissa leaned in. “If this is what you’re going with, then she needs to be somewhere safe. For all of you. At least until you can see how she’s affected when she changes.”

I scoffed a laugh and looked at the boys. “Don’t suppose you have any big military-grade cages lying around, huh?” When they shared a glance, I dropped my arms. “Seriously?”

Chapter Text

“Well, we didn’t know you’d have the place booby trapped, did we?”

I grunted at Stiles’s voice, slowly opening my eyes and instantly regretting it. Bright florescent lights flooded the little room I was in, and I lifted a hand to my forehead. I opened my eyes to slits and looked around. Not a little room. A little cell.

“The fuck’m I in jail for?” I croaked, confused. My throat was dry, and I coughed.

“Hey, Ede,” Stiles said soothingly. “Don’t worry. Just a run-in with a standard incapacitating agent.” I got the impression that particular statement was pointed at someone else, based on the wry tone he used.

Scott hurried to reassure me. “You’ll be fine.”

I finally dragged myself up into a sitting position, and after taking a few deep breaths to try to get the room to stop spinning, I was able to look through the bars at the trio standing outside. The third man had his back to me. His light brown hair was flecked with silver, although his jeans fit strong thighs and a snug gray thermal highlighted lean, rounded deltoids and decent biceps.

“You would have known about the security measures,” the man said, “if you had bothered calling me instead of trying to break in.”

Oh, his voice. His voice was…really nice. The deep timbre felt like a caress, vibrating softly over my skin. To be honest, I wish I’d stayed asleep. My body itched with a thousand tiny stings, and it was really friggin’ hot in here.

“Eden, this is Chris Argent,” Stiles said, pointing at the man. “Argent, my sister, Eden.”

“Ghrasidhe,” the man sneered. He finally turned to face me and—

Oh. My. God.

I knew this guy. Well, not knew him, knew him, but I’d seen him before at school. And since then, for whatever reason, every sexy succubus dream I had, this fucking guy was in it. His eyes, so light blue they almost look clear. Impossible to forget. No one seemed to notice the way I silently goggled.

“Your powers have been suppressed for months,” Argent said. “Since you haven’t been spelled recently, everything is going to manifest soon. Turned female Ghrasidhe are most dangerous while their energies are unpredictable, during their first few seasons.”

That jerked my attention from the slow perusal I’d been giving him and I frowned. “Seasons?”

“Estrus,” he said. At my questioning look, he explained, “When they go in heat.”

I sputtered and scrambled from the cot, wrapping my hands around the cold steel bars as I floundered. “Wait! Did you just say I’m going in heat? Like a damn basset hound?”

Argent sighed as if he, too, was greatly put out by my quick recovery from his security knock-out gas. “Do you know anything about your kind?”

“It’s been ‘my kind’ for 337 days, mister. Think I’d be locked in your freakin’ weirdo basement jail if I knew any of this stuff?” I countered.

Stiles covered his snorted laugh as a cough.

Argent’s icy stare stayed on me. “Sensual fae—Ghradsidhe—are of the Unseelie Court. Most people throw them under the umbrella of incubi and succubi. They sustain themselves on a two-fold feeding process. One part is sex. They create an energy shield that envelopes their prey, making them more susceptible to their erotic influence. When a female Ghrasidhe climaxes—”

Stiles grimaced and shook his head. “Gah. No. That’s…my sister…”

Argent cut him a look that shut him up and made him take a step away. Looking back at me, he continued. “When that happens, her power surges and she drains the life force from her partner. That part isn’t always fatal, but it also doesn’t sustain the fae for long, so then she gorges herself on the blood of her partner using two sets of fangs.” He pointed toward my mouth.

I ran my tongue over my teeth. They were slightly longer, but not enough to warrant the label of fangs. Not yet. “I—I wouldn’t do that. I don’t want to do that to anyone.”

“You would if you’d put this off any longer,” he said simply.

“Okay,” I sighed. “Well, I don’t want that to happen.” I clapped my hands together sharply and pumped my arms in mock enthusiasm. “Let’s do it. Give me your blood and let’s bang it out.”

Stiles and Scott looked gobsmacked, but my brother recovered quickly. “God, Eden, he’s not going to have sex with you!”

In that way only siblings can, Stiles knocked my anxiety out of orbit and replaced it with shocked annoyance. “Excuse me? And just why wouldn’t he?”

“Because the man is a badass werewolf hunter and a respected businessman, ya know? And he’s a parent! And you’re—”

I narrowed my eyes. “I’m what?”

Stiles’s outrage floundered a little under my obvious ire. “You’re not…a parent?”

“I’m not having sex with anyone,” Argent snapped, effectively ending the conversation. He checked his watch, then grabbed the boys each by a shoulder and turned them around, marching toward the stairs. “You two—out. Go home.”

“We’ve got, um…stuff,” Scott hedged.

“I don’t want to know,” Argent said curtly. “Just leave. Now.”

I watched as they started up the stairs. “Love you, kid.”

Stiles looked over at me. “Love you, too.” He leaned closer to Argent. “You aren’t going to hurt her, right?”

Uh, what? “You mean idiots brought me here not knowing if he was going to monster-murder me?”

Argent glanced back at me, a smirk playing on his lips. “She’ll be fine.”

---

I was burning up. I kicked the blankets off and rolled, panting for breath. The cool night air hit my arms and I shivered, then quickly snapped the buttons on my sweat-stained shirt and tossed the garment away. I clawed at my clothes, trying to bare more of my body to cool my skin. The material on the hard cot was abrasive. I tossed and turned, whimpering. My blood hummed and I took a deep breath, inhaling the smells of the night.

I was hungry, hungrier than I’d ever been. And I wanted to bathe in all the scents, musky and woodsy, like a midnight stroll through the forest. I hummed low in my throat and turned my eyes toward the man beyond the bars. I sat up and looked him in the eye, my breath coming in quiet puffs through parted lips. He smelled delicious, and each slow stride he made toward me made his muscles move in the most intriguing way.

“Oopsie. Lost my shirt,” I said, biting my lip. Two sharp fangs on either side of my mouth broke the skin. I quickly licked away the drop of blood that welled, noting with delight how Argent’s eyes tracked the movement.

“You’re going to have to fight it harder than that, Ms. Morgan,” he said. His voice was low, his breaths even. Unbothered. He unlocked the cell and stepped inside, closing the door firmly behind him. The electronic lock snapped back into place.

“You just going to stand there?” My smile turned predatory as my gaze roved over him. I stretched, arching my back and groaning suggestively as my muscles loosened. “Oo, do you like to watch, Mr. Argent?” As my hands slowly stroked down my body, I felt as if I were watching someone else move my limbs. I stood and walked toward him, eyes locked, seductive smile in place. In the back of my mind, I understood what was happening wasn’t normal for me, but his scent…

I closed the distance between us and buried my face against his throat, breathing him deep while he remained still as stone. A purr vibrated up my throat. The gnawing hunger grew stronger. “Mmm. I could just eat you up.”

He reached out and gripped my upper arms, shoving me away. I flew back with a hiss and landed, catlike, in a crouch next to the bed.

“If you don’t have any stronger will than that, you should do your family a favor and let me put you down,” he said. With cool detachment, he lifted his hand and dug the tip of a knife into his palm. Blood dripped onto the floor. My nostrils flared as I watched each crimson drop roll from his skin, and I licked my lips in anticipation.

His deep voice lanced me, leaving raw heat in its wake. “Come here.”

I went to him quickly, eyes never leaving the blood on his arm.

“Look at me. At me,” he demanded, and I raised my gaze. “If you don’t fight, if you don’t control yourself, one of us will die. Do you understand?” When I was silent, eyes straying to the blood, he gripped my chin firmly between calloused fingers and jerked my attention back to him. “Do. You. Understand?”

 “I understand!” I gulped, eyes wide. I wanted him, his blood. Wanted to sink my fangs in and drain him dry. But he was right, I was stronger than that.

Argent lifted his palm and I pressed my lips to the cut. The sound of his quiet, pained grunt hit me like an explosion. Part of me wanted to recoil as warm blood filled my mouth, but another part—this new, savage part—wanted to feed from this source for as long as it would hold out. After a few pulls from his wound, the hunger inside dulled enough that it didn’t hurt anymore.

My thoughts cleared a bit and I pulled away from him. I looked at him through my lashes, and his eyes met mine with a look of intense focus as he wrapped a bandana around his hand. I swallowed and brought my fingers to my lips, wiping away a trickle of blood that leaked from the corner.

I dropped my gaze to his mouth, and I wondered if his lips tasted as good as his blood did. Just like in my dreams, I cupped his face and kissed him, tongue sweeping inside. He stiffened for the briefest second, pulling back slightly, but I tightened my hold. Energy sizzled between us, and I felt the creature in me coil and flex. Argent’s hands slid up my sides, making me shudder. Everywhere he touched my bare skin felt alive, erupting into gooseflesh at the merest trace of his fingers.

Hunger sprung anew, gnawing and burning my gut as my arousal grew. I whispered his name, caught his earlobe between my teeth and gave a none-too-gentle nip. I clawed at his clothes, managed to snake my hands beneath his henley.

He captured my wrists, pulling my hands away from him. He spun me so that my back was firmly against his chest and drew me backward, sitting down on the bed and taking me with him. My hips arched against the hardness of his body, and I grunted in frustration.

“Emotions are what make you human,” he rasped against my ear. He released one of my hands and wrapped an arm snugly around my torso. His forearm pressed against the underside of my breasts, and I gasped at the contact, digging my little black claws into his arm. He continued coaching, his voice quiet and deep. “Everything you are, everything you feel, can be used to keep you in control when the Fae surfaces.” He turned his face into my neck, scraping his stubbled chin over my skin, jostling me to stillness when I tried to grind against him again. His grip tightened almost imperceptibly when he inhaled deeply. “Tell me how you feel, Eden.”

“Hungry,” I panted. My eyes were closed, head thrown back to rest against him. He guided the hand he still held in a firm grasp down my thigh and back up again, gently rubbing the soft cotton of my leggings beneath my own palm. Up, down. Up, down. On the next upward pass, he dragged my hand to the waistband and beneath.

“What else?” He pressed against my wrist, increasing the pressure against my aching core.

I cried out and arched my spine. My eyes clinched tight. “Desperate. Sexy.”

“And?”

“And strong. Pow-powerful,” I gasped brokenly.

“Use it. Use that strength. You are Ghrasidhe now—Unseelie, the darkest shadows of the Fae court—but you’re still you. Control your power.”

He removed his hand, and I stroked myself. My body flushed as my breath quickened. I threw my legs over his knees, and he obliged by spreading his wider. I locked my ankles around his calves as my body neared its peak.

He wasn’t unaffected, but he sat like a marble statue, never once trying to find his own pleasure. He tugged the makeshift bandage from his hand with his teeth, bringing fresh blood to my mouth. “Show me you’re in control,” he demanded.

I snatched his arm, sinking my teeth—my fangs—into his flesh and drinking. The second his blood touched my tongue I came, body clenching, thighs attempting to draw together but stopped by his strong legs. I pushed his arm away and turned my head, arching up to haul his lips to mine. I moaned into his mouth, paying no mind to the sharp sting of my fangs cutting my tongue and lips. He tightened his arm around my waist and caught my chin in a bruising grip, twinging his tongue with mine.

We were cocooned in a surge of warmth and light, glowing gold amid the bright white fluorescents. Argent went lax, laying back on the cot, and I went with him. I leaned back against his chest, taking deep, gasping breaths in effort to slow my racing heart. When I could breathe—when I could move without delicious tremors coursing through my body—I smiled.

“We did it.” My smile widened and I chuckled, rolling my head back so that I could look up at him.  His eyes were closed, impossibly long lashes fanned against pale cheeks. I jerked my head around further, rolling a bit onto my side. His cheeks were too pale. I gasped and scurried off him. “Argent?” I shoved at his legs, jostling him. “Chris!”

Any warmth I felt from the moment before dissipated into frigid panic. “Hey, help!” I screamed, jerking against the locked cell door. No one else was here, wherever here was. We were alone and--oh god, oh god. Oh my god, I’d killed him!

I struggled to calm myself and think. This guy was a seasoned hunter. According to the boys, he knew everything about everything. He wouldn’t have put himself in this position if he didn’t know this might happen, right? I walked back to the cot on shaking legs and put trembling fingers to the pulse point on his neck. His heartbeat, strong and steady, beat against my fingertips.

Not dead, just unconscious.

I ran a hand over my face, recoiling at the feel of dried blood. I’d completely forgotten about it, which said a lot about my current mental state. “Who forgets they’re covered in blood?” I muttered. “Crazy people, that’s who.”

I’d never imagined how I would feel after my curse or whatever had manifested itself because I’d always been too busy trying to find a way to keep it from happening. Now, though, the freezing horror I’d felt when I’d first discovered what the others wanted me to do had melted a little, and I really did feel better. Maybe I really was capable of handling it.

Since he was out cold and wouldn’t be able to yell at me, I patted the man’s pockets for a cell phone and called Stiles. “Hey, kiddo.”

“Oh my god,” he sighed. “Are you okay? Did it work?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it worked. I’m fine. Argent’s…well, unconscious, but—”

“What? Why? What happened?”

“Er…nothing. I mean, from what I gathered it was kind of like when there’s a power surge and a breaker gets flipped.”

“Good. Cool. Okay. Um—”

“No details, Stiles. Trust me. Just know I’m all right.”

“Absolutely. Got it. So, uh, what about Dad? I don’t think there’s a good way to break to someone that their only daughter is a sex fairy.”

“Please don’t call me a sex fairy, Stiles,” I sighed.

“Ok, right. You just stay there and do your Jedi training, okay? We’ve got the research end covered. Hey, interesting tidbit: succubi can do mind control. Some day you might be able to wipe people’s memories.”

“Really? That’s kind of neat. I mean, assuming I don’t kill the person while I’m draining their life force and their blood, I could at least make it so they aren’t plagued by horrible nightmares.” I chuckled, but Stiles was quiet. “Hey, you okay?”

He cleared his throat. “No, yeah, I’m fine. Listen, we’re still going through some books, so I’ll call you as soon as we turn up anything else.”

“Okay. Thanks, baby brother. Love you.”

“Yeah, love you, too.”

I hung up, slipped Argent’s phone back into his pocket, and checked his pulse again. I wanted to feel it flutter against my tongue—

I jerked back and retreated to the corner. I released a breath on a sob and sank to the floor, tucking my knees and resting my forehead on them.

It was going to be a long night.

Chapter Text

A warm hand gently shook my shoulder, and I blinked sleepily. A pair of startlingly blue eyes peered down at me. I felt my cheeks flush.

Chris Argent. Monster hunter.

Excellent kisser.

King of guided masturbation.

Fuck me sideways! I scrambled up, rubbing a hand over my face to chase away any lingering sleep. Flecks of dried blood still stuck to my chin, tight and itchy. Argent held out a bottle of water and a packet of wet wipes.

“Figured you might be thirsty,” he said. “Tried to let you sleep as long as I could, but your brother called—fourteen times.” He tentatively reached out a hand and tipped my chin. He flashed a light in each eye and then stared into them for a moment. “How do you feel?”

Tell me how you feel, Eden…

I looked away under his intense scrutiny and ran a shaking hand through my hair, exhaling slowly. “I feel fine. Better than I have in weeks, actually.” My eyes drifted back to him and I chewed my lip.  “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” he assured me. He held out a hand to help me to my feet.

“I’m so sorry. You’re sure you’re okay? Nobody said you’d pass out,” I babbled.

One side of his mouth curled in a crooked smile. “It was a shock to me, too.” Then, as if realizing I was half-dressed and my bra did little to cover my tits, he cleared his throat and moved toward the door. “There’s a clean shirt on the cot. Bathroom’s over there.” He pointed absently to the left.

“Mr. Argent—”

“Don’t—just call me Chris,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “After last night…Chris is fine.”

I tugged on the shirt he’d brought and smiled. Another henley, this time in dark green. It smelled like him, and I barely resisted burying my nose in the cloth and huffing the scent. “Thank you, Chris.”

He nodded once, cleared his throat again. “We should talk about what happened,” he said, wiping the smile from my face.

“Nope.” I shook my head and walked past him, tucking my hands into the long sleeves as I headed for the bathroom. “No, we definitely should not talk about what happened. Ever.”

“Eden—”

“No,” I repeated. I whined a little as he caught my wrist and pulled me to a stop. “I have to pee.”

He cocked his head and examined me again, an apprehensive gleam darkening his eyes. “You’ve never been with anyone, have you? Sexually.”

Apparently there was nothing off-limits for the supernatural in-crowd to talk about. I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. “No, I haven’t. Why?”

“I thought not, but I wasn’t sure.” He dropped my hand and shook his head. “That changes things. Wait here.” He hurried across the room and up the staircase in the corner.

Thankfully, I had time to relieve myself and get my appearance halfway back to normal. At least the crusty blood was gone. I racked my brain, trying to remember what I might’ve done when the succubus broke the surface that screamed ‘hey, I’m a virgin!’ to him. It’s not like I had cowered and clutched my pearls. Maybe it was my enthusiasm? I hadn’t cared that he was at least a decade older than me when I’d been squirming in his lap like a worm on a hook.

Ugh. God, that was embarrassing.

Chris returned a moment later. He held out a necklace, a shiny black triangle swinging gently from a silver chain. "This is Black Onyx. It's not flashy, but it's one of the most powerful allies you can have, especially as you begin to explore your abilities. Think of it as your personal anchor and your shield.”

I reached out, gently plucking the cool stone from his grasp. “I don’t really understand,” I said, brows furrowed. What did this have to do with my being a virgin?

“Its primary lesson is self-mastery,” Chris explained. “As you learn to draw and direct energy, you need a strong inner foundation. Onyx helps you build that. It will ground your energy, keeping you stable and focused, so your power doesn't scatter or get away from you. That will be your real test, considering.”

“Considering?” I prompted.

“Your condition coupled with your new fae nature means your power, those pulses of energy, will be off the charts.” He raked a hand through his hair, expelling a breath. “Onyx is a stone of willpower—it helps you resist temptation, maintain the difficult boundaries required of you now, as Fae. It’ll keep you—should keep you—from needing to feed.” His concentrated gaze met mine. “On anyone but me.”

My eyebrows shot skyward. “Uh, pardon me?”

“Ghrasidhe feed whenever they want on whomever they want, and most of the time they don’t kill their victims,” he said. “Some use the same person for years because the energy from pleasure and blood is what they’re after. But you…” He gave a small shake of his head. “Everything I know about that branch of the Unseelie, very little of it applies to you, Eden. You’re—well, you’re special.”

“What do you mean?” I frowned and reached out, taking a fistful of his sleeve. “Please tell me I’m not some one-of-a-kind freak of nature. Genie’s out of the bottle, man. Everybody said it was less dangerous for me to embrace this friggin’ thing and learn to control it than to—”

“It is,” he assured me. “Turned humans, regardless of species, generally follow the same course as those born into it. Like Scott. But you’ll start to feel the pull of your fae side more strongly, the need to feed. Your seasons will come on abruptly until your cycle balances out.”

I scrunched my nose. “You make it sound like menstruation.”

“Yes, well, in a manner of speaking, it is like that. And God only knows what other little quirks you’ll develop. The power in your blood is a lot more potent because you were turned without having been sexually experienced.” He tucked his fingers in the pockets of his jeans. “Fact is, you’re a rare commodity, honey. It’s practically unheard of, a virgin Ghrasidhe. Anybody finds out about you, you’ll have a hell of a price on your head.”

I buried my hands in my hair and walked toward the sofa against the wall, plopping onto the cushions with a huge sigh. Chris perched on the table near the sofa, crossing his arms across his chest. Black lines from a tattoo peeked from beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt, damn me for noticing.

“Vampires, obviously, would drain you because your blood would act like steroids and they’d be unstoppable. Witches, druids, and other kinds related to magicks would use it in spells and rituals because it would give them unlimited power. The use for werewolves is disputed, but we can assume it would be along the same lines. Same with anything else that’s out there.”

I covered my face with my hands and rested my elbows on my knees. “Fuck.” I really didn’t like the direction this was taking. I swallowed hard. “So what do I do?”

“You need to learn to keep your energies from spiraling out and affecting those around you anytime your emotions get carried away. I can show you how. I’ll teach you what I can. Strength, control,” Chris said, sitting next to me. “The same principle applies here as it did when I was training hunters. And during our time together, you won’t take from anyone except me. And only when I say.”

I turned to him, really taking him in. My blood buzzed with his closeness and my gut clenched at the implication that he would be touching me again. I reached out, traced his cheekbone, his brow, his jaw. Trailed my fingertips over his chin and brushed his bottom lip, my tongue darting out instinctively to wet my own. I wanted him. Wanted to bask in the beauty and strength that was Christopher Argent, to feed and sate myself with his body and his blood. Oh, how I wanted…

Chris stared me down, his soft breath caressing my cheek. Minty and warm. Heat radiated between us, energy racing on our skin like a physical touch. He suddenly seemed to shake himself, pushed away. Stood and retreated. When he looked back at me, his eyes were clear blue and full of something dark and fierce.

Slowly, with great care, I stood up. Our scents hung in the room like a fog, making the air thick. “Did…did you feel that?” He nodded once. “What was it?” I squinted at him, shaking my head in confusion.

“A Bond—capital B,” he said on a sigh. “I was worried it would happen. Last night, when you kissed me—”

“To be fair, you kissed me back.”

His jaw worked, clearly annoyed by my interruption. “When you kissed me,” he began again, “we traded blood.”

I frowned. “No we did not. Gross! That would be completely…unsanitary.”

Chris sighed and pointed at my mouth. “You had my blood—”
            “Which you gave to me—”

“Jesus, stop interrupting me!” he exclaimed. “You want to know, you have to shut up and let me tell you.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” I drawled, planting my hands on my hips. “Had I known you were going to bestow the whole of your great wisdom upon my poor humble personage, I would have sat quietly by.”

“I don’t think you’re capable of sitting quietly by,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “Look, your fangs cut you, your blood got mixed with mine—which you still had on your lips from drinking from me—and that mix was shared between the two of us. It’s called a Bond. It’s something that happens in a lot of supernatural factions.”

I closed my eyes with a groan. “And that means what, exactly? Any time I’m around you I’ll be starving to drink your blood and you help me rub one out?”

“No, sweetheart. That would be way too easy.” Chris shook his head. “It means we’re basically going to be joined at the hip. We’ll be emotionally and physically connected until you come fully into your power.” He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “Or until we become so unstable that one of us kills the other.”

Chapter Text

Two weeks. I’d stayed in the Argent compound for two whole weeks.

I had a medical excuse for work—thanks, Melissa—stating I had a bad infection from the cut I’d received. Stiles had brought me my laptop and some clothes as soon as school had let out that first day, so I was able to continue teaching virtually. I’d called Dad and told him I had some business to take care of back in Reno that I had thought was wrapped up, and Stiles backed me up with him, covering any time he asked questions.

Over those two weeks, Chris spent hours upon hours teaching me about different factions of supernatural creatures, including the Seelie and Unseelie fae. He’d trained me in a little hand-to-hand defense. The connection between us grew stronger, until it reached a point that if he was gone for more than a few hours, I got itchy and irritable. Once he was gone for over a day, and when he’d returned I’d gone into a rage, attacking him without warning. He’d subdued me easily enough, though I’d gotten some good shots in with my short, dagger-like claws, shredding one of his beloved henleys. He’d shown me how to patch up his wounds once I’d calmed down. (“You might be able to heal from minor cuts and burns, but that doesn’t mean you won’t need to take care of yourself like this at some point,” he’d said.)

He let me take his blood pretty regularly at first, small feedings, and then gradually spaced them so I was able to endure longer periods in between. He’d helped me through the sex stuff as well, with a little blood here and a little touchy-touch there. Nothing beyond PG-13, which I found oddly comforting. At least he wasn’t milking the situation for an easy lay.

Things had been busy while I’d been locked up. He came in occasionally looking tired or maybe sporting a few fresh bumps and bruises. When Stiles came by—which was every afternoon I wasn’t power-surging—he kept me updated on some things, but I could tell he was keeping a lot under wraps. Like, a lot. I tried not to let it bother me, their not trusting me with what was going on. It wasn’t like I could be much help in my current state. But still, this woo-woo supernatural stuff was my world now too, and I thought I deserved to know what all it entailed outside of my own issues.

When Chris deemed me capable of enough self-control to return to daily life, he drove me to my house so I could change into more professional clothes—tattered pajama pants do not a good work outfit make—and then on to the school. He dropped me a block away, not wanting to be seen by any of the students or parents. I didn’t take offense. Gossip at high school spread like…well, like gossip in a high school. A parent seen dropping off a teacher first thing in the morning? Fuel for the fire, baby.

            As the day went on, I realized I hadn’t felt that itchy need for Chris like I’d been having, so maybe the proximity of my extended stay was enough to keep symptoms at bay for a bit. I watched the clock, which seemed to make time crawl even more slowly. Finally, my last class filed out just as my phone buzzed, startling me.

-Doing ok?-

My lips curved softly as I replied. –Fine. you? Any pangs of loneliness, missing my presence?-

-It’s quiet. Annoying. I used to like the silence you know.-

- aw. Face it, pal. You miss me. -

- nope.-

I sighed, still wearing that stupid smile. I liked Chris. He was a little surly and square as a brick, but he was patient. And kind, in his own way. Sure, I probably wouldn’t have been on the receiving end of his help had it not been for my family. He was still adjusting to not automatically wanting to kill non-humans, but he was giving it a fair shot after his dad turned out to be such a turd. And his sister, from what Stiles had told me. He was worried about his kid, who he’d talked about a little when I expressed concern about Scott and Stiles doing the werewolf stuff. He felt bad about lying to her, helping Scott, when she was trying so hard to stay out of the lifestyle. He was…he was just a decent guy. And, yeah, he was sexy as fuck, but that’s not the thing about him that kept him on my mind. Well, not the only thing about him that kept him on my mind.

A rhythmic pounding reached my ears, and I jerked my head up, frowning. The beating grew louder, and with every drum, my body heat rose. Tingles shot from my fingertips up my arms, and I rested a shaking hand on the chalkboard. When had I stood? Crossed the classroom? I clenched my jaw against a wave of stinging pain that gnawed at my stomach.

“You’re showing signs of phasing.”

I shrieked, thumping a hand to my chest as I spun to face Chris. “What the shit, man! Why text me if you’re just going to show up and scare the hell out of me?”

He actually looked amused, with a crooked half-smile crinkling his eyes. He turned and shut the door before coming toward me. He raised his eyebrows and jerked his chin toward me. “Your claws, Eden.”

“What? No, no, no.” I huffed and rubbed my eyelids with the heel of my palms. “No! I’ve been fine all day!” I opened my eyes when he gently took me by the wrists. “There’s this pounding in my head. That’s—is it you? Because you’re here?”

“Do you still hear it?” he asked. At my nod, he brought my right hand to his throat, nestling my fingertips against the pulse that surged beneath in time to the beating in my head. Each flutter of his pulse against my fingers shot threads of desire through me.

I swallowed, trying to moisten my suddenly dry mouth. “I was doing really well before.” My gums burned, a tell-tale sign that my fangs were lengthening. My eyes fastened on his neck. I longed for the rich, spicy taste of his blood, and my lips parted as my breath quickened.

Chris placed his hand on the pendant he’d given me that first morning. “You’re still doing well,” he said. “Breathe and focus, sweetheart.”

I took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

“Good. That’s good,” he said. After a few more guided breaths, he cupped my cheek. “Teeth?”

I bared my teeth at him, fangs retracted, and a small, wry smile lingered on my lips. “You’re not a terrible coach. You ever heard that before?”

His thumb gently dragged across my cheekbone. “Yeah. Once or twice.”

My lips curved and I slowly lifted onto my tiptoes. “Is it ok to kiss you?” My voice was barely a whisper, and I was scared he’d say no.

Chris opened his mouth to speak, but the classroom door crashed open with the chaotic energy only my brother could provide.

Stiles stopped short, eyes bouncing between me and Chris as we jerked apart. “Er…uh, I was gonna see if you wanted to, uh, grab a b-bite to eat since you’re off house arrest,” he stammered at me, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

“Sure.” I cut a look at Chris, who stood in stoic silence. “I’ll see you after?”

With a glance at Stiles, he nodded once. “I have some things to take care of, but yeah. Allison will be out, so you can come to the apartment.”

“Thank you.” I slung my bag onto my shoulder and left the classroom with just a quick look back. Stiles made a gagging sound. “What?”

“You’re making goo-goo eyes at a guy Dad’s age,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “It’s…blegh.”

“Shut up, Slink,” I said, thumping his ear.

He glanced around quickly, making sure no one had overheard me. “Don’t call me that!”

“Oooo, little Mischief Slinky. You were so cute when you were little, with your little lisp,” I cooed, cupping the back of his head and tugging him down to playfully ruffle his hair.

“Do you want me to call for your senior citizen boyfriend? ‘Cause I will,” he threatened, struggling from my hold.

I clucked my tongue. “Chris isn’t Dad’s age. And even if he was, I’d like to point out that it’s a supernatural connection, so I can’t be blamed for it.”

He snorted. “You’re full of shit.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a family trait, what can I say.”

Chapter Text

There seemed to be a serial killer in Beacon Hills. The boys weren’t sure who it was, but presumably it wasn’t a standard human. Chris had texted to let me know that he’d had to help Scott and Derek, but he was still alive, if a little beaten up. Our connection was getting stronger, and with each passing day I was able to feel more of his emotions. And Chris Argent, for all his good qualities, was also a tangled ball of seething rage and grief. If I could feel him, there was a good chance he could feel me. It was only a matter of time before one of our tempers spiked and we lashed out at each other with violent results.

And so far, the only potential way out of our Bond was for me to fully phase by having sex with him, which he refused to do. We’d made out a lot and I was pretty sure he liked me. But sex was a line he was hesitant to cross. He had never even gone further than second base, although that’s partially because my succubus didn’t take a lot to get off when our energies were pumping. I don’t think the age gap is an issue—it isn’t that much of one, all things considered. Honestly, I don’t know what kept him.

Though to be fair, there were a lot of options at the moment.

A murderous alpha pack was still out there (thanks for the info, baby brother).  They were still presumably after Derek, which really shouldn’t have put a damper on the mood, logically. I wasn’t close to Derek by any means, and Chris didn’t even like him. Unfortunately, logic wasn’t a contributing factor when it came to a semi-succubus resisting the hedonistic siren-call of his blood and body.

Back at work, I was not provided any distraction from sexual frustration and cantankerous werewolves. The pissing contest between Scott’s pack and the twins—who were part of the aforementioned murderous alpha pack—kept creeping in. Plus, I was up to my eyeballs in projects to grade, but every time I got started, I’d look up to see Stiles or Scott lurking around. They were making me crazy.

I glanced up, once again seeing Scott duck just out of sight. “Oh my god,” I muttered, slamming my pen down on the desk. I took a huge gulp of the hazelnut latte Jennifer had brought me, pushed away from the desk, and strode to the door, jerking it open. I advanced on Scott and backed him against the lockers. “What do you want? You guys are driving me nuts! Why are you watching me, Scotty? You should be in Econ.”

Scott cowered slightly, as if scared I was going to smack him. “We’re just—I dunno. Looking out for you.”

“I don’t need you to look out for me,” I said. “I need you to go to Econ.”

He sighed and glanced around, making sure the hall was empty. “Stiles has a theory. About the murders. He thinks they’re sacrifices. Human sacrifices. All the victims were…well…” His brows lifted slightly as he met my eyes, and his cheeks tinted slightly. “They were virgins. So Stiles is worried because you—”

I floundered for a brief second, then pinched my eyes shut. “How do you guys even know about that?”

“Probably don’t want to know ,” Scott said apologetically.

He was right. I didn’t. “Stiles’s sacrifice theory, you think he’s right?”

“He’s right way more often than he’s wrong,” he said.

I took a deep breath and shook my head. “Okay, you two need to worry about your classes. I will look after myself. Go to class. No woo-woo stuff until after school, got it?” I exhaled. “And tell Stiles that it’s time to talk to our dad.” His eyes widened in surprise, but I hurried on. “Our world is bleeding over into his now. Again. He needs to know.” My eyes narrowed. “Where is Stiles, anyway?”

--

I pounded on the sliding steel door. “Open up! I know you’re in there you little shit!” The door squealed as it rolled open, and I pushed inside. “Where’s Stiles?”

Derek Hale crossed his arms and glared at me. I glared back. I’d been here a few times, been around the grouchy young werewolf and his uncle enough to know that a lot of Derek’s posturing was bluff. Peter’s probably wasn’t, but he was still recovering from being dead, so I had that going for me.

Derek’s jaw muscle twitched in annoyance. “Believe it or not,” he said, “Scott’s little pack of misfits don’t actually live here. They just show up unannounced.” He lifted his brows pointedly. “Like you do, apparently. Have you checked the school?”

“I was at the school,” I retorted. “They found another body, and I’m trying to track down my shithead brother before he gets tangled up in something he—”

An alarm sounded, interrupting me.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing good. And nothing to do with you.” Derek dropped his arms and took my bicep in an unforgiving grip, dragging me toward a balcony door.

Peter Hale came hurrying down the spiral staircase. “It’s them.”

“I know,” Derek said. “Take her, get her out.”

Peter scowled. “Derek—”

“They aren’t here to kill me. Not yet.” He thrust me toward Peter, who caught me around the waist.

“I don’t know what you’ve got going, but maybe I can help.” I struggled against Peter’s hold, but he just flipped a latch and shoved me out onto the balcony.

“Shhh,” Peter said, placing a finger to his lips. “Easy, kitten.” He turned back to his nephew with a meaningful look, then hauled me to the rail by the back of my sweater as Derek shut and locked the door again. “Today’s not the day. Come on.”

I dug in my heels. “Come on? Come on where?” I looked over the banister at the five-story drop. “We can’t—we aren’t jumping.” I flinched as a loud rattle sounded.

“Of course not.” Peter’s tone made it clear he thought I might be a little stupid. “Fire escape goes to the next floor. We’ll take the stairwell from there. Go, Stiles’s sister. Now.”

I hurried down the fire escape with Peter hot on my heels, jumping the last few steps and landing in a crouch on the next landing. “Wait,” I hissed, grabbing Peter’s arm as he headed for the door. I closed my eyes and listened hard, but I didn’t hear anyone. “Ok, it’s clear.”

Peter blinked at me. “Derek owns the building. Nobody lives on these floors.” He pulled the door open and strode through. “Besides,” he added, pointing at his ear. “Werewolf.”

I rolled my eyes and followed to the stairwell and down the stairs. It was a bit of a struggle keeping up with him because I have short legs, but I managed without tripping too many times. Peter held up a key fob in the parking garage and unlocked his car, not slowing his jog until we were safely inside.

When he had pulled from the building with one glance in the rearview, brow furrowed in concern, he shifted gears and peered at me.

“What?” I fidgeted in the seat, my succubus twitching uncomfortably beneath my skin.

 “I see what the meant about the scent. You smell delicious.”

I swallowed. “He? He who?”

“Scott, of course. Oh, he told us all about you, Tinkerbell.” He looked at me fully, scanning me from head to toe. “I never would’ve guessed that gangly, obnoxious Stiles would have a relative so…” He drew a long breath and shook his head, bemused. “Special.”

I pointed at him. “You make a move I don’t like, pal, and I’ll show you special. I’ve been working with Christopher Argent, so I know how to take you down.”

“Oo, the kitten has claws,” he said, amused. I flexed them, the little black daggers gleaming in the sun. “Relax, honey—”

“It’s Eden,” I snapped, retracting my claws. I was super proud they all retracted when I wanted them to. Yay me.

“Well, Eden,” Peter said, coming to a halt in front of the high school. “I’m going to be the best friend you never knew you needed. Let’s hope the alphas didn’t smell your gorgeous scent at Derek’s.”

“The twins have never seemed like they have, and I have Ethan in VisArt II.”

He cut the engine and slouched back in the seat. “Well, that’s good news for us.”

I scoffed. “No us, Peter.”

He lolled his head to the side, grinning and holding up his hand, showing a small space between his thumb and forefinger. “Oh, come on. Just a little us.”

“The number of times I’ve heard you referred to as ‘Derek’s psychotic uncle’ gives me pause.”

He shrugged, nonplussed. “We all have our quirks. Besides, your friend Argent played a decent role in my psychopathy. His family did, anyway.”

“If I ever get my hands on Chris’s douchecanoe of a father, I’m going to beat the shit out of him,” I seethed. “Old man or not.”

Peter’s charming grin was back. “See? That’s the kind of thing we could bond over! You want to torture Gerard, I want to torture Gerard…it’s kismet.”

I pinned him with a droll stare. “I don’t want to torture him, just smack him around a good bit. He beat up my brother. Stiles is just a kid. He didn’t deserve—” The sound of screeching tires drew my attention, and I watched, flabbergasted, as Stiles’s jeep wheeled into the parking lot. “Oh, I am going to kick his scrawny ass! I knew he skipped class again!”

I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the door, scrambling from the car. “Thank you,” I said to Peter. “Seriously. For…not making me jump off the balcony.” I started to shut the door, but ducked back in. “And for what it’s worth, you don’t seem psychotic. A sociopath, sure, but not a psychopath.” I smiled at him, then sobered. “I hope Derek is okay.”

“He will be,” Peter said. He slipped a pair of aviators on and started the car. “’Til next time, kitten.”

My mouth twisted in a reluctant grin and I shook my head, shutting the door. I had a brother to yell at and a semi-retired hunter to chase down.

And it was only Wednesday.

Chapter Text

            We were in Chris’s office, working on the sacrifices case, when the door to the apartment opened. Chris put a finger to his lips and headed for the office door, silently flipping the lock.

            “We can be seen together in social situations, you know,” I whispered drolly. “To Allison, I’m just Stiles’s sister.”

            “Why would you and I be together?” Chris countered. “How would we have met?”

            A knock on the door and an anxious gesture from Chris had me rolling my eyes and dropping to the floor to crawl under his desk.

            “Hey, honey. Everything ok?” he asked.

            Allison strode inside. “No,” she said. “No, not really.”

            She filled her dad in on the goings on with the Alphas. Apparently Scott had brokered a meeting with the Alpha-Alpha and was supposed to meet him that night.

Fucking idiot kid, I thought, clenching my hands to fists as I imagined shaking him until his teeth rattled.

“Someone needs to help them,” Allison said.

“Not us,” Chris countered. “You need to graduate. That’s a normal life. It’s what we agreed to.”

I frowned up at the desk top, as if I could shoot lasers through the oak. Hypocrite. 

Allison sounded appalled. “So we just ignore it?”

“We stay out of it,” Chris said wearily.

“There’s a pack of Alphas trying to kill my friends! How do I stay out of that?”

Chris was resolved, his voice firm. “There's a saying for these kinds of situations-- the kind you have to navigate carefully. It's called "threading the needle." It's finding a safe path between two opposing forces.”

Sounded like covering your own ass to me, but okay.

“Sounds like saving your own ass,” Allison bit out. I grinned, impressed with her spunk.

“They’re not your family.”

Ok, that pissed me off. They might not be her family, but they were mine. Kind of. Stiles and Scott, at least. Would he even be helping me if he hadn’t owed Scott a favor? I didn’t want to think too hard on that. I got a feeling I wouldn’t like the answer.

Allison’s voice could freeze vodka. “With all the family that I’ve lost, I could use a few friends.”

The door slammed and I crawled out from under the desk, wincing when the front door slammed hard enough to rattle the photos on the wall. I wiped my hands on the back of my jeans and dipped my head, seething at how Chris handled his daughter’s plea.

“I’m gonna go,” I said, grabbing up my messenger bag and stuffing some printouts I’d brought back inside.

“Eden—”

“I’ve got to get some grading done before the weekend,” I interrupted. “I’ll see you.”

He braced a hand against the door, keeping it closed. “I know you think I’m wrong for not telling her, but I don’t want to encourage her to get back into this shit. It’s bad enough I got dragged back in.”

I cut my eyes at him. “This shit, Chris, is me. I’m this shit. I’m sorry Scott dragged you back to try to keep kids from getting killed. I’m sorry you got stuck with me—”

“That’s not what I meant,” he insisted.

“I get it,” I said. “It’s fine. I’ve just…I need to go.”

Chapter Text

I was determined to have a normal night in. I’d gone to work like a normal human (aside from the murdered body found on school grounds), had eaten a normal human dinner, and had done a pretty good job of ignoring the growing tension in my body that I recognized as the need to feed…and, let’s face it, general horniness. But I hadn’t called Chris to schedule a dinner meeting. I’d talked to him, but we hadn’t been around each other since I’d left the apartment last night. If that didn’t earn me a little me-time, I didn’t know what did.

I picked up the remote, grunting when my phone rang. “Oh, for crying out loud,” I groaned. I looked at the screen and sighed as I answered. “Christopher.”

“Hey. Busy?”

“Actually, Stiles and Scott are gone on a lacrosse trip and I have the house to myself for once. I’m going to gorge myself on Ben & Jerry’s and binge-watch my Dad’s DVDs of NCIS. Why?”

“I’m in your driveway. Open up.”

I hung up the phone and pushed off the sofa, padding to the front door in bare feet. I flipped the lock and opened the door, pinning him with a droll stare. “This had better be worth it. I don’t pass up good TV time for just any little thing.”

He held up a plastic bag. “Cheap sandwiches and research that’ll probably lead nowhere. That’s pretty much all I can offer.”

My brow twitched. “Not all you can offer,” I said under my breath as he passed.

“I heard that.”

Smug ass.

He set the food on the coffee table and took off his laptop bag. “That’s another reason I came. It’s been a couple of days since you last fed, and without phasing fully, you still need it more frequently.” He held up a hand when I opened my mouth to speak. “We don’t know how a full phase will be affected by your…condition—”

I rolled my eyes. “Virginity is a patriarchal social construct, Chris, not a terminal illness.”

“Yeah, well. We don’t know how it is going to affect the physical aspect of your feeding. Until we figure it out, I can’t let you endure it.”

“Whoa, whoa. Can’t let me?” I snorted. “Since when are you in charge of what I do?”

“Since I helped you rub one out, as you so delicately put it. You’ve had my blood, Eden. That makes me responsible for your survival—for now—as well as teaching you to control your impulses. It also means I’m responsible for ensuring you don’t hurt anyone else.”

I crossed my arms. “Well, just so you know, I’ve always had impulse control problems, so you might have your work cut out for you.”

He bit back a grin. “I guessed as much.”

“Okay. So? You want to eat first?” He watched me silently, tilting his head slightly, those clear-blue eyes steady on mine. I swallowed. “Your food, I mean. I don’t want it to get cold.”

Chris still eyed me, the tiniest smile curving his lips. “You seem tense.”

I scoffed and dropped my arms. “What? I’m relaxed. That’s ridiculous. Of course I’m relaxed.”

“Your heart’s racing.” He scanned me. “Sweating. Dilated pupils…”

I chewed my lip and picked at my fingertips. “Fine! I was good and mad at you for that boneheaded display with Allison, but now your stupid scent and infuriating attitude has made me hungry, and it’s all I can think about.” I flung out my arm, pointing toward the kitchen. “I just ate half a damn pizza less than an hour ago, but this is—it’s different.”

He stepped forward and rested one hand on my shoulder, tipped my chin with the other. He lifted my face so that I met his gaze. “I know you probably don’t believe me, but your strength, your control…it’s way beyond what I was anticipating. Your power was suppressed for a long time. That alone is reason enough that you should’ve gone into a feeding frenzy the second you had my blood. But you didn’t,” he hurried to add when my eyes widened. “You didn’t hurt me. You never have.” He brushed a lock of hair out of my eyes. “You’re still you, Eden. Just…different.” It was his comforting reminder to me. He said it nearly every time we went through these motions.

“Why aren’t you as bothered by me as I am by you?” I asked, wetting my bottom lip with the tip of my tongue. “The way I understood it, we weren’t going to be able to be around each other at all without tearing our clothes off and going at it like rabbits or having some kind of emotional upheaval.”

“I feel it, the Bond,” he admitted. “But I use the discomfort to keep me grounded. I’ve got a lot to focus on right now, and I can’t sit around entertaining thoughts about you, even if that’s all I want to think about.”

“Oh.” I gulped. “Well, I guess we should get to it, then, so we can hit the books. Um, you want me to do just the blood this time, so we don’t have to…you know?”

He shook his head. “No. You aren’t a vampire. You’re Ghrasidhe.”

He cupped my cheeks between his palms and lowered his mouth to mine. The pulse of energy was instantaneous, wrapping around us like a soft, warm blanket. We jolted with the force of it. I whimpered when his tongue brushed mine, and I fisted my hands in his shirt. He made a noise in the back of his throat, a low hum, and surprised me by slipping his hands beneath my tank top, running them up and down my sides in soothing strokes. Each brush sent electricity shooting through my limbs as the creature within awakened and called up my power. He lifted my top and tossed it behind him carelessly, exposing my breasts to hm for the first time. I could feel his gaze roving my body, taking time to appreciate what he’d revealed.

“So fucking pretty,” he sighed.

Beneath his t-shirt, I dragged my nails up his ribs. Chris reached back and pulled the shirt over his head, then returned to my waiting lips. My head fell back as one palm closed over my breast and the other slid around my back, pressing my closer. The backs of my legs hit the sofa and I tumbled down with a startled laugh, drawing him down to stretch over me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, weighing him down so that his hips settled intimately between my thighs.

The hard heat of his body pressed against me, the ridge of his erection creating incredible friction through the thin pajama shorts I wore. I arched, rubbing like a cat to a waiting hand, and the feeling was so intense that I cried out, my little black claws clutching him closer. The scent of his blood flooded my brain, and I purred.

His hand gripped and stroked my skin. “Have to touch—need to—”

“Please,” I moaned. “Please, Chris.”

He trailed his lips over my skin, moved from my lips to my jaw to my neck, and slipped a hand beneath my waistband. When his skillful fingers found my bare flesh wet and wanting, my fangs sprang forth and I rocked against him, chanting his name. Then I froze, clenching my mouth shut with a pained groan as I fought the sensual beast inside.

Chris lifted his head from where he’d been worshipping my breasts with his lips and tongue. “Let it out,” he whispered. “It’s okay, Eden.”

My lips parted, and his eyes flicked to my mouth. Both sets of my fangs were fully extended, and with each breath I panted against his cheek. After a moment he turned his head, baring his neck and shoulder. Opening my mouth wide, I lunged forward and sank my fangs into the space between his neck and shoulder. Sweet, spicy blood filled my mouth, and I clung to him more tightly, locking my thighs around his hips. “Take it,” he said, voice ragged. He twisted his wrist, fingers working their own sort of magic, and I came with a cry as that bright glow surrounded us again.

 He grunted and removed his hand from my shorts, bracing himself so his weight didn’t crush me. He cupped the back of my head, tangling his fingers in my hair, and rolled. We tumbled off the couch, upending the coffee table and scattering take-out boxes across the floor. My body continued to twitch and tremble against him.

After a few good pulls of his blood, I pried my fangs from his flesh and licked the wound. I was pleased to note that instead of a ragged tear like my sire had left me, my bite was clean—four small holes, a little blue around the edges, were the only sign I’d fed from him.

I sat up, still straddling him. “You’re awake this time.”

“It’s a nice change.” Chris had kept his hand in my hair when I’d sat up, but now he let it slide down, caressing my cheek and throat, down the tip of the pendant that rested in the valley between my breasts, and finally falling limp on my thigh. “I’m sorry. The energy hit harder than usual. I shouldn’t have touched you like that.”

“Uh, yeah, you should have.” I smiled and stroked his chest. His breathing was ragged, and he was still hard as rock. “Will you let me…help you? Like you help me?”

“No,” he said, and arousal made his voice barely more than a growl. He closed his eyes in apparent effort to get himself back under control. “This isn’t about me,” he explained.

“Sort of is.” I slid off his stomach and knelt beside him. “I can take care of it for you,” I said quietly. I felt the blush staining my cheeks, knew I had to be red as a stop sign. I laid a hand on his thigh and the muscles jumped and shuddered.

He gave a gentle shake of his head, then opened his eyes and sat up with a wince. “We should get to work.” He nodded toward the discarded laptop bag.

“I’m concerned about your testicular health,” I said cheekily. “You never get any reprieve.”

He scoffed. “I do,” he murmured. “I’m alone sometimes, you know.”

“Oh.” With an image of him taking care of himself forever stamped in my mind’s eye, I stood and held out a hand to help him up. “I’m not that much younger than you, if that’s the problem. The reason you don’t want to sleep with me.”

“You are, but I’m selfish enough to not care about that. Although your father probably wouldn’t be so understanding.”

“Is it because I’m not totally human anymore?”

Chris looked startled. “No. I mean, the idea of having my life force drained isn’t a good selling point, sure. But it’s not that.”

I fidgeted and looked anywhere that wasn’t his face. “Then why?”

He exhaled slowly, like he needed time to put his thoughts to words. “When we—when you feed that way, I like watching you. And tonight, I really liked touching you, even though I shouldn’t. But I don’t think we should take that kind of step while we’re high on your Ghrasidhe powers. Truthfully, Eden, we don’t know what’s the Bond and what’s really us. So it’s better if we just keep it simple, yeah?”

I nodded, a little disappointed. But I could understand where he came from, to an extent. It would kind of be like taking a hit of molly and trying to decide if you really wanted to have sex with someone or if it was the drug.

“You need to eat something.” I gathered the take-out boxes and slid the coffee table closer to him. “You’re kind of gray. Did I take too much blood?”

“No. Probably just strain. I’ll be fine,” he said.

He wasn’t particularly convincing, but I let it drop. I’m not sure how long we sat there, mapping ley lines and reading old hunters’ journals, doing a bit of double-duty—working the case here at home and trying to find out as much as we could about supernatural Bonds and breaking them. The air around us buzzed. We were both distracted, neither of us able to sit still for more than a few minutes at a time without getting up and going to the kitchen for a drink or finding an excuse to get up and walk a minute.

Finally, Chris nudged me with his knee and closed his laptop. “Want to go somewhere with me?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Like…on a date?”

He pinned me with a droll stare. “How about an abandoned mall?”

I grinned and shrugged. “Sounds more romantic than my last date.”

--

            The mall was dusty and dank, with a heavy smell of mildew in the air. Even though it was a mild night, I shivered in the jeans and hoodie I’d thrown on.

“Close your eyes,” Chris said quietly, laying his hands on my shoulders. He leaned in, breath ghosting over the back of my neck. “Focus your other senses. Tell me what happened here.”

            I settled my shoulders and gave my fae side a sort of mental poke, listening and smelling with my new preternatural senses. And even though I hadn’t practiced it much, I also tried stretching my energies out like feelers. After a few silent moments anchored by the heat of Chris’s palms on my shoulders, I was bombarded with smells and flashes of images. My body jerked reflexively, and Chris’s fingers tightened.

            “You’re okay, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Talk to me.”

            I swallowed and took a deep breath, trying not to interrupt the flow of sensory data. “Werewolves. A lot of them—like, an uncomfortable number. Scott…and Derek’s—the kid from his pack—Isaac. And Derek. I don’t know all of them. I can’t—”

            “It’s ok. Concentrate on what you do know.”

“Okay,” I whispered. “A lot of anger. I can taste it—bitter and…sour. And citrus? Anxiety. I think it’s from Scott.” Claws and teeth flashed in my mind, and I flinched. “Sweat. Blood,” I gasped. “Chris, so much blood.” I turned my head as if my eyes were open, as if I were watching the action in person.

I squeaked, startled, when Chris’s cell rang. I took a shaky step and leaned against the wall, surprised to see that we’d moved quite a bit from where we’d been standing. I hadn’t felt it. I glanced at Chris as he pulled out his phone.

“Allison,” he said before taking the call and walking a few feet away. “Hey, honey.”

While he was on the phone, I settled onto the floor and tried to reclaim the images of what had apparently been a hell of a fight between the Beacon Hills packs and the Alphas. But then…

My brows furrowed and I clenched my eyes more tightly closed, inhaling deeply. Human. It was a faint scent, much more subtle than the werewolves. I rocked up onto my knees, trying to get a better grip on what the succubus was sensing. A flash of dark hair. A blast of light. The scent of phosphorous.

Oh, fucksticks. Allison. My gaze shot to where Chris still spoke on the phone.

“Do you want me to come pick you up? I don’t mind a late-night drive. The school paid for that?”

I got up, steadying my wobbly steps with a hand on the wall. I looked around, trying to piece the setting with the images I’d seen. And there it was—a scorch mark made from the girl’s explosive arrowhead. I reached out and touched it, pulling a face as I tried to figure out how to explain to Chris that his daughter, who was supposed to be trying so hard to stay out of supernatural stuff and live a normal life, had crashed a werewolf battle armed to the teeth.

“Listen, sweetheart, I’m gonna hop in the car and come get you guys…”

I jerked around and leaned against the wall, covering the evidence. Chris noticed, of course, and frowned over at me. Suspicion fired in his eyes, and he crooked two fingers, indicating I should move out of the way.

I shook my head as if I didn’t understand the order and pasted an innocent, confused look on my face. Chris shot a flat expression and gently tugged me out of the way. He zeroed in on the dented scorch mark, touched it with the tips of his fingers before looking at me. I couldn’t meet his eyes, knowing he’d see affirmation of his misgivings there.

“If there’s something you feel like you can’t tell me,” he told Allison. “I just want you to know you can talk to me. We don’t have to keep anything from each other.” He sighed quietly. “Okay, honey. Call if you change your mind about the ride. I love you.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek when he hung up the phone, finding the rubble next to the toe of my sneakers suddenly fascinating.

“You saw her,” he said. “Didn’t you?”

I took a deep breath and looked at him. It was pointless to lie. Not like many Beacon Hills citizens used explosive rounds. “Yeah. Yeah, she was here.”

A dour smile lifted his lips. “I should have guessed. She’s never been particularly good at letting people face danger alone.”

I arched a brow at him. “Wonder who she gets that from?”

He breathed a laugh, but it too was devoid of humor. “It isn’t me. I would have left those kids to themselves if Scott hadn’t pushed,” he admitted. “I’d told him no. Was about to drive away. And that was before he’d even asked about helping you.”

“Chris, you were working the case before he brought you in. I saw your office.”

“But Scott? Isaac? Derek Hale? I’d washed my hands of werewolf business. The Alpha pack could have killed—”

“How is it I know you better than you know yourself after just a month or so?” I interrupted. “If you really think you wouldn’t have stepped in when you knew there was legitimate danger, you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

His eyes were haunted. “Or maybe you give me too much.”

Chapter Text

            I grunted as the breath was knocked from my lungs when I landed on my ass. Again. I fell back and stared at the sky, wondering for the thousandth time why I’d agreed to this.

“I thought you said you’d been working with Argent.”

I lifted my head and glared at Peter. “I have. But he isn’t ridiculously fast like you are. He also pulls his punches a little,” I griped.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll make sure to tell Ducalion and the other alphas to take it easy when they find out about you.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “And I am pulling my punches,” he added with a smirk.

We’d been sparring for a couple hours in front of the Hale house, and so far, I had only succeeded in getting my ass handed to me in a multitude of ways.

“We don’t have to do this, you know. You asked me—”

“I know, you jackass.” I rolled and pushed myself to my feet, dusting my scratched palms on my jeans. “I just…didn’t realize I was gonna suck so bad.”

Peter’s smirk turned naughty. “Need a snack?”

I shook my head at him. “Pass, thanks.”

He clicked his tongue in disappointment. “My blood would be so much more powerful than a measly human. And the sex—”

I hummed thoughtfully. “And would all this power hit me before or after you ripped out my throat and gorged on my blood?”

He shrugged. “I mean, there’s no guarantee I’d do that.”

I lifted my fists and shook a lock of hair from my eyes. “Not gonna happen, so drop it. Let’s go again.”

Peter’s eyes lit with his wolf and he popped his claws. I willed my own changes, hissing just for fun when my fangs extended. He rolled his eyes, then attacked. We traded blows for a few minutes, and my confidence boosted a bit. Then he flipped me and pinned me to the ground, straddling my chest and planting his knees on my arms. He tilted his head and studied me closely as I struggled to dislodge him. Without any leverage, I was essentially defenseless.

“Really, it’s no wonder the Argents are all but wiped out,” he said, phasing back to human. “If this is how they trained—”

I bucked beneath him. “Oh, shut up. Get off.”

He leaned close to my throat and took a deep sniff. “It wouldn’t take much for me to.”

It took a second to catch his meaning. “You’re disgusting.”

“We both know that’s not true, kitten,” he said, sitting up. He still straddled me and made no move to stand.

I grunted under his weight. “Seriously, Peter. Get off me.”

His eyes lit, and he grinned. “Make me.”

My succubus stirred, uncomfortable and defensive, and I felt energy prickle through my body.  “I’m giving you one more chance…”

“I’m rather comfortable.”

I stared at him, at his mocking, smug expression, and took a deep breath. With great effort, I pushed the fae energy outward with a guttural cry. As if pulled by puppeteers’ strings, Peter flew off me and bounced off a tree a dozen yards away.

Son of a bitch, that hurt. It took me a second to regain my breath amid the thousand pinpricks of fire that burned under my skin. Once I was able, I dragged myself up and hobbled over to where Peter lay unmoving.

“Hey,” I said, rubbing my chest. “You still alive or am I gonna have to resurrect you again?” I nudged his boot with my foot.

He grunted and shot me a baleful glare. Sitting up, he rocked his neck from side to side and reached to rub his shoulder. I heard the bone pop back into place with a disgusting crunch as his body healed itself. “You could have given me a little bit of warning,” he grumbled.

“I did.” I sat on the grass beside him with a whimper. “Although to be fair, I’ve never done that before so I didn’t know how much of a kick it would have.”

“How’d you do it?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Felt the energy building and pushed it out. The more I try, the more I figure out what I can do. I don’t want to be a liability forever. I want to be able to handle myself.”

He snorted. “Your fighting is garbage, but you handled yourself ok with that little move.” He leaned back, groaning and resting his hand on his ribs. “Fuck! You couldn’t have aimed so I missed the tree?” he moaned.

“I don’t think I can control the trajectory,” I said with a wry smirk.

The sound of gravel crunching in the driveway drew our attention, and I checked my watch when Stiles’s jeep skidded to a halt in the loose rocks. At least it was after school hours.

“What the hell is this?” he demanded, jumping out of the jeep and holding his arms out to us. “Please, please tell me you didn’t go sex fairy with Peter Hale?” He put a fist to his mouth, then bent to brace hands on knees. “I’mona throw up.”

Peter and I stood, and I shot my brother a look that could wither flowers. “Shut up, Stiles. What are you even doing here? How’d you know where I was?”

With one steady, deep breath, he straightened, eyes narrowed right back at me. “You weren’t answering your phone, so we pinged it. I’m supposed to take you to Argent’s. In case you forgot, somebody’s sacrificing people all over town. Not really the best time to go MIA.”

I strode over to him, nagging pain forgotten, and jabbed a finger at his chest. “You don’t get to do this shit,” I snarled. “Like it or not, Mieczyslav, you aren’t the adult here.” His cheeks reddened with anger at the use of his real name, but I continued. “You’re not Dad. You aren’t a cop. You’re a sixteen-year-old kid. I don’t have to report to you.” I turned back to Peter. “You and I will talk later. Go home and put some ice on your…everything.”

With a final sneer at Stiles, which he returned, I stormed to my car. As I pulled onto the highway and headed for the Argent apartment, I noted with annoyance that the jeep was right behind me.

--

Chris opened the door without us having to knock. “I could hear you two from my office,” he said, frowning.

I brushed past him and tossed my keys onto an end table. “Sorry. I was trying to explain to my little brother—in simple, small words so he can wrap his brain around it—that I do not need him and his teenage friends babysitting me, an adult.”

Stiles paced in front of me. “No? Oh, y-you don’t, huh? You can make smart decisions, ones that won’t get you killed? Like buddying around with Peter fucking Hale?”

“Watch your mouth!” I ordered.

“You what?” Chris asked at the same time.

Stiles crossed his arms, eyes narrow slits. “Little Miss Independent here was at the Hale house with Peter. Alone. Do you even know what he could have done?”

Chris scowled at me. “Why were you with Peter Hale?”

I had mirrored my brother’s pose, although I hadn’t realized it until that moment. I let my arms drop and put my hands on my hips instead. “We were sparring,” I spat. “I’m allowed to have friends!”

“But not Peter!” Stiles said, voice rising.

“That’s not for you to decide!” I retorted loudly, taking a step forward.

Chris stepped between us. “All right, that’s enough.” His voice rang with finality. “Stiles, get out. Let me know the second you hear anything about Deaton.” He turned to me and pointed toward the living room. “You, with me. Let’s go.”

I huffed and cut a look at Stiles. “Love you,” I barked.

“Love you, too,” he snapped. Then he jerked the door open and left the apartment.

I plopped onto the over-stuffed chair that took up a large portion of the apartment’s sitting area with a huge, sighed groan and pressed my fingertips into my eyes. I felt like such an idiot, fighting with Stiles like that. We rarely fought, like, ever. And to do it in front of witnesses?

There was a thunderous beating in my ears, the rush of blood and the pounding of Chris’s heartbeat. I exhaled sharply and dropped my hands. “What?”

Chris leaned against the doorframe, stoic and serious. “Want to tell me why you were sparring with Peter Hale?”

“Because, Chris, he’s a friend.”

He scoffed. “You’re a fool to trust him.”

“I didn’t say I trusted him. You can like someone and not trust them.” I shot him a pointed look.

His brows rose. “Oh, so you don’t trust me now?”

“Do you trust me?” I countered. When he was silent, I nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” I said with a shake of my head. I stood and walked toward the door, fighting the stinging in my eyes and nose that heralded tears. “Listen, I’m going to take a walk, clear my head. I’ll…come back later. If you want.”

“Eden, wait,” he said. He took hold of my arm and gently turned me to face him. His warm hand cupped my cheek, thumb brushing away a tear that had spilled over my lashes. “I do trust you. You know that, right?”

I nodded silently, not meeting his eyes.

“Please look at me.”

I did, and my chin wobbled. “I’m not a fool,” I said brokenly. “Peter saved my life the other day, got me out of Derek’s when the Alphas showed up. For now, he’s my friend. Tomorrow, who knows?” I sniffed. “Everybody acts like I’m stupid, but I’m not. Or like I’m going to fuck anything I come across, but I’m n-not.” I hiccupped, and two more tears tracked down my cheeks. “My succub-bus and I are in s-sync,” I sobbed softly.

“Eden…” Chris’s arms encircled me, and he rubbed soothing circles on my back, shushing me gently.

“I’m not some breakable doll,” I cried against his chest. “And I’m not useless!”

“Hey, hey,” he whispered, taking my arms in a firm grip and leaning back slightly. “Nobody thinks you’re useless. And nobody thinks you’re stupid.”

“You said I was a fool, like, five minutes ago.” I sniffled again and wiped my eyes with the sleeves of my hoodie. My breath still stuttered, but I was getting a handle on my emotions again. I hated crying. Hated it.

He released me and raked his hand through his hair. “I was angry,” he admitted sheepishly. “Not because I thought anything had happened between the two of you—which is just a concern because of the Bond, not that I have…” He scratched at the scruffy beard that was starting to come in and sighed. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said simply.

“I don’t want you to get hurt either.”

A soft smile ghosted over his lips. “Then we’ll just have to keep an eye on each other.”

I breathed a chuckle. “You do have voyeuristic tendencies,” I said with a final sniff.

He carefully wiped the remnants of my tears with the hem of his shirt. “You okay?” When I nodded, he jerked his chin toward his office door. “Come on. I’ve got something I need your help with.”

Chris flipped the lock on his office door and strode to his desk to unfurl a map. “Here’s what I have so far,” he said, turning on a UV desk lamp. He’d drawn different symbols scattered over the city, and he explained them: the last known location of each victim, and where the bodies have been found.

I looked at the map, squinting, trying to find a pattern. “Stiles says this one, this one, and this one were virgins.” I canted my head and muttered, “Hence my constant surveillance.”

“Right,” Chris said. “That was the first triad. Then there were these,” he said, pointing. “And now Alan Deaton.”

I examined his work, gnawing the inside of my cheek. “When we were researching at my house the other night, one of the journals mentioned something.” I closed my eyes, trying to remember. I pictured the book, the pages turning. And then an image appeared as if drawn with smoke. It pulsed, silver and gold and green, winding like vines into a—

“Five-fold knot,” I said, opening my eyes. I drew it. I’d drawn the Celtic knotwork design with my eyes closed. I could practically feel my fae polishing her nails smugly.

            “That’s right,” Chris said. He lifted the map, revealing the knotwork carved into the top of the desk. He bit the lid off his UV marker and spat the plastic onto the desktop. “Virgins, warriors, healers,” he said, writing each category in one of the circles. “Philosophers and guardians. We don’t know who’s getting chosen for each triad or how, but there is a way we can determine where they might end up once they’re taken.” He put the map out again.

            “Ley nodes?” I asked.

He smiled. “You know about ley lines and ley nodes?”

“I did read books before I met you, you know.” I gave him a light shove, and he chuckled.

“Anyway, that’s close, but this is a map of telluric currents,” he said, taking a clear plastic overlay, like old-school projectors used, and laying it on top of the map of Beacon Hills. Every spot—abduction and recovery location—was at an intersection of different currents.

“So if there are going to be two more people taken aside from Scott’s boss, they’d be taken from one of these places.” I stared at the new potential locations and blew out a breath. “That’s a lot of places.”

“It is,” Chris said.

I took a step away, tilting my head. Then I put a hand on Chris’s shoulder and stood in his office chair to get a bird’s eye view of the town. “There’s got to be more of a pat—there, look.” I leaned forward to point, but the chair rolled and I lost my balance. “Ack!”

“Easy, sweetheart,” Chris said, catching me around the thighs.

I crushed his face to my chest when my arms instinctively wrapped around his head. I pulled back, letting him breathe, and stared into his eyes. “Sorry,” I croaked.

“S’ok,” he said, voice low.

God, that voice…

He lessened his hold, letting me slide down his body like melting ice cream down a cone. Every dip and ridge, I felt as my body molded to his. I leaned up to kiss him, letting my eyes flutter closed.

“Part of you is doing something.”

My eyes popped open at the sound of Allison’s voice and I scrambled away from Chris. “Uh, here,” I said, returning to the map. “There’s a direct correlation bet—”

“I kind of don’t have control over that.”

I closed my eyes and grimaced. I don’t want to overhear Scotty and his girlfriend or whatever doing…whatever.

“You all right?” Chris asked.

“Yeah,” I replied. I cleared my throat. Loudly. “There’s a direct connection between here and here,” I said, pointing. “And again here, and here. So if that’s the pattern, then that means that Scott’s boss could be…” I put my finger on the animal clinic, then traced it up and over, landing on the bank first, then continuing the same line to the old railway station. “One of those two places.”

“Let’s go check them out, yeah? The station isn’t too far from here.”

I nodded. “Okay, yeah. Let’s go.” I grabbed his sleeve and tugged him toward the door, deliberately fumbling with the lock to give the kids a signal that we were emerging.

When we were out the door and in the elevator, I thought we were in the clear. Then he rubbed the back of his neck and glanced up.

“Uh, what’s wrong?” I asked, hoping I sounded nonchalant.

He frowned and shook his head. “Probably nothing.” He looked up again. “I feel like I forgot something. D’you mind if we go back up for a minute?”

I blew a raspberry. “No, of course not. It’s your apartment. Why would I care?”

He arched a brow and hit the button for their level. I saw Allison’s door swing closed just as we made it back to the apartment. Scott stuck his head into the hallway and ducked back immediately. Chris checked the kitchen, the living room. Headed for the office. Allison’s door was open slightly, and I knew there was nowhere Scott could hide.

As he reached to push the door open, I jerked him by the wrist and wrapped both arms around his neck, kissing him fervently. We stumbled back, bumping the wall, and I opened my eyes enough to see Scott staring awkwardly. I waved him past us, finally coming up for air when I heard the front door click shut.

“I’ll…um…I’ll wait for you outside,” I whispered.

I left Chris in the hallway, staring after me in quiet confusion.

Chapter Text

They’d found Tara, one of Dad’s deputies, this morning. Another sacrifice. School was a solemn affair, with a lot of students and teachers preparing for the memorial recital tonight. I’d been so preoccupied, I hadn’t eaten anything all day, so I had nothing on my stomach except for the latte Jennifer and I swapped each morning.

Chris paced in front of me, arms crossed over his chest. His agitation seemed to make him enormous in the small confines of my bedroom. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I know. You’ve said.” I sat at the end of my bed, examined my fingernails. “A lot,” I added in a murmur.

He stopped and scowled down at me. “You’re talking about telling your father—the most level-headed person I’ve ever met—that his murder victims are actually being sacrificed by an evil Druid and that Scott’s a werewolf. How do you think that’s going to affect him?”

I stood and planted my hands on my hips. “He needs to know, Chris. All I care about is keeping my dad alive while he deals with this bullshit, and in order to do that, he needs to know what really goes on around here! If he’d known, then maybe Tara…” I slowly dragged my hand through my hair and closed my eyes.

The low, pulsing rhythm of his heartbeat lulled me and when I opened my eyes, I realized I’d drawn closer to him. The flutter of pulse at the base of his throat caught my attention.

“We need to address this,” he said quietly.

I felt the twinge in my gums that accompanied my lengthening fangs. “There’s nothing to address. I’m telling him, and that’s that.”

Chris trailed the back of one finger down my cheek, urging my gaze from his neck. “That isn’t what we need to address.” His eyes blazed, the sudden catch in his breath showing just how close we were to stepping over the line. How long until we went mad with need? As if reading my thoughts, his scowl deepened.

I wanted to phase fully. “We know a way.” I quietly cleared my throat and licked my parched lips, brought my fingertips to his whiskered cheek. “Be with me,” I whispered. My tongue darted out reflexively, teasing his bottom lip before I closed the distance between our mouths. I sighed as I tasted him.

He gripped my head, taking charge, changing the angle of the kiss as he backed me against the wall. Then he seemed to catch himself, and he hesitated. Pulled back. He rested his forehead against mine and our breaths mingled as we panted our frustrations.

He stared down into my face. His brows drew down slightly, and his eyes radiated both desire and concern. “I’ve never been with anyone who wasn’t experienced.”

“I haven’t either,” I said lightly, drawing a breathy chuckle from him.

He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “I’m being serious.”

“Chris, my grandparents took my mom with them to Woodstock. She was five. She grew up as a second gen Hippie. Sex wasn’t treated like a big deal growing up. While most of the kids in my high school were looking for places to sneak off and do it, I was at home, reading or something because nobody had made it forbidden fruit.” I shrugged. “Having sex or not having it wasn’t important in our house.” I sobered. “I want you to know that this is me. I want you. Even if I wasn’t a succubus temporarily bound to you, I’d want to do unspeakably trashy things with you. So…” I shrugged and waited, but he didn’t speak. “If it makes you feel better, it’s not like I’m a blushing maiden. I love my vibrator collection. Well, when I’m not living with my dad and brother.”

His eyes closed, and he did that cleansing-breath thing that was his habit when struggling with himself in some way. “That doesn’t help. Although the picture you paint…” He opened his eyes and his mouth curled into a smirk. “That’ll be with me for a while.” His voice was a low, rough murmur. He didn’t touch me, but the air around us crackled with electricity.

I grinned and took hold of his wrists, tugging him forward a step and arching flush against him. I nipped at his scruff-stubbled chin, then kissed his lips again. He wound his fingers in my hair and broke the kiss.

“It’s not just the Bond for me either,” he said. “God help me, Eden, I tried…”

“Show me,” I challenged. My sass gave way to a fierce vulnerability. “Show me what this is. Not the blood, not the magic. Just…us.”

Chris’s hand found the small of my back, a scorching anchor. The usual controlled frost in his eyes had melted away, leaving behind a raw, desperate heat. His thumb traced the line of my jaw, pressing on my chin until I opened my mouth. His mouth came down on mine, not with the rushed hunger of previous kisses, but with a deep, searching intensity that stole the air from my lungs.

It was an answer. A confession. A covenant.

I gripped the leather of his jacket, fingers digging in, pulling him closer as I pressed my body against the unyielding strength of his. His tongue slipped inside my mouth, and I twined mine with his, sucking gently every time he withdrew.

Chris’s hands swept down my back, drawing my hips to his, making the undeniable fact of his desire known. A low groan escaped him, and he broke the kiss. “I don’t know if I can be gentle with you,” he confessed, his voice thick with genuine fear.

I cupped his face, my touch steady. "Then don't be."

He accepted my invitation with renewed, possessive fervor. He kissed me again, his hands pushing beneath the hem of my shirt, sliding up my sides to cup my breasts. The rough callouses on his palms against my sensitive skin sent a jolt straight through my clit, and I arched into the heat of his touch. The shirt was a quickly discarded obstacle, flung toward the corner. My bra immediately followed.

He pulled away and shucked his jacket and t-shirt—doing that sexy reach-back thing that guys do—to reveal the broad, scarred expanse of his chest. He was a beautiful monument of strength, a testament to a life of defense and survival.

I reached out, tracing a line over his sternum, feeling the frantic thunder of his heart beneath my fingertips. He caught my hand and brought it to his mouth, pressing a hot kiss to my wrist, right where the veins met. A silent acknowledgment of the connection that had started this, but was no longer the focus.

He backed up until he hit the bed and sat, drawing me down with him so that I straddled his thigh. I leaned forward and kissed a particularly enticing spot between his shoulder and clavicle. His fists bunched in the sheets, and he sucked in a breath as I nipped and licked at his skin. My fae stretched languidly with a slow, wanton roll of hips against his thigh. A quiet growl came from deep within Chris.

I straightened, grinning, and looked at him. "You okay? Sounding a little wolfy there, Argent."

"You just keep doing what you're doing," he whispered. His fingers curled into my hips, pulling me over his lap. I felt his body stir and harden further with every move I made.

I squealed as he flipped me to my back, the surprised giggle giving way to a moan as he pressed his mouth to my stomach, then tilted his head to lick the curve of one breast. He unfastened my jeans and tugged them over my hips, and I grinned as I kicked them from around my ankles. Above me, his glittering gaze was unwavering. I lifted my hips, an unconscious invitation, and felt the sudden weight of his body pressing me into the mattress.

“Chris.” His name on my lips was a breathless plea. A prayer. I held his head against my body and he nestled in, resting his cheek against my torso. His eyelids fluttered, those impossibly long lashes tickling me. He finally drew back and peered up at me, his whiskered chin scratching at my flesh. I trailed my fingertips down his cheek and knew there was no going back. Heart and body, I belonged to Christopher Argent.

I think he saw something in my eyes, because he swallowed thickly and rose over me. Leaned down to kiss my lips. My throat. My shoulders. He worshipped my breasts, and I gripped the nape of his neck, holding on for dear life. He moved further down, kissing my stomach. My hips. And finally, when I was writhing with uncontrollable desire and flooded with feelings I didn’t want to examine too closely, he dipped his head and kissed me where I needed him most.

My hips shot skyward and a hoarse cry broke free, but he anchored me with a heavy arm across my stomach. He draped one of my legs over his shoulder and set to work tasting, licking—utterly devouring me. He speared me with his tongue and my thighs convulsed, but he only went deeper, working my body like an artist at his easel. I shattered, mewling and panting, babbling unintelligibly around my fangs as the desire for his blood nearly floored me.

“Not yet,” he rumbled, sensing my need. “Trust me.” He kissed my thighs and crawled up my body, pushing one knee between mine as he stopped to shove his jeans over his hips. He threw them in the direction of the rest of our clothes and returned. My claws made popping sounds as they sank into the mattress. He bent, kissing me like a lover should, taking his time, sampling my lips. The taste of my body was still on his tongue, and the cocktail was intoxicating.

And then he was there, at my cunt. Hot and hard and ready, seeking asylum in the welcoming heat of my body. I licked my lips again and brought my hands to his shoulders, rolling my hips slightly to urge him on.

I caught my bottom lip between my teeth as he inched forward and puffed out a soft exhalation as he rolled himself home. He waited for me to adjust around him, kissing me again until I writhed beneath him.

“Move,” I hissed, claws pricking the skin of his ass. I threw my head back when he obliged. “Oh, god. Chris. Oh, shit.”

I picked up his rhythm, rocking and rising with every beat of our hearts. He moved slowly, a tender, deliberate rhythm that drove the air out of me in soft, broken sighs. My hands raked through the thick hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him down for another kiss. The world narrowed to the sound of skin-on-skin, the soft groan I pulled from his throat, and the feel of his strong body against mine.

It wasn't just physical. With every thrust, a little piece of his formidable control crumbled, and with every gasp, a piece of my defensive walls, wiped out. The Bond was just a lock. This was the key, finally turning, opening a door to something deep, serious, and real.

He buried his head against my throat. “I can’t…I…” He shifted angles, hooking my knee in his elbow, and I let go a wail as he hit some magical spot deep inside me. He rolled so that he was on his back and I was still rocking against him. He roughly tangled his hands in my hair and brought my face to his neck. “Now, Eden. Do it now.”

I sank my fangs deep into his flesh, gulping his blood. I bit him again, and then a third time, lapping at the wounds and catching rolling drops on my tongue. Celebrating his blood and his body, even as I rode his cock like a wild thing.

When my second orgasm hit, it was a sudden, violent spasm that left me clinging to him, our bodies slick with sweat. He thundered his release, and it was almost as powerful as a werewolf’s roar. The taste of his blood was still on my tongue, and I came again, immediately. A sharp crack sounded as a wave of raw, unfettered power pulsed out from us. The lamp beside my bed exploded, raining plastic and glass across the room.

Panting, gasping for air and hoping that my vision returned to normal—because spots were dancing in front of my eyes like I was flirting with unconsciousness—I sank down to drape myself across Chris’s heaving chest.

“Holy shit,” I whispered.

He laughed, a rare sound, and pulled a sheet up over us as warmth and contentment stole over us. He lifted his head just enough to press a final, slow, reverent kiss to my temple.

Chapter Text

A while later, I lightly stroked the bruised bite marks on Chris’s neck and chest. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I whispered.

He tugged me more tightly against him, resting his chin on top of my head. He gave a sleepy grunt in the affirmative, then shifted back to look down at me. “Are you?”

Was I? Sex with him had been…incredible. And fully phasing had been incredible. And openly feeding from him had been incredible. And the surge of power, of unification and completion, that had rolled through me when I’d orgasmed…

Yes. I was very, very okay. Incredible, even.

I realized he was still waiting for me to answer, and I smiled, nodding. “I’m good. Although I did really like that lamp.” I threw a glance over my shoulder to the shattered remains.

“I’ll buy you another one.” Chris lazily dragged his hand up my body, smoothing a palm over the curve of my hip and up my ribs to cradle my breast with a possessive squeeze.

My breath hitched, and my eyelids fluttered closed. I laughed, a husky, sensual sound, as he rolled us, pinning me snugly between him and the mattress. The cool, soft sheet tangled unheeded around our legs, and I kicked them away as I drew my knees up to cradle his heated body against mine. Power sizzled through me, and I shivered.

Chris cocked his head. “Do you feel any different now that your transition’s completed?”

“Full disclosure?” I sighed quietly. “I don’t feel any less attracted to you, bud. I don’t think boning you worked.”

He chuckled, thumb idly toying with my nipple as he leaned in and brushed his lips over my jaw. “That’s a problem.”

“I know. I mean I guess we can try it one more time, see if that quashes it some.” I brought my arms up, crossed my wrists behind his neck. “Whattaya say?”

He grinned and bent to kiss me, but my cell phone shattered the moment by blasting Stiles’s ringtone at full volume. So instead of planting his lips on mine, Chris dropped his forehead to the valley between my breasts and groaned, then shifted so he could grab my phone from the table.

I rolled onto my side, facing away from him, and answered with a growl. “This had better be really important, Stiles.”

“Uh, I’m on my way home. Dad said he was going home to grab a spare set of clothes since he was probably going to be at the office all night—”

I went onto my knees, leaning over the phone in panic. “He’s coming here? Now?”

“It’ll be fine, sweetheart,” Chris murmured, trying to calm me.

Stiles was quiet for a beat too long. “Did…are you…”

“I’m hanging up, Stiles.” I ended the call and tossed my phone onto the mattress, then scrambled from the bed. “Where are my clothes?”

Chris stood at a much more leisurely pace and bent to retrieve his boxer-briefs, calmly tugging them on. “Settle down. This is your room. You have clothes in your dresser.”

I threw the sheet over my shoulder, toga-style, and moved to find fresh clothes. “Oh, I don’t feel so good,” I said, placing a hand on my churning stomach. “There’s a lot going on right now. A lot. Are you leaving? Are you going to leave?”

He glanced up from fastening his jeans, brows raised. “I should, right?”

I gnawed my lip. Scrubbed a hand over my face. “Yeah?” I sighed and dropped my arm. “Hell, I don’t know.”

“Eden, listen.” He rested his hands on my shoulders and stared into my eyes. “You’ve transitioned fully and your control exceeds expectations. If you’re going to have this conversation with your dad—”

“I am. I am.”

“Then it needs to be you and Stiles, working together. Family, yes?” He brushed his lips across my forehead. “I’ve got some things to do, but I’ll be around if you need me.”

“Okay.” I nodded, leaning briefly against him and inhaling his soothing scent. “Okay, go. Please be careful. There’s some kind of whacko out there ritualistically killing people and you sort of fall into one or two of those categories yourself, ya know?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said with a soft smile. He jerked his gaze toward the window, his body going tight with tension. “Your father’s here.”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Wait for him to come inside, then go out the window.”

He arched a brow. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had to sneak out of somewhere,” he reminded me.

I tugged on a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt. “Yeah, yeah. Just…” I trailed off, waving toward the window. I realized I’d forgotten a bra and stripped out of the shirt so I could retrieve one. When I looked back, Chris had disappeared, and the curtain fluttered in the light breeze.

“Okay,” I breathed, exhaling in a rush. I faced my mirror and dragged fingers through my hair, trying to keep it from looking too sex-mussed. “Okay, okay, okay.” I gave my reflection—who did not look completely calm and collected—a resolute nod. “Here we go.”

--

Stiles showed up a few minutes after Dad, looking harried and nervous. I had managed to throw together a relatively decent façade, though my stomach was starting to hurt worse. Probably nerves…or hunger. Whatever the reason, the gnawing pain provided a sort of distraction, which hopefully made me seem a little less on edge.

“Dad, when you get done I need you to…” Stiles jerked a thumb over his shoulder, motioning toward his room. His wild gaze caught mine, and he canted his head. He and I headed for his room, leaving Dad in the kitchen fixing a cup of coffee.

“How are we gonna play this?” I whispered.

“I have no idea. I guess I’ll just…” He mimed vomiting. “You know. Just come out with it. Did you and Argent have sex?”

I swatted his arm, making him yelp. “Jesus, Stiles. I’m not telling you—”

“I’m just saying that if you had sex with him because of the virgin thing, that wasn’t really an issue because the killer isn’t targeting virgins.”

“I didn’t have sex with him because of the virgin thing,” I hissed. I pointed a finger at him. “Not another word about my sex life. Ever.”

Dad appeared in the doorway and sighed. “Why are you whisper-screaming at your brother?”

“No reason,” I said quickly.

“Um, it’s nothing,” Stiles said at the same time.

Dad looked weary. “What’s up, guys? I’ve got to get back out there.”

Stiles drew our father into his room and began pacing in front of him. I took a seat on the edge of his desk, letting him take the lead since my knowledge of the supernatural was still somewhat limited.

“Okay,” Stiles said. “Okay, okay, okay.” He stopped pacing, then started back, still muttering to himself. I smiled at the similarities between me and my brother.

“Stiles?” Dad said.

He waved his hands in agitation. “Dad, I’m sorry, okay. I’m just…I’m trying to…I’m just trying to figure out how to start here.”

“Are you coming out?”

That stopped him in his tracks. “What? No! What?”

Dad shook his head. “Hey, I don’t have this kind of time.”

“It’s okay, Stiles,” I said. When he looked back at me, I nodded encouragingly.

He blew out a breath. “Um, for the last year, you’ve had all these cases that you couldn’t figure out, right? I mean, all the murders involving Kate Argent, and then Matt killing all the people who had drowned him—”

I grimaced. Stiles definitely was the one to take lead on this. I had no idea about any of these people or cases.

“—and all these murders right now. It’s like…it’s like you’ve been playing a losing game.”

Dad scowled. “Stiles, the last thing I need right now is a job performance review from my own son.” He looked over to me. “Do you know what he’s getting at?”

I nodded. “Just listen to him for a minute, Dad.”

Stiles crossed the room and took out his chess set. “The reason you’re losing the game is ‘cause you’ve never been able to see the whole board.” He set the board on the table and took out all the pieces.

I pulled a chair over and motioned our dad into it. He sat hesitantly, casting a quick glance at his watch.

Stiles passed me a handful of skinny post-it notes. “Write these names down.” He held up each piece individually, weaving an elaborate narrative of events that had happened over the past few years in Beacon Hills. Each piece represented a person—or, more accurately, a being—that was somehow connected to the events. He left me out of the mix, though he did throw a look my way that let me know telling Dad afterward wasn’t up for debate. When he was done and the board was set with an army of labeled characters, he stood back and chewed his lip as he watched our dad’s face.

Dad stared at the board with a look of confused annoyance. “Scott and Derek are werewolves?”

“Yes.”

“And Kate Argent was a werewolf?”

Stiles pointed at the piece. “Hunter. That’s…purple’s hunter.”

I could tell by Dad’s tone that he’d almost reached his limit, so I chimed in. “So is Allison and her dad.” Had to let him know that I, a fully-functional adult, was invested in what Stiles was saying. I bit back a grunt of pain, not wanting to be a distraction, as a searing stab streaked through my abdomen.

“Yeah,” he said. “And my friend Deaton, the veterinarian, is a…kanima?”

My shoulders slumped in defeat. “No, Dad.”

“No, no. He’s a druid, okay? Well, we think.” He looked at me for verification.

“Pretty sure,” I said with a nod.

Dad’s brow furrowed. “So who’s the kanima?”

“Jackson,” Stiles said.

“No, Jackson’s a werewolf,” Dad said, shaking his head and pointing at the board.

Stiles pinched his eyes shut in frustration. “No. Jackson was a kanima first, and then Peter and Derek killed him and he came back to life as a werewolf.”

I added, “Also, since he came back to life, Peter and Derek aren’t responsible for committing a murder. Jackson lives in London now.”

Dad frowned. “Well, who’s the da-rack?”

“It’s da-rock,” Stiles corrected. He glanced at me when I gave a sharp shake of my head. Now was not the time. “We don’t know yet.”

Dad sat back in his chair. “Why was Jackson the kanima?”

Stiles huffed a breath. “Because sometimes the shape that you take reflects the person that you are.”

Dad set his jaw in a way that I was very familiar with, and I knew we’d lost him. “And what shape would an increasingly confused and angrier-by-the-second father take?” he demanded.

Stiles flicked his eyes to me, then back to Dad. “Uh, that would be more of an expression like the one you’re currently wearing.”

“Yeah.” Dad pushed away from the table, sending chess pieces scattering.

I stood as Stiles stepped in front of him, pleading with him to stop. The second my feet touched the floor, darkness clouded my vision. Spots floated in front of my eyes and fiery lances skewered my abdomen.

“You ready?” Stiles asked me.

I nodded, breathing through the pain as I willed my succubus to the surface. My power tingled through me, ratcheting up my heartbeat.

And then pain wracked my body and the darkness closed in, swallowing me even as I collapsed to the floor.

Chapter Text

A steady beeping pulled me back to consciousness. I winced, lifting a hand to my pounding head. “What the f—”

Suddenly Dad was there, holding my hand. “Hey. Hey, honey. How’re you feeling?”

I frowned and squinted over at the machines beside me, then down to the white and blue paisley gown I wore. “Uh, a little confused,” I said, pushing myself higher on the firm hospital bed. “What happened?”

Melissa appeared, checked some readings on one of the monitors. “We’re not sure yet, but we’re taking every precaution. Gonna run a few more tests, but it looks like a toxic reaction.”

I arched a brow. “To what?”

“We, uh, won’t know until we get the panels back, and God knows when that’ll be. The hospital’s evacuating, so it could be several hours. Stiles said you were having stomach pains? He saw you holding your abdomen.”

“Yeah. Burning, stabby pains. But I haven’t really had anything I could be having a reaction to. I ate a bagel sandwich for breakfast, had some coffee…” I pursed my lips, thinking. “That was it. I left work and went home.” And made love to Chris Argent, completing my transition. Oh, hell. Was this some sort of succubus reaction?

My eyes widened and I glanced at Melissa, whose expression didn’t change, though she gave a small nod. She patted my dad on the shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze. “Sheriff, I know it’s your kid, but you’ve got a job to do and so do I. I promise I will call the second we find out anything, but for now, Eden needs rest. We'll get her transferred, keep you posted. There’s nothing you can do for her here.”

“She’s right, Dad,” I said when I saw him gearing up to argue. “There are a lot of people out there depending on you.”

I could tell he didn’t want to go, but he stood with a heavy sigh and kissed my forehead. “You call me as soon as you find out anything,” he ordered.

“Will do. Love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, kiddo.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and headed for the door. Stiles, whom I hadn’t noticed sitting quietly in the corner, stood and followed him out.

“Okay,” Melissa said. “What aren’t you telling your father but have to tell me because I’m a medical professional and have a werewolf son?”

I took a deep breath, wincing when my stomach clenched. “I completed my transformation today. Like, I’m full-blown Ghrasidhe now. So I don’t know if I’m having some sort of weird physiological issues with that, or—”

“I’m going to be perfectly honest with you now, where I couldn’t be in front of your dad. You’ve got a lot of earmarks of slow-acting poison, Ede.”

I frowned. “You think somebody did this to me on purpose?”

“If you were human, I would. But you shouldn’t react to things that are toxic to humans like a human would. Not anymore. You should be healing, regardless of what this is. And that’s what’s bothering me.” She whipped a screen around to show me my vitals. “Why aren’t you healing?”

I swallowed. “I don’t feel terrible,” I said. “Maybe I’m just healing slowly?”

She shook her head. “There’s been no improvement since we’ve had you here. You aren’t healing at all. In fact, you’re getting worse. Slowly, but still.”

Why wasn’t I healing? Chris might know. Oh, crap. Was he sick too? Did we have some sort of supernatural STI? “Shit, Melissa. I need my phone.” My hands shook as I dialed his cell, heaving a sigh of relief when he answered. He sounded fine. “Something’s wrong.”

“Stiles called me. Are you okay?”

I closed my eyes, the concern in his voice making my chest warm. I had it bad for that cantankerous hunter. “Yes. Well, I don’t know. Just…just take care, okay?”

After a moment, we disconnected. Melissa left to tend to the evacuation. When she was gone, I nestled down into the mattress and tugged the blanket up a little. I shivered, pain gripping me, and coughed. I brought a hand to my lips and fought panic when my fingertips came away black. I threw my legs over the side of the bed and hurried to the bathroom, bending close to the mirror to examine the black oil smeared at my lips.

Someone knocked on the door to the room.

“Just a second!”

I scooped a handful of water from the faucet and swished it around my mouth, rinsing the bitter remnants away. I watched, transfixed, as gray water swirled in the sink, and couldn’t help but feel like I was circling the drain as well.

The door opened and Peter stepped in. My brows rose. “What are you doing here?”

“Babysitting, apparently,” he said. “Stiles called, told me you were here.”

“You’re doing a favor for Stiles?”

He canted his head. “Argent also called. With some very creative threats to certain parts of my anatomy if I let anything happen to you. And while I'm not comfortable that he was able to get my phone number, having an Argent indebted to me is worth more than whatever other bullshit I was going to do tonight, so here I am.” He held out his arms, then dropped them to his sides. “You look like hell, kitten,” he said, brow furrowed.

I wiped my mouth with a shaky hand and threw the wet washcloth in the trash, then peered at him in the mirror over the sink. “Aren’t sociopaths supposed to be charming?”

He shrugged. “Common misconception. Seriously, you need to get back in—hey!” He caught me when my knees buckled and I cursed. “Easy. I got you.”

“I hate this,” I said, clenching my teeth against waves of pain and nausea. “I hate feeling weak.” I straightened, easing my grip on his jacket from where I’d caught myself. “I’m fine. I’m okay now.”

Peter carried me to bed and gently sat me on the side. “You won’t be good to anybody if you’re dead,” he said bluntly. “Not Stiles, not Scott. Me. Nobody. So shut up and keep your ass in that bed. I’m gonna go try to find Melissa.”

My cell rang. “Hello?”

“He’s gone—he—she took him, and—”

I stood, pressing the phone tighter against my ear. “Stiles? Stiles! Slow down. Who’s gone?”

“Dad. She’s got Dad, Eden.”

The icy fingers of fear threaded through the pain of the poison, dulling it. “Who does? Baby, who has him?”

“Jennifer. Jennifer Blake, she’s the darach. She’s got him, Ede.”

Jennifer Blake. That bitch. “Stiles, where are you?”

He took a steadying breath. “With Scott. We’re working on a plan. We’ll get it done. If you see Jennifer—”

“If I see Jennifer I’ll probably kill her myself,” I interrupted.

“Stay at the hospital,” he said. “Be safe, Eden, okay? Just…just be safe.”

“You too, Stiles.”

“I love you,” he said.

“Love you too, kid.” I hung up the phone just as Peter came back into the room. “That bitch poisoned me. With a fucking hazelnut latte!”

Peter looked grim. “We’ve got bigger problems.” He cracked the blinds and cursed. “Much bigger problems.” He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Can you move?”

“Yeah. I’m fine,” I said.

“That’s an exaggeration,” he muttered. “Come on. We gotta get you out of here.”

“What is it?”

“Alphas,” he said. He placed a finger to his lips and cracked the door open. When he’d checked that the hallway was clear, he waved me forward. “The last thing we need is for them to gorge on your blood and become even more powerful.”

“I’m choosing to interpret that as your being concerned that I’d die,” I whispered. “And not just being inconvenienced by them being more powerful.”

“Sure,” he said. He took my hand and wove through the hallways, finally ducking into the stairwell. He shoved me into a cramped space between the staircase and the wall. “There’s no way to get you out just yet. Stay here. No matter what you hear. Understand?”

“Peter, I can help you—”

“Kitten, I have no doubt that you could be hell on wheels if you were at a hundred percent, but you’re running on adrenaline right now. Your body’s forgotten that it’s being destroyed from the inside. And if you go out there and a member of Deucalion’s pack finds you, that’s it. No muss, no fuss. Just your throat on the floor. So please, I’m asking with all the sincerity I have in my person for you to stay here.”

I nodded, and he left. I don’t know how long I was stuck in that cubby, but eventually the screams and crashes and roars came to a sudden halt, leaving the hospital in an almost tomblike stillness.

Finally, unable to bear it, I crawled out of the hiding space and crept to the door. I caught my reflection and winced. My skin was pasty gray, and dark circles bruised the area under my eyes. My lips were pale, looking almost bloodless, and had started to crack at the edges. I looked like an addict going through a hell of a time with withdrawals. I needed to find Chris. I needed to feed and figure out how to counteract what I’d been poisoned with. I needed to find Stiles. I needed to find my dad.

The weight of all I needed to do came crashing in at once, and a black tear trickled down my cheek. I allowed myself one, then I took a hearty breath, exhaled shakily as my stomach seized in pain, and then opened the door to the hospital floor.

I heard a soft clicking and I froze for a minute. I ducked down and crawled to the corner to take a peek, see if it was the blind Alpha. Melissa gasped when she saw me and Chris jerked his pistol in my direction.

“Easy,” I gasped, raising my hands. “Settle down, Van Helsing. It’s just me.”

He helped me to my feet, gripping the back of my neck and bringing his forehead to mine. “I was worried about you.”

I breathed him in and bit back a sob. “I’m okay now.” I pinched my eyes shut as warmth stole over us—I could feel the effects of the poison recede, if only slightly, and a surge of power zipped through me.

“She poisoned you with mistletoe. You need to feed,” he said. “To heal.”

“Later,” I said.

He pulled away and resumed walking, taking the lead with Scott. I avoided Allison’s eyes at all costs, not ready to face the potential awkwardness, but Melissa threw me a wink and a weak grin.

The group ducked into a room, Scott explaining to Chris why we couldn’t turn the power on or fight the Alphas. Something about Derek and—

“I don’t think I even know which teacher this is,” Chris said, holding his arms out in question.

“Jennifer fucking Blake,” I growled.

“Brown hair,” Isaac said, gesturing. “Kinda hot.”

Record scratch. We all turned to look at the teen. His eyes widened. “What? Just an observation.”

--

“The police are coming right now,” Stiles told us. 

“You gotta go,” I croaked to Chris. “Get Derek out.” I pulled away, going to tiptoes and kissing him. “Go. Find them. Find my dad.” My eyes begged him, holding his gaze as my voice shook with pent up emotion. “You gotta find them. Me and Stiles…we’ll hold off the cops.” I could tell he wanted to argue. “I’ll find you when we’re done here. Melissa will—”

“Melissa’s gone,” Stiles said, breathing carefully. “Jennifer…Jennifer got her too.”

“We’ll get her back,” I said. “Chris, please, go. I’ll be fine.”

Stiles stepped toward him. “I’ll take her to your place when we’re done here.”

Chris nodded once. “Be careful.” He bent and brushed a sweet kiss over my forehead, then headed for the door.

"Oh, shit! Peter!"

"He's good," Stiles said. "He took off when Deucalion left. Didn't want to be around the Argents." We went to the lobby to wait for the police. “Ok, so how’re we playing this?”

I shrugged. “Let me do the talking. I mean, to be fair, I’m completely oblivious to anything that happened, so technically I wouldn’t be lying.”

“Plus, nobody’s gonna give you a hard time,” Stiles said. He pulled me in for a hug, but not before I saw tears in his eyes. “You seriously look like hell.”

I squeezed him and chuckled, grimacing when it turned into a cough. Stiles pulled back and glanced over my shoulder, his entire demeanor changing in a heartbeat.

“Oh, just perfect,” he sighed.

I looked back and felt my lip curl. Special Agent McCall. Wonderful. “Does Scott know he’s here?”

Stiles shook his head.

“A couple of Stilinskis at the center of this whole mess,” McCall said. “What a shocker.”

“Raphael McCall being a douchewad,” I said. “Equally shocking.”

McCall arched a brow. “Think you can answer some questions without the usual level of sarcasm?”

Stiles canted his head. “If you ask the questions without the usual level of stupid.”

I managed to suppress a smirk, but just barely. Normally a teenager—especially my brother—popping off to an adult would irritate the hell out of me. But McCall wasn’t just any adult.

“Where’s your dad, and why has no one been able to contact him?” McCall asked.

“I don’t know,” Stiles said. “I haven’t seen him in hours.”

To the untrained eye, Stiles was fine, answering questions without interest. A normal, bored teen. But I saw the tremor in his hand, the way he rubbed his fingertips with his thumb. He was barely keeping it together.

“Is he drinking again?”

“Excuse me?” I demanded, stepping between them. “Why don’t you try to stay on topic here, agent. Our dad’s drinking habits have nothing to do with whatever this—” I spun my finger in a circle, indicating the destroyed hospital. “—was.”

“He never had to stop,” Stiles said pointedly.

“But he did have to slow down,” McCall countered. He looked at me, eyes narrowing as he took in my appearance. “You don’t look so good, Eden.”

“Well, I was at the hospital for a reason.”

McCall sighed. “Is your dad drinking like he used to?”

“How about this,” Stiles said. “Next time I see him, I’ll give him a field sobriety test, okay? We’ll do the alphabet—start with F, end with U…”

“Stiles.” I linked my fingers with his and shook my head.

A muscle in McCall’s jaw twitched. “How about you just tell me what the hell happened here?”

“We don’t know what happened here,” Stiles said, sighing again.

“We were stuck in the elevators the whole time,” I said.

“You’re not the ones who put the name on the doors, are you?” he asked, eyeing us closely.

Stiles and I looked at each other. My brows knit in confusion.

“What name?” Stiles asked.

McCall jerked his chin and turned, motioning for us to follow him around the corner. He pushed the button on the elevator and the doors wobbled closed with a screech. Tall, blood-red letters had been sprayed on the polished surface.

Argent.

“I got nothing,” Stiles said, but he cut me a glance.

I shook my head. “Me either. But then, we were inside the elevator, so…Besides, I just moved back to town not too long ago. Vandalism isn’t high on my to-do list.”

McCall checked his notes. “How about we talk about that. Kinda strange all this trouble comes to town right after you get here, no?”

I scoffed. “Uh, not really. You know what? I think I’ve let you abuse your authority by questioning a minor without a guardian present for long enough. Unless you’re gonna charge us with something, my brother and I are leaving.” I tugged on Stiles’s shirt and left McCall in the hallway. I was fading fast. If I didn’t counteract the mistletoe in my system soon, it wouldn’t be good.

Halfway to the jeep, I had to stop and brace myself on a car until the coughing subsided. I quickly wiped my mouth on the back of my hand.

“Oh my god, Eden,” Stiles said quietly. When I looked at him, I knew he’d seen the black oil on my lips.

“I’ll be all right,” I assured him. As we loaded up, I prayed I wasn’t lying.

Chapter Text

Surprisingly, it was Peter who met us at the apartment’s elevator, and I nearly collapsed against him as we headed upstairs. I’d tried to keep Stiles from seeing how bad it was, but honestly, I felt like I was coming apart from the inside, every molecule in my body screaming in agony. My chest felt heavy, and each breath I took was a task in itself. I didn’t even protest when Peter twisted the knob until it broke, picked me up, and carried me inside.

Stiles held out his arms. “Allison gave me a key!”

Peter ignored him.

“Where are we going?” I asked as he bypassed the living room.

“Bath,” he said. “You’re freezing, kitten.”

Was I? I’d been about to ask for some air. I was burning up. “You’re n-not getting me naked.” He cut me a look, and for once, his eyes were serious. “You know how to cure mistletoe poisoning, right?”

The corners of his mouth tugged down, and he stayed quiet as he put me on my feet in the middle of the bathroom.

“So that’s a no, then,” I sighed. “Look, if something happens—”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” he interrupted.

“Just shut up for a second, okay? If something happens to me, I need you to find my dad. And if…if Dad’s…if she’s already…” I cleared my throat and tried again. “Stiles can’t be alone, Peter. He’s already lost so much. I know it’s a lot, that you two don’t get along, but promise you’ll look out for him.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” he repeated, turning on the taps in the bathtub. When he caught the look I shot him, he sighed. “Fine, I’ll tell Derek to look out for him. Besides, he’s got Scott’s pack. He won’t be alone.”

“Okay,” I said. A cough tore its way up my throat, and I braced against the sink with the force of it. I could feel the oily substance brought on by the mistletoe spill over my lips and down my chin. Peter held me with one arm wrapped around my waist to steady me. My knees gave out and my vision dimmed. He called my name, but his voice sounded distant.

He scooped me up and dumped me into the bathtub, clothes and all. I gasped as a thousand pinpricks erupted beneath my skin, but the scream that wanted to come out stuck in my chest.

“You’ll be okay,” he said, fingers fumbling with the zipper on my hoodie. “You’ll be okay, you hear me? Eden? Look at me.” He jerked the sweater off my shoulders and scrubbed his hands up and down my arms, warming my skin.

I nodded weakly, then I was swallowed by unconsciousness.

--

Voices woke me, followed by a slamming door. I blinked my eyes open and frowned. I was in Chris’s apartment, in his bed.

“The word is guardian, Allison. More than anyone, you know that’s a role I haven’t exactly lived up to lately.”

“Hello?” I coughed, my voice ragged and harsh.

“Eden!” Pounding footsteps. The door opened, banging against the wall as Stiles projected himself through and crashed against the bed, swallowing me in a fierce hug. I squeezed him with a slight wince.

“It’s okay, Slinky. I’m okay.”

“God, don’t call me that,” he said, though his voice was muffled against my shoulder. He lifted his head, eyes wet with unshed tears. “All I need is people at school finding out about that and taking my cool factor down even further.”

I smiled and tweaked his cheek. “In your defense, Stilinski is a hard name for an adult to say, much less a three-year-old with a speech impediment.” I threw back the blanket someone had draped over me and held out my hands. “Help an old lady up.”

He hugged me again. “I thought you were…”

“Me too, for a minute,” I said quietly, closing my eyes. We separated and headed toward the hall. “How am I not dead? Peter didn’t know how to cure mistletoe poisoning. Where is he, anyway?”

“Gone.” Chris intercepted us as we made our way to the office. He ran a hand over my hair, eyes searching my face. My cheeks heated under his gaze.

“I’m good.”

He nodded with a soft smile. “Good. And to answer your question,” he said, turning to go into the office, “mistletoe poisoning works differently for you than it does for them. A call to an acquaintance in Wales gave us all the information we needed for a healing tonic.”

“Well, it worked,” I said. “I feel ready for anything. We need to do something.”

“Yeah? Like what?” Stiles sat in a chair and anxiously rubbed his fingertips together. “The lunar eclipse is less than two freaking nights away.”

I petted my brother’s hair in a soothing gesture.

“Stiles, don’t give up hope,” Chris said, voice firm.

Stiles glanced up at me, eyes solemn, then back down to the floor. “They could already be dead.”

Chris shook his head. “I don’t think so. There’s something about Jennifer’s tactics…it’s like she’s still positioning. Still moving pieces into place.”

“And you’re one of them,” Allison insisted. “Tell him, Eden. Scott’s mom, your dad…Guardians.”

“Plus, your name was on the elevator,” Stiles pointed out. “Kinda felt like a warning.”

I looked at Chris. “Both very valid points.”

“Then let’s not wait around to see the next move,” he said, unfolding a map and laying it on his desk. “Everything she's done has been on a telluric current, so Melissa and the Sheriff have to be somewhere on one of those currents, right?”

Stiles shook his head in exasperation. “You seriously want to go after her? I mean, what if she just takes you like the others, huh? No offense, but what’s the difference between you and them?”

Chris opened the drawer in his desk, pulled out a pistol and clip, and snapped the clip in place. “I carry Desert Eagles,” he said matter-of-factly. “Maybe she can heal from a shot to the leg and a few slashes to the face, but personally, I'd like to see how she holds up with half her skull blown off.”

Cocky, I thought with a mental eyeroll. But inside my succubus pandiculated, reveling in his display of strength.

“We’ve got one priority right now, and that’s to fine Melissa and your dad. We’ve got a map and every clue we need to figure this out.” He braced his hands on his desk and leaned over, looking at the three of us in turn. “The only thing we don’t have is time, which is why I need all of you.”

I squeezed Stiles’s shoulder. “Don’t give up now, man,” I whispered.

Stiles sighed. “Where do we start?”

Chris offered a small smile and nod, then straightened and looked at the map. “The places where the sacrifices have been committed have usually been different from where the bodies have been found. I think the placement has to do with the strength of the current, so there's the school, the animal clinic, the bank—”

“Wait,” Stiles interrupted. “Wait a sec—”

“That’s where she kept Scott’s boss,” I pointed out.

Stiles glanced up from the map to Chris. “She wouldn’t use the same place twice, would she?”

“Only if she didn’t succeed the first time,” he answered. “Deaton was her only failure. That could mean something.”

I ran a hand through my hair and puffed out a breath. “That’s just one place so far. We’re going to need more help. A lot more help.”

“What about Lydia?” Allison asked.

“Lydia? Martin?” I threw Stiles a confused look.

“What can she do?” Chris asked, shaking his head.

“Uh, Lydia’s got sort of a talent,” Stiles explained. “She somehow ended up finding a couple of the bodies, um…wi-without actually looking for them.”

My brows rose. “That’s a bummer of a talent.”

“What is she?” Chris asked him. “A psychic?”

Stiles canted his head. “She’s something.”

“Okay,” I said. “Go to school, find Lydia. Whatever you guys need to do, do it.” I looked from Chris to Allison and back again. “You guys want to go hunting one more time?”

--

The office became a survivalist’s wet dream. The Argents pulled weapons from everywhere—guns, bigger guns, bows, tasers, knives. Was that a percussion grenade?

“Jesus,” I said, eyes widening as Chris checked the scope on an even bigger gun.

“Uh, I thought you guys were retired,” Stiles said.

Chris checked a magazine. “Retired, yes.” He flipped a few things on the weapon and moved on to the next. “Defenseless? No.”

“You sure about this?” Stiles asked me. “You nearly died last night, and you’re still learning your powers.”

“I know, but I’m sure. I have to do this.”

Chris strapped on a tactical thigh holster and checked his weapon before sliding it into place. “Stiles, make sure your phone’s on. If you hear from Scott, you let us know immediately.”

Stiles tapped his phone against his palm and glanced at Allison, then tucked it into his pocket. “Yeah, I'm thinking that's gonna be kind of unlikely.”

“Try to remember, he’s just doing what he thinks is right,” Chris reminded him.

I caught a whiff of werewolf and spun toward the door with claws and fangs bared.

“Whoa, it’s just me!” Isaac said, hands up.

“Sorry,” I mumbled with an embarrassed half-smile. I retracted my claws and cleared my throat.

Isaac addressed the room. “I can't shoot a gun or use a crossbow, but...well, I'm getting pretty good with these, too.” He popped his claws and flexed his fingers.

“Fine,” Chris said. He passed Allison a quiver of arrows and tossed Isaac a bag of gear. “Let’s load up. We’ll scope out the bank first.”

“You guys…be careful.” Stiles looked at Chris, then at me. I could see the wheels turning, the worry that Chris wasn’t the only possible target now.

I cupped Stiles’s cheeks. “I’ll see you in a bit, ok?” He nodded, eyes closed.

The five of us headed downstairs together, splitting up in the parking lot. The ride to the bank was silent, everyone dealing with their own thoughts, trapped in their own heads. Chris parked the SUV out of sight of the street, and we broke in through the first-level fire exit.

Moving quickly but quietly, we headed for the vault. I called up my power, opening my senses like I’d done in the mall. I pushed tendrils of energy outward, feeling for anything that might be lying in wait.

Nothing happened.

“I don’t smell anyone,” I whispered. “No blood, no sweat. Nothing.”

We crept into the vault, and Allison lowered her bow. “It’s empty.”

“Be careful anyway,” Chris said. He pulled out his telescopic taser, lighting it up as we inched forward.

Isaac caught sight of the weapon and swallowed heavily. “I thought you only used those on werewolves.”

Chris took a deep breath. “I do.”

“Wha—”

Before I could finish the question, Chris had turned and zapped Isaac, and the kid collapsed to the floor.

“What the hell are you doing?” Allison demanded as Chris snatched her and cuffed her to the bar that ran the length of the wall.

“Jesus, Chris,” I said, kneeling and checking Isaac. “What is going on?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, kissing Allison’s forehead. He backed away from her and looked at me. “You’re just gonna have to trust me on this.”

I stood and shook my head, taking a step toward him. “What did you do?”

“What I had to,” he replied. He traced the curve of my cheek with one knuckle. “I knew for a long time she didn't just operate on the currents—she was in sync with them.”

“You knew and you didn’t say anything?” Allison cried.

“Why, Chris? What are you doing?”

“I needed her to come,” he said simply.

At that moment, a ripple of power sizzled up my spine. I turned in time to see Jennifer fuckin’ Blake, in the flesh. She stepped into the vault with a smug smirk on her face.

“Now this is a sacrifice,” she said with a sadistic grin.

I screamed, enraged, and flew at her, calling every ounce of power in my blood to the surface. Magic hummed in my veins, making the hair on my arms stand up. Jennifer held up her hand, called up a shield, but not before I flung my fist out and shot a blast of energy directly at her chest. She cried out, bouncing off the wall. I readied another blow, but arms wrapped around me, restraining my movement.

“Eden. Eden!” Chris grunted, lifting me off my feet as I snapped and growled, trying to get to Jennifer. The woman stood, clearly pissed, and made ready to attack.

“No, wait!” He turned me, putting himself further between us. “Just…just wait.”

“Chris, she’s right there,” I snarled. “Right there!”

“But we don’t know where the others are,” he hissed, shaking me. His eyes shone in the low light of the vault, trying to convey meaning to me.

Cold metal bit into my wrist and I looked down at the handcuffs he’d slipped on me. He locked the other end on the same bar as Allison. He backed away, toward the center of the room, then turned and faced Jennifer.

Chapter Text

The weight of what was happening—what could have already happened—settled around me when I caught sight of how pale and anxious my brother looked. I hugged him, high school reputation be damned, and felt my eyes prick with tears when he squeezed me tight.

“We’re gonna get them back,” I whispered. “It’s all going to be okay.”

“I know. I know we will,” he said, pulling away.

I’m not sure if either of us believed it a hundred percent, but all we had were our hopes. And a small collection of supernatural creatures.

“Stilinski.”

“Agent McCall,” Stiles said.

McCall looked between me and Stiles. “Did you know your dad’s car is in the school parking lot and has been since last night?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head.

“What does that mean?” Stiles asked.

“It means he’s officially missing,” McCall said, his voice softening slightly. He took a step forward, ushering us into an empty classroom. “Why am I getting the feeling you know something that could help us find your dad?” He pointed at Stiles. “Especially you.”

Stiles shook his head. “If I did, why would I not tell you?”

“If it meant helping your dad, why wouldn’t you?”

“So you’re asking me to tell you what I wouldn’t not tell you?” Stiles asked.

McCall focused on Stiles. “First, I have no idea what you just said. Second, how about you just help me help you?”

Stiles crossed his arms and shrugged. “Well, I don’t know how to help you help me tell you something that would help you if I don’t know it.”

“Stiles, enough.”

McCall scowled. “Are you doing this on purpose?”

I gave my brother a deliberate jab and Stiles held his hands out. “I don’t know anything, okay?” he said. “Can I just go?”

“Where are your other friends?” McCall asked.

“You mean Scott?”

McCall nodded once. “I mean Scott. I mean Isaac Lahey. Allison Argent. These twins…” He checked his notebook. “Ethan and Aiden. I’ve been told your whole little clique didn’t show up to school today.”

“I don’t have a clique,” Stiles said, eyes narrowed.

“Food poisoning,” I said. When McCall looked at me, I pointed at my face. “It’s why I was at the hospital, ya know? We, uh…everybody was over, and I made sushi, but…well, I guess the fish had turned. Yellowtail can be hard to work with.”

McCall arched a disbelieving brow. “So everyone’s sick?”

I nodded emphatically. “Yeah. I mean, not as bad as I was because they didn’t eat as much.”

“Stiles isn’t sick,” he pointed out.

“Oh, I never eat her food,” Stiles said. “Can’t trust somebody who puts peanut butter on a burger and calls it gourmet.”

“Guys, come on,” McCall said, sighing. “There’s been a disturbing amount of violent activity in this county in the last few months. Several murders tied to this school.” He looked between us, brows heavy as he frowned. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but it’s serious. And—hey…” He interrupted whatever Stiles had been about to say. “Your dad is missing.”

I cut my eyes to Stiles, then looked back at McCall. “We don’t know where he is,” I said. “If we knew anything to help your investigation, we’d tell you. We want to find our dad more than you do, Mr. McCall. Believe me.”

I could tell he didn’t, but he closed his notebook. “Fine. But I don’t want you going home alone,” he added. “You and your brother might not be safe. Is there some place you can stay?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I have a friend…I’m checking Stiles out of school and we’re gonna go stay with him.”

McCall nodded again, gave us a once-over, and opened the door. “If you hear from your dad, call me immediately. Got it?”

Stiles saluted and left the room, and I thanked Scott’s dad—anything to get him off our case—and headed to the office to sign my brother out. He was on his phone, texting furiously, and the double-doors had barely closed behind us before he took me by the arm.

“Come on,” he said, hurrying toward the parking lot. “I just talked to Scott. We gotta get to the animal clinic.”

--

I dumped another bag of ice into one of the washtubs Deaton had set up for this ritual and swallowed hard. “You know, I really hate this idea.” I looked over at Stiles. “Maybe I should be the one who—”

“Don’t,” he said, already shaking his head. “You’re not changing my mind about this, okay? Scott and Allison are doing it, so it has to be me.”

“Well to be honest, I’m not a hundred percent on board with any of you doing it,” I said. “I don’t really like any plan that involves the word ‘sacrifice’. There’s still time to find Dad and the others without you guys drowning yourselves.”

He looked at me, eyes bleak. “No there’s not, Ede.”

I sighed and glanced at the ice baths. “No, there’s not. But I don’t know why it can’t be me. I’m his kid too.”

“Yeah, but…” He canted his head. “Who would you rather be here to help Deaton if something goes wrong? You, Miss Cool-Under-Pressure, or me?”

“Really?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “You’re using your spazziness as a defense?”

He shrugged and clapped me on the shoulder. “Now you’re getting it.”

Scott and Allison entered the room, followed by Lydia, Isaac, and Deaton. We all stood around in an uncomfortable semicircle until the druid stepped forward.

“I suppose we should get started,” he said. “What did you bring?”

Stiles held out a crumpled piece of metal. “Um, I got my dad’s badge.” He glanced at me as he passed it over, then turned his eyes downward. “Jennifer kind of crushed it in her hand, so I tried hammering it out a bit. Still doesn’t look great.”

Deaton smiled softly. “Well, it doesn’t need to look good if it has meaning.”

I draped an arm across Stiles’s shoulders as we waited while the others gave Deaton their relics. He looked over at me, idly picking at his fingertips.

“Maybe you should leave.”

I flinched, surprised. “What? No way. I’m not leaving you, Stiles.”

“Okay, fine. But will you just…just stay in the lobby? Please?”

Deaton cleared his throat softly. “That’s actually not a bad idea,” he said. “I don’t believe you would struggle with controlling your phasing. But protective instincts are wired much differently. Seeing your brother going through this would likely be hard to ignore.”

“See?” Stiles said, pointing. “Doc’s banishing you. Take your mother-hen tushie to the lobby.”

“You won’t be able to hide behind humor forever, jackass,” I said, pulling him in for a hug. His skinny arms came around me in a crushing squeeze. “I love you, kid.”

“I know,” he said, pulling away. “Love you too.”

--

I checked in about two hours after things went quiet—and like Deaton had predicted, it hadn’t gone well. One look at Stiles, then Scott, essentially lifeless, floating weightlessly in the washtub, and I’d effectively lost my shit. Isaac had subdued me after I’d given him two cracked ribs and a broken nose. I’d apologized profusely after Deaton had dosed me with some kind of herbal Xanax and I’d calmed down.

By hour fifteen, I was a friggin’ nutcase.

“Should it be taking this long?” I demanded, storming into the room and carefully avoiding looking toward the kids. “I mean this seems like an awfully long damn time to be almost-dead.”

Deaton shook his head with a patient, but worried, expression. “There’s no frame of reference for how long it will take,” he said.

“Well, Isaac took what, fifteen minutes? Doc, they’ve been under for sixteen hours!”

We both jumped as all three teens sat up in the washtubs with heaving gasps. Water splashed onto the clinic floor as they all three clambered out and started talking at once.

“I saw it!” Scott cried. “I know where it is!”

“We passed it,” Stiles said. “There’s—there’s a stump, this huge tree—well, it’s not huge anymore. It was cut down, but it’s still big though! Very big!”

“Guys.” Isaac tried to get their attention.

Scott looked at him. “The night we were looking for the body—”

“Yeah, the same night you were bitten by Peter,” Stiles interjected, nodding frantically.

“Hey, guys,” I said.

“I was there, too,” Allison said. “In the car, with my dad. We almost hit someone.”

Scott looked stunned. “It was me. You almost hit me.” He turned to the rest of us. “We can find it.”

“What?” Allison asked Isaac, noting his solemnity. Scott and Stiles fell quiet, and they looked around at all of us.

“You guys were out…a long time,” Isaac said.

Stiles scoffed, eyeing me. “How long is a long time?”

“Sixteen hours,” Deaton answered.

“We’ve been in the water for sixteen hours?” Scott asked, astonished.

“Oh, shit,” Stiles whispered, eyes wide.

“Yeah, oh shit,” I said, nodding. “Don’t do that again, ok? I’ve never been so scared.”

Deaton laid a hand on my shoulder and addressed the kids. “The full moon rises in less than four. What are you doing now?”

Scott looked from Stiles to Allison to Deaton. “I-I have to go back to the Alphas.”

“Absolutely not!” I said.

Stiles gesticulated. “No, dude—you are not going back with them.”

“I made a deal with Deucalion—”

“Does anyone else think that sounds a lot like a deal with the devil?” Stiles interrupted.

I raised my hand. “Also, did you read the user terms and conditions? No? Then the deal is void.”

“Why does it matter?” Isaac asked.

Scott sighed. “Because I still don’t think that we can beat Jennifer without their help.”

I took a step toward him. “I can fight her,” I said. “Weaken her. I hurt her in the vault. They saw it.” I gestured toward Allison and Isaac.

Isaac winced. “Well, I was writhing on the ground in agony at the time, but Allison saw it.”

“Eden, I love you, ‘kay, but…you wouldn’t last two minutes.” Stiles tucked his hands into his pockets.

Deaton chimed in. “Stiles is right. She’s been practicing magick for decades, and the power she’s amassed…” He shook his head. “Though your magick is more potent and comes from within you while hers is called from the earth, she has far more experience wielding it in battle.”

“He trusts you more than anyone,” Allison said to Deaton, gesturing at Scott. “Tell him he’s wrong.”

Deaton’s brows twitched. “I’m…not so sure he is,” he said.

I threw my hands up. “Seriously? I can’t be the only sensible adult here, doc.”

“Circumstances like this sometimes require that you align with people you’d normally consider enemies,” he explained calmly.

I wasn’t certain, but Deaton’s unwavering calm made me suspect he had that good weed somewhere in his possession.

“So we’re gonna trust him?” Isaac asked, his exasperation visible. “The guy that calls himself Death, Destroyer of Worlds. We’re gonna trust that guy?”

“I wouldn’t trust him, no,” Deaton replied. “But you could use him to your advantage. Deucalion may be the enemy, but he could also be the bait.”

There was a soft clatter from reception, as if someone had manually kept the bell on the door from ringing. I took a deep inhale, scenting wolf.

“It’s one of the twins,” I told Deaton.

“Stay here,” he said to us.

I could hear the voice from where I stood, and I assumed Scott and Isaac could too.

Ethan.

“I’m looking for Lydia,” he said.

“He’s looking for Lydia,” I whispered. We all turned to the redhead.

“Well I don’t know why he’s here,” she said, frowning.

I waved a hand toward the door. “Come on, then.”

She looked nervous, clearly not trusting the boy—or not wanting to, anyway. We crowded the doorway, and I flexed my claws. Isaac met my eyes and gave a subtle nod, letting me know that he, too, was on the defensive.

“What do you want?” Lydia asked Ethan.

“I need your help.”

Stiles stuck his head between me and Isaac. “With what?” he demanded.

Ethan looked remorseful, his eyes pleading with us but wary all the same. “Stopping my brother and Kali from killing Derek.”

I sighed, shaking my head. “Oh, for fucks sake,” I muttered. “You guys need to do some recruitment before the next crisis emerges. We don’t have enough people for this.”