Unbroken ▹ Teen Wolf [02]

31; the key to keeping secrets

Rachel almost wished she did know how to dance, but the thought was soon lost as she remembered her room was just down the hall— why were they still out in the main room, anyway? No one would miss them. Even better, her door had a lock & the music was loud enough that no one would hear anything they didn't need to hear. Wait, where was she going with this? Like she didn't know.

There was just something about blacklights & sick beat drops that made everything better. What kind of losers screwed to some stupid love song in candlelight? Middle aged married couples with no joy in their lives, that's who. Wait. Rewind— did that little voice in her head just say screwed? As in, it implied she was totally down to have sex? The boldness of the thought that crossed her mind surprised her, but she couldn't really disagree with it; blacklights & beat drops made everything better & hotter, including her.

But as usual, everything good in her life had to come to an abrupt halt. The good could only manage to keep out the everlasting bad for so long, and her time had officially run out. One second, she was like a normal teenaged werewolf having a hell of a time making out with her boyfriend— the next, it was as though she was snapped back to being a banshee, and the feeling of imminent doom was impossible to ignore.

Well Cinderella, looks like your clock just struck midnight. Rachel almost wanted to make an attempt at ignoring it, but she knew it would be useless. Whatever the hell it was inside her head that woke up when she became a banshee really did not appreciate being ignored & would undoubtedly begin to make the nonexistent silence scream at her if she dared to try.

Isaac seemed to take notice of how she tensed up, pulling back to question her. "Are you okay?"

"What colour are my eyes?" Rachel asked, staring up at him with concern. His answer would decide if it was truly something that couldn't be ignored; if her eyes were glowing as they should have been, she was okay— but if they weren't, then she was going to be tasked with figuring out why,

He shrugged, not seeing the relevance. "I can't really tell with the blacklight, why?"

"So they're not glowing? They should be glowing." Panic had now set in. Just moment ago, Rachel could feel claws about to grow from her fingertips & canines beginning to poke at her lips— now, her eyes weren't even glowing? It couldn't have happened that quickly, she couldn't be changing that quickly. For hell's sake, she just found out about her true capabilities yesterday! "Don't ask me how I know, but I think something really bad is about to happen."

No sooner than the moment the last word had fallen from her lips, the music came to an abrupt halt. The sound of confused silence was soon replaced by an extremely angry voice she knew all too well, roaring the words "get out!"

Son of a bitch, we're more boned than a Las Vegas hooker on a Friday night. Rachel's first thought had thoroughly convinced her she was most definitely adopting the vocabulary of Dean Winchester & she really wasn't all that mad about it, but now was seriously not the time for a witty remark. She looked like a hooker & who knows how long Derek had been there before deciding to shut it down. She guessed not long, but she wasn't going to make any assumptions.

Sadly for her, that wasn't the worst of it. As if Derek crashing the one party she was attending simply for her own entertainment (and not to catch a human sized lizard or babysit Stiles) wasn't bad enough, there had to be something significantly worse that followed. Because nothing in Beacon Hills was ever bad enough without an extra slap in the face following it. The shit cake always needed shit icing, too.