***DEREK***
After Kate Argent screwed me over in more ways than one, I never thought I'd enjoy a woman's touch again. Skylar Renard, however, has changed that.
Since she and her brother arrived in Beacon Hills on Memorial Day weekend, they've stayed in my loft, in secret (from everyone outside my pack, that is.) All through June, they've officially been nestling in sleeping bags in my room (for some reason, neither of them would take my bed.) Then, after Hunter's relationship with Danny fell apart (no surprise there), he took to sneaking out and spending the night with Stiles. He's been uncharacteristically silent about the particulars of what he and our favorite fresh vampire get up to. It doesn't matter to me, though, unless it's not mutually agreeable. Which, technically, it can't be because both boys are underage, but against my better judgment, I trust that Hunter won't hurt Stiles. Vice versa, though, that's another story.
In the meantime, while Hunter's been...exploring, I've been getting closer to Skylar. She doesn't sleep much at night - if at all, really - so I've been finding myself staying up pretty late pretty often to keep her company. We've talked a lot, learned each other's life stories - as much as we're comfortable telling each other, and there's not a lot we've kept hidden, I don't think.
It also turns out she's a big fan of Under the Dome - something we have in common, to my surprise. Last week, after the season premiere, she fell asleep with her head on my shoulder and her arms wrapped around me. Awkwardly, I stood up with her still clinging to my body and went to bed, unable to even take off my clothes without removing her - and she looked so sweet and gentle, completely at odds with everything I ever learned about vampires, that I didn't even want to. In the morning, when I woke up sweating through my shirt and alone in bed, I realized how much I actually craved her contact.
Last night, Skylar told me she was ready to take the next step. For the first time, I shared myself with a woman who truly wanted me as much as I wanted her. You wouldn't believe how liberating it was, letting her through my guarded outer shells and feeling those barriers break down for her.
And Stiles thinks I'm a sour wolf.
Again, I wake up and she's already out of bed. I hear the sound of the toaster doing what it was made to do, and I slide off the mattress, grabbing my underwear and my jeans and putting them on before coming out of my room. My shirt is missing, but I have a shrewd idea where I can find it. Yep - Skylar's wearing it.
"Bonjour, monsieur," she says, grinning and waving at me - I notice she's got the sleeves on my shirt rolled up so she can wear it properly. "Wheat toast? I'm never not happy you've got that on hand."
"It's...um, it's healthier than white," I say. Jesus, Derek, get all tongue-tied around a pretty girl like you're sixteen again, why don't you?
"Oh, I just love the way the whole grains feel on my tongue," she says.
"That's not the only thing you like on your tongue, is it?" I send her a wink.
She laughs, the sound as beautiful as she is, then looks down at my shirt. "Hmm. This isn't really my style." She strips down to her bra, revealing a small line of dark pink on her collarbone. She asked me to scratch her last night, and I was only too happy to oblige. I even have nearly identical scratch marks on my back, marks I can still feel because they haven't healed yet. Personally, I'd have preferred to have bitten her, because that's how we werewolves really get into it (just ask Scott and Allison...or rather don't), but that would have risked turning her. Scratching involves less exchange of bodily fluids, so it's safer. It's like the same pros and cons of condom use for humans - it's less satisfying but more healthy to go with than without.
She passes my shirt to me as she walks back to my room, and I put it on before she comes back out wearing her own shirt - and hoodie. It's going to be a hot day, this July 1st, but she's gotten used to overheating a bit under her layers while she stays protected from the sun. Just in case, though, I put on the A/C (thank God it's industrial-level) so it's a little more bearable in here for her.
I pull her into my arms and kiss her while my hand sneaks into her hood and strokes her hair. "Thank you," I whisper.
"No, thank you." She leans forward and nuzzles my neck - being tall for a woman, she can reach there without standing on her tiptoes. Her hands, meanwhile, come down to my lower back, with one even going so far as to disappear into the back pocket of my jeans."I know how hard it was for you to open up like that, but..."
"You made it easy, actually." I pull my hand out of her hood and tilt her chin up so I can look into her gleaming eyes. Red-rimmed they may be, and they make her look tired at all times, but that's just her vampire DNA. Other than the red, they're a magnificent greenish-blue, the color of lakes I've only ever seen in pictures. "You're perfect for me."
She laughs lightly, tickled by my compliment. And also by my phone as it vibrates in my pants pocket. "That better not be Hunter, too hungover to drive home," she says with another titter.
"He wouldn't," I say. "Would he?"
She tilts her head. "I'm sorry to say he's gotten drunk off his arse at least twice before. That I know of. Of course, with our parents hating his guts, who could blame him?"
"I thought it was just your dad."
"Mum's not so bad," she says, "but one thing I chose not to learn from her - how to be a submissive woman. Except on my own terms." She winks at me again.
I grin at her before checking my phone. Wait, it's not a text - it's a call. From Sheriff Stilinski.
Oh, hell no.
I almost drop the phone as I hasten to answer it. "Sheriff? What's happening?" I ask, feeling an agonizing sense of foreboding.
"I just got a call from this big guy, mid-twenties, lives on the outskirts of town." Stilinski pauses long enough to add, "Sound familiar?"
"Who, me?" I ask, matching his deadpan tone as best I can. "This town ain't big enough for more than one Derek Hale."
"No, this guy's a normal human," says Stilinski. "But the guy who killed his buddy? Different story." He clears his throat. "Your girlfriend's at your place now, right?"
"Uh, yeah...why?" I put my phone on speaker so Skylar can talk to the Sheriff too.
Stilinski continues in hushed tones, probably so whomever's on the other end of the line with him can't hear what comes next. "I think one of her people made this kill."
Skylar pales, as if that were even possible. "Are you sure?"
"Pretty damn."
"Bite marks on the corpse?" Skylar asks. "Two near the neck?"
"Is that someone's signature move?" Stilinski asks. Answering questions with more questions - I know a few people who might consider that a pet peeve. "I thought all vampire kills were like that."
"You barely even knew vampires were real until five weeks ago, didn't you?" I point out.
"Touché," says Stilinski. "So, Skylar, do you know who could have done this?"
"I'm afraid I do," she says. "It's-"
Stilinski cuts her off. "Not on the phone, okay? I'll bring you two into the office. Maybe then you can meet the guy who found the corpse."
I clear my throat. "You sure that's a good idea?"
"For a soldier, this guy's awfully inquisitive," Stilinski says.
A soldier? Close to my age? That must mean Afghanistan or Iraq. Not to have a Sherlock moment, but... "You didn't tell him it was a vampire, did you?"
"Hell no," Stilinski says. "I'll leave that up to you guys. You can show, not just tell him."
"Should I call in Hunter as well?" I ask.
"Yeah, we could do with his expertise." Stilinski sighs. "And since he's with Stiles right now, you might as well read him in too."
"You sure of that?" I ask, as if I'm completely innocent of any wrongdoing (emphasis on "doing") on Hunter's part.
"I saw the kid sneaking in through Stiles' bedroom window when I left the house," Stilinski says. "I haven't played connect-the-dots in years, but..."
"Understood. I'll let them know." I hang up on the Sheriff, then send a text to Hunter. Except he didn't take his phone with him when he left - and it buzzes on the couch, playing a sound clip of some mechanical voice saying, "We jumped out a window!"
Skylar giggles. "I forgot he had that as his text alert. Baymax..."
"Whatever that means," I say, texting Stiles instead. He's quick to guess that Skylar and Hunter's dad may be responsible - the same theory I've got floating around my head, so I agree with him. I'll admit, it's presumptuous of me, but I've heard nothing but horror stories about Mr. Renard already. If my relationship with Skylar lasts long enough that we could be talking marriage (again, presumptuous), I'm not so sure I'd be asking this man for her hand.
I tell Stiles to come to my loft - even though I won't be here, but the rest of the pack will be. I'm texting Scott, Allison, Isaac, and Jackson to let them know to come to the loft as well. And even Aiden, who's still very eager to redeem himself after his first encounter with us.
"Hunt's not gonna like that," Skylar says as she follows me down to my Tahoe - which I've just had repaired, finally. I hope to God it doesn't get busted up again, but hopefully it won't have to face an attacker as powerful as the twins' combined super-wolf. In spite of myself, I feel a bit of regret that we'll never get to see that again - at least, not with this pair, now that one half of it is pushing daisies in my backyard.
"What's he not gonna like?" I turn the Tahoe's engine on and the A/C almost all the way up. It'd be too cold for me, and it wastes precious gas, but Skylar could do with some comfort. A little compromise between the two of us - we've agreed on it every time I take her out in this thing.
Sitting in the seat behind mine, Skylar sighs. "If it's really our father, he's going to want to come after him."
"Hunter come after your dad, or the other way around?"
"Either or, really. Tons of bad blood there."
I put the Tahoe in drive and set off, winding this boxy land yacht through the streets of Beacon Hills. The sun's shining on this blisteringly hot morning - not exactly prime conditions for a vampire to stalk around.
But at night...different story.