Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12575316.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Peter_Hale/Lydia_Martin
  Character:
      Jackson_Whittemore, Lydia's_Parents
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Mate_Bond, Mate_Bonding, The_Hale_Pack_-_Freeform,
      Age_gap_relationship, Other_Additional_Tags_to_Be_Added, Mildly_Dubious
      Consent, Work_In_Progress
  Series:
      Part 2 of Samhain
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-10-31 Updated: 2018-02-24 Chapters: 2/? Words: 8544
****** Samhain - When Midnight’s Moon Wanes ******
by gatergirl79
Summary
     Lydia expected to be chosen, it was all arranged. Jackson would pick
     her and they’d get married and her family would be free from finical
     difficulties. - Then Peter Hale showed up and ruined everything.
Notes
     A/N: This is a work in progress, and I’m not sure how long it will
     take too finished or even when the next chapter will be up.
     This is the companion piece to Samhain: The Scent of Moonlight.
     Lydia's father is a bit of an asshole in this, I decided to focus on
     the Mr. Martin we met during the parent/teacher meeting in season one
     rather than the concerned father of season two. (Which I heartily
     admit is a plot device.) And Jackson's secret lover is not tagged
     because I want it to be a surprise. It's always fun to read your
     reviews and your guesses, so please, let me know.
     Now on with the story. Enjoy.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Encounter in the Dark *****
Unlike many in her junior class, Lydia Martin had absolutely no desire to be
chosen. She wasn't just saying that to sound aloof or modest or whatever, she
really didn't. Being chosen meant that she'd be stuck. Stuck in small town
America for the rest of her damn life raising damn kids and running the damn
PTA. - Which of course she would be president of because she was Lydia Martin
thank you very much. - She did notwhat that to be her life. She'd made that
very clear to her parents at the tender again of six. The problem was life had
a way of shitting on a girls plans for world domination.
First it had been her parents' divorce, which had left her a wreck and her
parents a simpering pair of four year olds arguing over anything and
everything. Then had come her attack, which had been when it all really
changed. In sophomore year while out parking with her boyfriend, Jackson,
they'd been attacked by a rouge werewolf. They'd both been bitten, Jackson had
turned, and she hadn't. In fact she'd lain in a coma for almost a week, then
was a blithering mess for months after, leading to her breaking up with Jackson
for a solid year, before fate intervened again.
That's when she - As well has everyone else in town. - had discovered her
immunity to the bite. Lydia had thought it was an answer to her prayers. After
all what kind of wolf would want a mate he couldn't turn? She'd thought it
would mean she didn't have to go through the whole stupid, medieval Samhain
Run. Huh, how wrong has she been?
As it turned out, despite her low chances of being a mate to any wolf, she was
still forced to attend the ceremony, still has to sit on cold hard dirt all
damn night just like every other member of the sophomore class. - Except those
who'd been smart enough to get the hell out of town, of course. Lord she envied
them now.
She'd planned on doing that, skipping town, going to visit her grandmother in
Maine until this whole stupid business was over. Then her father had dropped
the mother of all bombshells.
The sound of movement in the woods caught her attention and she glanced around
in the dark, seeing nothing beyond the trees and leaves. Howls filled the air,
announcing mates being chosen. She glanced down at her watch and frowned at the
dark face, she didn't know what was keeping Jackson, but she wished he'd hurry
the hell up. She was cold and bored and her butt was growing numb.
When her father had first told her that he'd lost everything, she'd been
pissed. Not because it meant there was every chance of them losing their family
home, or because she wouldn't be able to buy Prada or Dior any longer. No,
she'd been pissed because it meant that if she wanted out of this damn hick
town and to go to MIT she'd have to sell her soul, as well as her body and
blood to the highest bidder. It meant that her immunity went from being a
prayer come true to a lock and chain.
Because as it turned out, plenty of families were looking to rid themselves of
the tainted blood, wanting their grandchildren to be born human. Because that's
what her immunity did, it guaranteed a wolf free future and while born wolves
like the Hales were in no rush to disown their heritage, those whose family
members had been turned were overjoyed at the idea of giving their bloodlines
an enema. - And front of that line was the Whitmore's.
Which was how Lydia found herself sat in the middle of the Beacon Hills
preserve, shivering in her year old designer winter coat, wearing a god-damn
plastic mask that was doing nothing for her complexion, waiting for her
boyfriend.
 
                                 ___(*--*)___
 
Peter had no idea what he was thinking coming back here. He knew Talia wasn't
going to exactly welcome him with open arms after everything that had happened
seven years ago, like it was his fault some crazy teenager had tried to kill
them all. Like he wasn't completely justified in ripping the little bitch's
throat out. If Talia had been a stronger alpha she'd have done it herself. -
And if she tried to forcing him to leave again, he'd tell her so. This was his
home, as much as hers. He had every right to be here. She'd had no right to
force him to leave just to save face in front of a town of pitch-fork whiling
humans. He'd been doing his duty and revenging the pack, she was just too soft
to see that.
Tightening his fingers around the steering wheel of his sleek black BMW, he
turned his face up to the moon, his blood already beginning to race from its
pull. The howls of distant wolves drew his attention and he exhaled slowly,
glancing regretfully into the rear-view mirror at the sleeping for of his
daughter, then out at the dark woodland that surrounded Beacon Hills. Woods
he'd known all his life.
He'd missed out on his final chance at finding a mate because of his nephew's
insane bitch of a girlfriend. He'd languished in a coma for almost two years
after the fire, missing his twenty seventh birthday. So here he was, a wolf
without a mate, shunned by his pack and with a teenage daughter in tow.
Malia had been a shock of a life time. Two years after waking from his coma and
being ordered out of town, a young girl he hadn't seen before in his life had
shown up at his apartment in San Francisco and announced "Congratulates, you're
a father." apparently her mom had died only a week before, leaving her his name
and address. To say he'd been skeptical would be an understatement but
thankfully he'd known where to go for confirmation. DNA, even werewolf DNA,
didn't lie. - So for the past three years it had just been him and Malia.
Peter turned his car into the parking lot of the Beacon Hills Motel, sighing
wearily. He'd rather be staying at his house, the one he'd brought at the
tender age of nineteen in hopes of raising a family with the mate he'd expected
to find. Except he hadn't found a mate and probably never would now. He knew
that didn't mean he couldn't settle down, have more children. He was still
young by werewolf standards, but he'd lost his chance at find a mate thought
The Run. If he married now it would be to an outsider and Peter would rather be
alone than trust an outsider.
Releasing his fingers one at a time from the steering wheel, he turned and
reached over to gently shake Malia. Her eyes fluttered open and she sat up to
look around, sleepy and confused.
"We're here?"
"Yes." Peter nodded, turning back and reaching for the door. "You coming?"
Peter didn't wait for his daughter to exit the car, leaving her he walked
swiftly to the reception office to inquire about two rooms, inhaling deeply of
the fresh cold Beacon Hills air. There was something intoxicating about it, the
scent catching his senses. Shaking it off, he stepped into the small cold
office.
When he exited again a few minutes later with two keys, leaving a flustered
pretty woman watching after him, he inhaled again, the scent catching his nose
and he looked over to the distant tree line. The familiar haunting sound of
howling tugging at his insides, poking at his already restless wolf. Turning
back to the car he caught sight of Malia staring at the same woods while
leaning patiently against the vehicle, intrigued. She should be out there
tonight, running with the pack, hunting for a mate. Despite not being a
werewolf, she was still a Hale and she still had the same primal instincts.
He'd spoken to her before leaving San Francisco, but she'd insisted she wasn't
interested in find a mate. She was too young, she didn't want to settle down
yet.
Peter knew the truth of it though, she wasn't at ne in her own skin. She hated
what she was, hated the lack of control. He knew that was partly due to her
lacking a pack. Her mother, a shifter named Selena, was a loner. It came with
being part coyote. She didn't need the pack the same way he did. But Malia was
part wolf too, she needed that grounding influence and he'd tried to be that.
To be the strong alpha she needed, but he was lacking something.
And that was why he was back if he were honest. To give Malia a chance to
connect and find the anchor she needed and as much as he hated to admit it,
Talia would know how to help her do that.
Stopping by the car he looked at his wary, almost skittish daughter. "You sure
you don't want to run?" he asked gently.
She practically jumped; turning to look at him sharply. Her head shaking
fiercely. "I want to sleep." she announced harshly, holding her hand for the
key.
He watched her disappear into the dark room and inhaled deeply, pinching at the
bridge of his nose as his eyes drifted closed. He allowed himself to savor the
scent of home. - And something else utterly intoxicating.
 
                                 ___(*--*)___
 
He smelt her before he saw her. Her scent overpowering to his senses. Not the
lingering hint of perfume she obviously wore everyday but her natural aroma,
reminding him of the ocean. Salty and fresh, and eternal. Peter took another
few steps and there she was, sat on a large pale punk blanket, her legs curled
up beneath her, clad in while like an angel. The moon ricocheted off the pure
whiteness of the mask but he didn't need to see beneath it, her scent, and the
pull he felt told him all he needed to know.
"You're beautiful." he whispered smoothly from the shadow of a large redwood.
His shoulder pressing against it for a few moments as he watched her face turn
towards him in surprise, her whole posture stiffening, her head rising
defiantly. He couldn't help but smile, his lips curling slowly at the corner of
his mouth before stretching into a large long river of white teeth.
"And you're a creep, what the hell are you doing sneaking around the woods like
that?" she scowled at him, her eyes burning bright even in the dark, through
the small eye holes in the mask.
"Looking for you." Peter smirked, moving slowly forward. "It's why you're here
isn't it? Looking for a mate?" his words slipping off his tongue like syrup.
The young woman shifted on the ground, pushing her back against the tree behind
her the closer he got. "I'm not..." she trailed off as he crouched in front of
her, his knees brushing hers. "I don't want a mate." she finally said,
steadying her slightly shaky voice.
Peter looked at her intently. "Then why are you here?"
"I'm...I'm waiting for my boyfriend."
Peter's smirk grew into a grin but his eyes were steel. Leaning further into
her personal space, he dragged a stray stranded of feather-soft, strawberry
blonde hair between his fingers before sweeping it back behind her ear then
pushed himself forward, dropping his nose into the pool of the young woman's
collarbone and inhaling deeply, feeling a spark of arousal shoot through his
body. He could hear her heart pounding, her blood racing, the way her breath
caught in her throat as she unconsciously tilted her head to bare her neck to
him.
Less than a second later she seemed to catch herself and forced her head
straight, her hands lifting to push him away, though they never quite made it
to his chest, hovering between them as Peter drew closer ever so slightly,
dragging his nose up the column of her throat, his cheek sweeping roughly
against the mask, his breath ghosting at her ear before he spoke. "You haven't
been claimed." he announced in a throaty whisper, smirking at the spike in the
teenagers arousal.
"I..." she swallowed thickly before tying again. "I don't want to be climbed."
Peter didn't move his cheek from the mask, his hand bracing his weight either
side of her hips, pressing her further back against the tree she'd been resting
against before he'd arrived. "Then why are you here?" he asked softly.
"I...I mean...I don't want to be claimed by you." the last two words fell from
her lips on a breath.
"No?"
She shook her head, inhaling sharply.
"You're waiting for another to claim you?" he asked sceptically. "You're
boyfriend?"
"Yes. - He'll be here soon." she announced with false conviction.
Peter glanced up at the moon without moving his face too far from hers. "You've
been here an hour already. If he was going to claim you he'd have found you by
now."
She looked at him with a mix of fury and hurt, her mouth gaping open as if she
wasn't sure just what to say. Which he had a feeling was a new experience for
her. Finally she inhaled sharply, straightening her back and fixed him with a
hard murderous stare. "He's just late." he voice firm and unwavering for the
first time since he'd found her. "Jackson'll be here."
Peter smiled, loving the flare of anger lighting up her eyes like fireworks in
the night sky. He pulled away slowly, pausing for a moment to meet her furious
gaze, then he got to his feet. "Well, if you're sure then I'll bow out
gracefully." he took another couple of steps back before sweeping into a
dramatically low bow like some kind of Victorian gentleman, his eyes never
leaving hers.
"Good!" she said sharply, distracting herself by fussing with her coat.
Peter took a few steps away before stopping once again and looking at her,
already knowing she'd been following his every movement with her eyes. "I'll
see you around." he promised.
"I double it." she said waveringly.
Pete's lips curled mischievously before he turned and faded mysteriously into
the darkness.
 
                                 ___(*--*)___
 
Lydia sat shock still watching the man vanish back into the shadows that had
created him, her heart and blood racing so fast her body felt like it was on
fire from the inside out. She couldn't quiet catch her breath as she pulled the
mask from her face, looking up at the moon trying to judge just how long she'd
been there, but couldn't tell. He'd said it had been an hour and that if
Jackson was going to come then he'd have already been there, so where the hell
was he? Why wasn't he there claiming her like they'd arranged?
Lowering her eyes from the sky they instantly sort out the empty space the
stranger had vanished into. She couldn't stop staring, her mind whirling at the
heat in her body and the way her senses seemed to scream. She raised her hand
to her ear where she was sure she could still feel his breath. Her nostrils
flaring with the lingering scent of him. His smooth seductive voice still
ringing in her ears.
Lydia's breath caught in her chest as images whirled around her mind of that
voice whispering her name while moving against her. Inside her. Her eyes
fluttered closed as she inhaled shakily, her tongue slipping between her lips
to choose away the sudden dryness of them.
When a distant howl caught her attention she leapt to her feet, looking around
her as she swiped her hands over her thighs to clear away the debris from the
forest flood. She was so tempted to just leave, to walk away from the
ridiculous situation but what if she did and Jackson came looking for her.
Though a small voice in her head, which was suddenly all too familiar and
breathless, whispered that if he wanted her he'd already be there.
Huffing frustratingly at herself and Jackson - And the stranger. - she pulled
her coat tight around her once more, flipping her long hair in the building
winter breeze and lowered herself back down onto the blanket. She didn't
replace her mask, it wasn't like Jackson didn't know what she looked like
already.
_Samhain: Midnight Masquerade_
Peter stepped into the house, the floor scattered with leaves and dust from the
years of disuse, his eyes scanning the empty entranceway as he moved further.
He would have to make it presentable if he was going to live there, raise a
family. He inhaled deeply and was glad to find the young woman's scent still
clinging to him. He couldn't believe he'd found her. He'd given up all hope of
ever gaining a mate. - And she was perfect. Not just because of the way she
called to him but because he could see the strength and fire that lay within
her. He could already envision a future with her. Their life together and he
grinned. "She's going to make a hell of a wolf."
 
                                 ___(*--*)___
 
Lydia groaned softly as she got to her feet, shivering from the early morning
cold. Glancing around, she inhaled the fresh damp air. She hadn't expected to
be waking up in the pre-dawn hours alone. She wondered where Jackson could
possibly be.
A sudden sound of running feet had her swing around to stare at the trees, as a
mere moment later her missing boyfriend appeared, flushed. His eyes narrowed as
he moved within touching distance.
"Where the hell have you been?" Lydia demanded furiously, her arms folded
tightly over her chest and her foot tapping against the dew-soaked leaves.
Jackson stalked forward slowly, his nose turned towards her. "Who's been here?"
he demanded with equal fury, his voice rough as if he'd just woken.
"Not you that's for sure." she huffed defensively, turning angrily on her heels
and marching away, only to be halted by Jackson's painfully strong hand on her
upper-arm.
"We have an arrangement!" he stated firmly, his ton ice cold, his usual blue
eyes flashing amber in the morning light.
"I'm here." she pointed out with a dangerous kind of calm. She'd never been
intimidated by Jackson, even after he was turned and she sure as hell wasn't
going to start now.
"Not alone!" he growled, pressing his face closer to hers, snarling.
Lydia stiffened, meeting the amber eyes, her nose wrinkling as she sniffed at
him. "And where were you?" she demanded, trying to see if she could smell some
other girl on him, but all she could find was a faint trace of aftershave.
Jackson paled at the demanding question, rather than answer her, he slackened
his grip and began to lead her towards the parking lot, his jaw tightly locked.
Lydia stared up at him as they walked, her eyes narrowing. She knew Jackson was
hiding something, it was there in his body language, in the way he couldn't
meet her eyes, but it wasn't until they hit the parking area and the last of
the lit street lamp hit his neck that she knew her original accusation was
correct. She probably should have screamed at him, yelled, demanded answers,
and two years ago she very well would have. But the truth was she didn't care
enough to. Part of her desperately wanted him to call a halt to this whole
fiasco. This relationship that had kept them tangled in a web of lies for over
a year.
It hadn't always been like that, once upon a time she actually did love
Jackson, but since he was turned something hadn't sat right between them. When
her family had brought up the Samhain Rite and the Whitmore's offer, it had
only added to the strain.
If Jackson call it off though, nether of their parents could blame her. It
wouldn't be her destroying her family, her mom. - No, that had been her
father's doing and no doubt he'd find a way to lay the blame if Mr. Whitmore
withdraw his financial support from them at her feet. That she hadn't been
beautiful enough, that she hadn't fought to keep him interested. That she'd
been too smart, cause guys didn't like girls that were smarter than them. Yeah,
it would all be her fault in his eyes. It didn't matter that they wouldn't be
in this mess if he could add-up correctly. Proving once again that she'd gotten
her brains for her mother.
But Jackson would never call it off. Jackson would go along with anything to
impress his parents, to fit in, to be the best and all because he'd been
adopted, like he needed to prove he was worthy of them having chosen him as
their son.
They paused beside Jackson's Porsche, Lydia moving to grab the door when he
gripped her wrist tightly, his blue eyes burning into hers once more.
"Don'ttell anyone that I didn't find you." it was an order; harsh and cold, and
it bit deeply into Lydia's last nerve.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't?" she challenged furiously. "If you
don't want this Jackson, then just say so. - Why keep up this farce? - Who is
she?"
Jackson's hand tightened painfully. She looked down and could already see the
skin reddening but she didn't make a sound, she wouldn't give him the
satisfaction, and she just gritted her teeth, breathing though her nose as her
boyfriend took a dangerous step close to her, his face inches from hers. "Keep
your mouth shut! You've got more to lose than I have Lydia. I'd hate for
everyone to learn about your situation."
Lydia narrowed her eyes, swallowed the words and tears that were fighting for
dominance in her throat. It had been a long time since she'd given up hope of
recapturing those early happy years of their relationship.
Jackson's hand was gone in a breath and he stepped away, heading for the
driver's side. "Get in the car. I'll drive you home. - And make sure you shower
before tonight, you stink." he spat.
Lydia slid into the seat hating herself more than she ever thought possible.
She should have the strength to tell Jackson where to shove it, to stand up to
her family, but she didn't, despite what everyone at school thought of her, she
wasn't strong. She wasn't heartless. Closing her eyes she let her head lull to
the side, pressing against the cold window, not caring about the condensation
on her skin. Her fingers rubbing absently at her wrist.
As the car moved away from the parking lot she sort sanctuary of a warmer,
gentler touch, wishing not for the first time since meeting her stranger that
she hadn't chased him away.
 
                                 ___(*--*)___
 
Peter stretched out on the bed; staring out at the first beams of sunlight
breaking through the motel room curtains. He hadn't slept, his mind filled with
an intoxicating scent and a blanket of soft red hair he craved seeing spread
out on the pillow beside him. Watching the day breaking, he sighed at the
thought of his faceless beauty walking out of the woods alone. - Or maybe she
wouldn't be. Maybe the one she'd been waiting for when he'd found her had
escorted her from the trees. Peter growled, his fingers tightening in the
sheets, his nails piecing holes. She was his, that much was obvious to him and
he was sure to her too. The idea that someone else was attempting to stake a
claim to her made his blood boil. He was simply just going to have to make his
position clear to the whole of Beacon Hills and the Samhain Ceremony was the
perfect place to do it.
Until then thought he had a daughter and a house to see to.
***** Seduction isn't Always Easy *****
Chapter Notes
     I don't think this will be as long as the first story in this series
It had been a long time since Peter had seen the gym at Beacon Hills High
School, and in all honesty, he hadn't ever expected to see it again, certainly
not under these circumstances. Yet here he was, surrounded by the thick scent
of pack and arousal, not to mention the general stench of teenagers. The dark
claret of the school colors offset with the traditional royal blue and silver
of the hunt. Balloons and streamers strung around, and music pumped from
speakers adding to the almost suffocating din of noise. He hated it.
Ordinarily he wouldn't have even bothered coming to this ridiculous excuse for
tradition. It was all a farce and they all knew it. The town tolerated them,
yes. They sacrificed their children to them, yes. But only a fool believed they
were happy about it. The general aura of the town was tight lipped resignation.
They knew they couldn't do anything to stop the wolves and they surrendered to
the inevitable, but there was hatred and anger in the eyes of every inhabitant
of Beacon Hills. - If only his sister would see it.
Peter swaggered his way further into the room, his sense attuned to his
surrounding, searching for a practically addictive scent he'd been craving all
day. He'd caught it on the air now and then, but never strong enough to
pinpoint its owner. He smoothed down his black suit jacket and tugged at the
collar of his pristine white shirt and scanned the sea of bodies.
He was desperate to see her again, pathetically so much in all honestly. He
could almost be furious at himself for the need, if not for the knowledge that
she was his. - Whether she knew it or not. - He’d barely been able to
concentrate on anything else as he’d tried to get his life in order.
In a desperate attempt to distract himself, he'd tried to focus on other
things. He'd called the woman he’d been paying to keep his house secure and
free of squatters, who as it turned out had been unexpected called away from
town. He knew what that meant, her son or daughter was of age and she didn’t
want them involved in the Run. It wasn’t the first family in the past three
hundred years to have pulled the ‘Family Emergency’ excuse and it would
undoubtedly not be the last. Peter had just grumbled about the inconvenience
and then hung up.
The rest of the day had been spent in his motel room planning. He knew he was
going to have to face his sister eventually, but he’d decided almost
immediately that Talia could wait to be informed of his return with the rest of
the town, and what better way to do that than to arrive at her precious ball
and snatch away one of the intended. Peter smirked to himself.
As for his daughter, well she'd refused to attend with him, understandable. It
wasn't like she knew anyone in the town, nor had she participated in the Run.
Instead Malia had gone off almost the second the sun was up, and Peter was sure
he wouldn't see her until she was ready to be seen. She got that from her
mother, regrettably.
After a few minutes Peter caught sight of a familiar face and smiled to
himself, setting course. He was a few feet away when he caught his nephews name
in the air. "Dude, that's Derek Hale."Peter turned, seeking out the voice and
grinning at the sight of Stiles Stilinski. Despite his years of absence, he'd
know that boy anywhere. "You remember him, right? He's like a few years older
than us. He was dating some girl…Kate…. Argent. He's why the pack house was
almost burnt down."the boy added. Peter clearly caught the bitter undertone of
the statement and sighed.
He turned to stare at Derek, the young man with his back to the crowd, shoulder
tense and an undeniably aura of 'stay away' floating from him, along with the
overpowering scent of anger, shame and....claimed. Not that Peter was
surprised, despite Laura's meddling, and yes, he knew all about that, the pair
were destined for each other. Nothing can hold a mate bond at bay for long, not
without serious consequences.
"So that's your mate? Interesting." he announced dryly, coming to a halt next
to Derek.
Derek spun around to stare at him, eyes wide with shock. "Peter? What are you
doing here?"
"I came for a visit." he lied casually, shrugging.
"Does...mom know?"
Peter huffed out an unamused laugh when he caught sight of his sister in the
crowd, her eyes flash red in the dim light. "If she didn't she does now." he
replied, nodding at her. He watched her like an eagle as she steady marched
towards him, a smile fixed to her face but beneath it Peter could fail to see
the fury. He ignored her, turning back to Derek. "So, you finally found
yourself a mate? Your mother must be so please." his gaze flickered past his
sister to Stiles, taking his time to note how the boy had grown. "He hasn't
changed much."
"You know him?" Derek demanded defensively.
Peter sighed. it was clear from the question that Derek's enforced amnesia was
still in effect.  You'd think for such a powerful alpha as his sister claimed
to be, she'd be able to fix her own son. "We've had our encounters." he replied
dully. "He is the sheriff's son after all. - You don't look particularly happy
about it Nephew. What's wrong? Not crazy enough for you?" he knew it was a low
blow, and in all honestly it was aimed more at his sister than his nephew.
"Peter!" Talia snapped, stopping in front of the pair.
He'd told Talia not to trust the hunters, that she had to put a stop to Derek's
relationship with them. They may spout off about following a code, but deep
down no hunter could be trusted. But of course, as she always did, Talia had
ignored his warns. She'd said that it was all childish fancy and that Derek was
never going to pick her and that deep-down Kate didn't want to be pick. She'd
had faith it was all going to work itself out. -- Only she'd underestimated
Kate Argent. She may not have want Derek, wanted to be a mate, but she'd
convinced herself she was. She'd been so sure that Derek would pick her that
when he didn't she'd been furious and wrathful, and they'd almost paid the
price.
"Derek, go make with Stiles. I'll join you in a moment."
Peter watched at his nephew reluctantly followed his mother's orders and
dragged himself over to where the boy was stood with his friend.
"What are you doing here Peter?" Talia demanded, fingers curled furiously at
her side.
"And it's a joy to see you to sister. How are you?" Peter inquired
nonchalantly, his eyes burning into his sister.
Talia met his defiant gaze with a flash of red, her lips pressed in a
frustrated thin line.
"I can't to enjoy the festivities."
"I meant Beacon Hills, Peter!" she snapped irritably.
Peter sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. "Last I check, sister mine, this
is as much my home as yours."
"Not anymore. - You should leave."
Peter flashed his blue eyes at the older woman. "Is that another order?"
"Peter." Talia sighed warily. "Can we not have this argument tonight."
"Argument? Who's arguing." he straightened his spine, lowering his voice
dangerously. "I will not let you keep me from my home, Talia. Not anymore. I
have a right to be here. A right to raise my daughter here."
His sister startled, brows raising. "Daughter?"
Shit. He hadn't meant to tell her about Malia, at least not yet. "Yes."
There was a thick silence between them and he watched his sister physically
deflate. "How old?"
"Seventeen." He reluctantly confessed.
Talia raised a brow. "You brought her home for the Run?"
"No. She doesn't want anything to do with the Run." he informed her firmly.
"And her mother?" Talia asked cautiously. "She is with you?"
Peter gritted his teeth at the tone. He could almost hear the 'so you finally
settled', because he couldn't possibly have found a mate. He'd missed his
chance there, hadn't he? "No." he growled. "She's dead. It's just the two of
us."
Talia's eyes softened, and she lowered her head regretfully. "I'm sorry Peter.
Truly."
He wanted to tell her not to be, that Malia's mother was a heated fling that
lasted one weekend during summer break. That she wasn't his mate and he wasn't
in love with her. He wanted to announce that all her sad looks and sympathy
were pointless. That he'd found his mate, finally and she was breath taking and
stunning, and he would have her rules be damned. But he kept silent, fully
aware if Talia discovered that fact now, she'd try her hardest to keep him from
the girl.
"I should go..." she nodded over her shoulder to her son, who was currently
putting his foot in his mouth and looked seconds from throwing his mate through
a wall. "Come for dinner tomorrow, we'll talk. - And stay out of trouble,
Peter. At least for tonight." she called over her shoulder.
Peter exhaled a relieved breath as she quickly abandoned him. She hadn't asked
exactly what he was doing at the ball, though that will probably be among the
questions she'd be bombarding him with over dinner. If he decided to attend
that was.
Wearily Peter scanned the room once more, searching for that desired wave of
red hair only to be disappointed. Turning his back on the mass of hormonal
teenager and their simpering parents, Peter poured himself a drink. It suddenly
occurred to him that she probably wasn't going to attend. Why would she? She
wasn't the mysterious wolf's mate, she was his.
Of course, the ball was mandatory and very few had the balls to snub the event
and risk the wrath of pack and peers alike. However, he thought if anyone
would, it would be his girl.
As if being conjured up from his mind, Peter caught the hauntingly familiar
scent on the air and turned sharply, tuning in his sense to seek her out.
"Just remember to behave yourself." a harsh male voice whispered.
"I'm not a child." she snapped back."I know why I'm here."
There was a bitter spite to her tone that caused Peter to frown.
"Jackson could have chosen any girl in the world, but he chose you, be grateful
for that. - And don't be snarky or show off!"
"Show off?"
"Jackson isn't dating you for your brain Lydia and he certainly won't be
marrying you for it."
"Robert!" A woman hissed furiously.
"No. We've got too much at stake to risk losing everything because your
daughter doesn't know her place."
The plastic cup in Peter's hand crumpled, punch spilling over the wooden floor.
"Robert they'll hear you."
Robert scoffed."Like everyone doesn't already know. - Where are you going!"
"To powder my nose."
"Well just you be sure to be back before the ceremony!"
Peter growled low in his throat, causing a few wolves to turn and watch him
with caution. Setting the crumbled pieces of the cup on the table, Peter tugged
at his suit jacket and marched angrily from the gym.
 
                                 ___(*--*)___
 
Lydia slumped back against the toilet stall door, inhaling deeply and closing
her eyes. Her chest heaved as she fought off the threat of tears and the gut
wrenching humiliation. Now everyone would know, everything. After all the hard
work she'd put into keeping her family situation under wraps. Having brushed
off all the snide comment from Jackson's mother and father. Sure, they liked
her well enough, but it didn't change the fact that she was little more than a
commodity to them. She had but one purpose, delivering them wolf free
grandchildren to continue the family name.
And now the whole school would know it too.
It wouldn't be so bad, she thought, if she were Jackson’s mate, if he'd sort
her out the previous night. If she knew the relationship they'd built over the
past few years went deeper that good sex and social status. That the love she
felt for him wasn't fuelled purely by teenage hormones.
Instead she'd been left to shiver on the dark while Jackson was off, god knows
where, with god knows who.
She wasn't fool enough to believe there wasn't someone else, Jackson had been
acting strangely for months now. Practically since there attack, but she'd done
what she did best, she put on a mask and lied to everyone. - Especially
herself.
"Just one more year." She whispered to herself. "One more year and we'll be
away from here."
Lydia's heart leapt into her throat at the sound of footsteps on the tiled
floor. Her eyes flew open and she stared down at the shadow beneath the door,
the tips of polished shoes. Her heart leapt into her throat. "J-Jackson?" She
whispered nervously.
She took a deep breath, inhaling through her nose and closing her eyes, waiting
for him to answer. A rich raw scent played at her senses, sending a shiver
through her. Swallowing thickly, Lydia's tongue slipped between her lips, her
heart beginning to race.
"Hello?" Lydia breathed, taking a small step towards the door. Heat began to
pool low in her stomach.
Thoughts of the previous night flooded into her mind, not that her mysterious
stranger had been far from her thoughts. When she'd gotten home she'd gone
directly to her room. As she'd laid on her bed, she'd thought back to his
words, his tongue. The heat that had rolled off him to fill her up.
Lydia had never been shy about her sexual desires, Jackson had taken great
satisfaction in them, once upon a time. However as much as she was at ease with
her sexuality, what she felt last night, and now as she stood staring at those
shoes, terrified her.
Taking a deep breath, she slowly reached for the lock, hand trembling and
thighs abuzz with heat and energy.
Before she could wrench the door open a flower was slowly pushed beneath the
door. Small and purple, delicate. Frowning she bowed to collect it, lifting it
to her nose, her eyes closed, inhaling deeply at the sweet scent. It seemed to
heighten her senses, her mind clearing of anything but the heat of her body and
the beat of her heart.
When she opened her eyes once more the shoes were gone. Instantly Lydia ripped
open the door, only to find her reflection staring back at her. Stepping
cautiously out into the restroom, Lydia glanced around, confirming to herself
that she was alone once more.
 
Her body seemed to melt as tension evaporated and she stumbled to the basin.
Leaning heavily on the counter, Lydia hung her head, breathing heavily while
waiting for her heart beat to calm. After a few long seconds she looked up,
staring into her own eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, shadows beneath her eyes.
How had her life ended up like this? She asked herself, dragging her fingertips
under her eyes. She could remember once upon a time being seduced by the idea
of the Run. Practically from the moment she'd learnt the town secret she'd
fantasized about the strong handsome wolf that would one day claim her, but
then she'd imaged a sweeping fairy-tale romance, of an alpha coming to sweep
her off her feet. As she'd gotten older and puberty began to insert its
influence, the romance gave way to heated forbidden desires. Her romantic alpha
gave way to a seductive forbidden lover determine to claim and possess her. It
was when she discovers just how intelligent she was that those sexual and
romantic fantasies gave way to the desire to be her own alpha. To control her
own fate and future.
Sadly, the universe hadn't liked her new sense of self-government because less
than six months after she'd decided her life belonged far away from Beacon
Hills everything had begun to fall apart, dragging her in a life she no longer
wanted.
 
The bathroom door slammed open as a group of giggling girls crowded into the
room. Lydia caught her name before the mocking conversation was cut short.
Lydia felt her stomach drop. Part of her wanted to hide, stay locked away in a
stall until the whole damn night ended, but she was Lydia Martin and she
refused to hide or wallow. She met life head on.
Lydia straightened her back, brushing her hand down the front of her shimmering
silver dress, tugging gently at the top. Out of the corner of her eye, Lydia
could see her peers shooting her a knowing look, they weren't even being subtle
about it, their lips curled up with amusement.
She may be a laughing stock, but Lydia was still a woman to be reckoned with.
She shot the group a scathing cold glare through the mirror as she washed her
hands diligently. She knew them all, if only by face, and none of them were
particularly popular. They all watched her warily, lips pressed tightly
together. The repressive atmosphere became too much for one and she swiftly
vanished into a stall, abandoning her friends to Lydia's silent fury.
After what seemed like hours to the whole group, Lydia shook off the water and
reached for a paper towel, drying her hands. Throwing the damp paper in the
basket, Lydia gave her make-up an equally intense check. Once she was
satisfied, giving herself a nod of approval, she brushed down her gown once
more, she reached for the flower on the counter and turned, strolling past the
four remaining girls as if they weren't even there.
It wasn't until she was in the corridor, that she allowed herself to breathe
again, relaxing back into her body. The music from the gym was summoning her
back, like a sirens song luring her to a fate worse than death. She slowed her
pace, feet practically dragging across the tiles. Her heart beat hard and fast
in her chest, threatening to rob her of the oxygen she'd only just gotten back.
Her whole body began to tremble.
Lydia stopped, turning to lean against the wall, her head hanging forward as
she found to control herself. It had been months since her last break, and
she'd hoped that they were behind her. Obviously not. Her doctor insisted on
calling them panic attacks, her mother said she was just tired. Her father?
Well, over the past few months, he'd been accusing her of attention seeking.
That she was doing it to somehow sabotage the agreement with the Whitmore's.
Tears began to burn behind her eyes and she took a deep breath, pressing her
palms back against the wall. Commanding her body to stop shaking. She told
herself she was safe, nothing could harm her here. That she was in control.
Only it was a lie, she wasn't in control. She hadn't been in control in months.
She was so focused on fighting off the fear and panic that she didn't realise
there were fingers around her wrist until she was pulled sideways into a class
room. The surprise sent her heart rate sky high and she felt as if her knees
were going to collapse below her. Her back met another wall and she tried to
focus on the figure in front of her, but it was just a blur.
"Lydia, calm down." a low, all too familiar voice soothed. "You're safe." it
reassured.
Regretfully the words worked no magic at all, shaking began in earnest. She
knew there were hands on her bare shoulders but couldn't register the touch.
"Lydia, sweet. You're safe with me. I'll never hurt you." the deep voice
whispered, low and reassuring into her ear.
Then there was warmth encompassing her whole body, wrapping her up like a
blanket on a cold winters day, and she melted into it, slumping against the
solid form in front of her.
Eventually she became aware of where she was, as the fear and anxiety slowly
seeped away. There were arms around her, holding her close and offering her
comfort. She pulled away reluctantly after a few silently moments, too look up
into the man's gaze. His blue eyes meeting her with a mix of heat and ice.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded quietly, pulling free of his arms.
The man raised a brow, looking between her eyes before taking a step away from
her. "It's the Samhain Ball, where else would I be?"
Lydia narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you here...for me?"
The man smirked, leaning back against the desk he shrugged.
"I'm not your mate?" she stated, though her voice was thick with scepticism.
"Aren't you?" her grinned. "Did your boyfriend claim you after I left?"
Lydia swallowed thickly, lifting her chin. She knew it was pointless lying to a
werewolf, but she tried anyway. "Yes."
Peter tilted his head to the side, pushing himself off the desk and stepping
back into her personal space. He pressed his nose to their throat, inhaling
deeply, not touching her in any other way. Lydia felt her stomach tightened at
the intimacy of the action, heat blossoming between her thighs.
"I smell nothing but your desire." his lips brushed tantalizingly over the
shell of her ear. The warmth of his breath sending a shiver through her. "Does
he make you feel like this? No, of course not, because he's not your mate."
Lydia's breath skipped, and she closed her eyes, another shiver rocking her
body. Gooseflesh sprang to life on across her skin and she found herself
arching towards him. Wanting to have his warmth surrounding her once more.
She could feel her underwear growing damp and was shocked. No one, not even
Jackson had turned her on so quickly; and certainly not with just a few low
seductive words. She licked at her lips, craving his touch.
"Do you want me to kiss you?" Peter asked, quietly. "Touch you?"
Lydia bite at her lip, fighting to keep a moan of submission at bay, even as
her body swayed towards him.
"I will." he said, while keeping the chasm between them. "All you have to do
is...say it." he breathed, his mouth now inches from his lips. "Say I'm your
mate and I'll give you everything you've ever wanted."
A thrill rippled through her, her body growing wetter at the mere prospect of
what he could give her. What she wanted to take from him. Lydia opened her
mouth, the words on the tip of her tongue. Just two little words and the
tightness between her thighs would be eased.
The banging of a door followed by a loud echo of laugher jerked Lydia back to
reality. The reality of her life, where she was destine to marry Jackson
Whitmore whether he was her mate or not. Shaking her head, she pushed Peter
away, putting as much distance between them. "My mate is Jackson." she
insisted, voice strained and trembling.
"What are you so scared of?" Peter demanded, eyes narrow and nostrils flared.
"I can smell..."
"It’s none of your business." she snapped angrily. "You can't just show up
demanding to be my mate! You need my permission, and I can't... I won't give it
too you!"
Peter stared at her for a long moment, eyes searching her face. Finally, he
inclined his head. "Very well." he straightened to his full height and stepped
forward. Lydia backed up, her spine hitting the door. "But when you change your
mind." he said, leaning close. "And I'm sure you will, when you mind, and body
will not allow you to rest without me, you can come find me."
Lydia opened her mouth to insist again that she won't want him. That he's not
her mate, but instead a question toppled from her lips. "Where?"
Peter smirked. "You'll know." he breathed, his arm reaching for her waist.
Lydia held her breath, as it brushed against her hip. "Until then." he said,
voice back to a smooth casual tone. "Your 'mate' is waiting for you." he tugged
at the door behind her, and she stumbled forward into his chest. Peter stepped
back and looked down at her, sweeping into a low bow. "Until then." then he
marched confidently out of the room,
Lydia stared after him for a few seconds, her heart hammering in her chest and
her head spinning. When she finally came back to herself, Lydia stumbled the
short distance to one of the desks, leaning heavily on the front. Pressing her
hand to her chest and tried to breath once again.
In all her 17 years she'd never felt so confused. With him gone Lydia could at
least face the truth. She felt it, the bond. He was her mate. Shower that
changed nothing, she was meant to marry Jackson, her family depended on it and
no matter how much desire Peter filled her with, that couldn't be changed.
Lydia swept her tongue between her lips, the memory of his body warm against
hers, the way his nose pressed into her neck."Say I'm your mate and I'll give
you everything you've ever wanted." How she wished that was true, but the fact
was the Whitmore’s' had an axe hovering over their heads, ready to fall at any
minute, and there was nothing Peter could do to save her from her fate. If she
chose him she would be condemning her mother with nothing.
That didn't mean she wasn't tempted.
Shaking off the effect Peter had on her mind and body, Lydia straightened,
brushing down her dress once more. She squared her shoulders and left the room,
head high. Marching confidently down the corridor, she tried to ignore the
looks from her passing peers, but each glance her way felt filled with
accusations. A few of her fellow students wrinkled their noses, bowing to
whisper into the ear of her partner, and Lydia knew.
She ground to a halt before the doors of the gym, staring in at those gathered.
She swallowed thickly at the sight of Jackson, his features cold and pinched as
he spoke to Danny and a stranger, who Lydia could only assume was his newly
found mate. Danny looked so happy, his lips curved up in a besotted grin, it
made her heartache.
That should be her. She should be looking at Jackson with that same dreamy
gaze, rather than with contempt and disgust. As her made he should be filling
her with excitement at a future together.
Except he wasn't her mate, was he? If he were, he would be at her side now. If
he were he'd fill her with longing and warmth, right? If he were her mate,
she'd be happy.
With a sad regretful sigh, she spun on Lydia heels and hurried for the double
doors, bursting through them, gasping in a much-needed lungful of fresh air.
Once outside, she didn't stop, instead heading straight for the woods. Her
escape.
End Notes
     I hope you enjoyed the first chapter and that you'll be back for
     more. I'll try to make the next chapter longer.
     I have a couple of notes.
     1: I know it was greatly speculated as to who Lydia's mysterious
     lover was, well as the tags had already informed you, its Peter.
     Honestly, I thought more of you would have figured that out.
     2: I went with twenty-seven as the cut off age for The Run randomly,
     though I figured it had to be old enough to make Peter too old but
     young enough for Derek to still take part. I also realize that the
     whole premise of the Samhain Rite/Run is extremely questionable, but
     I see it more as a cultural tradition that no one's ever decided to
     put a stop to. There's a lot of similar cultural/religious beliefs in
     the real world that many would see as dubious, outdate and
     practically primeval but the people involved in them see as perfectly
     normal. This isn't any different to that. [I'm not taking pot-shots
     at any particular religion or culture, I'm just state a general
     observation.]
     3: For this story Malia was not adopted but rather her mother's name
     was Tate.
     4: I apologies to any Jackson fan. He is coming across as an abusive
     boyfriend in this and it is not simply a plot devise but partly based
     on what I see in his character - particularly in season 2. His
     treatment of Lydia is appalling and frankly it baffles me how she
     could possibly go back to him. - Of course Peter's not much better in
     many respects. Personally I find Lydia's taste in men almost as
     questionable as Derek's taste in woman. They both seem to have a
     'kick me, I like it' streak going through them.
     I'd love to hear who you all think Jackson was with when he was meant
     to be in the wood with Lydia, though I will neither confirm nor deny
     any of your suspicions. You'll just have to wait for the reveal. -
     Any and all feedback is welcome.
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