Fire and Ice || M. Tate-Hale (1)

Chapter 1

TW: minor language, violence, bl00d

Malia was not drunk. It turns out, werewolves have a high metabolism regarding alcohols. She groaned in frustration as she downed another scalding shot of Vodka. She slid the glass down the bar as the bartender slid her another one. He eyed her suspiciously as she grabbed the drink. "You sure you're 21?" She rolled her eyes, hand poised midair. "Yes I'm sure dummy. Didn't you read the ID?" His eyes narrowed as he turned his back. The ID was, of course, fake.

It was just Malia's luck that some drunk idiot should happen to bump into her just as she had the cup positioned at its highest point. The sudden movement caused her to spill the drink all over herself. She stood up hastily, smashing the cup on the floor. "Hey!" The bartender protested. She ignored him. "What the hell is your problem?!" Malia demanded. Her black low-cropped shirt was now drenched, and so were her preposterously high shorts. And she'd likely not care if some random bystander eyed her knee length boots.

As the Pack had came to adjust to Malia, they soon learned that she didn't mind nudity or skin. They'd learned even quicker that she'd had no patience for "manners" or "social skills", preferring to stand to the side awkwardly, or just flat-out be a loner. Due to being a coyote the first half of her life, she'd had no association or understanding of the term sexuality. Everyone just thought of her as unlabeled, but if you asked her, she'd probably say "if they're hot, they're hot."

She'd just been dumped. It turns out, not telling your girlfriend you're a supernatural freak that can turn into a dog is not the best idea. Upon Malia accidentally losing control on a full moon, she promptly dumped her saying "I don't want to be with someone who lies to me and might accidentally maul me in her sleep." So, here Malia was, drinking her anger and sadness away. She'd really liked Talia, even though it was kinda creepy that she'd had the same name as her aunt.

And now she was about to take out her anger on the poor person who had made the mistake of getting drunk. Malia lunged at the poor guy, punching him in the nose. He groaned as he fell to the floor, clutching his now bleeding nose. He stood up, wobbling for a few seconds, then attempted to throw a punch, but due to his extreme alcohol intake, missed, and tripped over his own feet, falling again to the floor.

Malia grabbed his collar, swinging him around and pushing him against the wall, as she began lifting him up by the neck. He gasped, clawing at her hand, eyes bulging, face beginning to turn red. Malia used her other hand and prepared to strike the final punch, but her phone began buzzing in her pocket. She groaned, pulling it out. "Impeccable timing." She muttered. She pressed the answer button. "Hello?"

"Deaton needs our help. We have to go help a girl. She's in trouble." Malia rolled her eyes. "And why do you need MY help?" She shifted on her heels, oblivious to the guys eyes rolling into the back of his head. "Because, the people after her are very powerful, and she's outnumbered. I also called Erica, Stiles, Lydia, and Kira." Malias eyes widened. "Why do we need that many?"

"Because. I told you, they're very powerful." Scott continued. "I also called Boyd, Corey, and Mason to break Derek out of jail." Malia scoffed. "You sent the pups to rescue Derek? They're still in school Scott, that's really irresponsible of you, they could throw their lives away if they're caught! And we both know Derek's in there for a reason."

Malia's hold faltered when the guy finally passed out. Malia was more than capable of withstanding his full dead weight, but it caught her off guard. She fell to the floor, guy collapsing on top of her. She picked up her phone. "Hold on Scott, ok? I'm gonna put you on hold, I'm just gonna take care of something." Malia paused the call and set her phone down.

She rolled the guy of her in disgust. She hopped up to her feet, looking around to see if anybody noticed, but no one seemed to be looking at her. The occupants were far too used to seeing someone passed out, completely drunk. She walked back past the bar, past the bartender. She called out over her shoulder as she passed, "hey you might want to go over there, there's some random guy passed out."

The bartender protested as she walked out. "Hey! You didn't pay for those shots! Or the cup you smashed!" Malia shrugged, tossing a $50 bill over her shoulder. "Sorry!" She called as she walked though the door, heading to her motorcycle. She grabbed her helmet as she reached in her back pocket for her phone with her other arm. She hit "unhold" button and placed the phone against her ear.

"Sorry, got caught up. Where's the location?" She out the phone on speaker as she set on the the seat of her motorcycle. She put the helmet over her head, and grabbed her phone, slinging a leg over her motorcycle. She kicked the stand up as she started it.  "An abandoned warehouse, it's at Barren street." "Got it." Malia replied. She twisted the handle, revving forward.

She tried not to think about her girlfriend, because she didn't want to be reminded of her pain. She stared in silence as she sped off into the night, dirty blond hair flying out behind her.

A/N: Woohoo! Official first chapter finished. Originally I was going to start off with a poly Allison/Scott/Isaac s3x scene, but then I changed my mind and starting writing a Scisaac one, and then I changed my mind again and decided to focus on Malia 😭 I have a serious writers block when it comes to s3xu@l stuff. Anyways, as always, vote and comment!