Broken Kiss (a Teen Wolf story)

Part 30

Peter shook the rain from his jacket and brushed it from his hair. Bracing himself for crossed arms, a beyond-irritated scowl, and a supernatural edge to Lydia's voice, he opened the door.

She wasn't there.

For a moment, he thought he'd been duped, that the Cadigans had been a decoy while someone – some thing – went after Lydia. But then he heard her, the rustle of paper as she turned a page followed by the sound of her fingers tapping against the keyboard of her laptop. She was home, studying by the sounds of it.

Nothinghad prevented her from coming for him. Shejust...hadn't. She was simply going on, as if it didn't matter that he'd solvedher puzzle. That he'd helped and returned without breaking any of their rules.    

"What are you doing out there?" she asked. Another page turned. "I can hear you lurking."

"No, you can't."

He sounded childish, but it was because she sounded irritated. Only irritated. Not angry. Not afraid. Lydia didn't do anything halfway, and this mild reaction was so dismissive.

"Then I can sense you lurking." The book closed and fabric slid against fabric as she shifted on the couch. She was never inattentive when picking out her clothes and what he heard was not the slick movement of silk or the tantalizing sound of bare skin. Controlled emotions. Practical clothes. How often had he come home to find hissister Talia arranged in a similar manner? Not worried about him or eager tohear what he'd accomplished. Just waiting to recite his list of sins, hisfailures. Like he was a chore that had to be checked off before she moved on to more important things.

He touched the wall separating them. The feelings welling up inside of him were anything but mild. He had done something he'd promised he wouldn't. He remembered the promise, but he also remembered everything he'd done tonight. He'd been effective but civilized. The Cadigans were still alive. Hell, following his visit they would be safer than they were making decisions on their own. But that was inconsequential.

He'd made a promise and he hadn't kept it and now he felt guilty. He bared his teeth. Just human teeth, but scraping against each other in an effort to keep from shouting. He hated the way that guilt felt, like some noxious, living thing squirming and scraping around inside of him. And, worse, he couldn't make that feeling go away on his own. Only she had that power, and if she didn't even care enough to be angry then she certainly didn't care enough to forgive him. Unacceptable.

He rounded the corner and kept moving, walking too quickly for a late night house, too quickly for a human to comfortably watch.

"I was salvaging something of the night, sweetheart. Had a visit with your security friends. You know, you would have found them if you'd just gone to their office instead of chasing after their prank instructions. I'm surprised you didn't think of it."

He kept talking, gravitating to the shadows outside the circle of light from her single lamp, moving behind her so that she had to crane her neck to see him. If she had the power to make him feel bad, then by God he was going to see her upset before he left. He'd have her screaming with rage before he left.

"Peter?" She wore dark blue yoga pants and a shapeless pink top that hung off of one shoulder. Even her practical clothes were cute. It was an unfair advantage.

"Lydia?" he replied in a mocking tone.

He grabbed the nearest bottle of wine from the dark bar and slid a glass slowly out of the hanging holder, making sure to scrape the stem. Not hard enough to break it, just enough to bother her.

She turned away from him, refusing to play. She was ignoring him. More dismissal. What the hell would it take to make her feel something? It was unbelievably unfair that he was the only one who was angry. If he were an alpha, she'd be affected, caught up in the power of his mood. And even though he wasn't, he still deserved something. An acknowledgement at least. He had given her so much, tried so hard for her.

Except... He caught the hard breath she took. It wasn't a sigh of disappointment. That, he was well acquainted with. This was something else.

She stood abruptly and rounded the couch, bearing down on him with laser-like intensity. He took a long drink, and raised an eyebrow over the wineglass. She reached out and flipped the light switch on the wall. Instinctively, he tried to back away from the light, but there was nowhere to go.

Slowly, in the blaze of illumination, she looked him over. There was nothing seductive in her slow perusal, though it was the rare moment that Lydia wasn't flirting at least a little. But this was an examination. She frowned as she catalogued him, the condition of his clothes and boots. She spent a long time on his hands before, with a set of her slim shoulders and a toss of her head, she met his eyes.

"Like what you see, sweetheart?" he asked. His heart pounded, and the wine tasted like acid on his tongue.

"I don't like what you are doing."

"Oh no?" he challenged.

She held her ground in the narrow entrance to the bar. Her arm was still extended. Blocking his exit, he realized. He'd tried to skirt her, to stay in her peripheral vision, but Lydia was facing him head on.

"And what am I doing?" He set the glass down. She must have opened the bottle earlier, because her glass sat on the counter. Half full, holding the glossy imprint of her lower lip. "I was helping. You and your friends hadn't made progress. This whole "case" of yours hasn't gone anywhere for days, so..."

She stepped forward. The beat of her pulse increased and the wolf inside of him stirred, anxious over her agitation.

"You're pushing me." She took another step, and the floral scent of her damp hair invaded the space between them. "You're pushing like you want me to back off, and I want to know why."

"Has it ever occurred to you that I might be tired of all of these little investigations of yours?" He tried to sound bored, like everything about her was so trite, so typical, so dull. The wolf's whine almost reached his voice. Why wouldn't she just tell him off? Turning his back was easy. He was good at it.

"No." She took another step and, when she began to raise her hand, he flinched. "I almost came after you. I knew you'd go gunning straight for them, and I was all ready to chase. But then I asked myself why. Why did I feel the need to follow you? You can take care of yourself, and even if you were in danger I couldn't do anything to help. You might have hurt those people, and then I'd be to blame because you went after them over me. But I didn't think that you would."

"You know what I'm capable of."

Solemn green eyes stared up, refusing to leave his.

"I think you're capable of lots of things, including self-control."

"Maybe I felt like letting loose for once. Unleashing myself. Taking a break from all this-" He waved at the room around them. "-domesticity."

"But you didn't. You didn't hurt them. Those two aren't a challenge to you. I'll bet you got all the information we've been chasing in less than an hour. But I don't care about that right now. What I want to know is, what else is happening tonight? You went on the attack, but not out there. You waited until you got home to lash out."

He could hardly breathe, struck by the depth of her understanding, by the naked confusion on her face. Her green eyes gleamed, and Peter yearned to take her heart-shaped face in his hands, to kiss her soft mouth. But to do that, he would have to fall even harder for her. He would have to give even more of himself to her. And, if he did, he would end up belonging to her completely. The idea was terrifying.

"Why, Peter?"