Clairsentience ➳ Derek Hale/Teen Wolf [2]

4. nosebleeds

Disclaimer: I do NOT own any parts of Teen Wolf or its plot or characters. I do not own Derek Hale. However I do own Skylar McCall and some of the things that come along with her plot (Like Harv & Kelly's, etc.).

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If Derek really is staying at that hotel he mentioned, it must only be to sleep or to store his personal belongings. He's been hiding out in an old train station nearby, his new lair-feeling hideout. He takes me there this morning for the first time, opening a wooden chest with the same three spirals that he has tattooed on his back. Inside are various restraining devices—handcuffs, chains, something that looks like a medieval torture device. I take a pair of cuffs in my hand. They aren't the kind of cuffs a police officer would use—they're thicker, sturdier. Made to restrain something stronger than humanly capable.

"So that's it?" I let the cuffs slip out of my hands and back into the chest. "You're just gonna chain me up and wait it out?"

"Do you have a better idea?" Derek asks, raising an eyebrow. He reads my thoughts like an open book. "You don't think you're gonna turn."

I shake my head. "I don't," I admit. "But I don't have much evidence to back that up."

It's true that I've been experiencing some werewolf-like abilities lately, but they haven't been consistent enough to have me convinced. Truth be told, they've only shown up when I'm around Scott or Derek. Now, what does that mean? I have no clue. I don't know what it is, but my gut says I won't be turning into a creature of the night tonight.

"You either turn or you die," Derek says, shaking his head. "I've never heard of a third option."

"Well up until three months ago I'd never heard of werewolves, either," I remind him. At this point, I'm convinced that anything is possible. It seems as if everyday I find out a new secret of this town, this world. "It doesn't make sense, why my senses come and go like that."

Derek straightens and approaches me slowly with a smirk, his large hands reaching out and finding my elbows. The touch sends shivers down my spine as his hands slide down until they're cradling my own. The feeling is unlike anything I've felt before—I feel like his fingertips are brushing every nerve ending in my body. "Are your senses heightened right now?" he asks, his breath fanning my face.

"Yes." I nod, unable to stop myself from swallowing. Three months later and he still makes me nervous. He notices this, taking a step away from me.

"Then show me," he orders, straightening as if getting into a fighting stance.

"I said senses. I haven't tried using strength or reflexes yet."

"Just try."

Hesitantly, I match his stance and we slowly start to circle each other. He makes the first move, pouncing to tackle me, but I duck and swing around him, sending him tumbling over my shoulder. He quickly gets himself off the ground, clearly distraught.