For we all are caught in the middle / Of one long treacherous riddle (For Lydia)

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It was quite possible that Lydia was not flirting with the Alpha twin. Possible Aiden was hitting on her and being gently shut down. Possible Stiles was wrong. The rational side of Peter's brain told him that's what it was as he lurked outside the school, watching Lydia in a way that was not at all creepy or stalkery. Really.

He was just checking on her, given her repeated trances and her fear of what was going on. He was looking out for her, making sure she was okay. It was concern, not territorial marking. Really.

He'd already done that.

A faint growl escaped his throat and the Alpha boy's head snapped toward the woods, but Peter was already gone.

Peter followed her the rest of the afternoon, into the evening, watched her with her friends. Watched as Aiden followed her, too, though far more openly. Pity, when the boy came back out, his tires had been slashed, and Peter didn't much care if he thought Scott or Isaac had done it. He had no proof and reason enough to already go after them. What were a couple of tires?

He was at her home before her. After determining her mother wasn't home--a far too usual occurrence for his idea of decent parenting, but highly convenient--he leaped to the tree by her window, then let himself in through it. He didn't sprawl out on her bed to wait, this time. He paced in the darkness instead, moving to the far corner of the room when he heard her car, out of her line of sight when she'd come in. Leaning against the wall there, he waited.

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Lydia hadn't connected the dots between humming and thinking about Peter but that was exactly what was happening as she started to unbutton her top even as the shadow loomed up behind her. The slam of the door caused her to whirl around then, the scream locking in her throat as she half expected to be attacked but stopped dead at the sight of Peter standing there.

"What?" She stared at him, confused and instantly wary about the look in his eyes. Something was clearly wrong.

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He stalked toward her--there was no other word for it. Predatory, deadly grace. He'd moved like that in her head once, though that had involved throwing desks. The expression on his face was likely reminiscent of it, as well, though he didn't intend it to be.

Terrorizing her wasn't his goal, but he was angry and scared and he could smell the boy.

"Did you have a good day?"

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It was the first time she had seen that look on his face since his resurrection. Bewildered as to why he was angry with her, she stumbled backwards, her eyes widening as her breath stilled in her throat.

"I..why?" She swallowed thickly. "Why are you asking that?"

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He kept coming until he ran her into the wall, and then his hands were on either side of her head as he leaned in, nose in her hair, almost aching as he breathed in her scent. And Aiden's.

"I can smell him all over you."

That was exaggeration, but he'd worked himself up far enough that it felt true.

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Her heart was pounding wildly by the time her back hit the wall and she felt the familiar fear, the urge to bolt, but he was there a second later to trap her in place with his hands on either side of her. Turning her head away as he leaned in to sniff her, it took a moment to understand what was going on but then it clicked.

"What?" She tilted her head back to look at him. "You're pissed off because you smell someone on me?"

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"I saw you with him." Her fear should have given him pause, but it only heightened his need to make a few things clear--like that she was his, had been from the moment he'd bitten her. "The little Alpha punk who's threatening my pack."

First time he'd acknowledged that, claimed that, even if he'd spent the whole summer with Isaac and Derek, hunting for Boyd and Erica. His pack. His girl.

He'd had far, far too much taken away from him already.

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And now she understood.

"Are you kidding me?" She brought her hands up to shove up at his chest, indignant. "You're stalking me now?" She demanded. staring up at him as she knew she shouldn't be surprised considering what had happened in the past but she was. She was also surprised by his apparent jealousy.

Where had that come from?

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He didn't move at the push, showing his strength in a way he hadn't in a while.

"You blacked out twice in a week," he all but snarled. "I...was...concerned."

Not an admission he wanted to make, nor one he'd intended to, and her indignant response did nothing to lessen his jealous anger. She hadn't denied it, but accused him--classic defensive move, in his mind.

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A flicker of surprise caused her eyes to widen as he admitted to being concerned but then she wondered if it was only a cover. It wasn't like he hadn't stalked her before.

She attempted to duck under his arm then, wanting to put space between them. "And what? Now you have it in your head that something is going on with Aiden?"

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He caught her when she tried to duck away, hand tight on her arm as he kept her where he wanted her.

"Are you telling me there's not?" He'd been obsessing since Stiles had mentioned it, and just...watching someone else pursue her had triggered every violent urge he'd had in a while.

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The tight grip of her arm hurt enough to make her wince as she looked up at him. "Let go of me." She hissed the command.

"No!" The denial exploded out of her then. "There is nothing going on with him! Where did you even get an idea like that?"

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"Never." Two different definitions of "let me go" there, but he wasn't physically releasing her, either.

Nor was he admitting that he'd been talking to Stiles, of all people, because then he was just going to look like a neurotic loser commiserating with the other guy carrying a torch. And, unlike the rest of them, he was hardly a teenager anymore.

"He wants you. You weren't exactly shutting him down."

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Shifting to her toes to try easing the pull on her arm, she glared up at him then, her green eyes darker with annoyance as she tried to tug free again.

"I wasn't exactly saying yes either." She said it in classic bitch tone, a tone she had perfected years ago and she had no problem using it as a weapon as she gave him a withering look. "Why? Jealous?"

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That defiant spark was something he liked about her, how strong she was, how resilient. He'd nearly shattered her, and look at her now. She wasn't cowering, wasn't screaming, was going toe to toe with him despite the fact that he could rip her to pieces.

His hand slid from her arm, up her shoulder to curl loosely at the side of her neck, thumb stroking up the front with just the slightest pressure until it settled on her jaw, holding her still that way.

He leaned in again, rubbing along the underside of her jaw until his lips met her ear. "Should I be?"

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He had nearly broken her once, had nearly torn her apart from the inside out, but she wasn't going to be that weak ever again. Not unless she chose to be.

Her pulse jumped as his hand moved to her neck, the press of his thumb against her jaw seemingly holding the hint of a threat while seeming oddly tender as well. She was still defiant though, as haughty as a queen as she lifted her chin even while he leaned in to whisper against her ear.

"That's really up to you." She countered, clenching her jaw. "I can't help it if he wants me but I'm not interested."

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Tender threats were how he knew to deal with her when this frustrated, this insecure. The jump of her pulse was like a tiny victory, and his fingers tightened a little on her skin.

She wasn't lying. Wary, a little scared, but not lying, and there was a profound flutter of relief at that.

"You need to tell him that. Very clearly." The faint growl was back.

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She clenched her jaw a little more against the uncomfortable feel of his fingers pressing harder into her skin making her jaw ache.

"Why?" She asked, narrowing her eyes at him. "Why do I need to tell him that?"

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He gave her a look, just as narrow and his fingers loosened just enough to let him stroke over her skin.

"You know why." The fury was abating, but he was still growly, raw and on edge.

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"No, I don't." Her tone had softened but the defiance was still there. Her heart was racing again as she'd looked up at him, clearly wanting an answer said out loud and not assumed.

"Why should I tell him I'm not interested, Peter?"

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He stared at her for a moment and kissed her in answer, his body pressing against hers, pushing her more into the wall, holding her there. It wasn't a gentle kiss, not sweet or apologetic, but hard and hungry and claiming. He'd probably get around to words in a minute, but there were things more powerful and getting rid of that boy's scent on her, replacing it with his was paramount.

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She thought about pushing him away and not letting him distract her but those thoughts went flying out of her mind the second he pressed her against the wall. Stil, her hands were on his chest, as though she were prepared to shove him back, but she was leaning up a second later to kiss him back with equal fervour. Then she nipped at his bottom lip, hard, almost in retaliation.

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He growled at the nip and snatched one of her hands away from his chest to pin it against the wall with his opposite hand--mostly to get it out of the way. His other hand stroked down her side, then back up, firm and demanding against her. Another growl and his fingers curled in the neckline of her shirt, claws extending just enough to give him cutting power to slice it off of her. His mouth didn't move from hers, though, kiss almost punishing in its force, nipping back.

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Lydia's heart was pounding wildly as he kissed her hard enough to bruise, her lips already tingling. Then she heard the rip of material and the cool air brushing over her skin as he cut her shirt open.

Turning her head, she broke the kiss was a ragged gasp. "Stop...what are you doing?" Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright with desire but she looked at him steadily. "Why should I tell him I'm not interested?" She demanded slowly.

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He didn't like her stopping the kiss, and that was evident in his gaze as he pulled back enough to look at her. His hand slid to cradle her jaw, though it wasn't gentle, either.

His gaze burned into her, like he was finding that piece in her that bound her to him, and there was no mistaking the warning or determination in his tone as he enunciated each word. "Because you're mine."

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She didn't back down from the rough way he handled her as his darkness called to her own. She had been called cold blooded and heartless but he saw a different side to it. He saw the fire behind the facade of perfection.

Curling her fingers around the back of his neck, she met his gaze as she peered up at him with a sharp smile. "That's a two way street. You better know that."