Dark clouds shift and swirl, silhouetted against the bright blue sky. My seat growls and rumbles as I lie on my back, watching the cotton apparitions wisp along the breezes outside my window. Familiar shapes flow into an ephemeral existence, only to ebb into formless states. Between us, nothing more than a comfortable silence settled between us as we rode to the Sheriff's office. Liam sings softly to the radio and drums lightly on the wheel. I watch as sun beams pierce the edges of the clouds, setting fire to a blazing silver.

How tangible the light seemed, bent against the looming dusky grey.
"Between the recent abductions and a rugaru piling up the bodies - "

"Sean and I took care of him, actually," Liam interjects, and the Sheriff lifts his eyebrows in mild shock.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I slashed his throat, and Sean ate him." He realizes, as soon as the words were out of his mouth, just how wrong it sounded. His eyes blew wide.

"You did what?!" Sheriff whisper-screams, his face puffy and red, gaze darting between us incredulously. Liam waves his hands defensively.

I groan, pinching my nose.

"Argent's bestiary said we could kill it only with fire, or seal it by dismembering it and keeping the pieces separate," he explains, not at all helping our case, "We figured if Sean ate him, he wouldn't be able to regenerate.

The sheriff flashes me a horrified look, then shakes his head and raises a hand in resignation, "Assassins. Hunters. Werewolves and wendigo. I should be used to this by now. That rugaru was our only lead to those missing children."

I nudge Liam harshly in the ribs, and pass a stern glance when our eyes meet.

"I can't say for certain, but I don't think the rugaru was responsible for the disappearances. They feed like us. On human flesh. But their hunger is more intense. It makes them sloppy and inconsistent. A rugaru wouldn't bother hiding the bodies."

"That would stop the body count at two, which is a good thing," Sheriff says, folding his arms, leaning back and peering at me, "But why do I feel like there should be a but in there somewhere?"

I feel Liam's glance against my cheek before drawing in a long breath.

"Unlike wendigo, a rugaru is bitten into cannibalism. If he really was responsible for those kids disappearing, we might be dealing with an infestation."

The sheriff sits down, brows wrinkled as he rubs the side of his lip.

"Why can't we just have normal criminals in this town for once?" he grumbles.

"We'll help any way we can," Liam offers.

As we always do. Even if Stiles hadn't practically made him sign a contract to protect his dad, and even if Scott hadn't been his alpha and left the protection of the town to him, Liam would be doing this anyway. No one needed to ask. However, he's nowhere near as sympathetic as Scott, the true alpha. Sometimes his anger gave way to sheer ruthlessness, and it didn't help he had this lethal weapon under his wrist. Mason wasn't always there to be the voice of reason, and I'm all for making the appropriate choices. In that regard, I could quench or fuel that ruthlessness and only later question the integrity of the decision.

"Do you think we could have cured it? Or at least sate his hunger for awhile like we do you? Instead of … killing him?" Liam asks he drove us back home.

"He had no control. He killed two people."

He ponders a bit, eyes glued to the head-lit road.

"So were you."

I didn't bother debating it. My features remained unchanged. True, my body count is much higher, and without Liam, I would still be struggling with the pangs of hunger. The difference laid in the fact that my hunger could be sated and if need be, I can starve myself to death. Rugaru literally cannot ignore their hunger, and their hunger cannot be sated. If it were otherwise, I wouldn't have agreed to killing it. That kind of existence is not only dangerous to anything breathing that also vaguely resembles human, but also a torturous one filled with endless suffering.

I don't think of it as mercy killing. I know my decision was mostly selfish. I just recognize, that kind of life isn't living at all.

"Yeah…"

A full moon glows, illuminating the darkness of Liam's room. Clear shadows spill against the corners of every object, obfuscating with the passing of wayward clouds. His eyes shine like suns, warm and inviting, yet fierce and dangerous. I wanted to consume every part of his beauty, to nestle underneath his skin and bathe in his every aspect. His smile, so sure of itself, etches across his face as the warmth of his touch runs up my bare chest and settles there.

"Can't get enough of this pretty face?" he taunts, his other hand grasped unto my bicep.

"Can't get enough of you," my voice gravelly from arousal. My face dives into the crease of his neck, gently tugging the skin between my teeth. He groans as I alternate between small pecks and nibbles, up the curve of his shoulder and down the panes of his broad chest.

I snap my hips into his, and he huffs out a moan as his body bobs against the mattress. No claws, only the blunt press of his fingers across my shoulder blades, and no fangs, only rows of porcelain and enamel met mine. Again, I grind our clothed erections together, driving him into the covers, and he whines with want, baring his neck to me.

We could never do anything this intimate when Liam first turned. The passion and indulgence couldn't exist when we were fucking like animals trying to consume each other. I'd have to pin his wrists above his head so he wouldn't shred my back. I couldn't fit my lips into his or run my tongue along his teeth from all the roaring and gnashing. His wolf was insatiable and often fought for dominance. It liked to be punished and abused; to be fucked so hard and thoroughly, every thrust tore a whimper or a scream from his throat. We found out that even a werewolf could limp afterward.

Now, we could even use his bed. Steal away intimacy at any moment without fear of getting caught or provoking the monsters inside us. Sex with Liam was always fun, and eminent danger added a certain flavor to that. But being able to touch and kiss show him all the care in the world meant so much to me.

He even had the confidence to take me on occasion. Very little else turns me on more than sexy, confident Liam in absolute control of himself.

Liam cants his hips to meet my thrusts, panting, "What are we virgins? Lose the sweatpants."

I sit up on my knees, hovering over him with my penis outlined unabashedly against my sweats. He grabs my thick rod and strokes it through the cotton fabric, earning a pleasure hazed moan as I thread a hand through my hair.

"Your so fucking sensitive." he teases.

Shrugging off my sweats, I grab his hips roughly and jerk his boxers off his waist, his own erection springing free as he yelps in surprise.

"Lube or no?" I ask with his left leg already slung over my shoulder, his right foot settled on the curve of my ass. Last few times, he opted to forgo the process, saying his healing made it all pointless and he kind of liked the burn. I have to remember to ask still, because he might not always feel like putting up with it.

"You're already - ungh - head in," he grunts as I press deeper, "Just -unf-fuck! Sean!" He screams as I buck into him fully, silencing his sarcasm. My pace begins leisurely, yet powerful as Liam responds grunting and moaning in my ear. His left hand threads into the back of my hair and clings there, his right trails up my arm and clutches my shoulder blade.

It didn't seem to matter how quiet we tried to be. Between the bed, Liam, and my own admissions of pleasure, there was too much noise to sneak one in while his dad was here. In the night, it was nice being able to admire his naked body, eyes still golden and shining against his smooth skin. Without fear of decency. Or worse - the talk.

To hear him breathe, feel the rise and fall of his chest next to me, and fall asleep in the manner we always do, Simply existing in the moment. We never say, "I love you," but this felt pretty close. Maybe more, even when sex isn't involved.

An exciting week of school awaited. Mason and Liam have a divisional game Wednesday against Brett's team. The past three years, that game was always heated and extremely intense and Liam's past with that school fueled that flame. Besides that, the school planned a talent show, which Mason urged us into (Look, I'll sign you up myself if I have to). We're still in the process of choosing a song to perform, but I'm just eager, and a little intimidated, to be playing with Liam on stage. He's so good on the guitar and even though he's pretty timid about it, his singing voice was almost therapeutic when he's serious. I find it odd and uncharacteristic of him to be so reserved about something he's good at, but I don't question it anymore.

"Think they'll let us skip study hall and practice in the music room instead?"

I shrug, "Knowing you, I don't think the answer really matters."

It's a nice trade. I pull up his grades and he convinces me to skip classes - only the "unimportant" ones, calling them "sick days".

"No," he smirks, gripping the straps of his backpack, "but it's nice to go through the motions, you know? Besides, we need some practice in before your drama club stuff."

It'd be dark before I finished. Liam's dad had a strict no-instruments rule which neither of us had the gall to break. Once the sun hits the horizon, that's it. The neighbors were sticklers for noise violations, and my violin was apparently too loud.

"Guess we'll find out," I say, my arm wrapping around his favorite multicolored hoodie, fingers latching onto his side as he slings an arm around my shoulder.

The answer is technically no, but Ms. Giles doesn't really care.

"I'm not giving you a hall pass, so you better not get caught."

"I knew you'd soften her up, you cutie, you," he teases, pinching my cheeks on our way to meet up with Mason during lunch.

"You're such a dork," I huff, shying away from his reach.

I've gotten pretty good at reading Liam's expressions, and the face he makes when he hears a far of conversation is unmistakable. Few times, he'd look in a general direction quickly, then steal a touch, however slight. People talk. I say let them. Though it's unfortunate he has to hear everything. Sometimes it's as simple as a compliment, other times the conversation wouldn't be so generous. Liam doesn't get jealous or frustrated enough to turn anymore, which saved on trips to the bathroom and therapeutic kissing (a trick we learned from Lydia).

Sometimes he'd catch conversations where promiscuity headlined the topics. Harsh break ups and possibly some transmission of STI's underlied the school's general hum. There was even a girl - Rachael Mayborn we later found out - who cried in the stalls and hid there. Her lover not only left her without a word of warning, but physically got up and left a whole life behind.

Tragic.

"Big game Wednesday. Super stoked. Also kind of anxious." Mason states with marked energy, eyebrows flaring.

"Why's that?" Liam furrows his brows, and leans in with one hand caressing his chin. "Wouldn't have anything to do with Brett would it?" He quirks a single brow, and his electric blue eyes seem live with current.

"No." Mason firmly states, mouth exaggerating the formidable O shape as he continues, "We can kick his ass same as any other," (Honestly, Liam's been wing-manning this for two years now. How he's ever going to get his best friend to date his sworn enemy is still beyond me).

"It's just that, when has something ever not happened during a big lacrosse game?"