"How long could they control fate..."

Peace.

Hope felt true, unfiltered peace. A delicate smile curved her lips as she opened her eyes, greeted with the smoldering embers in the hearth. For the first time in so long she felt…whole. The worries she had before no longer mattered.

Rolling onto her stomach she absentmindedly traced her fingers down the ribbed fabric of the pillow that cradled her head. She was lost in thought. How long had she been asleep? It couldn't have been long, considering the living room was bathed in shadows.

Sighing softly, Hope snuggled into the couch and let her eyes close. She was just on the verge of sleep, that fine line between two worlds when her eyes snapped open. Sitting up abruptly, she scanned the living room confused. The room hadn't changed in the time she'd slept, but she was alone.

Derek was gone.

Exhaling, she shifted to a sitting position and rested her chin on her knees. He must not have stayed long, she thought as her eyes adjusted to the room.

Hope could still feel the sensation of his warm fingers caressing the small of her back. She had fallen asleep with her head on his chest, listening to his solid heartbeat. It had felt so right in the moment, at least, it did to her. Maybe he didn't feel the same.

She tried to shove the vivid memories from her thoughts. Shaking her head, she stood from the couch and dug her toes into the squishy carpet. Her gaze settling on the wood pile next to the brick platform of the fireplace. She debated for a moment. Either put on another log or call it a night. Would it matter if she couldn't sleep anyway?

Hope didn't have the chance to decide.

Without warning, a truck horn blared. Whipping her head to the side, she stared out the living room window with wide eyes. There, on the lawn facing the house, was the green pickup truck.

The noise was so loud she could see the glass of the window trembling. Then, a sudden bright light lit the entire living room, blinding her. She could see nothing but stars and strangely colored circles. Frozen in fearful surprise.

Her immediate instinct was to duck, to get away from the window and out of the line of fire, but she couldn't move her limbs. It was as if an electric current had paralyzed her, making her muscles rigid and uncooperative.

Move, Hope, move!

But she couldn't. She could only stare in blank horror as the light shut off, leaving her with spotted vision. The driver's door opened, and he stepped out. The man with the tattooed held something in his hand, a glinting object constructed of silver.

Then she noticed he wasn't alone. A man with a dark head of hair and a strong build was forced to his knees.

Her heart stopped.

"…Derek."

Dick placed the nose of the pistol against the back of Derek's head.

He pulled the trigger.

Hope inhaled a sharp breath as her eyes snapped open. Her heart hammered painfully against her ribcage. Sweat dewed along her hairline; wisps of baby hair clinging to the nape of her neck. She was greeted by a warm, buttery sunshine that streamed through her bedroom window. Watching the dancing dust particles, she eased her rigid muscles into a relaxing position.

Rolling onto her back she rested her arms above her head and stretched. Starring up at the white swirl patterned ceiling, her jumbling thoughts trampled over each other.

"It was just a dream," she murmured to herself, "A very horrible, terrifying dream."

Derek must have carried her to bed late last night. Or had that all been a dream too? Still, her stomach fluttered from the idea of being cradled in his arms. With a soft sigh, she sat up and rolled out of bed. She wore the same outfit from last night and decided a shower was in order.

After a quick warm shower, she dressed in a pair of black leggings and a pink Just Do It Nike tank-top. Then, she gathered her long damp hair into a tight ponytail. The pressure would surely give her a headache by the end of the day. At least it would distract her from her crushing inner thoughts.

Descending the stairs with the intent of making herself a cup of coffee, Hope heard shuffling from the kitchen. The scent of coffee, eggs, and bacon greeted her warmly.

"Hello?" Hope called from the foot of the stairs before rounding the corner, stopping in her tracks.

Derek stood above the stove, flipping sizzling bacon that popped grease at his bare forearms. He wore a plain white t-shirt – it complimented his large biceps – and a pair of dark gray jeans. His combat boots were caked in dry mud.

Not that Hope cared much, she'd been known to track dirt here and there.

Derek glanced her way, making her heart skip an unusual beat. He offered a crooked smile, obviously in a cheerful mood. The thought crossed her mind that the reason he was so cheery, eagerly making her breakfast because she'd done something last night she didn't recall.

"You're here?" she asked, obvious surprise in her voice.

He responded with a slight nod, setting a plate of the bacon on the counter "Don't worry, I brought my own food…"

Hope pursed her lips, "That's actually the least of my curiosities right now." Taking a small breath, she walked toward the cabinet above the coffee maker next to the sink and removed two mugs. "I'm sorry. I guess I just didn't expect to see you this morning."

Derek was silent for a long moment. "We have a lot to discuss. I thought it might be best not to wait."

She cleared her throat a bit awkwardly. "How do you take it?" she asked, pouring the pots dark and bitter contents into the two mugs.

"Black is fine."

Hope added a bit of cream to her coffee and brought them to the small table in front of the kitchen window. She preferred a view when she ate.

Derek joined her and soon they were sitting across from each other, avoiding eye contact. Despite the food smelling delicious, she couldn't seem to pick up her fork to take the first bite.

"You know there's not going to be an easy way to discuss this, right?" she asked, finally meeting his eyes. His hands were folded under his chin, watching her now.

"I know," he murmured, "But this isn't something I can just…brush off. I can't ignore this." His eyes were such a soft shade of moss green, yet so intense they created goosebumps over her arms.

Reaching for her coffee she took a sip, letting the taste wash over her tongue. "Where would you like me to begin?"

Derek nodded "I want to know exactly why you came here. You said you came here for me, but what exactly does that mean?" His concentrated eyes searched hers with curious interest.

How could she explain this without sounding utterly insane? She wasn't sure she could.

Chewing on her lower lip she traced her pinkie finger along the rim of her coffee mug. "You're a Werewolf and I'm a Werewolf, but we're not the same. At least, the way I understand it," she paused, searching for the right words, "In my society, with my pack, there's a certain time where a Werewolf feels the need to find a mate…" Her eyes flitted over to him, measuring his expression, "For obvious reasons. The bigger the pack, the stronger the pack. The more powerful a pack can be. I think that's universal, but I always thought that whenever I felt ready to find someone it would be someone within my own pack. Not a male Alpha from across the country."

"I grew up in New Orleans. My father's a hybrid, a mix between vampire and werewolf. How he became what he is, is a story for another time," she bit her lip and took another sip of coffee, "My mother was a werewolf when she gave birth and since my father had a witch heritage I was born with those powers. To make a long story short, while I was in New Orleans I constantly felt like I needed something. Something that no one could seem to satisfy," her brows knitted together remembering searching the streets of the Quarter trying to find something to quench her instincts, "This tugging kept pulling me in a certain direction. It pulled me here. It pulled-it dragged me to you…"

She met his eyes with a wide gaze "It makes sense. I mean, from an instinctual point of view. You're an Alpha, I'm an Alpha. Or I'm meant to be one, anyway. You're obviously strong and capable, but you're completely different. You have your own pack rules, I'm sure," she took a deep breath to bring her pitch down and sighed softly, "If I had known my instincts wanted me to make you my mate I wouldn't have come. That's not something I'd ever want someone to feel like is forced on them."

Hope grew quiet, waiting for his response as a flush of heat rose in her cheeks.

"Please say something." She murmured softly.

Derek shook his head slowly. "I know you're afraid of scaring me away, but I have to be honest. I don't think you're insane and I don't think you're trying to force anything on me. Instincts for a Werewolf is natural, and I'd be lying if I said my own instincts weren't telling me I need to find someone too," his dark brows furrowed, "I just – I can't right now. It's not the best time for me…" he trailed off in a soft tone, thoughts seeming distant.

Hope had a strange cocktail of emotions. Part of her was unbelievably relieved by his words. She didn't have to settle into some instinctually forced relationship. Yet, she felt a small wave of disappointment. There was a strong part of her that wanted to be whole with her other half, and another part that said: "Not yet".

"I think I'd like to stay a little longer. Here, in Beacon Hills, I mean." Was it odd for her to want to be close to him even if she didn't want to be with him? Probably.

Derek gave a light chuckle and nodded "I think I'd like you to stay too. I'm not sure what that means, but I don't feel like arguing with it."

With a smile, Hope picked up a piece of cooled bacon "Let's just go with it then. We can see where it takes us."

How long could they control fate?

Breakfast ended, and Derek left to deal with business. Hope didn't ask what his business was, but she had a feeling it involved his pack. With his absence, the afternoon rolled around, leaving Hope plenty of time to dwell on her nightmare from last night.

Thanks to Elijah's many psychology lessons, she understood she feared Derek getting involved with her enemies. If they hurt him – or worse, killed him – she'd never forgive herself. Yes, Derek was a capable man and he could keep himself from harm, but the image of seeing him die so gruesomely had instilled her with a horrible dread.

Hope would make sure that never happened. If they laid a hand on him she wouldn't hold her power back.

To occupy her thoughts, Hope busied herself with chores. Washing the laundry, scrubbing the shower, and dusting every nook and cranny. Task after task she worked until there was nothing left to scrub or rearrange. Everything was spotless.

She was suddenly aware she was in desperate need of a hobby.

She may as well start preparing for dinner. Spicy Gumbo, she thought, her mouth already watering. It sounded delicious, and she could use a taste of home. Not to mention, if Derek returned they'd have plenty to share. He learned earlier from breakfast that she was a girl with an appetite.

Hope scanned the cupboards and retrieved the ingredients one by one, setting them on the counter. The recipe itself required a lot, but she knew it would be worth it in the end. Back in New Orleans, she could spend hours by the fire in the bayou. A member of the pack – whoever oversaw the meal that night – would stir a pot of authentic Gumbo. That meal could easily feed the entire pack.

She loved those nights. Where she held a steaming bowl in her lap, taking occasional bites as she listened to mystical stories of the past.

Those were the memories she loved most.

Deciding to play a bit of music, Hope hooked her speaker to the Bluetooth and pressed play. It blared, "There is a house in New Orleans. They call the rising sun."

"Fitting," Hope said with a sly smile, turning the stove on low.

Hope bobbed her head from side to side, moving with the rhythm and occasionally mouthing the lyrics. Distracted by the music, she lost track of time while she cooked. Song after song she became livelier with her dance moves, moving her hips back and forth as she sang along to Livin' On A Prayer.

"Bon Jovi?" A voice came from behind.

Hope spun around and dropped the wooden spoon she'd been using as a microphone and to stir her pot.

Derek stood in the kitchen doorway with his hands in his front pockets, grinning from ear to ear. His eyes filled with laughter.

Oh, God, how long had he been standing there? Putting a hand to her forehead, Hope felt a heated blush creep up the back of her neck. She put a finger up. "Don't judge. Bon Jovi is classic."

"No, no. I'm not judging," Derek said pursing his lips, obviously fighting a laugh.

"Haha." Hope rolled her eyes playfully and picked up the wooden spoon from the floor, tossing it into the sink. "How was 'business'?" She asked, turning to face him while leaned against the sink.

Derek huffed a soft sigh and shook his head, frowning slightly. "I'd much rather take my mind off of it."

With a nod, she placed a lid on the pot while it simmered. "Well, dinner will take a while to cook. Do you like movies?"

He arched an eyebrow and nodded, "It depends on the movie…" He made a slight face, "It won't be a chick flick will it?"

His worried expression made her laugh. "Hey, if we're going to be friends you have to watch what I like too." She smiled and grabbed ahold of his bicep. Her hands couldn't entirely wrap around the muscle. Da*n, she thought.

Hope lead him into the living room and plopped down on the couch, pulling him with her. "How about…" She started and began to scan through the selection of movies on the screen, "Have you ever seen Die Hard?" She asked, looking over at him, reminding herself not to glance down at her lips. His mouthwatering scent was making it difficult to concentrate.

Derek gave her an incredulous look "You want to watch Die Hard?"

"You seem surprised."

"I mean, I'm not surprised. It's just not what I expected." He leaned his head back and smiled slightly, watching her.

"I'm never what anyone expects," Hope tried to suppress a sudden giggle, "That sounded so much better in my head."

His chuckle was light, laced with amusement. "Just start the movie," he said, shaking his head at her.

Pulling her legs up underneath her, she did as he asked and pressed play. Hope had a habit of squishing her throw blanket between her fingers absentmindedly. She did this now as she watched the beginning of the movie.

Fifteen minutes passed, and she was hit with a sudden craving for caffeine. Hope turned her head to look at him, prepared to ask him if he might like a cup. Before she could utter a word, she was met with his fierce green gaze. He had been watching her.

Derek's eyes were filled with intense sexual desire.

An icy shiver shot down Hope's spine, her entire body throbbing for his attention. She no longer craved coffee.

Movements smooth and swift, Derek lifted Hope from her position on the couch and pressed her down against her back. It was like pure adrenaline to be pinned beneath him; her head whirled dizzily. She threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling at the roots. Pleased to hear him groan softly. Catching his lips in a deeply passionate kiss she eagerly let her tongue dance and tangle with his.

"Derek…"

A low growl rumbled in his chest.

She gasped softly, closing her eyes as his calloused fingers skimmed the skin under her tank-top.

Could she resist him?

**NOTES**

Happy tenth chapter everybody! Thank you for the likes and reviews for this story, it's truly one of my favorites! Be sure to keep reading, because Hope and Derek's story is just getting started!

Also, I am in search of a Beta Reader. Just someone who can be a second pair of eyes for my chapters before I publish. If you're interested send me a message! 😊