In a clearing in the woods Derek Hale was gathering some wood for the fireplace inside his cabin when a scent that he is not yet familiar with reached his nose. Momentarily throwing him off guard.
Derek freezes mid-step, the stack of firewood temporarily forgotten in his arms. His nostrils flare—once, twice—as the unfamiliar scent floods his senses.
'Not human... or is it?'
'But not… predator.' He thought.
His werewolf instincts hum to life beneath his skin—hackles rising, muscles coiled. But something about the scent throws him off balance. It's sharp with irritation, yes… laced with defiance… but underneath? Something warmer. Something that makes his pulse kick up a notch in a way it shouldn't.
"What the hell...?"
He slowly sets the wood down by the porch and steps forward into the dark tree line bordering his property—the same path leading from town toward Beacon Hills Preserve.
That's when he hears it.
Footsteps.
Light. Hasty. Unaware.
And its getting closer.
His jaw tightens as another wave of that maddening scent hits him full force—and suddenly, images flash behind his eyes: long dark hair swaying with anger, narrowed eyes throwing daggers at someone unseen...
As Aria appears between the trees, moonlight illuminating her features beautifully. She spots a stranger in the distance and walked closer.
Derek watches her approach with predatory scrutiny. Every sense is taut with caution, muscles coiled beneath his tense frame as he takes in her every move. Her footsteps are light, almost graceful. Her hair cascades down her shoulders, catching the moonlight in dark midnight waves. He catalogs every detail, noting the defiant tilt to her chin, the determined set of her jaw.
Her scent hits him once more, stronger this time. Unsettling, yet strangely alluring. But there's something else too—something almost familiar.
"Hey." She greeted softly smiling sweetly. "I'm sorry to bother you, maybe you can help me."
Derek almost falters as she smiles, her soft, sweet tone catching him completely off guard. That hint of familiarity hits again, but he ignores it, keeping his guard up.
He takes a moment to assess her—noting the way her eyes flick towards the trees behind him, how her shoulders tense ever so slightly.
A small scoff leaves his throat as he crosses his arms.
"Depends. What do you need help with?"
"It's silly really," a soft giggle escaped her lips. "I went for a walk, took a few turns in random and now I can't seem to get my way back home."
Derek watches her closely, that scoff morphing into a dry huff of laughter.
"You… got lost. In the woods. Where there are no clear signs of trails or direction and it's almost pitch black outside," he raises an eyebrow. "...On a full moon night."
He takes a subtle step forward, his gaze flicking to the shadows around them as he notes the slight rise in her heart rate.
She looks up at the moon, but nothing odd. "I hadn't even realized how full and beautiful the moon is this night." She smiles again.
Derek's gaze follows hers up to the full moon, an involuntary shiver running up his spine. He shoves the reaction aside, turning his attention back to Aria. She's almost too carefree, he thinks—too unbothered. It sets him on edge. He takes another step closer without realizing it.
Her heartbeat quickens again, just enough that his supernatural ears pick up on the change. His eyes narrow as he studies her more intently. Something's off.
"You're not from Beacon Hills. Not a question. A statement."
"Is it that obvious?"
Derek nods, taking another step closer. He closes the distance until he's standing directly in front of her. His gaze rakes over her face, lingering on her eyes, her lips, her throat. His brow furrows as if trying to recall something. That scent keeps tugging at his memories, but he can't place it. He leans in slightly without noticing, nostrils flared as he scents the air around her once more. Closer. Warmer. More enticing.
"There's something familiar about you."
He lifts his chin slightly, eyes flashing golden in the darkness.
"Under normal circumstances I'd say that's creepy, but I don't feel intimidated by you." Aria smiles as she holds out a hand towards him. "I'm Aria."
Derek's hand closes around hers automatically, rougher than he intends—callouses brushing against soft skin like sandpaper. He stares at her, the gold of his eyes still evident in the dark. He tries to ignore the way his pulse spiked at the touch, or the strange jolt of electricity dancing up his arm.
When he speaks, his voice comes out rougher than intended. Hoarse.
"Derek. Derek Hale."
"It's nice to meet you Derek. So can you help me? I know where I have to go but I don't know how to get there," Aria said honestly.
Derek studies her a moment longer, caught between caution and the magnetic pull of curiosity. Something about this girl disarms him in a way he can't explain. He hates it. It's dangerous. She's dangerous. Yet he can't bring himself to push her away.
He releases her hand, shoving it back into his pocket as though trying to shake off the touch that still tingles.
"I might know the path."
He glances at the trees, then back at her.
"Follow me."
"But, shouldn't you be asking me where I am going, for better assistance?" Aria asked as she fall in step beside him.
Derek gives her a sidelong glance, the corner of his mouth twitching like he's fighting a smirk.
"Haven't you ever heard? In Beacon Hills, some questions are better left unasked."
He keeps walking, boots crunching over twigs and dry leaves. The forest around them hums with quiet tension—too quiet. Even the wind seems to hold its breath.
"But since you're asking… where exactly is it you're trying to get to?"
His voice is low, almost casual—but there's an undercurrent of something sharper beneath it. Waiting.
"And why are you, specifically—the only human in this damn town who apparently isn't afraid of walking into werewolf territory at night—so calm right now?"
Aria reads his final question as a metaphorical question. "First of all nope, can't say that I've ever heard of that rule before, Beacon Hills looks like any other town. And for your second question back to Noah's house before he send secret forces out for me."
Derek raises an eyebrow at her response, that almost-smirk still tugging at the corner of his mouth. It's like she's purposely trying to dodge the real question. It makes him both annoyed and… oddly intrigued. He turns slightly, eyeing her skeptically.
"So you know Noah, then?"
He glances pointedly around them, at the moonlit forest and the shadows lurking under the trees.
"You do know this is Beacon County's infamous preserve, right? Not exactly a place for a casual moonlight stroll."
"Well I'll have to remember that for the future." She says kindly firstly answering his last question. "And yeah," she started looking in front of her. "Noah is my stepfather."
Derek stops dead in his tracks.
His head snaps toward her so fast it's like he's been struck.
"...Your stepfather." The words come out slow—dangerous—like he's testing the weight of them in the air. "Noah. Sheriff Stilinski?"
He stares at her, golden eyes narrowing as something clicks into place—the scent, the familiarity, that fire in her voice…
And then another thought slams into him like a freight train.
"Wait." Derek takes a half-step back, voice dropping to a rough whisper. "You're Stiles' stepsister?"
She scoffed, "If it wasn't for that obnoxiously insufferable guy, I would have been at home warmly under my blanket." Aria looked up, her eyes locked with those of Derek's peculiar golden ones. "But then I wouldn't have had the privilege of meeting you."
Derek stands completely still, caught between a sharp intake of breath and the dangerous flutter in his chest. Her words hang in the air like mist under moonlight—soft, warm, and utterly disarming.
His golden eyes darken with something unreadable—conflict, desire, warning. He knows he should shut this down. He knows Stiles would lose his mind if he saw them standing here like this: Aria with her soft defiance and unwavering gaze, Derek with his pulse roaring at the proximity of someone he shouldn't want.
Instead…
He leans in—just slightly—close enough that the space between them crackles.
"If I were you… I'd watch what I say about him out here." Voice low. Gravel wrapped in silk. "This forest has ears." He remains quiet for another beat. "And hearts that remember everything."
A soft breath heaved over her lips, blowing warm air that touched Derek's chin. Her scent intoxicating.
Derek can feel her breath ghost across his face, the warmth sending a shudder up his spine that he ignores. But his gaze is trapped in the endless swirls of her eyes—dark, endless, captivating. He watches her lips part—almost involuntarily—and the words he says next come out in a hoarse whisper.
"You should be afraid."
He leans closer, chest tensing as he resists the urge to bridge the gap even more. He can feel his pulse pounding in his skin.