January 15th 2011 - Saturday

As dawn approached, Charlotte stirred, sensing Isle's departure from the bed. It was a routine occurrence, yet the absence of the comforting presence of her dog and the cats, who had slipped out for a nocturnal hunt, left her feeling inexplicably alone. She sat up, flicked on the lamp, and froze. There, silhouetted against the window, stood Derek Hale, his face clouded with fury. Dressed in the same jeans and plain T-shirt he had worn earlier, a leather jacket casually slung over his shoulders, he exuded a menacing aura.

Before she could even react, he swiftly grabbed her arm, forcefully dragging her off the bed and pressing her against the wall. His voice, a low, accusing growl, sent chills down her spine. "Are you one of them?"

"W... Who?" Charlotte stammered, striving for calm despite her heart pounding like a war drum. Goosebumps prickled her skin, a mix of fear and the chilly night air contrasting with her sleep-warmed body.

"A hunter! Do you work with the Argents? You showed up in town just as they did!" His warm breath washed over her face, his eyes glowing an eerie blue, the shade of a killer's rage.

Anger flared within her. How dare he accuse her of collaborating with murderers when his own eyes, glowing blue instead of a golden hue, revealed his own guilt. Adrenaline surged, mixing with the indefinable darkness that lurked within her. The room filled with the scent of the forest, damp earth, and musk.

Her grip tightened on his forearm, nails digging into his skin. A growl escaped her lips, startling Derek enough to step back, scrutinizing her from head to toe. The glow faded from his eyes, replaced by something she couldn't decipher in her current state.

"I have never been and never will be a hunter, even if they ask," she growled, stepping forward and invading his space. "And you, boy, should think three times before you attack me!"

Though petite, her fiery hair and flashing green eyes, framed by the dim light of the night lamp, made her appear like an avenging goddess. Her tattoos—a raven, a Celtic tree, Egyptian symbols, a witch's hat on a broomstick, and a long, snakelike scar—told stories of her battles and resilience.

She could almost taste Derek's anger, now mingling with excitement at their proximity. He shoved her against the wall again, their bodies flush, his blood stirred by the full moon and her intoxicating scent. His eyes bore into hers, a strange connection and primal lust flickering between them.

"I can easily prove that I stopped being a boy a long time ago," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear, sending shivers down her neck.

"Is that so?" she challenged, her defiant gaze locked on his, a wry smile playing on her lips as she teetered on the edge of control.

Derek's hands found her waist, lifting her effortlessly. Suddenly, she was caught between him and the wall, their faces mere centimeters apart. His control slipped, and the electricity of their mutual attraction intensified.

Almost involuntarily, Charlotte's hands gripped his shoulders, and she wrapped her legs around his hips, drawing him closer. His hands braced against the wall beside her head. A low growl emanated from her throat, her eyes briefly glowing phosphorescent green.

His hands roamed over her thighs, fingers tightening as his lips crashed onto hers, his body pressing harder against her. His kiss was possessive and demanding, taking what he wanted. Her nails dug into his arms, piercing his skin.

She arched her back, pushing them away from the wall with surprising strength. They momentarily broke apart, Derek shedding his leather jacket. Then his hands tore at her silk shirt, hesitation flickering in his eyes before he reclaimed the control. The lamp fell, plunging the room into darkness.

Charlotte grasped his T-shirt, tearing it apart. The surge of power thrilled her. Derek responded in kind, ripping away her shirt. They pressed back against the wall, his hands roaming her body. He kissed a trail down her collarbone, his stubble grazing her skin.

Her nails traced his back, reaching for his belt. Their lips met again in a fevered kiss, his hands exploring her breasts, drawing a moan from her lips. He lifted her again, their bodies aligned, skin against skin, before he pulled back.

He kissed between her breasts, a moan escaping her lips, her frustration mounting. He sat on the bed, pulling her onto his lap. She pushed him onto his back, her hands framing his head, their eyes glowing with supernatural hues.

He groaned, their connection deepening as he filled her. She bit his shoulder, his hands gripping her hips. His teeth grazed her neck, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her.

They shifted, Derek now over her, his rhythm quickening. She wrapped her legs around him, their bodies moving in unison. His growl vibrated through his chest, her fingers tangled in his hair. He pinned her wrists above her head, the primal tension building until they both found release.

As they lay entwined, their breaths heavy and hearts racing, Charlotte felt a familiar, dark presence stirring within her. The Lurker, the demon within, reveled in the raw energy and passion, feeding on the tumultuous emotions. For a fleeting moment, she feared losing herself to its influence, but Derek's touch anchored her, pulling her back from the brink.

In the darkness, their hearts thundered. The room filled with the echo of their passion and the ever-looming shadow of the Lurker, a reminder of the dark power that resided within her, always waiting to seize control.