Ever since his encounter with the other werewolf his first moon on the town, Jakob had been keeping his nose to the wind for the Alpha wolf's scent. He was still not quite sure whether to steer clear of the strange, foreign werewolf or stick near the way his pack instincts urged him towards. There was the briefest glimmer of something akin to hope each time he considered the fact that he was not entirely alone as he had believed. And then the confusion and the jealousy would settle in like violent imps jabbing at his core, the unwanted feelings associated with contemplation of his kind and their existence or potential lack thereof.
He had been searching for the older man he had pinpointed the week prior as unlikely to be missed. The sacrificial appeasement to the beast's hunger that he was enduring for the second night of the month. He had nearly reached the block before it hit him in a wave of scents and chain reactions, switches going off along his brain and shooting to the base of his animal instincts. The other werewolf's scent. Faint and tainted with the hormonal overload of the younger humans, but then, Derek had seemed young in comparison.
This scent was different, but Derek's scent was unmistakably there and enough to distract the hungry beast from the hunt and move Jakob's feet for him in a new direction. His snout raised to the air as he breathed in deep snuffs of warm, island air. Oceanic, it stung with the salt on the night breeze, but it afforded him a better sense of direction. Under the moon's brilliant glow he loped through the city, sticking close to the shadows of the buildings and the narrows of the back ways between streets. His claws barely making more than the faintest scrape on the hard ground beneath his pads. He was not built for city running, but his new target was not far from him now.
When he stopped near the source of the scent he had been following, it was to halt hunched under the shadow of an apartment building, out of the dim glow of street light. The moonlight cast an unnatural glow on his eyes and glinted of the fangs just visible in his slightly open jaws. That was not the other werewolf, strolling down the street, humming to some unfamiliar tune, and his lips curled back in a wolfish grin that was far from pleasure.
He had been in the midst of a hunt, and now, here, was a lone human, strolling down a dark street, heading directly for him. It was opportunity in a big way in the beast's eyes. Animalistic instincts sized the human as minimal threat potential, and alone. It was too good to pass up, and while any other moon would have given him pause to wonder as to why this human smelled of werewolf, the beast had not fully accepted Derek as an alpha, or a threat, after their draw of a fight over territory the time before. It did, however, acknowledge Stiles as prey.
Claws dug into the ground, scouring the cement beneath his paws, one powerful, heavy clawed arm tucked to his chest, three other limbs bunched and ready for the killing strike. His long tongue traced the sharp, saliva coated fangs as Stiles approached, and when the smaller human was within striking distance he launched himself from the shadows.
no subject
He had been searching for the older man he had pinpointed the week prior as unlikely to be missed. The sacrificial appeasement to the beast's hunger that he was enduring for the second night of the month. He had nearly reached the block before it hit him in a wave of scents and chain reactions, switches going off along his brain and shooting to the base of his animal instincts. The other werewolf's scent. Faint and tainted with the hormonal overload of the younger humans, but then, Derek had seemed young in comparison.
This scent was different, but Derek's scent was unmistakably there and enough to distract the hungry beast from the hunt and move Jakob's feet for him in a new direction. His snout raised to the air as he breathed in deep snuffs of warm, island air. Oceanic, it stung with the salt on the night breeze, but it afforded him a better sense of direction. Under the moon's brilliant glow he loped through the city, sticking close to the shadows of the buildings and the narrows of the back ways between streets. His claws barely making more than the faintest scrape on the hard ground beneath his pads. He was not built for city running, but his new target was not far from him now.
When he stopped near the source of the scent he had been following, it was to halt hunched under the shadow of an apartment building, out of the dim glow of street light. The moonlight cast an unnatural glow on his eyes and glinted of the fangs just visible in his slightly open jaws. That was not the other werewolf, strolling down the street, humming to some unfamiliar tune, and his lips curled back in a wolfish grin that was far from pleasure.
He had been in the midst of a hunt, and now, here, was a lone human, strolling down a dark street, heading directly for him. It was opportunity in a big way in the beast's eyes. Animalistic instincts sized the human as minimal threat potential, and alone. It was too good to pass up, and while any other moon would have given him pause to wonder as to why this human smelled of werewolf, the beast had not fully accepted Derek as an alpha, or a threat, after their draw of a fight over territory the time before. It did, however, acknowledge Stiles as prey.
Claws dug into the ground, scouring the cement beneath his paws, one powerful, heavy clawed arm tucked to his chest, three other limbs bunched and ready for the killing strike. His long tongue traced the sharp, saliva coated fangs as Stiles approached, and when the smaller human was within striking distance he launched himself from the shadows.