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For the fourth time in her life, Cora is hanging upside down and staring into the face of a hunter who could really use a breath mint.
Admittedly, this time is slightly better than the others, if only because they’re holding her in an actual home, not a freezing cave or a drafty warehouse. The room she's in isn’t anything that special, aside from the high ceiling. There’s faded floral wallpaper covering the walls and peeling at the corners and there’s a window in the corner but it’s covered by thick blackout curtains. The place smells like dust, gun oil and fast food, and she can hear what sounds like freeway traffic somewhere nearby, but none of that helps her figure out where she might be.
But at least it’s warm. That’s a bonus.
“Are you going to tell us where the rest of your pack is?” the hunter asks. He’s a burly guy with broad shoulders and a neck the size of a ham, but he still smells like fear. Cora snorts and rolls her eyes. It’s the sixth time he’s asked her this in the last half hour.
Even for a hunter, this guy is pathetic.
“No,” she replies. Her head feels heavy and full of blood and she uses her core muscles to pull herself up into a sit-up. The effort makes her thighs burn and sweat run down her face, but she forces herself to stay there until some of the blood has trickled away from her skull. She tries to slowly lower herself back down, but she can tell by the way the hunter smirks at her that he can see the effort it takes her not to tremble.
“You know, you can’t keep doing that forever,” he leers. “You’ll get too weak at some point.” He leans in closer, probably to try and taunt her again and Cora tenses the muscles in her legs so that she can swing forward slightly, closer to him. He takes a step back, but she still manages to sink her fangs into his jacket, easily tearing away a piece of the rough fabric. The man curses and jumps three steps backwards, fingers rising to hover over the holster on his hip.
“Don’t make me take this out,” he says. Cora rolls her eyes again and opens her mouth to say something, but she stops. The house is oddly silent; aside from their slow heartbeats, she can’t hear the other hunters downstairs, pacing across the floor and muttering quietly. Even stranger than that is the smell. It’s nearly strong enough to cover the greasy food and gun oil and it’s utterly unique, a mixture of graveyard flowers, rain and lipstick.
There are footsteps coming up the stairs. They aren’t nearly heavy enough to belong to the booted feet of one of the hunters.
“Go for it,” Cora says, shrugging the best she can with both arms tied behind her back. Behind the hunter, she hears the door knob twisting open and she coughs loudly to cover the sound. “You think a bullet is really going to hurt me?”
“It will if there’s wolfsbane in it.”
“I will knock you on your ass if you even think about it.”
The hunter spins around and draws his gun, but he falters when his eyes lock on Lydia. Cora can’t help but smirk.
“Really?” he says, lowering his gun slightly. “I’d like to see you try, little girl.” Lydia raises one eyebrow and catches Cora’s eye over the hunter’s shoulder. One of Lydia’s hands is tucked behind her back and the slight smell of electricity hovering in the air is enough to tell Cora what she's holding just out of sight.
“I thought hunters were smarter than this,” Lydia continues, taking two steps towards the man. “Have their recruiting standards really dropped this much?” The man mutters something incredibly rude and Cora can see his fingers start to move towards the trigger of his gun. Before he can reach it, she swings herself forward again. This time, her fangs sink through the man’s jacket and into a tight bunch of muscle. The man shouts in pain and as Cora swings away from him, he whips around, almost certainly with the intention of putting a bullet through her forehead.
He doesn’t even get a chance to raise his gun.
In one swift movement, Lydia swings the stun baton from around her back and slams it into the man’s side. A choked gasp leaves his mouth and his eyes roll back into his head as he twitches violently. Cora holds her breath; the smell of the volts flowing through him smells horrible. Thankfully, after only a few moments, Lydia pulls the baton away and the man falls to the ground, muscles still convulsing.
“I know you hate hunters,” Lydia says, carefully turning the baton off before approaching Cora. “But you can’t deny that their weapons are very effective."
“Whatever,” Cora mumbles. Her head is pounding and the pressure behind her eyes is horrible, but she thinks she can stay conscious for a few more moments. “I almost had him, you know.”
“I’m sure,” Lydia says. She slips the baton back into the small bag hanging across her body and pulls out a tiny dagger. She moves around behind Cora and begins sawing through the thick rope holding her wrists together.
“Where’s the rest of the pack?” Cora asks, flexing her fingers as the circulation begins to return.
“Outside, taking care of some of the other hunters. There were a lot of them guarding this place, but it’s amazing how people underestimate you when you’re in four inch heels.” With a snap, the last length of rope falls from Cora’s wrists and Lydia’s thumbs gently rub against her already healing friction burns.
“Are you strong enough to cut that one?” Lydia asks, nodding her head at the rope wrapped around Cora’s ankles and attached to a hook in the ceiling. Cora snorts and rolls her eyes as she takes the knife from Lydia and pulls herself up, but by the time she manages to cut through the binds around her ankles, she feels like she’s going to pass out. The entire time, Lydia's hand stays gently pressed against Cora's lower back, thumb gently brushing over the skin where her shirt has ridden up.
“Are you alright?” Lydia asks once Cora has gotten back to her feet, brushing away a strand of Cora’s hair that’s stuck to her sweaty cheek.
“I’ve had worse,” Cora grunts. Her head feels too light now and she has to close her eyes to stop the room from spinning. She tries to take a step towards the door but the movement makes her stomach lurch alarmingly.
“Stop trying to move,” Lydia snaps, but the harshness in her voice is betrayed by the softness of her hands. She wraps both of her arms around Cora’s back and Cora returns the gesture, draping her arms loosely around Lydia’s neck and trying not to put too much of her weight on her girlfriend. She presses her nose down into Lydia’s hair and inhales, flooding her senses with the familiar scent of pack and mate and home. The more she breathes, the more at ease she feels. After only a few moments, she’s able to open her eyes again without her stomach tossing like a ship at sea.
“I can walk now,” she says quietly. Lydia nods and brushes away another strand of hair before craning up and pressing her lips against Cora’s. Cora closes her eyes again and tightens her grip around Lydia, pulling her so close that she can feel Lydia’s heart pounding in her chest. By the time Lydia pulls away, Cora's head feels completely back to normal.
“What is it with these fuckers and putting us upside down?” she mutters, glaring up at the hook in the ceiling.
“I’m really not sure,” Lydia says, reaching down to take Cora’s hand. “It’d make an interesting study.”
“Don’t count me as a test subject,” Cora replies, licking the artificial strawberry stickiness of Lydia’s lip gloss off her mouth.
“You can be one of my expert sources.” Just as Cora manages to get rid of the last bit of stickiness, Lydia leans up and kisses her again, softer this time.
“Come on,” Lydia says, idly nudging the unconscious hunter with her toe before pulling Cora towards the door. “The pack are probably waiting for us.”
“Hopefully none of them got shot,” Cora mutters, trying to sort through all the outside noise in order to try and find the pack's heartbeats.
“They’re all okay,” Lydia says with absolute certainty, and Cora believes her. They may not completely understand her banshee powers yet, but if Lydia doesn’t feel the need to scream, nothing too bad could have happened. Abruptly, just as they reach the flight of stairs leading down into the living room, Lydia stops and spins around to face Cora.
“You’re okay,” she says, squeezing Cora’s hand tightly. “I…” Lydia trails off and simply squeezes Cora’s hand again. Cora can count on one hand the number of times she’s seen Lydia speechless and it never fails to shock her. She also knows that it never fails to make Lydia frustrated so before Lydia can reach that state, Cora leans down and kisses her again, until there’s spots flashing behind her eyes. Even then, she’s just barely sucked in a breath before Lydia surges against her, gently pushing her back against the nearest wall and settling her hands low on Cora’s hips before she leans back in to seize Cora's mouth with her own. Even though Cora knows the pack is probably waiting impatiently, she lets herself sink into the kiss.
She's sure that they can wait a little longer.