Beyond The Bite(Sterek fanfiction)(M/M)

Chapter 3

Beyond The Bite  •  Chapter 3
(Word Count: 1,759)

After yet another restless night, I decided it was time to seek advice. Specifically from Derek. As my alpha, I hoped he might know of a cure-all for my relentless nightmares. Surely, during his time as a wolf, he must have experienced similar terrors.

It was somewhat daunting to broach such a vulnerable subject with Derek, but my desperation outweighed my anxiety. Oddly enough, the thought of his presence instilled a peculiar sense of comfort in me.

"Derek," I called, standing outside his bedroom door, but was met with silence.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't our new little beta?"

I let out an exasperated sigh. Even though I couldn't see him, I could imagine Peter's smug smirk.

"Peter," I retorted, my voice heavy with sarcasm—who could actually be excited to see him?

"Now, now, no need to get too excited, Stiles," he quipped, mirroring my tone.

"I'm not in the mood. Have you seen Derek?"

"Yes, my dear nephew," Peter replied, his grin audible. "He left some time ago... probably seeking counsel from our favorite emissary. Malia stopped by earlier as well. She seemed moodier than usual... I suspect it has something to do with your recent surliness during your last training session."

I rolled my eyes, thoroughly annoyed.

"Are you keeping tabs on me now?"

"Malia is my daughter, after all. I'm simply concerned," Peter countered, his smugness unwavering. "So, how's life as a werewolf?"

"Peter, don't you have anything better to do? Like... I don't know, dig a hole, bury bones, or something?" I suggested, eager to end the conversation.

"Perhaps I will go dig that hole. Our alpha returns," Peter said with a smirk before departing, leaving me to confront my renewed nerves.

Derek eventually entered the loft, his eyes lighting up upon seeing me.

"Stiles," he said, his voice filled with a mixture of relief and warmth that made my knees weak. "I haven't seen much of you these past few days. Are you doing okay?"

"Yeah," I replied reflexively, the same response I had been giving everyone lately.

I wondered if I really looked as worn out as I felt.

"Deaton mentioned you stopped by to see him. Is everything all right? Your wound isn't bothering you, is it?" His tone carried a genuine note of concern.

"No. It's pretty much healed... I had to discuss something else with him."

Derek tilted his head in a gesture of puzzlement.

"It's difficult to explain without sounding ridiculous. It's—"

"What's that on your neck?" he interrupted, his eyebrows arching as he pointed to my neckline.

I touched the side of my neck self-consciously.

"That's actually what I was talking to Deaton about," I mumbled, my balance faltering slightly.

Derek's curiosity seemed piqued as he motioned for me to explain further.

I exhaled deeply and, gripping the hem of my shirt, lifted it to reveal the mark in question.

"When did this appear?" Derek inquired, stepping closer to inspect the tattoo, much like Deaton had. The heat rose to my cheeks as Derek's gaze intensified over my exposed skin. Our eyes met, and he softly prompted, "Stiles?"