Stiles brush with death at the hands of the malevolent Darach, Jennifer, leaves him teetering on the edge of the supernatural abyss. Salvation comes with a price: the bite. Now, thrust into the tumultuous life of a werewolf, Stiles must come to grip...
It was late into the evening when I finally set aside the book that Isaac had handed me earlier that day. The sheer volume of information on animists was overwhelming, offering insights into ancient tribes that revered the practice of burying their dead beneath gardens and trees. Sadly, none of it provided any tangible leads on Enochian or his pack. Pouring over articles online and correlating them with the book had left my eyes sore and my body craving rest. Derek had remained sequestered in his room since the pack meeting, and I decided to extend an olive branch—his favorite coffee, brewed black.
Gently knocking on his door, I called softly, "Derek, it's me." Eager for any sound, I held my breath, waiting.
After a brief shuffle, Derek opened the door, his gaze drifting from my face to the cup in my hand.
It seemed his last bit of resistance melted away as he met my uncertain eyes, stepping aside to invite me in.
As I entered, a wave of relief washed over me. This was my first time inside Derek's bedroom, a place filled with towering bookcases, and an oak desk cluttered with papers scrawled in his distinctive hand. His bed, with its neatly-made navy silk sheets, drew my hand to brush against the cool, smooth fabric—an intimate act in the personal sanctum of Derek Hale.
"I'm sorry," I said, turning back to find him watching me.
"—sorry," he echoed, our apologies colliding.
Expecting him to still be furious, his apology caught me off guard. Derek rarely conceded fault. I set down the coffee on a side table and engaged him with a curious look.
"You're sorry?" I questioned, clashing with his steady gaze.
"I overreacted earlier." Derek paused and pinched the bridge of his nose, visibly wrestling with his emotions. "My fear of losing you got the better of me, and it's not right, especially after insisting on trusting your strengths in the pack."
His vulnerability stunned me, and I closed the gap between us, lacing my fingers with his.
"Thank you," I said, thumb caressing his hand.
Looking into his emerald eyes, my love for him swelled. His forehead rested against mine with a heavy sigh, eyes fluttering closed.
"I just got you," he professed, his voice carrying a raw edge of vulnerability.
"I know," I responded, helpless against the magnitude of our situation.
The Mist was consuming our town, claiming lives, and guilt pressed down on me, urging me to halt its deadly advance—lest I lose someone else like I did my father.
"Promise me you'll fight," Derek broke the silence, his scrutiny intense. "Despite what Peter and Enochian have said, fight to stay with me."
His plea rent through me, his unspoken fears evident in the plea of the man I loved, my usually stoic Sour Wolf.
"I promise," I managed, my voice thick with emotion.
Our embrace was sudden and desperate, a collision of lips and entwined limbs, as Derek's arms encircled and anchored me to the bed. Under Derek's fervent gaze, I became a beacon of heat, my skin responsive to every deliberate caress.
Oops! Questa immagine non segue le nostre linee guida sui contenuti. Per continuare la pubblicazione, provare a rimuoverlo o caricare un altro.
I gasped as his touch set my skin ablaze, a symphony of yearning coursing through me as his mouth grazed my throat. The bedroom air seemed to thicken, the world melting away to the space between his breaths and mine.
The fervor in Derek's eyes as he pulled away left me breathless, and in that momentary calm, we searched for understanding in each other's gaze.
"Stiles," he sighed my name, and I felt it skitter across my skin, his cool breath igniting a shiver down my spine.
"I want you," I declared, our mutual breaths punctuating the tension.
His gaze softened, fingers tracing my skin gently, as if to reaffirm our connection.
"The full moon's a couple days away, but I don't want to waste a moment, not with all the uncertainty," I explained, sitting up on my elbows.
Derek's hand paused on my hip, his intention clear yet considerate.
"Are you sure?" his voice was a hushed rumble, eyes probing mine intently.
"Yes," I affirmed, gripping his hand in reassurance.
Once consummated, our bond would evolve. Derek warned of the changes, but my desire was resolute.
"I want everything that comes with being mates—with YOU," I emphasized, my pulse quickening in anticipation.
He exhaled slowly, thumb teasing my lip, and I flushed under his intense scrutiny.
"To think I kept my distance for so long," Derek murmured, heat flaring in his eyes again as they surveyed me.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I realized the depth of my alpha's yearning before me—the yearning of Derek Hale for me, formerly defenseless Stiles, now transformed yet still vulnerable under his powerful gaze.
As Derek shed his shirt, revealing strength and certainty, he guided my own shirt over my head with a symphony of reassuring kisses. A tremor of anticipation ran through me as I realized I was about to experience a side of Derek never before revealed.
"Any time you need me to stop, I will," he reassured, his voice a soothing balm.
"I trust you," I echoed, echoing the truth I had shared just days ago.
_____
AN: Chapter 16.2 is a smut scene. It is not crucial to the story, so if you aren't interested in two men getting hot and heavy then await for chapter 17 next week. xx
