Stiles woke to the sound of his prison bedroom door opening. Instinctively he reached for his magic, only to have it blocked by the runes on the iron collar around his throat. He sat up as the intruder flipped on the light and closed the door, locking it behind him.
It was Peter Hale, Left Hand of the Alpha.
“Apologies for disturbing your beauty sleep, Stiles. I hope you don’t mind a friendly visit before your morning meeting with my dear niece.”
“I never mind a friendly visit,” said Stiles cautiously. Peter had called the new Alpha “dear niece.” Not “Alpha Hale,” her proper title, not even her name. Something was up.
Peter lept from where he stood by the door and landed straight onto the middle of the bed, rolling onto his side. He propped his head up on one hand, grinning as Stiles yelped and scrambled away, tangling up in his ridiculous white nightshirt.
“Now, don’t be afraid, sparkling. I’m just here to talk. For now.” Peter’s grin was not reassuring.
Stiles slid out of the bed and stood just out of Peter’s reach. He managed to untwist his nightshirt without exposing himself. He really wished there had been a pair of boxers waiting for him with the nightshirt when he got out of the shower.
As Peter just continued to grin at him, Stiles gestured impatiently. “So, if you’re here to talk, then talk!”
He didn’t like this, not one bit. But then the whole situation was seriously fucked. He’d done his best to tamp down his magic potential before the mandatory testing junior year, but he’d still gotten caught. The first Beacon Hill Spark in a generation. And now by werewolf law, he was the property of the diminished Hale Pack.
“Ah, the impatience of the young. As I was trying to tell my dear niece, the youth today have no vision, unable to plan beyond tomorrow.”
Dear niece. There it was again, a clear lack of respect for Alpha Hale. Stiles stomach clenched. The Hale Pack was already jumpy after a terrorist attack by the Human Liberation Army at an elementary school recital killed the Alpha and half the pack. Infighting in the pack was sure to spill over and affect the humans in town. Including the human Sheriff, who was the chief liaison between the town and the Pack.
If Stiles started screaming for help right now, would Laura come to the rescue before Peter silenced him?
Peter sat up, spreading his arms in a calming gesture. Stiles failed to feel calm, but he held his tongue. He needed more information.
Peter swung his legs around until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. “Has anyone told you yet what Laura has planned?”
Stiles frowned. An Alpha who had a Spark manifest in their territory didn’t have a lot of options. Some packs just culled the Sparks - they tended to be the packs who treated their humans as slaves. But most would bind them to the pack, capturing their strength and making almost impossible for the Spark to act against the interest of the pack. The Hales had always treated the humans in Beacon Hills well, so Stiles expected he’d be bound. Annoying and constraining, but not the end of the world.
Of course, the attack by the HLA might’ve changed the Hale Pack’s view towards humans. However, Laura and Peter had worked with his dad to track down every last HLA member associated with the bombing and then bring them to justice. Or something resembling justice at least. He had a hard time imagining Laura deciding to kill him now.
Then again, if she did order him killed, it would be Peter who’d carry out the sentence. The collar around his throat grew warm as he struggled to gather his magic to defend himself. He only knew a few spells, self-taught in secret, but he still had a better chance with magic than trying to defend himself physically.
Peter did not appear to notice Stiles’ struggles. “She plans to give you to Deucalion, in exchange for a treaty giving us his pack’s protection.”
Stiles frowned, his frantic heartbeat calming. Not killed, but traded? Taken from his town, from his school, from his dad...and given to the pack most likely to take over Hale territory if Laura proved to be too weak of an Alpha? As if a treaty would stop Deucalion from taking over if he wanted to. That was ridiculously stupid.
“That doesn’t make sense. You’d be better off just killing me,” he said without thinking.
Peter’s smile was approving. “Exactly the point I was making to my dear niece.”
“Um, that wasn’t actually a suggestion,” Stiles said quickly.
“Well, better yet to bind your strength to the Hale Pack, so that we could fight off Duke if it came to it. Because you are strong, aren’t you, Stiles? Stronger than you let Alan see?”
“Not with this collar, I’m not.”
“And if I were to unlock the collar, what could you do?”
Stiles shrugged, aiming for nonchalant. “Don’t know until I try.”
Peter slowly reached out, giving Stiles plenty of time to pull away. But Stiles didn’t dare move, because Peter just might be his salvation. If Peter was telling the truth, the only way Stiles was going to be able to stay in Beacon Hills and protect his dad and his friends was to play Peter’s game. Just as soon as he figured out what it was.
Peter’s warm hand clasped Stiles’ colder one, pulling him closer to the bed.
“Do you think you might be able to bind yourself to a specific wolf, and lend him your power?”
Aha. Now things were starting to make sense. “And why would I want to do that?” Stiles tilted his head, affecting a quizzical look.
Peter drew him closer, until he was standing between the wolf’s knees.
“A Spark’s binding, given to a single wolf with enthusiastic consent, could give him enough power to challenge an Alpha.”
“Enthusiastic consent, hmm? And why would a Spark show such enthusiasm?” asked Stiles.
Peter trailed his free hand lightly up the outside of Stiles’ arm, making him shiver. “Oh, I can think of a few reasons.” His voice was dark as a moonless night and the tingle in Stiles’ body was more than just his magic fighting to be free. A Spark’s binding didn’t require sex, but it certainly helped the process, as long as all participants were willing.
And Stiles was starting to feel willing. So, so willing. The length of neck displayed by Peter’s soft v-neck sweater called to him. He just wanted to lean in and lick it.
But there were more important things to consider than his possible impending loss of virginity. He kept his expression stern.
“So, you plan to use me to kill Laura, then?” Not that he had any moral objections, not if Laura truly meant to tear him from his home. But a man who would kill family wouldn’t hesitate to kill an accomplice.
“Not if I can help it, sparkling. If it’s what I have to do to protect what’s left of my pack and defend Hale territory from the vultures, I will. But my guess is that Laura will yield her Alpha powers without more than a token resistance. She really is better off going back to NYU to finish her degree.”
Stiles stared at Peter a long moment before deciding.
“Okay, I’ll do it. With certain conditions.”
“First off, once you unlock the collar, I’m going to do a truth spell, to check you haven’t been blowing smoke up my nightshirt.”
Peter glanced down at the billowing whiteness that was draped over Stiles body and smirked. “Agreed.”
“Second, once you’re Alpha you’ll reconfirm my dad as Sheriff.”
Peter nodded. “I’m all for a bit of nepotism, as long as it is accompanied by competence. Agreed.”
“Finally, if you decide to add members to the Hale Pack, you’ll listen seriously to my suggestions on who to offer the bite to.”
“As long as you recognize it’s my decision in the end, I agree.”
“Good. Um, yeah, so…”
“So I believe it is traditional to seal such an agreement with a kiss.”
Stiles let himself be pulled closer yet, and wrapped his arms around Peter’s shoulders, meeting the wolf’s lips with his own. Oh, sweet, sweet, the parted lips pressed against his were so sweet. He opened his own mouth to welcome those questing lips. Peter’s hand moved to the iron collar and traced a pattern. With a snap, the collar was off.
Stiles moaned as his magic came rushing back, flooding his senses. So good, so good. Peter was falling backwards, pulling Stiles down with him and truth spell be damned, he wanted this, even if it was a trap he still wanted this wolf, his magic demanded it. He rolled them over until Peter was pressing down on him and Stiles bared his throat, eliciting a growl from Peter.
“You’re going to be a menace, aren’t you?” said Peter, nuzzling against Stiles’ neck and pushing up the ridiculous nightshirt to better access Stiles’ body.
“I’ll do my best,” Stiles promised as his magic reached out to Peter’s wolf to begin creating an unbreakable bond.
This was going to be fun.