”Do you still think someone’s coming for you?”
Stiles tilted his head back, forced his eyes open by sheer stubbornness, and grinned. ”’m still prettier than you,” he said. ”But if you ask nicely—”
The guy kicked him in the face so hard that his head snapped to the side. For a moment, all he could do was to bite back the scream as pain erupted through his head, leaving behind a dull throb that beat in rhythm with his frantically fluttering heart.
”You little shit,” the guy hissed, bending over Stiles so that he could smell his stale breath even through the blood filling his nose. ”I don’t get why someone like you is so valuable but hey, I’m not the one throwing money away.”
”I’d like to think it’s because of my pretty ass,” Stiles wheezed.
This time, he didn’t even see the blow coming.
When he slowly swam to consciousness again, it was through a sea of pain. His head was woozy and cottony, and he idly wondered if he had a concussion or intracranial bleeding. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should be worried about the way he couldn’t see properly, although that might also be because of his left eye was completely swollen shut.
He wondered how long he’d been held.
The hilarious thing was, this man wasn’t actually a Hunter. He was just some low-life bounty hunter who got his living from tracking down cheaters and common criminals and who now had decided that kidnapping a high school kid would be an easy job.
”So tell me, do you actually have any idea what you’re doing?” Stiles asked conversationally and saw how the man’s shoulders tensed up. ”Didn’t it ever occur to you that this was some next level shady shit?”
”Shut up!” The man snapped. ”I’ve dealt with worse than you.”
”Oh, but you’ve never dealt with anything like me,” Stiles said, grinning so wide that his lip split once more. The fresh blood tasted salty on his tongue and he licked his lips, ignoring the sting.
”Is that so?” The man stood up and stalked across the small room into the corner where he had Stiles tied up, hands stretched high above his head. He grabbed Stiles’s jaw in his hand, pressing with his fingers so that his nails dug into the skin. ”And tell me, what’s so special about you?”
Stiles raised a brow. ”My mate,” he whispered.
The man stared at him for a moment and then barked out a laugh. ”You’re one crazy kid,” he chortled.
You have no idea, Stiles thought as he heard the telltale howl from outside.
The hunter barely had time to whirl around when the door crashed in and a massive steel grey wolf charged in. He opened his mouth to scream but it died in a wet gurgle as the wolf closed his jaws around his throat and ripped his trachea out in one, violent move. By the time his body stopped twitching, the wolf was already by Stiles’s side, back in his human skin with blood dripping down his chin.
”Took your sweet time,” Stiles muttered.
”I’m sorry,” Peter said stiffly as he slashed the ropes binding Stiles’s hands. ”Chris was being…unhelpful.” His moves were jerky and he was practically vibrating, and his eyes still glowed blue.
”Hey,” Stiles said and cupped his cheek with one, clumsy hand. ”I’m fine.”
”No, you’re not!”
He rolled his eyes. ”Yeah, no, I am. Because you’re here.”
Peter swallowed and rested his forehead against Stiles’s. ”I thought I’d lost you. I couldn’t find your trail and—”
”Hush. I’m tired. Let’s go home.”
For a moment, Peter just sat there and Stiles let him. It wasn’t the first time Stiles had gotten hurt but it was one of the worst shapes he’d been so far, and he knew how hard it was for Peter.
Stiles entertained the idea of complaining when Peter gathered him in his arms and stood up, but then decided that being held against Peter’s naked chest was actually pretty nice. He nuzzled his cheek against Peter’s skin, smiling a bit when the arms holding him twitched and pressed him closer.
Yeah. He was fine.