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He’s tall, as tall as Derek is, but where Derek’s shoulders are wide, this man is lean strength. Stiles rests his cittern against the corner, gives a jaunty wave to the room, and begins walking in Derek’s direction.
Derek stops looking and buries his face in his pint glass, willing the other man to go away.
Stiles hesitates near the empty chair. “Mind if I join you?”
“Yes,” Derek growls and wishes he could flash his red alpha eyes at this stranger to make him leave.
Looking from afar was one thing. Up close, Stiles’s eyes look like whiskey in firelight and he smells like citrus and woodsmoke. Derek’s wolf is going crazy inside him and he pushes down his reaction to this man. There’s something else, something other, but there are plenty of people who have residual magic of shifters in their family. It leaves a trace, but is often indistinct.
Stiles grins, pulls out the chair, and sits down. “Great.”
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this Stiles is so important to me. so important.
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🐉🐺
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