Anneoftheshy



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    Summary

    Peter looked at Stiles from the corner of his blue eyes and smirked. Stiles swore he saw a flash of red Peter’s eyes, but it might of have been his brain’s lack of oxygen making him hallucinate. “I’m looking for my soul mate. Christopher Argent. I believe he volunteered to be taken in for questioning.”

    An iron fist clenched Stiles' heart. This man was Argent’s—Christopher’s soul mate?

    Stiles stared at the Peter’s wrist, examining every detail of Peter's soul mark. Stiles couldn’t find anything different between his and the blond’s.

    Stiles lifted his hand and ghosted his fingers along Peter’s forearm.

    It was lightning all over again, and Stiles yanked his hand back, only to have it caught in an unbreakable grip.

    Frosty blue eyes burrowed into Stiles', and he couldn’t stop himself from gulping. The smirk on Peter’s lips grew as the corner of his mouth quirked higher, and he drew Stiles’ hand close to his face.

    Peter’s nostrils flared slightly as he stared at Stiles’ soul mark. He pulled Stiles forward, pressing soft lips to Stiles wrist.

    “Now what would your name be?” Peter purred.

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    07 Jan 2026