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“You're basically Gywn ap Nudd’s Emissary…” Peter’s snort of laughter probably would have amused Stiles if it were not for the thread of ice-cold anger weaving through it.
“… the great Demon Wolf forced to act as messenger and politician.”
“What bothers you more? The fact that you have to ask through me or the fact you’ve got to ask in the first place? And come out of hiding Stiles, eavesdroppers rarely hear anything good about themselves.” That slightly snotty English accent made him feel as though he was being told off by one of his elementary school teachers, which didn't help his mood in the slightest.
And as far as he knew Gywn should be the only one able to tell he was in the shadows, so what the fuck? Luckily though Peter only looked curious, which damped the flame burning inside him a little.
The flame had replaced the ice Gwyn had used to force them to ride with the Hunt. A flame that had quickened his temper and made him less tolerant of the pack’s shit.
And didn’t they just know it.
Whether the flame was something to do with the Hunt its self or more to do with the fact that they hadn't been given any choice in the matter he couldn’t quite work out. He doubted that they would have said no, but it would have been nice to been asked. And yes, he was more than a little pissed at his, however many times, Grandfather because of it.
Some fae needed to learn some manners.
Hound appeared beside him momentarily sniffing at his hand, before wandering over to Deucalion sniffing at his shoes and heading round the desk to sit at Peter’s feet.
The animal wasn’t stupid, he knew where all his treats came from.
“So what is Peter supposed to be asking Gwyn about? Whether it’s through you or not.” Whatever Deucalion had been about to say Peter’s glare cut short.
“We’ll talk about that when we don’t have company.” Peter was pissed off and then some about something which severed to only stoke that flame beneath his skin.
Deucalion suddenly seemed to disappear into thin air, as though the fury that was simmering between himself and Peter had caught him on fire. Though, given that he heard the door bang, it was doubtful that he’d just upped and disappeared.
“So, Deucalion…” He wasn’t expecting the slightly pained looked that passed over Peter’s face, though it did go someone way to bringing the temperature of the room down somewhat.
“Apparently I have to ask your Grandfather if I want to have more with you than whatever we have now.”
He didn’t know how to kill a fae, but he was certainly going to give it a good go. And the ghost of a laugh he heard at that thought didn’t make the idea any less appealing.