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Summary
“So spill, dude,” Stiles said, “what’s the big mystery? Why would the alpha be possibly interested in little old moi? Lowly human that I am.”
Stiles had somehow recovered his speech and his propensity for sarcasm. Derek wouldn’t look at him and kept staring at the floor, not saying anything.
“Come on, Derek, I haven’t got all day,” Stiles demanded.
Actually he didn’t have any plans that particular Saturday, but he wanted to get this conversation going and not give a certain werewolf the opportunity to wiggle out of this. Derek finally glanced at him with his usual annoyed expression.
“Fine,” he growled, “you really wanna know why the alpha wants to kill you? It’s because you are my mate.”