Chapter Three of The Bargain is up!
“Let me be the first to extend my congratulations to the happy couple,” he says jovially, but his light blue eyes remain sharp and cold.
“Peter —” Derek starts, but the man is already grasping Stiles’ hand, bringing Stiles’ fingers to his lips for a kiss.
“Such a catch,” Peter says. His mouth lingers close to Stiles’ knuckles, his nostrils flaring as he takes an obvious inhalation of his scent. “Not just a beauty, but also a spark.”
Although Stiles cannot hear it in his tone, he must be mocking him. Stiles knows that he is gangly and awkward, moles scattered across his face as if he’s been splattered with mud. No one has ever accused him of beauty. Humiliation and anger burn in his belly, and he can feel Derek’s eyes on him.
“I would have snapped him up myself,” Peter says as Stiles pulls his hand back, dropping it into his lap and resisting the urge to wipe it with his napkin. “But, of course, I doubt I could have afforded him.”
Out of the corner of his eye Stiles can see Derek look down, frowning at the reminder.
Stiles can feel his cheeks color, but he refuses to look away. He doesn’t know if Peter is attempting to sow discord or is simply enjoying the opportunity to needle Derek, but either way he will not tolerate it.
Mine to protect, he thinks fiercely.
“It is true that this is no love match,” Stiles says, voice ringing out clearly enough for all the assembled ‘wolves to hear. “But I find myself to be more than satisfied with the arrangement, and I hope over time to prove to my husband that I am as worthy of his love and devotion as he is of mine.”
Derek has lifted his head and is staring at Stiles. Stiles cannot read his expression, but he takes a chance nonetheless. He leans in, kissing the cheek closest to him in a chaste brush of his lips. It is the scarred side, but that does not bother Stiles — after the first few minutes of observing Derek, he has hardly noticed the reddened and twisted skin.
When he pulls back, Derek’s lips are upturned in the smallest of smiles. He deliberately places an arm along Stiles’ shoulders, leaning in to peck his cheek in return.
“We accept your congratulations wholeheartedly, Peter,” Derek says, his voice as mild as ever. “And wish you as much fortune in finding your own mate.” He takes Stiles’ hand in his, raising his knuckles to place a kiss directly over Peter’s scent. “Better late than never, as they say.”
