Human is Just a Word 77/85
Chapter 77
Peter Hale wasn't sitting in his mansion all day, thinking evil thoughts and planning evil things. He knew that most people saw him that way, even members of his own pack, but it wasn't true.
For one, he had a pack to look after and even if they weren't as tight-knit as the pack he'd grown up in, he did care about them and wanted them to be happy. But they were all adults so he didn't kiss every boo-boo better and he wasn't one to offer an open ear and a tub of ice cream to heart broken pack members.
Then Peter had social obligations. He tried to avoid them as much as possible but there were people to meet and wheels to grease if he wanted to keep the upper hand in Beacon Hills and the rest of his territory. Since he had taken over his niece's territory as well, there were a lot of new connections to make. And he couldn't trust Jackson with such delicate matters.
The boy was his second in command despite the fact that there were older and more experienced people in the pack. Jackson was his first beta no matter how much of a spoiled brat he was. Even when Jackson's so called mate had betrayed them and had warned Laura's pack, Jackson was his first.
However, Peter hadn't expected Lydia's interference. He hadn't planned for anybody getting out of the house alive and for sure he hadn't planned on Derek to strengthen his position with a bigger pack. Peter still had the stronger pack and bigger territory but still, Lydia had thrown a wrench into his plan and he didn't like that.
She had been an intractable nuisance from the very beginning. A powerful banshee, yes, but too independent. And for some reason unclaimable no matter how often Peter had tried before he had handed her off to Jackson.
The beta seemed to enjoy her mediocre performance in bed and even tried to make her his mate. It didn't work that way but Peter didn't tell him otherwise. He might have a soft spot for that idiot. When he didn't feel the urge to strangle him.
Jackson had been there when Peter's own niece had abandoned him. Jackson had been the only one who had sought out Peter when he'd been in a coma while Laura and Derek had left him to rot when he'd needed a pack the most so he had little remorse over killing his niece.
And third, Peter actually had a job. Not that dealer of supernatural objects was something you would put on your curriculum but it helped against boredom.
It was the latter that kept him busy today. A client was looking for a Sumerian tablet that had been sold and resold over a dozen times over the last two hundred years but had disappeared in the seventies. It was a puzzle to solve, something to keep his mind busy.
When he had first heard of his profession Jackson had given him a puzzled look and had asked if he was some kind of Lara Croft. Peter would have preferred Indiana Jones but he guessed that his beta was a tad too young for that. Either way he didn't travel the world to raid ancient tombs, most of his work he did over the phone or via internet. Sometimes he even wrote actual letters.
He did travel to examine an object in person but most of the time things came to him. He had a network of experts that did most of the legwork for him. Professors and scientists of a broad spectrum of specialties, from archaeologists to linguists, for whatever matter, Peter knew the right person to ask.
And for the more hands on work he knew people like Braeden.
"This one was a bust." She said and over the phone Peter heard the noises of a busy street, cars and people speaking Italian.
"It was worth a try." Peter said solemnly.
"I'm heading out to Nice in the morning."
Peter hmmed to that. There was a private collector in Nice who might have been in the possession of the tablet he was looking for twenty years ago but that was an even colder lead than the antiques dealer in Genoa. But it was still a lead.
"It's not much but I'll send you what I've found here." Braeden said and then they ended the call.
While he waited for her message, Peter went over the documents he had in search for new ideas. That thing had survived World War II and from an archaeological point of view it had been there yesterday so it had to be somewhere.
Buried in his work Peter didn't look up when there was a knock at the door. His current private pet, Tim or Tom or whatever, entered the room with a tray in his hands and a quiet "Your tea, alpha." on his lips.
He set the tray on the edge of desk and for a moment the only sounds in the room were his rapidly beating heart and the cling of porcelain when he set up the tea with slightly shaking hands.
"Anything else, alpha?" He asked with his eyes on the floor and the now empty tray like a shield in front of his bare chest.
Peter was about to dismiss him, he had work to do, but the second it took him to finish reading the last sentence was enough to spike his pet's anxiety. His heart sped up, now a sweet staccato in Peter's ears and a wave of fear hit his nose.
Peter pushed his chair around to fully face his pet.
"Since you asked so nicely, pet." Peter purred and almost laughed at the desperate grip his pet had on the tray. As if a piece of wood could shield him from his alpha. "On your knees."
Peter leaned back in his chair while he let his pet suck him to full hardness. This one wasn't the best at giving head but it was good enough to calm his mind and let his thoughts wander.
The more disinterested Peter was, the more desperate his pet got. If he couldn't satisfy his alpha there would be consequences, he had learned that lesson the hard way.
"Eager little pet, aren't you?" Peter buried his fingers in the thick hair of the human, holding him in place. He struggled in his hold but Peter overpowered him easily and fucked his mouth until his pet was in real danger of suffocating on his cock.
When he let him pull off, his pet was barely conscious and strings of bile were hanging from his chin.
Peter hauled him upright and bent him over the desk. His ratty jeans, the only piece of clothing the human was wearing, hung so loosely on his narrow frame that Peter pulled it down without undoing it and with only a bit more spit to ease the way, Peter buried himself in the waiting heat.
With one hand on the nape of his neck and the other on his hip, he held the human in place, not that that was necessary any longer. His pet had lost his fire and it was probably time to find a new toy to play with.
His mind drifted to Stiles. That one would have fire for a long time. He remembered a beaten and bruised Stiles and even then there had been fire in his eyes. Given the chance he would kill Peter. Claiming him would have been fun and if he was honest, he still couldn't quite believe that Derek of all people had beaten him to it.
Peter fucked his pet hard, drinking in the pained whimpers and when the human cried out in pain, his body writhing under him, Peter came deep inside him with a satisfied grunt.
When he slipped out and let go of him, his pet tried to get up and away from him but since he was still hobbled by the jeans around his knees he toppled over and landed hard on the floor.
Peter watched him struggle to righten his jeans but then he noticed the cup of tea.
"You spilled my tea." He picked up the cup and sure enough drops of tea fell back on the wet saucer.
"I'm sorry." He was still lying on the floor but by now he had his jeans up again. "I'll bring you a new cup, alpha."
"You better." Peter muttered and with a quick flick of his wrist he threw the remaining tea into his pet's face. He gasped but more out of surprise than pain, in the cup the tea had cooled down by now.
"And while you're at it." Peter reached for the steaming pot. "Make me a fresh pot as well."
His pet's eyes went wide when he realized what was about to happen but he wasn't quick enough to scramble away.
Peter emptied the whole pot over his body.
It took a while for the screaming to stop.
Still crying and barely standing his pet put everything back on the tray and then slowly made his way out of the room. While he waited for his tea, Peter went back to work. Injured like his pet was, it might take a while for him to come back.
The phone drew him out of his work a few minutes later, though.
"This is Rick." The man at the other end said as if Peter wouldn't recognize the voice of his own pack members.
"What can I do for you?" If he called him directly and didn't go through Jackson first, this had to be important. And since Rick was one of Beacon Hill's deputies it couldn't be something good.
"I don't know if it means anything." He played it down. "But Stilinski just called Perrish."
Peter waited a second for him to continue. Which he didn't. Suppressing a sigh he asked: "Why?"
"I don't know." Rick answered. "But he told Perrish that he shouldn't hurry if he got called out to the preserve tonight."
"Did he say why?"
"Perrish asked that too but Stilinski just said that he didn't need to worry about that." Even over the phone Peter heard him shrug. "That's all I know, thought I better tell you."
"You did the right thing." Peter said, his mind swirling with possibilities. The Sheriff had left Beacon Hills a while ago, presumably to follow his son. He most likely was Derek's by now.
"What are you planning, Derek?" Peter asked into the empty room. He had wondered if Derek would do something stupid like challenging him after Laura's death but it had been weeks.
Still deep in thoughts he barely noticed when his pet came back with fresh tea. He was still whimpering and barely standing and Peter wondered if he would die from infection this time.
After his pet had left the smell of blistered skin and scorched flesh still hung heavy in the air. That smell still haunted his dreams. Peter closed his eyes and he could almost taste ash in the back of his throat.
It had felt right to deal with Laura's pack the same way Kate had dealt with Talia's but he didn't have the courage to witness it. While Jackson and a few pack members with the assistance of his pet had set the house on fire, Peter had stayed back like a coward. He hadn't watched the news, he didn't want to see the burned ruin or the pictures of the victims, but he had still dreamed of fire the nights afterwards. He deserved it, he guessed.
Peter had build his mansion on the ruins of his old life, quite literally, and he had build it with fire in mind. It would take a lot to set this house on fire and even if somebody managed to do that and somehow managed to block the doors and windows as well, he still had the tunnels.
He would not get trapped again, he would not die in a fire.
It wouldn't hurt to patrol the woods more tightly tonight, though. Peter reached for his phone to call Jackson when it started ringing. On the display he read the last name he expected to see.
"Lydia." He greeted her with the friendliness of a shark. "Didn't think to hear from you again."
"I hear fire." Her voice sounded hollow and far away. "I hear them scream. They're burning."
Everything in Peter went cold.
"Please." Her voice broke. "Please don't do it again. Please, Peter, not Derek's pack as well."
Chapter 78
Masterpost