Devil of Wolves

Chapter Two (A Step In The Right Direction?)

Stiles mind was in a haze and he couldn't stop fucking shaking. The nice but scary lady from downstairs was rubbing his arms and whispering soft, encouraging words but it wasn't of much use. He tried to keep his eyes off the other man behind Cora. And goddamn he tried but with the few lingering gazes Stiles got made his body heat up with something, all while he was trying to fend off another panic attack.

Shit, this was so embarrassing.

There was now another crowd of people that came into the room and Stiles just wanted to curl up into a ball and die. He was full-on panicking because someone grabbed him. How pathetic was that?

"Fuck you, Derek," Cora spits out and turns to give her brother a furious look. "I just got him calmed down you-"

Someone clears their throat and steps beside Derek, making Cora growl.

"Uhhh, what's going on? What did Derek do now?"

A boy around Stiles age, with curly light brown hair and puppy dog eyes, spoke up as his gaze switched between the three of them interchangeably.

Damn. Why did everyone here look like they were Vogue models?

Stiles looks up again at the man dressed in all black and he scrunches back further into the leather cushions when he sees the man giving him a strange look, just staring. Derek. That was his name. Everyone else started talking again and Cora finally stood up from where she was kneeling by Stiles knees, but he paid her no mind.

He was busy having a staring contest with the man that looked like he was seconds away from killing him for breathing. Which wasn't going too well anyway.

Stiles took in the man's appearance inch by inch and prayed he wouldn't get murdered for just looking. Hopefully.

Derek had dark jet black hair - styled almost perfectly on his head unlike Stiles - whose hair was probably sticking in all the directions. He was also dressed in a shiny black suit, that seemed to fit him quite well, considering it hugged all the right places. God, get a grip, Stiles.

However, besides the scorching hot bod and the muscles that went for miles, there was something else, something different about this man that Stiles couldn't quite decipher. It freaked him out a little, but he didn't look away.

The man's forest green eyes that kept running over Stiles body as well and the eyebrows - which were quite impressive - were lowered angrily. But he didn't move, he wasn't even paying any attention to Cora who was yelling at him or the others moving around and asking insistent questions.

Derek just stared at him, and Stiles stared back.

Now if Stiles life were like one of those cheesy romances he dreamed of, one of them would make the first move of romanticness and the staring would actually mean something. But it doesn't because nobody in their right mind would look at Stiles that way, ever. No matter how much he wished with every part of his body that someone, anyone, would care about him like that. It would never happen.

A gentle tap to his shoulder drew him from his thoughts and the intense staring contest. Stiles turned his head to the left and tried not to jump when he noticed the woman sitting right beside him, grinning. How the hell did she get there?

"Hello," the woman purrs and flicks a blonde curl over her shoulder. "I'm Erica," she says and her red lips smack together as they curl into a smile.

Jesus. All these people are intimidating as fuck and Stiles really wanted to run and forget this day ever happened.

"Oh uh, I'm Stiles."

"Hmm, that's a weird name. Whatta you doing here then, Stiles?"

He tries moving back away from the woman and towards the arm of the couch but she just leans forward and takes a deep breath through her nose.