Beyond The Bite • Chapter 14
(Word Count: 1,966)
"What does it mean to be mates, exactly?" I inquired, liberally spooning sugar into my coffee, arguably to an excess.
Derek's gaze rose from his own steaming beverage, seemingly ignited by a weighty sentiment to which I was oblivious.
He paused, his tongue briefly darting out to moisten his lips as the cup settled into his lap, his thumb gracefully tracing the curve of the handle. There he was, a vision of casual ease reclined against my bed's headboard, his hair a tousled mess from sleep, sporting only gym shorts while those oval frames rested on his nose — a remnant of the early morning's previous reading. Yet despite his outward appearance of tranquility, the subtle removal of his glasses signaled an underlying rigidity as he prepared to address my query.
"In the werewolf world, it's more than just fondness or commitment. It's..." Derek seemed to tread cautiously around the topic, obviously significant to him. He paused, seeking just the right words. "Imagine your other half, but not in the metaphorical sense. It's literally as if you share the same soul. It transcends love at first sight. The bond is an all-consuming, relentless force — an ache that burrows into your being and persists until you're united with your mate. And once the bond is consummated, mates can sense each other's emotions, share thoughts, and even link their life forces so that one can save the other from the brink of death. It's an unbreakable tether, more profound than the bonds of blood or camaraderie. You become soulmates, eternally intertwined."
Derek's revelation hit me with its gravity. The idea of sharing such an ethereal bond with him was overwhelming. I hadn't grasped that the pull I felt towards Derek was the very bond he described. It was hard to imagine he had kept this knowledge to himself.
"Why did you keep this from me?" The question leapt from my lips as I drew my knees closer to my chest, perched on my desk chair.
Derek took a measured drink from his mug, then cleared his throat. "Back at the pool, when I told you to run from Jackson but you stayed to help me... that's when I recognized the bond. But you were so loyal to your friends, and you barely tolerated me. After taking Peter's alpha power, I became something terrible and didn't care who I hurt. The power blinded me to what should have been precious..."
'Me', I wanted to believe.
He sighed deeply, admitting, "By the time it was all over, I'd made too many mistakes. So I kept my distance."
"You did it to protect me?" My voice wavered, emotion tightening around my core, drawing my hug around my legs tighter.
"Yes," Derek nodded, placing his mug aside. "I couldn't stand to see you get hurt because of me. My life... it's dangerous. And everyone who gets close seems to pay the price."
I almost laughed, but it stalled into a head shake, eyes falling to my sock-covered feet. "Derek, at this point, my life's been pretty bizarre. Werewolf best friends trying to kill me every full moon, psycho uncles, kanimas, alpha packs, murderous English teachers... Your 'dangerous' life isn't exactly new to me."
A wry chuckle slipped out as I raised my eyes to meet Derek's intense gaze.
"Becoming 'mate to Derek Hale' hardly seems like it would have been the worst thing on that list or added any real threat."
A small smile and a nod from Derek acknowledged my point.
I moved from my chair to the bed, kneeling in front of him with a playful glint. "So this bond... it isn't official until it's, you know, consummated?" I teased, gently prodding his chin to look me in the eyes.
The corners of Derek's lips twitched, and he gave me a gentle push that sent me tumbling onto the mattress.
Hovering above me now, his eyes blazed red for a heartbeat, leaving me breathless at the sight. "It's more than what you're implying," Derek intoned, his irises fading back to their natural verdant hue.
Panting softly, I was hyper-aware of our proximity; his legs framing mine, hips hovering just so, his scent overwhelming. I inhaled sharply as Derek encircled me, reminiscent of a wolf cautiously approaching a delicate deer.
"Are you scared?" he murmured, eyebrows pinched with concern.
"Not at all," I replied, the certainty in my voice cutting through any hesitation. "I trust you."
Any doubts that lingered in Derek's expression eased into an affectionate smile. Slowly, tenderly, he dipped down to brush his lips against mine. In that moment, my worries dissolved into the warmth of his touch. And as he began to draw away, my hand found refuge at the nape of his neck, needing to savor the closeness just a little longer. Life could wait; right now, this moment with Derek was all that mattered.
•
"Stiles, it's still early. What are you doing up?" Derek's voice was laced with fatigue as it rasped from beside me.
I sent a glance his way, then turned the faucet off.
"Sorry, I just couldn't fall back asleep," I said, a hint of apology in my voice as I dried my face.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Derek's voice held a note of concern, and even through his exhaustion, his face mirrored his worry.
A surge of guilt passed through me. I knew the last few weeks had been tough on him, what with the night terrors that kept waking us both. They seemingly had a life of their own, refusing to leave as they constantly replayed the horrifying visions of the black smoke with its tendrils preying upon the ones I cared for. Lately, it had been Derek in my nightmares, torn apart while I stood by, powerless and begging.
"Not really," I murmured, discarding the towel on the counter and sidestepping Derek.
"Hey," he said, reaching out to softly catch my forearm, halting my exit with his imploring gaze. "Please, don't shut me out again."
I felt a lump form in my throat, still raw from the screams that had torn through it earlier. My body ached for rest, but the thought of facing another nightmare was unbearable.
Resting my head against Derek's shoulder, I stared at our empty bed.
"I'm scared," I confessed, my hands balling into fists as I fought against the memory of Derek pleading for his life in my dream.
Turning toward me, Derek enveloped me in his arms, pulling me close to his chest.
"I will always protect you, Stiles." He murmured, his breath warm against my hair.
I wrapped my arms around him, laying my cheek against the solid comfort of his chest.
For a brief moment, I found solace in the rhythm of his heartbeat, a steady thrum in my ear.
"It was you this time—you died," I finally revealed, nestled within the safety of his hold.
There was an unexpected silence from Derek. I had braced for reassurances that it was only a nightmare, that it wouldn't come true. But I had harbored the same hopes for my father, and now he was gone. The enigma of the black smoke loomed over us, and since Enochain remains unreachable—having left behind only obscure clues—our enemy remained shrouded in mystery, our strategy against it as unclear as Enochain's true identity.
"Whatever you're dreaming, be it a premonition or a ploy to weaken our resolve, we have to continue looking for answers," Derek said, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze.
"Okay?" he pressed, seeking affirmation.
The weight of the prophecy—true or not—was mine to carry, as Peter had made it abundantly clear. There was only one way this might end. My own death was an acceptable price if it meant sparing the others. I couldn't—and wouldn't—accept another outcome.
"Stiles?" Derek's voice pulled me back to the present, tinged with concern.
"Okay," I replied with a terse nod, my eyes evading his.
Derek's hands moved up along my sides in a reassuring manner before he left the room, no doubt to prepare some much-needed coffee.
Exhaling a tired breath, I collapsed onto the bed, glancing at my phone to note it was seven in the morning. Abruptly, I caught my breath as my phone screen revealed a shadowy figure looming behind me in its reflection. Scrambling off the bed, I whirled around to face Enochain.
"You," I hissed, baring my teeth in anger.
"My presence — a disturbance in your sanctuary?" Enochain's voice rasped, his chilling aura unchanged.
"I reached out to you, pleaded for you to come, yet you ignored my efforts. You may be a few millennia-old, but when someone seeks you out, you should heed that call. Surely, you've nothing more pressing," I chastised him with biting sarcasm.
Enochain's piercing blue eyes glanced across the room. His tattoos seemed to undulate on his skin as he stood more erect.
"I have been engaged in quiet observation. The Earth—she speaks to me of the malevolence you pursue."
"You've mentioned as much before. I know of your connection with the Earth. What I need to know is how to eliminate what's out there—the thing that took my—" I faltered on the word, anger twisting into my clenched fists.
"The mist is an entity that avoids detection. The man ventured too far into its path."
"That man was my father!" My shout was a mix of tears and fury. "Spare me your cryptic riddles. Give me answers!" I insisted, stepping closer towards Enochain with a fiery glare.
"You possess the knowledge of what must be done, and yet, you should not proceed," he cautioned me.
Confusion laced my defiance. "You're implying we should just allow this thing to keep taking lives?"
Enochain let out a weary sigh, leaning against the wall as he gazed out toward the dawning sun.
"This immortal existence has grown tiresome for me. Once, I found solace in aiding my lycanthropic kin. Now, after enduring endless death and sorrow, my spirit is exhausted," he lamented.
"So, what? You're just going to give up? Surrender to lethargy while innocents suffer?" The notion fueled my outrage.
"The evil you speak of once preyed upon my own village. The solution to halting it demands a sacrifice far more grievous than death," Enochain declared, his voice echoing powerfully in stark contrast to its usual hush. His eyes bore the weight of centuries.
Silence fell as I grappled with his words. Finally, I ventured a theory.
"The... 'mist'. You said it's a part of you. You never defeated it, did you? Immortality was your method of imprisonment, holding it within, until you released it."
"If I am not its keeper, then my endless days serve no purpose," he confessed, his tone weary.
"And the mark, your mark?" I questioned, desperate for any shred of hope.
"Upon the mist's full release, the mark will vanish as well," Enochain said, his tone somber.
"No," I objected, a surge of panic rising within me. "Your mark is our only chance at stopping it."
"I desire an end to the anguish. Do not despair, but hold on to the possibility of reunion with your father, as I may be reunited with my people," he offered, his voice softening.
"No," I countered firmly. "You can't think that your personal relief will halt the chain of events. We won't just surrender and wait to be killed."
"Death is the end, young wolf. The afterlife—the true reprieve," Enochain pronounced cryptically.
"I refuse to accept—" Before I could finish, Enochain vanished. I was alone, lying on the bed again like having woken from a dream.
"—that," I whispered to myself, my mind spinning from the revelation.