"Stiles," the disdain fairly oozed from the syllables of his name, as soon as he cleared the doorway.
"Jenny," he returned with saccharine politeness, inwardly grinning at the faint moue of distaste crossing her pretty face. She hated being called Jenny, which made it imperative he call her that. There were few who enjoyed her company and most mocked her, but Stiles was the only one brave enough to do so blatantly.
She sat curled up in the comfortable window seat with pillows stacked around her like a mini-throne, white fingers laced together as she stared at him. "Aren't you fairly licking your lips like the cat who ate the canary. Or, in your case, swallowed it whole."
Stiles smirked then, letting the curl of his upper lip expose his top canine. "And you look gorgeous as always. How many virgins did you have to sacrifice for such clear skin this time?"
Jenny preened, ignoring the buried insult. "Probably as many as you went to your knees for." Dark eyes swept his clubbing outfit. "Or maybe bent over a trash can in the alley."
"So many boys, so little time," he sighed dramatically, clasping his hands to his heart. "Have Kali and Ennis returned from their honeymoon yet? I was remiss in getting them a wedding present and want to make sure to send them a congratulations at the very least."
Loathing flashed across her face for a brief moment before she managed to properly school her expression to studied indifference. Her Sapphic love affair with Kali was an open secret. and she hadn't appreciated being thrown over for the studly wolf, especially since the marriage was a contract instead of a true bond. Kali, for all her faults, was true to her word and had forsaken all others regardless of her personal attachments. Even worse, of course, was that Jenny couldn't be released to another pack, but instead absorbed into their newly joined house. What was Kali's was now Ennis' and vice versa.
Stiles might've had an ounce of sympathy for her if their relationship wasn't so fractured and contentious; so instead he gloried in twisting the knife whenever possible.
"They're traveling here for the Assembly and should be here tomorrow." The words passed through gritted teeth as she fought to hang onto her forced smile. Then a thought occurred to her, and her body loosened and flowed naturally against the soft pillows.
"Deucalion was asking for you earlier and was very disappointed you weren't available."
She stretched then, arms above her head, which allowed the flowing white sleeve she wore to fall back, exposing her mottled right inner bicep. The blue and black imprint was unmistakably a set of wolf's teeth. "Of course with your absence tonight, I had to satisfy his hunger." Her long eyelashes swept the pinked arches of her porcelain cheeks. "He's showering now."
"I bet he is. He does so hate being dirty. Good of you to provide a snack for him, but I'll make sure to fully satiate his appetite when he's done." Stiles seated himself on the leather couch opposite her with a deliberately casual slouch. "I'm sure he'll be starving." It was utter bollocks of course since Duke didn't swing that way, but the fury lighting Jenny's eyes showed the insults struck true. And there was some truth to his words since Jenny served Ennis and Kali, while Stiles belonged to Deucalion. He just didn't serve in that capacity, no matter the rumors to the contrary. It would've been too incestuous for them both since Stiles had come to Deucalion as an infant and the older wolf had overseen his rearing. And whatever Jenny believed - or more accurately hoped - Duke wouldn't trade Stiles to the married wolves in exchange for her, regardless of her skills.
Their sweetly poisonous conversation filled with subtle barbs could've continued on indefinitely, but the man of the hour himself pushed through the connecting doors, bringing with him the scent of the freshly showered. Despite his blindness, the wolf's keen senses led him directly to the battling duo without aide of his stick, and the stifled smile on his face alerted Stiles to Duke's knowledge of their bickering. Stiles willed himself not to blush, if only because he didn't want Jenny to clue in to his feelings. Without fail, Duke always made Stiles feel like the gawky adolescent he used to be instead of the self-assured man who sat here today.
"How lovely to hear such dulcet tones from the two of you."
The words were a gentle, yet firm reminder to mind their ps and qs. Jenny slid from her seat and presumed to touch Duke's hand as if to lead him to the couch two steps behind him. Stiles rolled his eyes and stayed where he sat because he knew his wolf hated to be coddled more than just aboutanything in the world. He was born sighted only becoming blinded by a hunter years later, so he still had a sighted person's sensibilities combined with a wolf's senses. Duke was about as helpless as a baby hyena and wasn't shy about letting people know that.
"While I appreciated your helpfulness earlier, Jenny, I do not need it now."
Mortification struck her then, especially at the hated nickname, but she retreated with as much dignity as she could while refusing to look in Stiles' direction. Duke smoothly seated himself next to Stiles, the length of his thigh warm against Stiles' own, and steepled his fingertips together in a suitably evil pondering pose, the picture only spoiled by the disorderly sandy brown hair dripping water down the sides of his head onto the black t-shirt stretched across his small yet strong shoulders. For a moment, a larger and harder body shape superimposed itself over Duke's, and Stiles blinked in shock when he realized was thinking about his one night stand - one hour stand? - while attending his duties. Praying his body wouldn't betray him, as Duke was even more in-tuned than the average wolf, Stiles sought to wipe the images from earlier. It was an amazing pocket of time, but the real world was calling and Stiles had to answer it.
"This calling of the Assembly was for one reason and one reason alone - the Hale Pack."
Jenny and Stiles exchanged glances, for once united in their shock as they both knew their history well. The Hale Pack was wiped out nearly fifteen years ago by a hunter clan intent on full-scale genocide. It was considered a tragedy in their world because the Hales were one of the oldest lineages, able to count their ancestors among those who emigrated to America in the seventeenth century when Europe was awash in supernatural blood.
"But why, Duke?"
The older wolf's craggy face creased for a moment as fleeting sorrow touched him at whatever memory bedeviled him.
"Rumors of an arisen Alpha of their blood."
Stiles' mouth hung open as he gaped at Duke again. The conflagration and subsequent investigation following the house fire had made it abundantly clear there was no possibility of survivors, as the wolves had crowded down in their bolt hole in the basement, only to find the hunters had magicked them inside with a ring of Wolfsbane circling the property. Of course the authorities who oversaw the investigation were humans unaware of exactly who or what the Hales were, so it was possible they had missed, or failed to differentiate important details which could've changed the verdict. Then he thought of something.
"Who brought you the information?"
"What do you mean?"
"We know the Hales were wiped out because of the hunters who claimed their victory, and we can believe the information because we know the Hales were all in town to celebrate the birth of a pack child. What we don't know is whether or not to account for everyone in the house at the time of the fire. So, who was the original source of information back then, and who came to you now?"
"And this is why he's mine, Jenny, and why you'll never do," Deucalion calmly stated, intent on using this opportunity to prove a point to the erstwhile female. Stiles stifled a full-fledged smile at the crestfallen expression stamped clearly across Jenny's face. He knew this was a brief moment of hubris fallen, and savored the momentary victory as it was never good to rest on your laurels with her around. "It was Alan Deaton, both times."
"The Hale Emissary?"
"The one and the same."
Stiles shifted his weight until his spine pressed fully into the couch and he pulled his legs into his chest as he thought. Emissaries were unassailable in wolven communities, above all but their own laws. This autonomy had drawbacks, of course, as they were blood bound to their packs until either they were released by the current Alpha or through death of the entire pack as Emissaries could be inherited like so much chattel. It was a necessary evil, of course, so that the word of an Emissary could be trusted by all as they were, by ancient rights, messengers. In modern times their jobs were made much easier with the advent of technologies such as telephones and the internet, but some packs still lived in the outer edges of civilization and required physical contact.
"Did he ever leave Beacon Hills. I mean, after?"
Deucalion cocked his head as he looked at Stiles inquiringly - it was uncanny how accurate he was at realizing where a person was positioned, which would make people chalk down his blindness to false rumors and nothing more if it weren't for the grayness filming the blue of his eyes. "No, he stayed on in the capacity of town vet. Talia's mother had allowed him schooling so his doctorate is legitimate."
"Is it possible he knew not everyone perished in the fire and was just waiting for their return for whatever reason?"
"If he did that, why wouldn't he tell anyone?"
Jenny posed the question, obviously desperate to put in her two cents and to forcibly remind the two males she was there. It was a good question, not that Stiles would acknowledge as much since she needed to learn her place.
"The more important question isn't why, but who."
"Who?"
"Yeah, Jenny. Who. Who is this supposed Alpha - to both the Hale legacy and to Deaton? An Emissary doesn't lie."
That was the number one rule about Emissaries. They didn't lie. So for Deaton to have withheld information from anyone in the beginning meant this Alpha could be a legitimate inheritor of the power because loyalty to his pack came before anything. If that were the case, then his actions in that light wouldn't be a breaking of his vows. It relieved Stiles because he knew the punishment awaiting someone who didn't follow the rules and he wouldn't wish it on anyone, even Jenny.
"But why come forward now?"
Stiles was startled from the fervency of his thoughts by Duke's hand stroking his hair. He closed his eyes for a moment and calmed himself. It would never do to appear anything less than composed, and the Gods knew Stiles could go off on tangents in his mind all night long if he was allowed to. Then inspiration struck.
"This is about the Hale Territory, isn't it?"
Duke's hand slowed then stopped, and a low chuckle rumbled through his powerful chest. "You're on a roll tonight, my pet." There was an edge to his voice that Stiles didn't understand but disregarded, intent on following the thought to its end.
"Nearly fifteen years without an Alpha or a pack tied to the land would make the territory up for grabs to anyone who wanted to claim it. Hell, even an Omega would be able to move in on it without much issue as long as he or she was powerful enough to defend it from all encroachment."
And that was what made werewolves different than humans, more so than biology: they formed symbiotic ties to the land - or cities in some cases - and were highly territorial. The more settled a pack, the more power they amassed, which made the sudden absence of one such a huge vacuum. And Nature, as everyone was aware, hated a vacuum so naturally there would be a rush to fill it. Of course, time to werewolves was somewhat subjective given their longer lifespans, so it didn't surprise Stiles in the least that the land laid fallow until now.
"How many packs are present?"
"What now?"
"How many packs have come to be heard at the Assembly?"
"Three. Four if you're to believe there is a new Hale Alpha."
"How many Emissaries present?"
"Again, three or four depending upon what you believe is true."
"So Deaton will be here?"
"Aiden confirmed his presence an hour ago."
Stiles, being apart of Deucalion's entourage, had an extensive knowledge of the packs in any given area. Since those scattered throughout Beacon Hills County already owned land and hadn't tried to push for expansion, they could be eliminated from the list of wolves vying for it. He widened his scope to the smaller Californian packs who were escaping being absorbed by larger ones or city-bred, and came up with three most likely candidates who would also have Emissaries.
"Park, Donahue, and Wilson - those are the three who want to claim it."
Duke lifted his hands and clapped sharply. "Well done, my pet, well done."
Stiles loved praise almost as much as he enjoyed solving a puzzle, so he felt warm fuzzies envelop him at so pleasing his wolf. A niggling sense of unease broke through his triumph, however, as a stray thought recalled him to an earlier question he posed to Boyd on the way back..
But just as he was opening his mouth to ask, Jenny coughed loudly and in a protracted manner, prompting both males to concentrate on her. Stiles jumped up from his place on the couch and fetched a glass of water for her as Jenny's face was turning an alarming shade of red. By the time he returned, Duke had vacated the living room in response to the ringing of the phone in the connected bedroom, leaving the two alone.
"Are you insane?" Jennifer murmured. Stiles stared at her in confusion while automatically handing her the glass.
"What?"
"For a boy wonder, you're incredibly stupid sometimes."
The bitterness coating her enigmatic words caught Stiles raw as she used a nickname he hadn't heard since he was a child.
"Jealousy isn't a good color on you," he commented, unbalanced enough to issue a weak insult.
She apparently concurred because she laughed once, shortly, before gulping down a third of the water.
"Stiles, you're undeniably smart and intuitive and can make connections at lightning speed, but your biggest weakness is your heart. You really should learn to kill it."
"Like you did?"
Stiles could still remember the time when he'd worshiped the ground she walked on, content to drift in her shadow, until the day...no, no, he wouldn't think of that now. It was in the past where it should stay.
"Our paths are different, but you know the biggest difference? I learned to not only cover my ass and my front, but also to look up."
With that said, she plunked down the water on the table near the window, and walked to the door, though not without one last parting salvo. "I follow Kali no matter what she does or where she goes, but I do so with a clear eye to the end result. You, on the other hand, blunder along making brilliant deductions, but never take them to the logical conclusion. Learn to do so, and there won't be any way to stop you."
It wasn't until Duke returned asking where Jenny had gone, that Stiles realized they'd been speaking in the pidgin language they developed when they were younger and hadn't wanted big ears to hear their conversations.
"Uh, she just left," he shrugged disinterestedly, keen to hide his agitation. "Who was on the phone?"
"Kali and Ennis are close to the city limits, so you should retire to bed as we have an early morning tomorrow." Duke wrinkled his nose. "Oh and Stiles, while I don't mind if you have fun on your own time, never return to me reeking of a strange wolf again."
Stiles blanched and panicked a little, prostrating himself at Duke's side. "I humbly beg your pardon."
The ensuing silence was tense as he waited to see if he'd be given forgiveness or punishment. When a clawed hand dropped to the back of his neck, lightly scoring the skin, he wilted with relief.
"We're in new waters now, Stiles, and I need your entire focus on our endeavor. I can trust you, can't I?"
"Always, always," he vowed, fervently kissing Duke's feet.
"Good, now go wash up and get into bed." Like a good boy went unsaid, but Stiles heard the echo nonetheless and could only feel gratitude that Duke had let his transgression slide. Duke was extremely indulgent with Stiles, he knew, as he'd witnessed others in his same position during some of their travels in Europe, and realized how cushy his life was in comparison. Sure it rankled sometimes that Duke forgot he was no longer the rebellious fourteen year old who thought he knew everything, but it was only to be expected since he was still considered a pup in wolf terms.
Yet his last thought before he fell asleep, after thoroughly scrubbing himself raw, wasn't of the Assembly, or pack politics, or even Deucalion himself. No, it was of a beautiful wolf kneeling before him for pleasure.
