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109 pages, ebook
First published December 28, 2014
"Peter takes what he's wanted for a very long time."

"Are we going to go through this every time, really?" Peter tilts his head on an angle. His smile inches up a few degrees. "I want you, Stiles. And from where I’m sitting, it looks like I’ve got you."



"Who says that love and manipulation are mutually exclusive?"
"Give yourself to me, and I'll put you back together."
Sometimes, Peter takes those spaces and reshapes them, and fills them with the whispered promises that he can make Stiles whole again.
Sometimes Stiles wonders how long it will take.
Sometimes he doesn't care if it's forever.
And sometimes that idea terrifies him.

“It fed off chaos,” Stiles murmurs. “This isn’t chaos.”Reading this fic means all of the above, over again in loop of sweet, tortuous addiction. Read this, and be as drawn to the story as Stiles becomes to Peter. It'll fuck with your head, and it's so perfect you'll want to do it again. Because that's what Lisa Henry pulls off in this demented, romantic nightmare. Utter perfection.
“No.” Peter steps closer. “This is order.”
"There are no wolves in California."

You made me chamomile tea. You made me chamomile tea, and now you’re raping me.
In what universe does that even make sense?
The same one, maybe, where Peter leans down and licks a wet stripe up the back of his neck, and growls, “fucking whore” and it sounds somehow like an endearment.
Stiles isn’t dumb. He knows what’s happening here. He just doesn’t know if it’s worth resisting. He’s already broken.
“You’ll give me this?” Peter asks in his ear.
“Yes,” Stiles whispers, and wonders why it feels more like a choice when Peter asks than something that’s as inevitable as the dawn.
When is a monster not a monster?
And Peter indulges him with a knowing smile. “Is it really so hard to believe?”
Stiles doesn’t know how to answer that. He wants to say that yes, it’s impossible to believe, but he and Peter fit so well together. If Stiles needs Peter, then Peter needs Stiles too. Stiles isn’t a victim here—not just a victim. He’s allowed to be something else too. This isn’t Scott’s black and white world. It never has been.
Being here, being with Peter, it isn’t just surrender.
It’s also a sort of victory.




