Re: Holding Pens: Stiles
Clearly, the auctioneer was looking to get rid of this slave as quietly and quickly as possible. Muzzled, bruised, and clearly willful, the only attention he was likely to attract was from disreputable Masters for whom the boy would be only a body or soul to be sacrificed. Or, based on the challenging way that the boy glared at Derek, he could find himself with an abusive Master who wanted nothing more than to dim that spark, and break his spirit.
It shouldn't have mattered to Derek, but it did. Humans were animals, no different than wolves or vampires, and even though experience had taught him they couldn't be trusted, he'd been raised to view them as people deserving of protection, and compassion.
He could help this one. But only if the auctioneer suspected the boy had no worth to him.
He raised an eyebrow and let his eyes move over the boy again, as if assessing the slave's potential value. After a moment, he reached out to take hold of the muzzle, holding the boy firmly as he turned his head, studying his injuries.
He made a soft noise of disgust and released his hold, turning his gaze back to the auctioneer. "Half of whatever you're asking for him," he said finally.