He remembered the young pack he'd made and their rage the first time. He'd tied them up and made them stop. He considered doing that for Stiles, but it didn't seem like a long term solution. This would be very day for the poor kid, every minute he'd be hungry unless he fed. The weakness of his first days like this couldn't be easy.

He rolled up his sleeve and offering his forearm to him. This was a bad idea. The first taste might do him in, but no matter what, he'd be hungry.

"I'll heal," he said knowing it was better than letting a hungry Stiles out on an unsuspecting public, "I'll give you exactly how much I want and then I'll push you off. If you try to take even a drop more, I'll destroy you."

Never mind that Stiles had mind control abilities and they had no idea what werewolf blood would do for him. There were more questions than answers and death was such threat for both of them.