2 - Hazel

~Hazel’s Point of View~

I hum happily to myself, practically coming out of my skin with excitement, I’d been gone far too long. My dad’s idea of sending me to an all girl’s school for shifters four states away was bullshit. But this was the moment I’d been waiting for, and had all but ensured would happen. I had packed every single thing I owned to come home for Christmas break and I was going to let him know I wasn’t going back. 

No way in hell.

Oh and there was also the little teeny tiny problem of me getting expelled. Which, while my plane was in the air my parents would be discovering. So there really was no going back. 

Oops!

When the plane finally lands my stomach is practically doing flips. I’m sweating, and suddenly my plan of getting expelled starts to seem pretty damn stupid. I also knew what the tuition cost per year and my dad had already paid up front. He wouldn’t be getting that back. If it was one thing my dad truly hated, it was losing money. A bad investment.

Time to grovel. Get out the pouty lip, the smile that no male, not even him can resist. I always get my way. Though I didn’t want to be shipped out of state to school and I couldn’t get out of that.

I’m Hazel Cassandra Dennison, an Alpha’s daughter no less. I look down to no one. Even states away people knew my name, my reputation. Well, my father’s. They knew that crossing me or being on my shit list was very … very bad.

I toss my backpack over my shoulder and grab my other carry on. As I stroll out of my gate, my eyes dart everywhere for my parents. It wouldn’t be hard to see them, my dad would likely be standing a foot over everyone else, possibly with a gun in hand. Or a baseball bat, perhaps a blowtorch.

After minutes of searching, my eyes land on another larger than life creature. I make a face and quickly stomp over to him.

“What the hell are you doing here,” I snap, though my heart was ready to leap out of my chest.

The male gives a smug, sly grin. Obviously like he knows something I don’t. I leave my suitcase upright and cross my arms, being my pouty, bratty self. I’m not sure I can even turn it off anymore, it's just automated.

It was all I could do not to let my eyes graze over the asshole that I’d been in love with for years. I’d clung to every single scrap of attention he’d ever given me, which hadn’t been much at times. Granted I knew any male trying to hit on me or pick me up would be immediately choked to death by my father. Or one of my many, many uncles. 

But fuck. Travis “Punch” Mitchell was not just any male. He should absolutely be illegal, everything about him is sculpted by the goddess herself. I’d seen him fight and let me just say, there’s no coming back from that. The male is the definition of sex appeal, of everything I’ve dreamed of, and the very thing I’ve been warned my entire life to stay away from.

Both my parents have made it crystal clear I will never, ever end up with one of the Flying Death males. I guess I’m just supposed to be celebate then? It’s not like any other packs nearby are any better.

“Your father sent me to get you. I’m sure you’ll remember I only have a bike,” he says, grinning for all he’s worth.

My jaw falls and my hands ball into fists. And as always, when I’m near Punch, my heart pounds in my ears. 

“I have four suitcases. That’s bullshit. I’ll get a taxi,” I snap, getting out my phone.

I tap and tap, but there is nothing. 

“Server not responding.”

“Cannot connect.”

I cock my head to the side.

“Connection … problems,” he asks, as I look up to meet his shit eating grin.

“Daddy cut my phone off,” I shout, in shock.

He shrugs and reaches for my suitcase.

“Might be able to fit this one between us but it’ll be harder for you to hold on,” he smirks.

I grumble and quickly try to connect to the airport’s WiFi, ignoring him.

Getting on the taxi app I’m quickly able to get the car and…

I gasp when it says my card is declined. My eyes dart back to Punch and I give him my very best scowl, which isn’t hard right now. My pulse is practically banging from ear to ear.

“How could he?? What? I mean, it makes no sense. All the shit I have in my suitcases he knows damn well he bought. He wants to have me forfeit and toss out all my stuff,” I snap.

Punch shrugs again, looking bored but clearly amused. 

“You could walk princess,” he says, turning to leave.

As I follow him I frantically text a couple of my girlfriends over an app we use. One of them responds she’d be here in ten. 

My heart sinks a little, hating that I’ll miss a chance to get on his bike with him. He’d only given me a ride once and it was too damn sexy. Being pressed up against him is something I couldn’t forget if I got amnesia.

I watch his perfect ass move, hugging his worn jeans. He is wearing a Yardbird’s leather vest and damn … looks good on him. He’d been pledging to join the Flying Death now for maybe a year and those guys were called a “Yardbird.” But if you even made it that far, you were going to get in.

Even for being the Alpha’s daughter I had little clue about the inner workings of the pack. We are technically all a part of the pack, but there is a select group that actually runs things. No females and no pups allowed amongst the top leaders.

Pretty much since my parents took him in he’d been groomed to take over for the “Reeve” position. Roddy, the current Reeve, was nearly fifty and wouldn’t be able to do the job well forever. It was a cleaner word for custodian … also known as the dirty work. Beating people up, likely killing them. The nitty gritty that few wanted to do. Tap dance for the Alpha basically, whatever he asked or needed. Or Grouch, the Beta.

I gulp as I have the sudden realization: has Punch killed anyone? Have they asked him to do that yet? I knew if asked he would. He’d have to. But still…

My feet shuffle to catch up with him as I snatch my bag back from him.

“I’ve got it from here but thanks,” I say, as he turns around.

His eyes narrowed to slits. He knows very well my dad and I always had this tit for tat. We also go back and forth over punishments and who has the last word. I seriously doubt any other Alpha takes shit like this from their pup, but he’s always been a push over for me.

However, Punch could very well get bitched at for not bringing me home. It was likely an order to fetch me.

“Why are you like this? Do you know how badly I would have killed for parents like yours, ones that actually give a shit,” he snaps, getting in my face.

Damn it, he smells good. Is he wearing cologne?? If he did before I went away I never noticed.

I didn’t get to be around many males anymore, really hardly ever. Certainly none that looked like him, nothing like him. He’d let his hair get a bit shaggy and he was having to flick it out of his eyes. It was all I could do not to reach up and touch it, move it for him. My fingers were practically begging, twitching with need.

I more than know what he thinks of me. Spoiled brat. Ungrateful little princess. Yeah, I was most of that, I’ll admit it. But I’d never admit it to him.

“I appreciate my parents, we just have deep philosophical differences about my path in life,” I reply, holding my head high.

He scoffs, kicking my suitcase. He always has big black boots on, except when he is working out. I snuck into watch him every damn chance I got before I left. There is a weight room in the packhouse, and then of course there was also the boxing gym.

“When you get your wolf, she’ll straighten you out. You’re too humanized for your own good. Grow the fuck up Haze,” he barks. 

It was nearly a low blow. Punch wasn’t even a full year older than me, eleven months nearly to the day. But he’d gotten his wolf at fourteen, not long after he came to us. Now, here I was pushing seventeen and there was nothing. I was the last of my friends to get my wolf. So I’d spent the last two years at school watching female after female shift and I still stood here, on two legs. Pathetic.

I knew he was a lot of bark, but there was never any bite. Not with me. He was a big softie for me but he’d NEVER admit that. 

When he first came to live with us I was going through an extremely picky eating phase. I’d get sent to my room for not eating and he’d happily take my portion every single time, licking his plate clean for dramatic effect. My mom would make things she knew he’d enjoy, and let him choose a lot of the meals. It was ALL stuff I hated. 

But later in the night, he’d sneak me a sandwich or some crackers. After he came into my life, I never went to bed hungry. We never talked about it though. That or the hundreds of other little things he did for me other the years that he didn’t need to do. But he did.

When my dog died of old age, after I’d had him most of my life, it was Punch that held me until I fell asleep. He got me a little stuffed version that looked just like my Tinker.

If I thought my dad anticipated my every move, or was always a step ahead, Punch was three. He knew me better than I knew myself. It kills me that now we’re nearly like strangers.

And maybe, that’s why my parents sent me away. I was a distraction to him and everyone else. Distractions for the Flying Death weren’t good, not at all.

I had no idea how long we were locked in a staring contest, both of our nostrils flaring. People came and went around us in a flurry of activity, but neither of us moved. His eyes were a deep blue, like a dark ocean. Full of mystery, secrets and who knows what. Things he wants to keep locked away. I think I know him, my mind feels like it does. 

But I know I don’t. He keeps everything bottled up.

“Hazel? Is this all you have girl,” I hear, snapping me out of my trance.

I turn to see my best girlfriend Ginny, and when I turn back toward Punch he is gone. The rumble of a bike somewhere in the distance filled my ears a minute later and I grin with victory. 

“Oh no, I have more at the baggage claim,” I say, throwing myself at her.

We hug and move to get my things, all the while I tell her about the prank gone wrong that started my whole expulsion fiasco.

“But you drove the headmaster’s car into a river? Shit Hazel, that’s TOO funny, please tell me there are pictures,” she giggles, as we finally pile into her car.

“Of course,” I smile, as she cranks up some music and pulls off.