Wolf Problems Chapter 3: My Heart's Desire
The days had passed slower than usual for the betas before their alpha returned home. He stepped through the door and found Boyd, Isaac, and Jackson watching TV. Erica was out with friends, so that left Hazel upstairs in her room.
No one really seemed to notice Derek enter the loft, and if they did, they didn't care.
"Hey, guys. Nice to see you too," Derek said more to himself than the teenagers. Isaac turned his head halfway and grunted as a greeting. They were obviously more interested in the lacrosse game going on.
Derek made his way up the steps and over to Hazel's room. He knocked on the door, but didn't get a response. He walked in and found Hazel sitting at her desk lost in thought.
Hazel was too out of it to notice her alpha standing next to her. So when he tapped her on the shoulder, she startled and almost fell out of her chair. Thank goodness Derek had been there to catch her.
She looked up at him and immediately jumped up to hug him. "Derek, I missed you!"
"Can't… Breathe…" Was all he could manage to say over her squeezing the air out of his throat. She processed his words and let go of him.
"Sorry. I just got excited. How was Denver? You were gone longer than usual."
"Denver was nice. No humidity and all that. And I know. Peter and I needed to attend to some alpha business. Don't worry about it. How are you holding up?"
Hazel's eyes widened a bit. She didn't want to talk about it, but she knew what Derek was really asking her.
If Hazel was being totally honest with herself, Jackson had actually helped her move on from Stiles. She found that she didn't even really love him. Hazel cared about Stiles and all, but she didn't truly see him as her heart's desire. She realized that spot might be reserved for a certain beta with brown hair like hers.
She coughed a little before answering him. "I'm doing alright, thanks…"
Derek eyed her suspiciously but then moved onto a different topic. "Ok, well, I wanted to talk to you about that fight you got into." Hazel mentally rolled her eyes. "I'm proud of you for standing up for that kid, but you know the rules about fighting. We can't draw that kind of attention to ourselves. Also, you lost control of your strength and emotions. You're a werewolf now, you can't do that shit and expect everything to be ok."
The girl released a sigh she had been holding in since Derek started talking about the fight. She had so many things she wanted to say, so many ways she wanted to protest, but she knew that if she did it wouldn't end well. Finally, she decided on the quicker route, even if she didn't believe it herself. "You're right. I did lose control. I shouldn't have done it, and I'm sorry." Hazel looked down as she quietly spoke those false words.
He walked over to her and pulled Hazel in for a proper hug. "Good. But if I hear of you fighting again, you'll get worse than what Jackson gave you. Got it?"
Awe shit… Why the fuck is he so persistent? I hate it. "Yes, sir. I understand."
Derek then patted her on the shoulder before leaving the bedroom. Hazel sat back down at her desk and was once again lost in her own little world.
Running through the trees on soft dirt at midnight. The full moon is my only guide. My feet bare. My body streaked with dirt from where I had fallen. I have to run. I have to escape whatever is chasing me. Whatever is gaining on me. This thing, this monster that's hunting me. Damn it, why won't it leave me alone-
I've tripped over another root and twisted my ankle. I'm badly hurt, and walking isn't an option. It's so close to me. I can feel the vibrations this creature is causing.
Then, the monster cries out. A sharp piercing cry. One I've never heard before.
A man is standing over the body of the thing that was chasing me, trying to catch me, trying to kill me…
As the man comes near me, I can only stare at him in awe. His shirt is off. His broad chest, strong abdomen, chiseled back, muscular arms, and handsome face is streaked with blood and dirt. His pants look tattered and torn. Now standing in front of me, I notice he has a long sword in his hand; one that looks like it came from a fairy tale about how the knight slayed the dragon for the princess.
He bends down, and I can see into his eyes. His eyes are so rich with color and mystery. I can make out the shape of his sharp jawline and all of his other magnificent facial features.
My savior puts one arm under my knees and the other under my back to pick me up. He does this wordlessly. He has not said anything to me. It is familiar though.
Leaning in quietly, I whisper into his ear, "Thank you, Jackson."
