MY PASSION

AZALEA'S POV

“Why don’t you pick on somebody your own size.” I hear a deep voice that causes my stomach to summersault a couple times. Almost immediately, a pleasant smell fills my nose and I shiver.

I try to look at him, but the jock he’s holding up is obstructing as if he heard my thoughts, he turned and planted the jock, dangling on a locker. With the obstruction gone, I finally see him. 

“Then again, I’m not really your size.” He says with mockery deep in his voice but non of it on his face.

He’s older, like 5 years older kind of older, he’s definitely not a high school student. I’ve never seen him before, not that I know a lot of people, but his aura is strong, very strong and dark to forget.

His hair is long, longer than I’ve seem most men’s, he seems to be having a black thing going on cos, his hair is jet black, and so are all of his clothes down to his shoes, except an orange ID rope is handing out of his back pocket, the only thing of color on his body.

I can only see his side profile from where I stand, but I notice his perfectly arched eyebrow that a small scar seems to run through, splitting it at the tail.

His upper lip is thin, thinner than mine, with a deep cupid's bow, sitting on his more succulent almost red bottom lip that was curled up at the end in a smirk.

His extended arm is muscle ripped, large and strong, like hell!, to be holding a boy up for that long without wavering.

The black shirt rise up his body for a second as he holds up the jock, giving me a small glimpse of his chiseled, toned abs, I zoned out.

“Hey!, I’m just a kid man!, you can’t hurt me!.” The boy shouts when he realize the man could actually hurt him.

“Kid?, you’re like 20.” He snarls and I swear, I hear the breeze rush up at his voice, almost like he commanded it. 

‘That’s probably true.’

“Wh-what do you want?!.” 

“Apologize to the lady.” He tilts his head at me. ‘Oh boy!.’ 

‘Oh, but he’s no boy, he’s a man,’ I correct myself in my head.

“Yeah right!.” The boy huffs and I refrain myself from gasping.

Before I voice out my retort, big guy over here, knees the Jock in the groin.

“I didn’t give you a choice,” He grits out. “Apologize to the lady and you may still be able to continue your cursed lineage.” 

I curse in my head. ‘Okay, that was hot!.’

“3, 2…..” He starts to count. 

“Fine, fine,” The Jock raps out with a face scrunched up in pain, he turns to me, giving a hard glare before he apologizes. “I’m sorry, I’m very sorry.”

Big guy drops him without warning and he scampers off.

“Thanks.” I say to big mysterious black guy and turn to find my back pack, splayed out on the floor, its content pouring out.

“You smell different.” He blurts, not even worried that I may be a human wearing a lot of perfume.

“Perfume.” I give for an explanation, he stalks closer and my heart beat rise. I could finally see every outline of his face, like a perfectly carved out master piece, he walks with a bounce of strength in his steps, his arms were huge, each arm was almost the same size as my head.

His full face came to view and I feel my eyebrows reach the roof.

Although his hair was sleeked backwards, the strength of whatever gel product he had used was wearing off, letting loose a small curl of baby hair on his face, right above his other eyebrow that I didn’t see before, shaped to match the second, making it look like he had a constant glare.

His eyes were pitch black, I’ve never seen that shade of black before, in fact I’ve only ever seen really dark brown eyes before.

But deep within what seemed like a never ending pit of black iris, held a color, red, deep flaming red, like what humans used to describe hell. It looked like his wolf’s eyes. 

Werewolves eyes ranged with families, heredity and ranks. The strength of your lineage, whether alpha or beta, would sometimes determined the color of the eyes.

A very strong wolf, usually and Alpha’s, would dominate the normal family trait. it was either the pure color of the wolf’s or a mixture of the person’s human eye color and the wolf’s, but it rarely happened.

I blink when feeling myself being sucked into the endless pit of darkness his eyes held. If he had any emotions whatsoever, he did a good job at locking them away cos not even a flicker reached the surface.

He had high cheekbones, and a chiseled square jaw. His straight nose leading to a deep contour on his upper lip, making them all-so-much more kissable and his pointy chin home to a week old beard. Like every thing else on him, his ears were big, bigger than mine, but they were just the right size for his head.

He had a string of tattoos littering the across his left fore arm, the rest of it, disappearing into arm hole of the shirt he was wearing that looked like it was going to burst open from his muscle. They were mostly dark figures, in black ink, I narrow my eyes to make out a few skulls, but his shirt blocked me from seeing the rest.

“What is the name?.” He asks and I frown up at his giant frame.

I utter the name of a perfume I saw an ad for, one time I went to town. “My passion.” Hoping he’d just accept it and leave me like every other werewolf does. Instead, he walks even closer.

“Your hair is dyed brown.” He says as a matter of fact. I decide not to reply, confused at what he’s playing at.

“Thanks again.” I say to him, picking all my things and about to dash away.

“Its silver, its originally silver.” He utters and I stop in my track, not one single soul knows that except my family.

‘He’s just taking a wild guess, Azalea, don’t let him bait you to confirm his words.’ I begin to chant in my head resisting the urge to turn and ask him how he knew. Even though my pause already gave me away

I argue with myself, before I could produce another argument in my head I feel his dark aura dangerously close to me, I didn’t notice while I was arguing with myself he was already beside me.

He is definitely an Alpha, clearly not of our neighbor packs. I know all of them. So who is he?, what is he doing here?.

“You’re very strong.” He comments sniffing the air around me. His words didn’t sound like a compliment, so I didn’t know what else to take it as except an insult. He had this constant stoic face, his deep dark eyes boring into mine, like he would see my soul if I held his gaze any longer.

That statement didn’t sit well by me, my nose flare in anger and I knew I had been baited. I turn around to face him quickly,

“Why, a girl is not supposed to be strong?!.” I snap.

He doesn’t say anything else, he just stares at me, I sigh, inhaling deeply through the nose, bad choice, I was soon enveloped in his scent, filling me completely.

Holding back a shudder, I refrain myself from moving closer to take a bigger whiff of his scent.

He didn’t do anything wrong, he only pointed out another thing that made me more of a freak, another thing I can not account for. Granted, werewolves are strong, the singular act I just displayed was not your average, beta female werewolf strength.

I’m sure he’s confused as hell right now, my family’s beta scent rubbed off on me, I’ve been with them all my life, and then my very own distinct scent that seems to put every body off they just had to comment, both scent mixed together would confuse any one who just met me.

“Not bad,” He continue as if I did not just snap at him.  “But your stance was way off, he could have easily thrown you across instead, if he had expected that.” He say, I scoff, knowing he’s right, but him being right, apparently offended me, I have no idea why.

I send a scowl his way and his lips quirk up at the ends as he pockets his hands, he seemed to be finding something funny and that annoyed me more, my scowl deepens. 

“Key word, expected……” I stress out. 

“Your side was open, his friend could have kneed and sent you to the ground instantly.” He says like he’s some expert on fights. 

“Like you’re some expert?!.” I snort, and clamp my lips shut almost immediately, those words weren’t supposed to leave my head, but I try to salvage what dignity I have left and add. “I don’t need your advice, as you can see, I can handle myself just fine.” 

“Like you could have taken on 3 hormonal jocks all by yourself?, sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.” He remarks and my anger sky rockets.

‘Well, I did send my father to the ground one time in one of our sparing matches, Thank you.’ I rolled my eyes, but let the words stay inside my head this time.

“And I know every fragrance of My passion, been with at least ten girls that own every bottle, I know the scent by heart.” He level his eyes at me and I gulp. 

I want to yell ‘Asshole!, Man whore!.’ but I decide against it.

“You smell like vanilla and homemade chocolate cookies dipped in icing covered in strawberries and apple cider.” With that he walks away.

‘Vanilla and chocolate dipped in icing covered in strawberries and apple cider?.’ I repeat in my head, confusing lacing through me.

That was a lot of flavors in one and something told me, he had only stopped himself, a lot more were coming. With a shudder, I wish never to see him again as I make a beeline for my next class.