All Chapters of Flying Death: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

~Hazel’s Point of View~ “Hey dad, whatever happened to you wanting to fix me up with your friend’s son? What was his name, Hector,” I ask, trying my best not to lay it on too thick. It was rare that I got him alone, especially when he was in a good mood. We’d ordered take out and lounged around together, watching the history channel. I couldn’t have been more bored but he was too into it. Mom was actually in a female’s only bowling league and that was happening tonight. He raises his eyebrow, and I pray like hell he doesn’t call my bluff. I knew Hector was a tiger shifter, and if we mated it pained me to admit his animal was higher in the pecking order. Our babies would be cubs, not pups. It was not at all common for females to willingly choose to mate outside their species, but love happens. I kind of thought dad only wanted me to date him to prove to me that a wolf male would be the best choice. I had certainly dated outside my species before, which he didn’t like but none of the

~Hazel’s Point of View~ I laugh out loud, as I fall for the hundredth time tonight. But as always, big strong arms caught me. Warmth envelopes me and bright eyes look down, along with a sexy smile. “I’ve got you linda,” he whispers, and I make a face. “Who’s Linda,” I ask, finally getting upright. He laughs. “It means, lovely. Believe me Hazel I know your name,” he insists, reaching for my chin. I blush as he holds it, then he gives me the lightest kiss. Just a feather basically, but it is sweet. He’d been so damn nice all night, like unreal. I didn’t know males could be this considerate. Especially while I felt like I’d made an idiot out of myself, I couldn’t skate for shit! But he seemed to love that I kept trying. “I think I’ve tortured you long enough, want to get these things off,” he asks, pulling me off to the side. I nod, eagerly. He makes a whole show of putting my boots on for me, and I wasn’t sure feeling this turned on was even legal. As soon as my feet hit the f

~Punch’s Point of View~ “Talk you piece of shit,” I yell as I kick a worthless loser in the gut. We’d held a sting of sorts, Dozer didn’t like it exactly but he told me to “straighten shit out,” so I had a loose interpretation of that. I was gonna do what I wanted regardless, he probably figured as much. I found out one of the shy pups at my boxing club, a kid we called Pudge, was getting sexually abused by his mom’s boyfriend. He confided in me, and I knew it wasn’t easy for him. The poor kid thought it was his fault and I wasn’t having that. But what I uncovered in the course of trying to take out the trash, was something far worse. More men. Too many. Only I didn’t have names, I had shadows. Well, I hunt shadows and I never fucking lose. And NOT when this happens in my town. “I tell you anything, then I’m as good as dead,” the guy mumbles, then spits blood. I laugh right out loud as Missile shakes his head. He was a good man to have as a back-up, or maybe I had him tag along

~Punch’s Point of View~ I’d seen Hector and Hazel all over the fucking place today. Cozy. Holding hands. He even kissed her at lunch after they made eyes at each other literally the entire time. Mick was ready to rip me apart over it. I grabbed some random cheerleader for head but bailed at the last minute when she stuck her hand in my pants. Could’ve gotten it too. I’m such a bitch. Goddess help me! When shit gets heavy for me and things start to feel out of control, normally I face it head on. Grab some female and fuck it out. Get in the ring and really fucking punch somebody. I mean ... I'm Punch, it's what I do. I fix whatever it is. But every damn thing about the Hazel situation is different. What can I even do? So here I am, actually fucking participating in gym class. Running around the track for over an hour, trying to get out my frustrations. “Mitchell! What are you doing? Class is inside,” I hear, as I looked back to see the teacher, also the wrestling coach at the d

~Punch’s Point of View~ “Stop! I don’t know anything else,” the male squeals, as I stand back and admire my handiwork. I’m a sick fuck, but something more than pride swells in me when I see the hourglass carved on this bastard’s back, over his pack tattoo. Out of time. I know exactly how deep you can cut someone and where, to get the most pain but always ensure they won’t bleed out. This bastard ain’t getting off that quick. It isn’t at all lost on me that there will most definitely be consequences for taking out a patched member of Viuda Negra. Though we’re pretty confident we can put the blame at the feet of Black Fog’s pack, maybe. “Tsk. Not what I hear Oscar. Word is you were one of the males who did the robbery,” Missile taunts, waving a butcher knife around. “Maybe we need to send a couple fingers to his little girlfriend? You still fucking that little 16 year old pup,” I say, licking my lips. Mick stirs in my mind, the smell of blood too thick in the air. The fear in o