Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Hazel’s POv

The linen curtain slipped from my fingers. There they were. Drake and Lucas. Naked skin slapping together, Drake behind Lucas, thrusting hard and grunting like animals. Lucas’s hands gripped the edge of the low bed, head thrown back. The smell of sex and sweat hit me full force under the full moon.

I couldn’t move. My brain refused to understand what my eyes were seeing. My two friends. The only guys I thought had my back. My mate.

“What the hell is going on?” The scream tore out of me before I could stop it. High and ugly.

They froze. Heads turned. The whole hall went quiet as people started crowding around the open curtain. Whispers spread like fire.

Drake pulled out slow, no rush, no shame on his face. He wiped himself with a cloth from the bed and looked at me like I was the problem. “Why are you embarrassing me and yourself, Hazel? Right here?”

My hands shook so bad I couldn’t hide them. Heat rushed to my face. Everyone stared. Phones came out. “Drake… you’re my mate. Lucas… what is this?”

Drake laughed short and mean. “Second-hand woman. That’s what you are. A nobody from a classless background. I will never want to taint my family’s image with you.” He zipped up his pants calm as anything. Lucas just stood there quiet, eyes on the floor, not saying one damn word.

I felt the ground tilt. My knees buckled but I stayed up somehow. Tears burned hot down my cheeks. “Why? Why, Drake?” My voice cracked and broke.

“As a matter of fact, I reject you.” He said it loud enough for the whole crowd to hear. “Fuck off. I pity the man that will end up with an animal like you.”

The words sliced deep. I choked on a sob, chest heaving. “My mother was right. I am useless.” Another sob caught in my throat and I started choking on my own tears, gasping, shaking so hard my red heels scraped the floor. People looked at me like I was crazy. Pity mixed with disgust. Some laughed behind their hands.

Strong arms wrapped around me from behind. Warm. Solid. They lifted me clean off the ground like I weighed nothing. I didn’t fight. Couldn’t. The stranger carried me through the staring crowd, my face buried against a leather jacket that smelled like motor oil, gasoline, and something darker. The rumble of voices faded behind us.

Outside the night air hit cold on my wet face. He set me down in the parking lot near a row of bikes and jeeps. My stomach rolled hard. I dropped to my knees on the gravel and threw up everything. The fancy wine, the little food I’d eaten, all of it. He gathered my long hair back with one big hand, holding it gentle but firm while I kept heaving until nothing came out anymore. My throat burned. My eyes stung.

“Let me get you some water,” his voice came low and rough. Familiar.

I stayed on all fours, trembling, the full moon pouring down on my skin. It made everything worse. My body still hummed from the wine and the moon pull, legs slick, nipples tight against the emerald dress. The rejection burned but the heat between my thighs didn’t care. I felt empty. Worthless. Used up before I even started.

“You can take me to bed,” I whispered, voice hoarse. “I need this feeling to go away. I’m useless after all.”

He went still. Then his hands slid under my arms and dragged me up from the ground. “You need to shower, kiddo.”

That voice. Alpha Creed. I should have pulled away but my legs wouldn’t work right. He half-carried me to a black jeep parked at the edge of the lot. The door opened with a heavy click. Leather seats creaked under me as he buckled me in. The engine roared to life, deep and throaty, vibrating through my bones. Gasoline and exhaust mixed with the cold night air rushing in the cracked window.

We drove. Streetlights blurred past. I leaned my head against the cool glass, tears still leaking silent. Creed didn’t talk much. One hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift. His rolled-up sleeves showed tattoos I hadn’t noticed before, dark ink twisting over muscle. The jeep smelled like him—leather, engine grease, faint wolf musk that made my wolf stir even through the pain.

My body wouldn’t settle. The moon tugged harder now that we were moving, every bump in the road sending little shocks through me. I pressed my thighs together but it only made it worse. Drake’s words played on repeat. Second-hand. Nobody. Rejected. Publicly. And Lucas just stood there. My so-called friends.

Creed glanced over once. “Breathe through it.”

I tried. My chest still hitched. The city lights faded as we left the main roads, heading toward the outskirts where the pack lands stretched into darker woods. The jeep bounced on a dirt turnoff. Trees closed in, branches scraping the sides. My dress rode up my thighs from the movement. I tugged it down but my fingers felt numb.

He pulled up to a low cabin tucked back in the pines. No lights on inside. Just moonlight cutting through the branches. Creed killed the engine.

The sudden quiet pressed in. He came around and opened my door, scooping me up again without asking. His arms felt like iron bands. Safe in a way that scared me.

I saw blood on his knuckles and asked him what happened?

“Some idiots needed to be thought lesson and manners “he said curtly.

Inside the cabin smelled of pine wood and faint smoke from a cold fireplace. He carried me straight to a small bathroom, set me on the edge of the tub, and turned the shower on hot. Steam filled the room quick.

“Strip and wash,” he said. “I’ll get you clothes.”

I sat there after he left, staring at the water running. My hands moved on their own, peeling off the emerald dress, the expensive lingerie my mom left. Everything hit the floor in a sad pile. I stepped under the spray. Hot water stung my skin, washing away the vomit smell and the sweat from the festival. But it didn’t wash the shame. I scrubbed hard between my legs, trying to kill the unwanted heat the moon kept feeding. It only made me gasp.

Creed’s voice came through the door. “You good in there?”

I didn’t answer. Just let the water beat on my back until my fingers wrinkled. When I finally stepped out, a big black t-shirt waited on the sink. It smelled like him. I pulled it on. It fell to mid-thigh, soft and worn.

He was in the main room when I came out, barefoot on the wood floor. Two mugs of something hot sat on the low table. Coffee maybe. He looked at me, eyes dark under the low light. The half-buttoned shirt from earlier was gone now, just a plain tee stretched across his chest. Rogue biker vibes rolled off him even without the cut.

“Drink this.” He pushed a mug toward me.

I took it. The heat burned my palms but felt good. My body still buzzed. The rejection sat like a rock in my gut but the moon and the wine and the heat made me aware of every inch of skin. Of him standing close. Tall. Strong. The kind of man who didn’t get embarrassed in front of crowds.

“Why did you help me?” My voice came out small.

He shrugged one shoulder. “Couldn’t leave you there like that.”

I stepped closer without thinking. The shirt brushed my thighs. “I meant what I said outside. Take me to bed. Make it go away.”

His jaw tightened. Eyes flicked down to my legs then back up. “You’re hurting, kiddo. Not thinking straight.”

“I’m not a kid.” The words came sharper than I meant. I set the mug down hard. My hand landed on his chest. Warmth seeped through the fabric. His heart beat steady under my palm. Mine raced.

Creed caught my wrist but didn’t push me away. His grip was firm, calluses rough against my skin. The air between us got thick. Gasoline and leather still clung to him from the drive. I rose up on my toes, lips close to his neck. The full moon screamed in my blood. My free hand slid down his stomach.

He breathed out slow . “Hazel.”

The way he said my name sent a shiver straight through me. I pressed closer, feeling the hard line of him against my belly. He wanted this too. I could tell. But he held still, fighting it.

“Hazel, you’re my daughter . We shouldn’t be doing this “