Disclaimer: Still do not own any of the characters, story, or main plots!

A/N: Still slow, but it's in the building process I assure you, it will get better!

To Trump A Soulmate

Leah Clearwater

I am not bitter.

People around here just assume that I am. They look at me constantly, with accusing glances. The ones that don't seem to be suspecting me of plotting are always full of a sickening pity I can hardly bear.

I am not a girl to be pitied. Not to say that this past year hasn't royally sucked for me. I lost my father. I lost the love of my life to my cousin, and I gained an unnaturally furry side. I suppose I see why everyone figures I'm just going to snap at a moments notice, but all this treating me like a china doll gets old real fast.

I am not the weakest link of this pack. I know they all think that. Smug Paul, and Embry all betting when I'll be mauled by some bigger animal, or worse yet betting on ways I'm going to destroy Sam and Emily's wedding. They say I'm the malicious one. I only give back what's been given to me. Of course it didn't help that Jake had to run to my rescue in battle. I could have handled it. Shoot, I'd have rather had a bloodsucking leech slaughter me than have been made out to be the 'damsel in distress.'

As for the daydreams about Sam, those are not aimed to hurt him. If I could stop thinking about him, believe me, I would. They act as if I enjoy not being able to get him out of my head. Like it isn't the most embarrassing thing in the world to share your every little thought with the guy who crushed your heart into at least a million pieces. The worst part? I can't hate him for it. That would be so much easier.

I can't hate him because this is our way. The way of the wolf. To heck with whom you've already fallen in love, when the spirits want you to imprint, you imprint. I don't get it. I know Sam is my soul mate. I love him so much it hurts, and aches not to be with him. Does that count for nothing? Do the things he used to tell me mean nothing? Why on earth am I painted the bad person here?!

Don't get me wrong. I love Emily too. She's my blood, my cousin, and my sister in a lot of ways. I don't begrudge her happiness with a man that is destined to be with her, but I reserve the right to be a little peeved when that man just so happens to be the one who holds my still beating heart in his strong hands.

I respect our ways, but I will never understand them. I tell this to Sam whenever we are the only ones on patrol, when he is the only one who can hear my thoughts,

I worry about you. Always. His thoughts ring out to mine, crystal clear, as if he were talking in my ear. It makes me wish he still came that close to me.

No need to worry. I'm quite fine. I lie, as if he can't see every thought pattern that is forming in my head.

Leah…please understand. Know I never intended for life to go this way for you. He says, and sounds so much like my father that my thoughts of grief and loss over him spawn to the immense grief that is still burdening my heart for my Dad.

You are a strong girl. A strong woman. A strong member of this pack. Sam reassures me, but I read farther into his thoughts, and know that he has doubts about me. I start going over chemical compounds in my mind, blocking everything else out, and hopefully bore him away.

I'm there when that Cullen leech comes striding up to the steps, and it is me that drops my bowl, and ignores the fact that I have sent chili all over Jared and his heart-mate.

I hiss almost in rhythm with my brothers as he stops short of the steps. I'm sure we all look quite intimidating. We are all big. Even me.

I stand at statuesque five eleven, the tallest girl on the reservation. Also the only one with a body so toned you could break a plate on my abs. I can look innocent sometimes, but truth me told, I could take someone down without ever morphing.

I fight snarls, and try to close my nose off to the choking aroma the cold cretin has brought along with him.

I watch menacingly as he exchanges words with Sam. I finally break my composure when he suggests it will be good for Jake to come to the wedding. I laugh a bitter laugh on the inside. Yeah, just like it's going to be good for me to wear a turquoise empire dress and hold Emily's bouquet while the only man I've ever loved pledges his life to her. I would much rather just stay home, carve a chunk out of my chest, and pour salt into it. It would produce the exact same feeling, and at least it would be in private.

When he finally goes, I feel the urge to morph anyway, and prove myself to my pack here and now. I can't figure out why Sam is being so civil. Sure, we united with the cold ones, but I was under the impression that was a one-time thing. Never to be repeated again. Where did he get off turning a blind eye to this mosquitoes blatant disregard for the rules? It makes me twitch.

I can't think of eating anymore, so I stomp off, and decide that it's a good time to 'free the beast.'

It's perfect. Everyone is in human form, so I can think whatever I want to. I think of how even though I've given them my blessing, it would be just marvelous if a hurricane rips through Sam and Emily's glorious nuptials and wrecks their perfect day. Don't I deserve a little poetic justice here?

Suddenly I have the blinding urge to take Bella Swan in my arms and never let her go.

That's when I know that Jake is close by.

Our mental bonds are never broken, but he's been making his thoughts hard to hear these days. Even though our last conversation turned dark, I've been worried about him. He's my brother.

Jacob. I tentatively send.

I get no response, and suddenly feel myself driving a motorcycle up the aisles of a church, but when I get to the altar not Sam and Emily stand there, but Bella and Cullen.

Why didn't I think of that? Motorcycles are ten times as dramatic as hurricanes.

Come home Jacob. This place is dullsville. We need to cause trouble together. Hurricane and motorcycle trouble. I say, attempting bright thoughts.

For a while I feel nothing but waves of depression, and sadness coming from Jacob, and then I hear his mind's voice, as if he were standing feet in front of me.

No reason to ever come home. Where is my home?

I growl at his melodramatic angst. How cheap soap opera that soundsIt gives me a reality check, and I regret some of the thoughts I've had recently.

We are you're home Jacob. We are you're family. Come heal with us.

His mind is suddenly blank and I wonder over whether he is now sulking somewhere on two legs, or if he has crafted a way to mentally block me out.

Stupid boys. I wonder if normal guys are like this, or if it's just werewolves who are certifiably insane.