I kick another tree.
"Jasper, calm down man," Emmett sighs from his spot on a felled trunk.
"Why the fuck should I? He fucking knows better," I growl, punching another.
I'm not going to let this go, and he knows it. Shaking his head, Emmett goes back to playing with Rosalie's golden hair. I take the lack of attention to breathe in the dusk air, filling my lungs with the smell of the forest. It's a vain attempt to purge the...strange feeling I had when Bella was threatened. I wanted to protect her.
Reasoning with myself, I decide that's not so dishonourable. It can't be wrong to want to make sure another innocent doesn't get hurt because of Edwards games. It can't be wrong to not want someone murdered in your own house. What I felt couldn't be wrong.
I ignore the fact that what I felt was something more.
I know they took it wrong. I know they think I went apeshit for just one drop. I know they didn't see it as me protecting her. They didn't see his eyes, blacker than their own, and they sure didn't feel what I did. Panic, bloodlust, possessiveness.
Hunger.
They saw him throwing Bells on the table to protect her from me, not as an excuse to break his concentration. Not to protect his food. Not to hide that he's shaking, growling from the hunger that shades his demon eyes, to hide that he is wanting. Not to stop me from 'stealing' her, having her for myself- as a meal, I mean.
Shaking my head, I stop trying to think about what they think they saw. Their misinterpretation doesn't bother me, because all the fake 'facts' in the world won't hide the truth from those who know. Me. And him.
Hand wringing the back of my neck, I stare at the dented trunks surrounding me. There would be no escaping this. I know what's coming, I don't have to be Alice to guess.
Falling backwards onto the cool grass, I wait, holding on to my anger.