Offerings chapter 6

Disclaimer: the characters and all recognisable situations belong to Stephenie Meyer - this is a work of fan fiction, except for the legends and histories of the Quileute that, of course, belong to them. I pay my respects to their gods.

Thanks to BanSidhe [ruadh sidhe] and Feebes86 for betaing and pre-reading and Goldengirl2707 for helping me out.

Bella, unnerved by the incidents of that morning was uneasy and irritable. She couldn't read, her mind wouldn't settle down enough to comprehend the words on the page. Lying on the couch, she read the same page three times before she gave up and almost threw the book away.

"Do I have to stay here?" she demanded.

Jake eyed her off. "Yes."

"I can't go out to La Push?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Ah..." He looked trapped. How could he explain the politics that left him her only close quarter guard? "Charlie said you had to stay here."

Her eyes narrowed at him. "Do you always do what Charlie says?"

"Yeah. He's my boss."

"I thought you were the pack leader."

"What would you like to do?" He interrupted her quickly before she said go to the rez again, adding, "Other than leave the house?"

She shut her mouth with a snap.

Silence.

"Bells?"

"I-I don't know."

"It's not your fault."

She stood suddenly. "You keep saying that ...but it is..."

He approached her; slowly and carefully. His hands held low as if she was going to startle and run.

"It makes me so angry," she muttered.

"I know."

"I want to punch something."

"Punch me," he offered.

"What? No!"

"You can't hurt me; you're a marshmallow."

"I am not a marshmallow."

"Come on... give it your best shot."

She turned to face him. He was making the 'bring it' sign at her with his fingers. She balled up her fist, as if she really meant to punch him. Her arm was level with his gut. Staring at his chest, she put the other hand up on his shoulder, as she drew her fist back.

Close together they were so aware of each other.

She could feel how warm he was and a memory flash of the midnight kiss made her blush.

He could smell her hair; she filled his nostrils with a scent that was uniquely hers, and it became more pronounced when she blushed.

He inhaled her and she knew it; she recoiled.

He managed not to try to grab her.

She stood; her fist still clenched and she glared at him. "Did you just smell me?"

"Yes."

Her face changed from angry to horrified.

He had to fix this. "I know that seems weird and I know that the last person to do that to you is probably killing people and I'm sorry but-" he paused "-it's my wolf."

"Your... wolf?"

"He likes you."

"And you don't?"

"No, I like you, too and oh, shit." He ran his hand through his hair. He hadn't been this nervous around a woman for years. "You smell good to him."

"I... ah... what?"

"Sorry."

She didn't speak.

"He's never done this before," Jake added.

"Right."

"I mean not that I do everything he says... but he can make his opinion known... and I should just stop talking."

She nodded quickly. "Maybe."

"Don't you want to hit me, now?"

"No." Short and sharp.

"You're sure?"

She had her arms folded and she was staring at the floor. Her whole body looked tight and tense. "I'm sorry I asked you to kiss me," she said.

"I'm not."

She glanced up at him. "It's all too fast and I met you yesterday and now this is happening... and-" Her lip quivered.

He shuffled closer to her, whispering in a low voice, "I want to kiss you again... I want to touch you... I want to feel you with all of my senses... Christ, Bells... you felt me last night. I want the taste of you to be in my mouth... and the scent of you to be all over my body." It took everything he had not to hold her in his arms.

She sucked in a breath. "Oh."

"If that is okay with you."

"That sounds... good... yeah... good." She touched his chest with her hand and brushed her fingertips gently over his shirt. "But if we start-"

"-we are not going to stop," Jake finished.

"Yeah." She said it with a breathy sigh that made him close his eyes.

She knew what he meant. He was pleased that she would be right there with him. "You want me just as badly. I can smell it."

"You smell really good to me, too," she confessed.

He nearly said something about other people making her nauseous but didn't. "So, ... we need to do something to get our minds off it and when this is over, when we are both ready for the next step-"

"We can take it together."

"Yeah," he breathed at her.

"Enchiladas," she said.

He blinked. "Pardon?"

"I need to cook them."

"Sure, sure." He grinned at her. "I wondered where that came from."

"Can you cook?"

"I can. Taught myself from cookbooks. My mother died when I was little."

"I knew that, I had just forgotten."

Neither of them moved.

His fingers traced down the flesh of her other arm and found her hand. They tangled together for a second before their fingers interlaced. It felt right to her. Comfortable and familiar even though it couldn't be.

"You are so hot," she commented.

He chuckled.

"You know what I mean."

They were inching closer together.

"No!" she said; mostly to herself, but he took a step back.

She turned and holding his hand behind her she walked to the kitchen.

He followed. He would have followed her anywhere.

She took a deep breath and started to pull the ingredients from the fridge again. "How did you know where everything went?" she asked Jake as he leaned against the cabinets.

"I've been here before...and the smell."

"It must be useful, sometimes."

"Sometimes."

"So you know where the onions are?"

"Sure do."

They spent a relaxed half hour making a baking dish of enchiladas. Bella usually didn't cook with other people in the kitchen but Jake didn't get in her way; in fact, he often seemed to anticipate what she needed and passed it to her before she could ask for it.

It was nice.

"Herbs?"

"Some old dried stuff here in the rack. What did you need?'

"Parsley and oregano. What about garlic?"

"None fresh but he has granules."

"That'll do."

As she turned, she knocked the cook's knife off the cutting board.

Jake's hand stopped it before it hit her foot but it was falling blade first and now he had a cut on his hand. A cut that was bleeding.

She blustered her apologies for being so klutzy.

"It's okay. I heal, you don't."

"You knew that?"

He nodded as he ran the cut under the tap water.

She wanted to help so she got a clean dish towel and wrapped it around his hand. He gently peeled it away again, explaining, "They get stuck in the wound."

"What? How?"

"Wolves heal super quick. It's awesome. Watch."

As she held his hand with both of hers and a dish towel, she watched; not sure what she was supposed to be seeing. Like a time lapse film, the bleeding stopped, the wound went a darker color on the edges and puffed up a little and then it started to knit back together.

She felt faint.

"You okay?" he asked.

"It's blood... makes me feel woozy."

"Okay."

When all that was left was a fading mark, she brushed a finger over the top of it. His hand felt heavy and super heated like all of Jake. She looked up at his face and pressed speculatively against the cut.

"Does that hurt?"

"No." He sounded closer than she expected him to be. He was almost looming over her but his eyes were closed and he looked to be breathing deep and evenly. He was clearly sniffing her ... again.

"Your wolf needs to go to puppy school," she said.

He chuckled. "Sorry."

"That healing was amazing." She rubbed over the now invisible cut once more to satisfy herself. "It's completely gone. You can have your hand back, now."

"I don't need it; it's fine with you."

Flustered by that answer, she protested, "Don't be silly - I can't hold your hand for the rest of your life."

And then she heard what she had said, the way he would have heard it; it sounded like a marriage proposal.

He was grinning at her. "I don't see why we can't try it," he said.

"I knew you were going to say something like that."

"I thought it was romantic and it's proof that we are already on the same wavelength."

Her wavelength didn't include long term relationships after meeting a guy yesterday, even if she did jump his bones at midnight, but she had to concede it was romantic. "It was romantic, very," she whispered. But she took a small step back and cleared her throat. "Ahem... so you heal fast?" Quick change of subject was required.

"All the pack do."

She asked some more questions about the pack as they finished making the dish together. He answered everything she asked.

"Is it a secret? The pack?"

"Yes."

"So why tell me?"

"You'll be around for a while," he said with complete confidence.

She smiled and to hide it, she turned quickly. The crime scene tape in the yard was an unfortunate reminder of what happened to other people because of her presence in this town.

She took a halting breath and then spoke low and quickly, "Maybe I should just leave Forks and go somewhere - get drunk and talk about vampires and werewolves until they lock me in an insane asylum or the vampires come to take me out for breaking secrets."

Jake shook his head. "First of all, I'd have to arrest you for underage drinking, so you'd be locked up where I could look after you."

"I suppose... how would you find me?"

"I could sniff you out."

"Now, that just sounds silly."

"I could," he argued. His voice dropped, "I could find you anywhere."

Given her vampire admirer, that should have sounded off-putting but it didn't; it sounded more like a promise than a threat and she found it comforting. "I'll never get lost again," she said.

"Nope." He hesitated. "Although it kind of sounded like fun."

She laughed.

One moment they were standing there looking at each other and the next they were kissing again.

This time it was Jake who stopped, sniffed and said, "Shit! He's back."

"Who?" she asked stupidly.

"Edward."

And then she heard his voice from the yard. "Isabella?"

"Oh, my god," Bella whimpered. "He's got Jessica."

"She's dead. No heartbeat," Jake said.

"Has he even noticed?" Bella asked.

"He's insane."

"Isabella, my love?" His velvet voice called to her.

Bella glanced towards the back door.

Jake shook his head. "No."

"I have to. I must stop this."

"No!"

"Jake, you won't stop me." She put her hand up to his face. "You won't hurt me."

"But he will."

"So come with me. Outside." She tried to tell him something with her eyes.

Outside. Where he had room to phase.

"Think of the treaty," Edward reminded him.

Jake resisted the urge to stop her. If she was inside the house, she would be safer, but she was like her father; she wouldn't let another person die for her. Jake was a protector; both as a cop and a wolf and if she went outside, he was going with her.