A/N: Here's the next chapter…I hope you enjoy. See you on the other side.
*** Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Twilight characters, nor do I own the settings, plots, or overall creations, it all belongs to S.M—no copyright infringement intended ***
Sound: Take Your Guess — Tom Rosenthal
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~ Move Together ~
Chapter Seven
So maybe don't give me cold, cold shoulder
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"You're even worse now," I comment, scrunching up my nose as Quil devours his fourth cupcake. In a row.
"Wha' you talking 'bout?" Quit asks around a mouth full of chocolatey goodness.
I shake my head at him, laughing lightly. "Nothing, dude."
Quil swallows his last bite, hand already reaching for another.
"Be chill," I pull the plate of iced cupcakes out of reach. "Leave some for the rest of us."
"Don't you mean Sam?" He teases from his side of the island.
I feel my ears burn and cheeks warm. Quil was far more observant than I gave him credit for. I glance out back. Sam is having a stern conversation with Paul. I don't know why I bothered to glance — to see if he was listening in. He could probably hear everything Quil and I were saying with his preternatural abilities.
"Shut up!" I mutter, pushing the plate of cupcakes back towards him. I liked it better when his mouth was full.
"C'mon, Swan. Spill." He says, eyebrows raised expectantly.
I hop up on the counter, swinging my legs back and forth. I pick up a cupcake, peeling back the paper lining. I am clearly stalling. I can't seem to come up with the right words to explain the imprint bond to my best friend.
"He imprinted on me." I swipe my finger through the fluffy buttercream frosting and shove it in my mouth.
"And?" Quil presses, rounding the corner of the island to stand closer. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"
"Apparently it's like a soulmate thing…But not really," I sigh. "I dunno. Sam could probably explain it better."
"Soulmates?"
"Yeah, apparently it's the special bond that forms when a Spirit Warrior, wolf and man, meet the one."
"Wow," Quil sighs. "That's some heavy shit."
"You're telling me," I snort. "It's powerful, Quil."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," I whisper. "It's intense."
Silence falls between us for a few beats.
"What about you, how ya holdin' up?"
"Okay," Quil grimaces. "I guess. I was totally bugging out. The old man wouldn't tell me what was going on. I knew I wasn't really sick, ya know?"
"I figured," I finish off the cupcake. "What does it feel like Quil?"
Quil shrugs his shoulder. "Hard to say. It's like I've got two people inside. Two minds. Me and then the wolf. My wolf wouldn't let me phase back. I think it's 'cos I was too scared."
"That's some heavy shit," I smirk sardonically, repeating Quil's words.
"Yeah," Quil agrees.
"You know that I'm here for ya, right? Always."
Quil laughs, "For sure, Swan. Who knew you were so mushy?"
"Hey!" I cry in mock outrage. "I care!"
I attempt to land a punch on his arm but Quil catches my fist with his new lighting fast reflexes. Before I know it he has grabbed my arm and pulled me off the counter and into a loose headlock. Quil cackles, roughly running his fingers through my hair and knuckles across my scalp. My mind takes me back to just a few weeks ago — to that night when we went to First Beach. When Jake told us about the legends. Before all the supernatural fuckery.
"Quil," I whine, trying to wriggle out of the hold he has on me. It's harder than before thanks to his preternatural strength. "Let go!"
"Okay," Quil says. "Repeat after me."
"Quil…" He starts, pausing to me to repeat.
"Quil…," I grumble.
"Is…"
"Is…"
"The best looking, most handsomest, guy in La Push!"
"Ugh! As if!"
"Say it, Swan!" Quil crows. "Or it's another noogie for you!"
Quil starts up again and the magic words are on the tip of my tongue when my ears catch a low, deep growl. My laughter dies immediately along with Quil's. The sound is definitely a warning. Quil reacts to the sound instinctually and with quick, clipped motions releases me from the headlock. I straighten, smoothing my hair down and behind my ears. The sound came from Sam. He stands tall, back ramrod straight, a few feet away. His fists are clenched at his sides and his mouth is set in a grim line.
"Be careful, pup," Sam growls out. "You don't know your strength."
Paul laughs openly at his Alpha, shaking his head. "C'mon, Sam, Quil was just goofin' around with Bella."
Sam growls again, this time at Paul. His upper lip curls back, offering a glimpse at wicked teeth. Suddenly, he turns on his heel and exits the house. The screen door slams, marking his abrupt exit. Paul shakes his head, sighing.
"What was that about?" I ask, eyes jumping between Quil and Paul and the backdoor. The instinct to go to Sam was overwhelming. The pull of the imprint bond felt all too real, as if there was a thread that bound us together and someone had given a sharp, swift tug on it.
"I imagine it's his wolf, Swan," Paul replies, filling in the blanks. "We're all a little more wolf than man but…Sam's different."
"Different how?" I press, not satisfied with Paul's cryptic comment.
"Not my story to tell, Swan." Paul says firmly. "C'mon, Quil, let's get you home. I'm sure we've worried your Pops enough for one day."
Paul and Quil head out and I am left alone to deal with the capricious were in the backyard. Procrastinating, I go about finding saran wrap — poking around Sam's kitchen for an embarrassingly long amount of time — to keep the cupcakes fresh. I leave one off to the side for Sam.
"That for me?"
I jump a near foot in the air and my hand flies up to my chest to slow my heart's jackrabbit pace.
"Sam!" I scold. "You need a collar — with a bell!"
He picks up the baked good and, after peeling off the wrap, shoves the whole thing into his mouth. Sam lets out a low groan, savouring the treat. Images flash in my mind's eye of moments when he might make that sound but for entirely different reasons. I am such a creep. I need help. I feel myself blush and look away from Sam. Suddenly the chipped nail polish on my fingers is fascinating.
"Sorry about earlier."
I look up at Sam, into those dark eyes of his that still hold so many secrets. I want to ask him what happened earlier — more importantly why Paul thought he was different — but I can't summon the courage to ask. I glance at the clock that hangs above the doorway. It's already six o'clock. I should be getting home.
As if he can read my mind, Sam clears his throat, "Time for you to go, huh?"
"Yeah," I answer. "I promised my parents I'd be around for dinner."
Moments later, Sam's behind the wheel of his truck driving me home. It's already dusky, a sure sign that summer has drawn its last breath and fall has arrived. The trip to my place is quiet, neither of us feeling compelled to fill the silence. When he comes to a stop in front of my house ] I am overtaken by my nerves. How do I say goodbye? Good night kiss? Hug? Do I just leave? Man, why am I so bloody awkward?!
My sweaty palm finds the handle and I am just opening it when Sam speaks, giving me pause.
"I couldn't phase back either," He murmurs, his voice low but steady.
He doesn't look at me, just stares straight ahead. He grips the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white against his russet skin. I'm surprised it hasn't bent under the pressure. My focus drags from his knuckles, back to his profile.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Sam confirms, still not sparing me a glance. "I was alone. Didn't know what the hell was going on. I couldn't phase back for days. I stayed in my wolf form for close to two weeks."
"Sam," I whisper, tone reflecting only a fraction of the heartbreak I feel for him.
He looks at me then, only briefly, and tightens his grip on the steering wheel. "I stayed phased for too long, Bella. The wolf lurks close beneath the surface with me— always. Sometimes I can't keep a hold on it. The wolf in me. The instincts…"
His voice gives way to a juicy growl. I jump in my seat a bit. A violent tremor rips through him. I scoot away, backing up only to hit the the door of the truck. His head snaps to the side, cataloguing my retreat. I catch his eyes and notice, suddenly, that they are not the normal ebony I have become accustomed to. Instead they are fractured — glowing shards of amber peaking through. The sight is jarring. Apparently I am a glutton for punishment and I lean closer to try and get a better look. I tentatively raise my hand, lightly cupping his jaw. Sam's lids fall closed, concealing those inhuman eyes that betray him for what he really his: a werewolf. I lean forward, slowly, cautiously, and butt my jaw against his. Sam returns the lupine gesture, rubbing his jaw against mine before rooting through my hair and pressing his nose to the hallow behind my ear. He takes in deep, shuddering breaths. I wrap my arms around his neck, running a hand though his hair. Sam is right. The imprint bond has nothing to do with mating and everything to do with helping the man find balance. To remind him of his humanity.
Sam drags himself away from the crook of my neck only to press his forehead to mine. A hot hand curls around the back of my neck.
"I'm sorry," He whispers, eyes volleying between mine.
They are back to their normal ebony. The wolf seems to have retreated. For now.
"Why?" I say, voice hushed.
"I wish I wasn't so fucked up."
"Don't we all?" I query, attempting humour.
Sam shakes his head against mine. "You know what I mean, Bella."
I lean forward and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I know what you mean."
Sam turns ever so slightly, capturing my lips. I lean into him, into his kiss. It is deliciously sweet and over all too soon. Sam pulls away, "I should let you go."
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"You be careful in Port Angeles, today," Dad says. He drops the news paper down onto the kitchen counter and points to an article.
Woman Mauled in Rare Animal Attack in Port Angeles
Local Port Angeles woman, Karen O'Hare, was mauled by an unidentified animal on Saturday night and did not survive the attack. Police found O'Hare's body by the water and believe that it is the same site of attack. "This is the rarest of rare," says Sarah Kelly, Natural Resources Police spokeswoman. "It is unheard of for an animal attack to occur in such a heavily trafficked area." Wildlife officials have been unable to identify the animal responsible.
"I'm sure Jake and I will be okay," I glance up my Dad, pushing the paper away from me. "It's not like an animal is gunna attack in broad day light. Probably was just a one off too."
My Dad hums, moustache twitching, "Just be safe, Bells."
Jake needed a part for one of the bikes he was working on and I was just tagging along for the ride, eager to get out of La Push as per usual. I hear the blare of a car horn outside so I get up, dropping a kiss onto my Dad's cheek as I go.
"S'up, Swan?" Jake greets, pulling away from the curb once I am settled in my seat.
"Meh," I shrug. "Same old, same old."
Minus the part where our best friend is actually a werewolf.
"No news is good news, I suppose," He comments.
"Speaking of the news — have you heard about that woman out in Port Angeles?"
"Yeah, it's insane! Pretty unbelievable that an animal would attack down by the water."
"Right?" I agree. "So frickin' weird."
There is a momentary lull in conversation so I flick on the radio and Kings of Leon's California Waiting fills the car. We sing, not messing up a single verse, alongside the lead singer.
"Feels weird rockin' out to the Kings without Quil, huh?" Jake ventures, glancing over at me.
"Yeah," I agree.
"I tried to go and see him this morning but he said he couldn't hang out with us today. Even though he looked like ten times better…"
A brick of guilt forms in my stomach as I listen to Jake talk. What kind of friend am I? Who keeps secrets like this? I mean, technically, I wasn't lying to Jake. But I also wasn't telling him why Quil couldn't hang with us. Or that I saw Quil just the other day.
"Bells?" Jake calls, returning my focus to him. I try to push the guilty thoughts from my mind when I look over at him so he doesn't see right through me. "Sorry, zoned out there a little."
"Do you think he's joined Sam's little cult?" Jake asks, eyes flitting between me and the road.
"I dunno," I say noncommittally. "Probably?"
"How can you be so chill about this, dude?" Jake demands, tone accusatory.
"Hey! Eyes on the road, dude," I reply. "And who said I was chill? I just don't know what to say…if he has, what can we do?"
I let the question hang there. It feels so wrong to lie to him.
Jake is quiet for a few beats, "I know you're right but it just makes me so mad, you know?"
"I know, Jake," I sigh. "But you've got me, 'kay? I'm not going anywhere."
"Sure, sure," Jake smiles. "Same here, you know that? I've got your back, Bells."
"So, where are you gunna go to get the parts?" I ask, changing the topic abruptly. My conscience can't take much more of this otherwise I might spill and just tell Jake everything.
"The place is on Lincoln. We can split up once we get there, if you want."
"And miss out on you buying stuff for the bikes?" I gasp sarcastically.
Jake chuckles, "Yeah, yeah. Message received. Where are you gunna go?"
"The bookstore on Front Street. Figure that'll be a good way to kill time. How long do you think you'll be?"
"Not long at all. Half hour or so? Hour tops."
"Mm-kay. We gunna get food while we're up here?"
"Pff, that's not even a question."
As planned, Jake and I split up once we're in Port Angeles. He drops me off at the book store called Odyssey and heads off to get the parts. We agree to meet at the restaurant, Bella Italia, in an hour.
I slowly make my way through the store, stopping to linger here or there and thumb through pages. Unwittingly, I end up in the store's supernatural/fantasy section. I brush my fingertips across the spines and pull Bram Stoker's Dracula out. I turn the book over in my hands, wondering how much Stoker got right. Something I'd have to ask Sam about later. Not that he'd answer me, I think to myself. Getting answers out of that man was like pulling teeth.
"The blood is the life."
I jump, well and truly startled. A woman stands about three feet away from me. She has fiery red hair that falls in the most perfect mane of curls to frame her face. The woman has large, muddy-brown eyes that sit perfectly, separated by straight, button-nose. She has the kind of cheekbones that girls would kill for. I bet she doesn't even have to contour in the morning, I think to myself. Lucky her. The redhead's skin is smooth and perfect, not an imperfection or blemish in sight. Though, if anything, she is too far too pale — her skin is a chalky white that gives the impression that she is incredibly ill.
"S-sorry?" I query, voice shaky.
"It's a line, from the book," She tips her chin meaningfully, directing my gaze back to the copy of Dracula in my now sweaty palms.
"Oh," I laugh lightly. "I wouldn't know. Never read it."
"Such a shame!" She smiles, revealing a perfect set of pearly whites. "You must get it. Dracula is a classic. One of my own personal favourites."
Her eyes glimmer with mirth — as though she is in on some joke that I am not. Even though she is seemingly friendly, her smile is off. It's fake. Instead of looking warm and welcoming, it looks menacing. I don't like her. She has me so freaked out that I am fighting the urge to drop the book and run right out of the bookstore.
"I guess I'll check it out," I say, backing up a bit. "Thanks for the recommendation. I gotta go."
I walk away as fast as my feet will carry me and dump the copy of Stoker's vampire tale on a random table. No way in hell was I going to read that creepy broad's favourite book. As I exit, I turn back but the redhead is nowhere to be seen.
I make it to Bella Italia with relative ease, dodging puddles and low hanging umbrellas in the heavy downpour. I grab a table in the close to the glass front of the restaurant. Condensation clings to the pane, making it seem like outside is cloaked in a heavy mist. It is so thick that I don't even see Jake approach.
He enters the restaurant, water dripping from his coat. I wave him over and he weaves his way through the tables, plopping down into his seat with a wet squelch.
"Should've worn my rain jacket," Jake grumbles, shrugging out of his not-so-waterproof coat with a grimace.
"Shoulda, coulda, woulda," I tease. "Did you get the parts you were looking for?"
"Yeah, and the guy was fair about the price too. Thanks to my sick negotiation skills," Jake boasts.
He turns his attention to the menu and I follow suit. After some consideration Jake ends up ordering spaghetti and meatballs and I opt for a classic, margarita pizza. We talk about everything and nothing while we wait and when our food arrives we practically inhale it. Just as the waitress clears our plates, something catches my eye across the street. Through the misty glass I think — though I can't be positive — I see a figure with fiery red hair. My heart thump-thump-thumps in my chest as I rub my palm across the window, clearing away the moisture. I look again and I my breath catches in my throat. I startle. It's the woman from the book store. I hear Jake say my name, trying to get my attention, but I can't pull my gaze away. My mouth goes dry and a bad feeling unfurls in my gut. Had she followed me?
Fingers snap in front of my face. My eyes focus immediately on Jake.
"Earth to Bella!" He chuckles. "What are you looking at?"
Jake peers through the glass and I do the same. The redhead has disappeared. She was just there a second ago. Did I imagine it? Was I losing it?
"Nothing, sorry," I say, pushing all thoughts of the pale-faced redhead.
"We should probably head out soon," Jake comments, peeling his eyes away from the street front.
Jake and I settle our respective bills and head back to the car. With paranoia breathing down my neck, I obsessively look behind as us we walk. Waiting for some sign of my stalker. But I don't see her. I breathe a sigh of relief when we make it to the car. I guess I was really losing it. She probably just recognized me or something. That had to be it. Jake has me drive us back, claiming he's unfit to drive due the fact that he's in a food coma. I suspect he just wants to nap on the way home. The boy could sleep anywhere. I swear, he must have been a sloth or a koala in another life — but I oblige anyways.
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The ride back to La Push is uneventful. As predicted, Jake sleeps for the majority of the trip home. I put the car in park once we reach the end of the Black's driveway. I release my seat belt and turn to Jake who has his face smushed against the passenger side window. Mouth agape, snoring quietly. Quite the image. I reach for my cellphone in my jacket pocket and snap a picture. The flash is blindingly bright in the darkness of the car and Jake wakes up immediately.
"What the fuck?" He springs upright, blinking his eyes open and closed in rapid succession.
I laugh openly, flashing the picture before him but holding my cell out of reach. "Oh man! This one is a keeper!"
"You're evil, you know that?" He whines, slumping back against the seat. "Truly evil."
"Ohhh, c'mon now, Jakey," I tease.
Jake fights a smile and shakes his head at me.
"You wanna come hang for a bit?"
"Nah, sorry man," I toss the car keys at him. We both get out of the car. "I gotta go home and edit a writing exercise for history."
"True," Jake says. "Want me to walk you home? It's getting dark out."
It wasn't unusual for Jake, or Quil for that matter, to walk me home if it was late. La Push certainly wasn't dangerous, but it is the thought that counts so I don't turn down his offer. We are about half way to my place when I spot Sam and Paul across the street, by the tree line that will eventually give way to First Beach. Jake does too. Before I can do anything he is marching across the street. If he were a cartoon character I imagine that steam would be billowing out of his ears. I chase after him, "Jake! Stop!"
"What did you do to Quil, huh, Uley?" Jake spits, laying a challenge at Sam's feet.
"Jake," I insist, tugging on his arm. "You don't wanna do this."
He shrugs me off, "Lay off, Bells."
"I'd listen to Swan if I were you, Black," Paul sneers, taking a step forward.
"I wasn't talking to you, Lahote," Jake bites out between clenched teeth.
"Jake," I attempt again. "You're not gunna get the answers you want. C'mon, just walk me home. Please."
Jake doesn't listen, too incensed. "Answer me! What the fuck is going on here? What did you do to Quil?"
Sam draws a deep breath through his nose — as if there isn't a teenager throwing a tantrum in front of him — and looks down at Jacob for a moment or two. Contemplatively.
"I don't answer to you. I suggest that you step back," He steps forward, forcing Jake to do what he wants. "And see that Isabella gets home alright."
His eyes flick to me but don't linger. His gaze is cold, detached. Not what I've become accustomed to. A sharp pain lances through my chest. He's different as Alpha. I don't now what to make of his cold mask but I don't have time to think on it.
"Jake," I slip between him and Sam. "Enough. You made your point. Let's go."
Finally, he listens. He steps away, cursing Sam under his breath as he goes. We walk in silence. I figure it is for the best. He needs to cool off. I don't broach the subject until we get to my place.
"You wanna explain what the heck just happened?"
"I dunno," Jake shrugs, not making eye contact.
"That's not good enough, Jake," I comment, raising my eye brows. "Why'd you have to go and do that? Huh?"
"I just was so mad," Jake says reluctantly. "Madder than I've ever been in my life and I — it was like I couldn't stop myself. But let's be real…it's not like he didn't deserve it, Bells. You know that what is going on with Quil has everything to do with Uley."
"Please tell me you haven't seen him again," Jake presses on, not waiting for any commentary from me.
I freeze momentarily. But that's all Jake needs.
"You have seen him again, haven't you?" He accuses, voice rising.
"Maybe I have. So what?"
"I can't believe you!" Jake hisses. "So much for having my back."
"That is so not fair, Jacob!" I say, anger and hurt colouring my tone. "You know I'm always gunna be here for you. We're best friends — always have been and always will be. I just…I can't explain but please believe me when I say that Sam isn't the enemy."
Jake steps back, shaking his head. "I can't believe I'm hearing this shit. You're just like them."
I pick up on the implication quick. Jake believed that I was part of Sam's little cult now too. Only it wasn't a cult. And I hadn't joined by my own volition. None of us had. It was this fucked up curse.
"Jake," I call after him. "C'mon!"
He doesn't look back as he walks away from me. And I don't have it in me to chase him.
A/N: Here we are again. I hope you liked this chapter — how does this compare to Boarders? Better? Too different? I love hearing what y'all have to say so please do me a favour and leave a review!
Until next time,
beavoicenotanecho
