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Chapter 9: Socrates

"I know one thing: that I know nothing"

If you asked me how I had gotten myself into this situation, I wouldn't be able to tell you because I had no clue.

I was doing my absolute best to remember the past couple days, but my memories were more confusing and twisted than a snake tangled up in a sack of licorice whips. Think, Lexi, Think…Before there was a gun pressed up to my head, the last thing I could remember clearly was talking to Paul in a pitch black cell, eating stale doughnuts off the floor, and wondering how I had ended up in that situation.

Sam.

That goddamn backstabbing, cock-sucking dumbass! If it weren't for him I would still be tripping over the weeds growing in the cracks of the asphalt of the basketball court down the street from Frankie's apartment. On Tuesday and Thursday nights we would always play a game or two with the other kids in the neighborhood.

Stop thinking that way, Lexi. Thinking that way won't bring him back.

Focus!

I remember something hitting me across my face because the constant throb in my swollen lip was a clear reminder. Then there was the moment I could never forget. The click of the sweaty man's revolver as it was pressed up to my temple. The thought of cold metal against my skin caused me to shiver involuntarily.

I buried my face further into Paul's collarbone. His entire body had continued to tremble excessively for the past couple minutes as I refused to release my grip on him. A rough, large finger tilted my chin up which allowed Paul's brown eyes to meet mine briefly. I could tell that he was simply checking to make sure I wasn't loosing it. I gave him a small, reassuring smile to let him know that I was fine.

I scoffed out loud at my thoughts. I was kidding myself. I wasn't fine. Far from it.

Stop thinking that way, Lexi. Think about something else.

Paul returned his hand to the back of my head which allowed me to bury my forehead into his hot chest. I glanced down at Paul's clenched fist against my left hip…

Wait… Every muscle in my entire body tensed.

WHAT THE FUCK?

WHAT AM I WEARING?

HOLY SHIT!

There was girly, lacy shit covering my legs and hips! This is so embarrassing! I was wearing this friggin' girly lingerie in front of Paul! He has a girlfriend for Christ sakes!

Who… the… fuck… put… me… IN THIS SHIT!

I felt really warm and uncomfortable as my heart continued to pound in my ears. I felt like I couldn't catch my breath or I had just ran the 100 meter dash. I refused let myself look around the room. I had no difficulty ignoring the sounds in the room because my heart beat loudly in my ears. I forced myself to stare at the two pink, fresh scars on the right side of Paul's naked chest. I knew without a doubt that those scars were from the bullet wounds he had received that day in La Push. I had purposefully avoided staring at them for nearly two days in that room. How long had it been since that day he was shot? Considering how much Paul had healed, I would say three weeks at least.

Had I really lost so much time? Why can't I remember anything? I have no idea where I am or how I even got here.

My own thoughts were going to drive me off the deep end.

My stomach chose that moment to announce itself. It grumbled loudly, which caused Paul's incessant shaking to stop abruptly. He pulled me ever closer to him, closing any gaps there were between us. My stomach flipped as I felt a wave of nausea. How could I be so hungry, yet nauseous at the same time?

I was forced to let go of his forearm because of the awkward angle the new position created. I wrapped both my arms around his waist and buried my face in his muscular neck.

Just I was getting settled into the new position, a loud, rabid snarl startled me. I flinched in Paul's lap as an equally hot, hard body pressed up against my back. However, my body reacted on its own accord… a shiver ran down my spine causing a spread of warmth deep inside me. I gasped in Paul's ear as I felt a new set of hot hands through the thin material draped over my hips. Paul's hands simultaneously released me like he had been burned. I was abruptly pulled away from Paul, which caused me to accidentally scratch his back with my nails.

Shit! Why is Paul letting me go?

I briefly struggled in this new grip, that is, until I was twirled around and I saw who was holding me just as closely as Paul had been moments before.

Jake.

Billy Black's mentally unstable son was clinging onto me like a gecko on glass. He adjusted the silky robe I had on so that it covered as much of my body as possible. His light touches were causing an uncomfortable fluttering and warmth to gather in between my legs.

Why was I reacting this way? I've never been so turned on in my life! And I hardly knew anything about the guy…

…Well, other than the fact he was one fine piece of eye candy.

There was a constant, deep rumbling coming from his chest that pulled me from my crazy thoughts.

My eyes flicked across the room. I noted the two armed guards standing by each set of doors. The fancy furniture and décor was off-putting. And Emily's Sam was sitting on his heals glaring at me…

…Well, not me, but the gorgeous man holding me.

I nearly tweaked my neck trying to get a good look of Jake's face because he was holding me so tight. His eyes were closed and he looked like he was on top of cloud nine as he inhaled deeply.

Pure bliss.

That's what I could see from his face.

Ugh! What a creep!

And yet my body continued to react as I felt the warmth continue to pool between my legs.

Why the hell was I reacting like this!?

I was terrified and confused, but my traitorous body felt drawn to this insanity that continued to unfold.

He opened his eyes, which were the darkest shades of black I'd ever seen. It was too intense. My pulse fluttered frantically.

This was too much!

I struggled against his tight grip, but this only made things much, much worse. My senses went hyperactive; I could feel my nipples harden from the friction against his muscular chest. Again, I shifted in his lap in some sort of feeble attempt to cool the radiating heat growing in my belly. However, like a snowball effect, my body's reactions continued to escalade. Which resulted in me panting like a slut.

Jake groaned audibly causing blood to pool in my cheeks which made me thankful for the first time in months for my darker skin tone.

I can handle teasing, but I had no idea how I should handle this. I had no experience in being physical with a guy, Frankie and his loyal group of friends always scared off any guy that was remotely interested in me. The only thing I've ever done that was physical was when I kissed a boy in my class when I was 16. Somehow Frankie had heard about it, even though he was 20 at the time, he asked one of his friend's younger brothers to "handle it". The boy showed up to school the next day with a busted lip. I didn't talk to Frankie for a week, until I got him back by putting superglue on his beer while laughing hysterically as his hand got stuck to the bottle.

I still think I should have put Nair in his shampoo. That would have taught him to butt out.

I felt an intense, wet pressure on my neck as well as Jake's hot breath. Did Jake just bite my neck? I froze like a deer in the headlights.

'It was more of a nip than an actually bite', A small voice stated in my head.

Still…WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON!?

I sat their frozen, frustrated, confused… and still turned on.

I should have never come to La Push. I should have stayed with Christine back in Jersey. The only reason I didn't jump on that opportunity was because she refused to take down the photos of her and Frankie. A part of me couldn't blame her, but the more selfish part wouldn't have been able to handle all those constant reminders of him.

The double doors burst open abruptly, the scary, fat man walked in with an older, well-dressed guy following closely behind. I tensed and Jake shot up to his feet and spun around to face the men. His actions caused me to have my back facing towards the group of strangers, which made my nerves bubble and churn in my stomach. If it wasn't for the fact I was now facing towards Paul's murderous glare, I would have run screaming from the room.

"Set her down." I heard the fat man order Jake.

I made an attempt to twist around to face the crowd of people now piling into the room. I began to feel even more self conscious regarding my state of dress. What does a girl have to do to get a shirt around here? Or do I even want to know the answer?

Everyone besides Jake, Paul, Sam, and the well-dressed dude had some sort of weapon in their hands. Of course, I didn't have a weapon either, which made me feel like once again, my life was going to become even more complicated.

"Come on, come on." The fat man coaxed Jake like trying to coax candy from a baby.

A warning growl escaped from between Jake's lips.

"Jacob!" Sam barked.

Jacob? I guess that Jake was just a nickname?

"Give her to Paul."

Another rumble resonated from deep in his chest, but he followed out Sam's order. Like a toddler, I was carefully handed off between the two men. They were careful not to show off my goods. But I couldn't help but feel that all eyes were on me and my skimpy outfit.

I felt safe in Paul's arms but it wasn't the same as Jake's. I was uncomfortable as I felt Paul's hands supporting my thighs and my arms were laced around his neck. Wasn't I heavy? I wonder what his girlfriend would think of him holding me? Then it occurred to me…

What if Jake had a girlfriend?

I really knew nothing about him. It was plausible for him to be taken already, I mean, he was so good looking. How could he not be?

"What is this, Anson?" I heard the impatience in Jake's voice.

I desperately wanted to twist around to see what was going on but I was far too out of my element to move. I was again frozen in another man's arms.

"We have to get your measurements." The fat man's voice was laced with cockiness, "We can't have you showing up to work in those khaki shorts that you lot were wearing earlier."

It was dead silent after that. I could hear someone shuffling around as Jake was being measured for what I assume would be a suit that every other guard was wearing.

"Alright," I could hear the smile in the fat man's voice, "Let's go show the lovely, young lady where she will be staying for the unforeseeable future, shall we?"

Oh…

He better not be fucking talking about me.

A loud chuckle sounded in the room as I twisted around to see the evil, fat man laughing his ass off at Jake's reaction.

He certainly had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh…

…like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.

I swear I could taste the animosity in the air as Jake, Paul, and Sam followed the fat man down a long hallway. Seriously, the atmosphere in the house was as welcoming as a bacon sandwich at a Bar Mitzvah. Yet, Paul hadn't put me down on my feet, forcing me to stare at the friendly-looking armed guards closely following us. The house was like a maze inside and each room we passed was filled with flossy shit.

If I wasn't antsy before, I certainly was now. What was the fat man talking about? I could only (naïvely) hope that they were talking about another girl, even though I was the only girl present this evening.

We went through a door and the first thing I noticed was how much cooler the night air was. Goose-bumps developed all over me, shivering, I gripped tighter onto Paul's hot body. We walked out into an open pool area that was surrounded by the walls of the house, like a courtyard. The pool was lit up and obviously heated. Copious amounts of steam rose up from the water's surface, which was currently a pinkish hue from the lights. We stopped at the West end of the pool at a set of French doors, which were opened by one of the bodyguards. The fat man motioned for us to enter the room.

The first thing I noticed about the room was that behind a darkwood, carved bartop was a huge mirror covering the entire wall. In front of the mirror were shelves filled with every alcoholic beverage – reflecting back at us. There were two pool tables in front of the bar. Like everything else in the house, the room was sleek, stylish, and beyond expensive. The room had hardwood floors and every single piece of cream colored furniture matched it perfectly.

To Paul's right, the biggest TV I had ever seen was surrounded by furniture to create a trumped out entertainment area.

"She can sleep here for the time being, that is, as long as she doesn't get in the way," the fat man stated as he gestured to one of the couches that had a folded-up blanket next to the gigantic TV.

"You have got to be joking, Anson." Jake growled out as his body trembled.

How the hell did this happen?

Could someone please explain to me why I am sleeping here?

So the trigger-happy man's name is Anson?

I wanted to tell Jake to shut his trap. I didn't want Anson anywhere near me after what happened less than an hour ago. Why did he have to argue with him? It'll only piss him off…

…I really, really don't like it when he's pissed.

That Russian roulette adventure was not something I wanted to experience again.

Plus, I need some friggin' answers.

"How 'bout a thank you," Anson snapped, "It's either this, or I've got a fantastic basement she can sleep in."

There were two sets of growling now.

"Jake." Sam barked, which resulted in both Paul and Jake to stop their growling.

"Now, you three are welcome to leave," Anson pointed at the Quileute men, "but, Jake, I expect to see you here again if you want to spend any time with your girl."

Your girl?

Okay, they're still talking about me?

Since when did I become his?

What the fuck is going on?

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