Warning: Graphic violence continues. If the last chapter was too disturbing, I suggest skimming until the italicized section, which contains sexuality. And if you aren't supposed to read that either (ie if you are a minor), you ignored my warning in the prologue and damn, have you been reading the wrong bedtime story.

X-x-x-x-X

June 6

X-x-x-x-X

It is mid-morning when Bella's right leg begins to throb all of a sudden, and noting her distress, the dog jumps onto the couch and nuzzles at her gently. She strokes behind its ears to distract herself. Rachel finally convinces Bella to take a cup of tea. But as soon as she reaches out to take it, she drops the mug with a cry of surprise and pain. As the liquid soaks into the carpet, tears spring to her eyes and she grabs at her right arm.

"What happened?" Rachel asks, alarmed, and the dog jumps to its feet and yips in surprise.

"His arm. It's broken!"

Billy rolls into the room from the kitchen, where he had been staring blankly at an untouched cup of yogurt. "What's happening?"

Bella cradles her arm protectively to her chest, but after only seconds, she lets go and presses her hands to her heart. "Oh. It stopped. The pain stopped."

"Why? What stopped? Why did it stop?" Rachel demands frantically, staring at Bella clutching her chest.

Bella tries to reassure her. "Alec must have used his power. It felt like this the last time, when they broke his leg. The pain was sudden, sharp, but all of a sudden, gone."

"So he's okay? I mean, he's not, he's not..."

Bella jumps to her feet, glaring at Rachel. "He's alive! I know he's alive. He has to be!"

Billy rolls toward her and catches her hand as the dog whimpers, looking back and forth between them. Dark circles have formed under Billy's bloodshot eyes, and his normally excellent posture has been replaced with a hunch. "You're right, Bella. You're right." She knows he is reassuring himself as much as he is reassuring her. "Let's clean up that mess, shall we?"

Rachel retrieves a few kitchen towels, and she and Bella do an absurdly thorough job sopping up the tea in their attempt to distract themselves from their fear. Rachel peeks at Bella from her position kneeling on the floor. "Do you think he's got anything yet?"

Bella looks at her watch. "He's only been gone fifteen minutes. I don't think he's made it to the station yet."

Rachel's face falls. "Oh. It felt like at least an hour. I wish we didn't just have to sit here worrying. I'm jealous of Leah. I know it's ridiculous; she'd love not to morph into a giant animal. But I'd give just about anything to be able to get out there and look for him. I hate being so helpless."

"Don't sell yourself so short, Rachel. We might not be able to help out right now, but he would never have killed Irina without your help. You helped save Leah's life."

"So did you! And you didn't just light a match. You ran into the thing with Leah's car, right? Paul said it was totally badass!"

"Yeah," Bella blushes. "That was just sort of dumb luck."

Billy shakes his head. "It was dumb, Bella, but it wasn't luck. It was bravery. Just like you were brave," he nods to his daughter, "when you ran down to help your brother and Leah. Your mother would be very proud. And appalled that you'd put yourself at risk. But still proud."

That brings out a hint of a smile on Rachel's lips. Bella stands, walking toward the laundry room with the wet towels. But right after she drops them in the hamper, the pain in her right arm suddenly returns. "Oh! He's awake again. Oh, god."

Rachel rushes in. "Is it something else? What's happening?"

Bella winces. "No, no. Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. It's still the arm. And the leg from last night, but that's not half as bad. It's okay. It's okay," she murmurs, mostly to herself.

"Does it hurt to stand on your leg? Maybe you should go lie down."

"I don't know," Bella shakes her head. "Whatever's happening isn't happening to me, so probably not."

"But it can't hurt, right? I don't want something to happen to him and have you fall and hit your head or something."

Bella doesn't want to lie down, but it might make Rachel feel better. Not to mention that she doesn't want Billy to see how much pain she is in. It will only make him worry about his son more than he already is. "Sure. Why not?"

So they make their way to the two twin beds in his room that Jacob has pushed together, and Bella lies down. Rachel sits down on the edge, then stands up and starts to walk away. She stops, turns around, uncertain what to do with herself, and finally lies down beside Bella and takes her hand. Bella doesn't refuse the touch. It isn't comforting in the way that Jacob's is, but she concentrates on the feeling of Rachel's warm skin to distract herself.

It doesn't work.

But when a sharp, stinging pain lances across her left flank, she cries out and involuntarilysqueezes Rachel's hand so hard that it hurts. Rachel sits up in alarm. "What was that?"

But before she can answer, the pain increases exponentially, sweeping across Bella's entire back. She screams. Billy's wheelchair gets stuck in the doorjamb in his rush to get inside to find out what is going on. Bella thrashes on the bed as each lash crosses Jacob's back. Tears stream down her face as she grits her teeth together and tries to hold in the shrieks racing up her throat. She rolls onto her side, facing the wall, and curls up into a ball. Rachel grabs her shoulder and wraps her own body around Bella's, not knowing what else to do, as Bella shakes and cries. The dog paces in the hallway and whines.

Later, Bella relaxes incrementally and chokes out, "Don't ask me. Please." She doesn't turn around to see the tears streaming down Billy's cheeks, but she feels the terror in Rachel's grip. Her back burns, but still she is not prepared for the line of agony that presses itself into her flesh. She screams again and arches involuntarily, almost smashing her skull into Rachel's face.

And although she eventually gets a few minutes of blissful reprieve, Bella despairs. She cannot stop crying even when all the pain disappears. She knows that if the pain does not return, neither will her Jacob. She weeps until the pain begins again.

Bella doesn't know how long it lasts, but she spends the entire time clutching at Rachel, who cries with her. Billy finally unwedges his chair from the doorway, and they hear him retching in the bathroom. After that, she is unable to hear anything above her own screams. She doesn't hear Billy on the phone with his sister pleading, "Then Collin has to try harder! Do you hear that? That's happening to my boy right now! He has to find him!"

When it finally stops, Rachel hears Bella muttering to herself softly. Over and over, she repeats, "He's alive. He's alive. He's alive." She can't help but think that Bella is only trying to convince herself.

After half an hour free of pain, Bella rises from Jacob's bed and calls her father. Very quietly, she says, "You have to find him, dad. They're hurting him."

A lump forms in Charlie's throat, preventing him from speech for several seconds. "What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Bella answers quietly. "It stopped for now. But you have to find him before they hurt him again."

Charlie tries to focus. "I ran the license plate Seth gave us and did a little checking. It's registered to a woman who died three years ago, which doesn't exactly jive with the fact that the car itself was only built last year. I'm trying to sort out the mess, see if it leads anywhere."

"Okay."

"The pack's out looking, right?"

"Yeah."

"He's going to be okay, Bella." Charlie tries to sound confident. "He's worth more alive to them than dead, okay?"

Bella has to hang up before she bursts into tears again. "Okay. I'll let you keep working."

"I'll let you know if I learn anything."

Bella wanders around the little red house for hours, dazed, until she sees a bottle of sunblock on his dresser. Tears threaten to overwhelm her as she thinks of the date they meant to have. More than anything, she wants to be playing on the beach with him, not stuck here waiting, unable to help him at all. But before she returns the bottle to its rightful locaton, the pain begins again. Then she curls up in a ball on Jacob's bed and tries not to scream.

X-x-x-x-X

Jacob regains awareness very suddenly. The first thing he registers is searing pain around his neck. He feels his arms restrained above his head and on either side of him. His ankles are similarly shackled, his feet about three feet apart. His eye snap open to reveal Caius reclined in a plush red velvet chair. Alec stands beside him smiling smugly. Jasmine is nowhere to be seen. One glance reveals the purpose of the unusual room. The walls are painted a rich brown. An ornate wardrobe stands in the corner, its doors opened to reveal an array of whips, chains, paddles, and other objects that Jacob can only guess at. In the other corner, a steel frame with a complicated set of harnesses and ropes hanging from the beams. Jacob himself is in the center of the room, tethered to sturdy metal girders. He is unable to turn his head to see what sits behind him.

Caius gestures at the room with a smile. "Do you like it?"

Jacob shrugs, then immediately regrets it. He realizes that Caius has wrapped razor wire around his neck. The movement pushed the blades further into his flesh. "Not my style." His voice is raspy. "I don't need all these ridiculous toys to please my partner, or show her who is in control."

Caius laughs in delight. "Toys, mmm? We'll see if you still think of them as toys when we're done with you." He stands and moves to the wardrobe, fingering the implements sensually. "Maybe we'll have time to try all of them. And then you can tell us which are your favorite. And we'll see how long it takes for you to learn who here is in control."

"This entire room is ridiculous," Jacob sneers. "Ripped straight out of a bad porno."

"Ah, I can't take credit for the cliched design. This room, the whole house, actually, belongs to an old friend of mine with rather pedestrian sexual tastes. He dabbles, plays at domination really, without having any real flair for it. But not everything is as banal as it looks. That St. Andrew's Cross, for instance, that you're shackled to. Try to free yourself. Go ahead."

Jacob just narrows his eyes at Caius. The restraint is strong. There is no weak link here for him to break. The shackles are welded to the metal, and the metal well-secured to the floor and ceiling. "Why, just to make these razors dig into my neck more?"

"Yes, well. I'm rather proud of that idea. That, for example, is something that my friend, the one whose house we are in, would never have thought of. I'm fairly certain you can't escape from those particular shackles, as everything in this room is designed to be strong enough to hold a vampire, not just a human. But just in case, since I don't want you morphing into that beast, restrained or not, I thought that wire might slow you down. You see, I noticed that your wolf is rather larger than you are. Impressive, actually, since you are so very tall to begin with. But that wire will not break if you change into a wolf. It will just slice open all the veins and arteries in your neck. Alright? So I suggest that you don't move."

Jacob doesn't answer.

"Not feeling very talkative now, are we?" Caius picks up a long whip. "That's alright. We'll get there, you and I. You'll tell me what I want to know." He starts to circle the cross. "Let's start with the animals. I thought perhaps they were true animals, but that's not the case, is it? Each one of you is a woman or a man, are you not? How many of you are there?"

Jacob just glares at Caius as he walks past.

"No? Nothing? How about this. I'll lash you for every one that I saw. And then we'll see what you say." He pulls the whip taut between his fists and flicks it out to the side, where it makes a snapping sound.

"The silver one who leapt on my secretary." The whip stings against Jacob's chest, opening a thin red line. Jacob makes no sound. "That's one."

"The brown one who helped him." A burning stroke in the opposite direction, releasing more blood. Jacob closes his eyes. "That's two."

"The huge black one who stayed with them." A tear across both thighs. Jacob grunts. "That's three."

"The spotted one that ran after Afton. He makes four." A slice on his right arm. "I'd love to know how they knew he was there, by the way. Perhaps you'd like to tell me?" Another across his left. Jacob hisses in pain, but says nothing.

"Five. The other brown one who went with the Cullens." Another lash against his chest. "Who deserve even worse than you're getting right now. Turncoats," he growls, and strikes Jacob once more for each of them.

"For that matter," he spits out, "This is for Carlisle, that traitor." The whip stings Jacob's left cheek. "His pathetic little wife." The right cheek. "The seer." His right side. "And her mate." Across his stomach.

"Ready to tell me about the rest of them, then? Tell me about your relationship with the pathetic vegetarian vampires," he sneers.

Jacob spits at him, the sticky globule landing on Caius's shirt. "Fuck you."

Caius swipes it away with a frown of distaste. "Thank you, no. You're really not my type. Although the owner of this house would appreciate you, other than that awful smell. Good thing we don't need to breathe, eh? Perhaps when we're done, I'll leave you here as a little thank you gift for granting us use of the facilities." He stretches out the whip again. "At any rate, I'm rather glad you haven't given in yet. I was hoping to finish my count. There's the little gray one who arrived right at the end. Almost had me there. A bitch, I think? She's the sixth. She's worth at least three lashes." And the whip crosses Jacob's abdomen again, and again, and again. Jacob gasps from the agony.

"And the lovely little thing that we brought with us." This stroke opens another line across both of Jacob's legs. Caius returns to the wardrobe and sets down the whip, exchanging it for a wicked-looking mace on the end of a long chain. "Seven."

"And finally, you yourself. Eight." He begins to swing the chain around and around, walking slowly toward Jacob. Gradually, the spiked end comes closer and closer to Jacob's face. He watches it approach, his gut churning with nausea and pain, but keeps his mouth closed. "Have any answers for me?" Jacob just closes his eyes. "I was hoping that would be your answer. I do love using these things." And he buries the mace in Jacob's belly, slicing it open in three lines. Jacob screams. His entire body is on fire with the pain. The sensation almost saves him. He couldn't form coherent words to answer and betray his pack even if he wanted to. His head lolls forward. All his energy is focused on healing his injuries. He can spare none to keep his head upright.

Caius steps back, dropping the mace and folding his arms across his chest. He stares at Jacob in fascination, murmuring, "Beautiful."

Alec comes up behind him, his red eyes shining with sadistic satisfaction. "Look at the trails of blood, Caius. Almost a shame it smells so repulsive."

"Although perhaps we should be grateful for that. You and I both would have lost our battle against our thirst long before, were it not for the awful stench. This way, look at the art we are creating."

"He heals so quickly! It's like stop motion photography." Alec marvels, and they stop to watch his skin. The gaping wounds in Jacob's abdomen still gape open, but the bleeding has already slowed. And of the slices in his flesh made by the whip, his dark skin is crossed back and forth with bright red lines, but only a few still openly weep.

"What next, do you think? What else shall we try?" Caius peers into the wardrobe.

"I don't think you really need those. I'd like to try, but not with any of that." Alec waves his hand dismissively at the wardrobe.

"What do you have in mind?"

Alec cautiously approaches Jacob, who still hangs limply from the cross. "I'd like to feel a bone breaking and knitting back together."

"Be my guest!" Caius says magnanimously, with a sweeping gesture of his arm.

Alec examines Jacob closely, finally selecting one of the gashes crossing Jacob's upper abdomen. Rib is still exposed. He tentatively pushes his index and middle fingers into the wound as Jacob snarls at him. Gently, carefully, he pushes forward with the tips of his fingers, until he hears a crack, and the bone splits beneath the pressure. Jacob chokes and curses at him, and he looks up curiously into Jacob's angry face. But he keeps his fingers in the wound, holding it open, to feel the bone come together.

Caius looks over his shoulder. "Do you feel anything?"

"It's the oddest thing. It's resisting my hand." For the next several minutes, he doesn't move. Jacob almost passes out, but there is no such relief for him.

Eventually, Caius grows bored of simply watching. "I want to feel."

"This one?" Alec asks. "Or a fresh one?"

"I'd like to feel it from the start."

"Of course." Alec steps aside, and Caius pulls out his blade.

He chooses the ribs on the opposite side and touches the tip to Jacob's skin. He smiles at him in a parody of a reassuring expression and murmurs, "Don't worry. This won't hurt a bit."

And then he slices the skin open. Jacob hisses and struggles against his bonds, but there is nowhere to go. So when Caius presses his fingers in the cut and snaps another rib, asking, "So, are you ready to talk?", all Jacob can do is scream.

But the blinding pain clears his mind. His entire world has narrowed into this small room, these two monsters. When he is finally able to form words again, he looks Caius in the eyes and whispers, "Never."

Alec looks between Jacob and Caius. "I don't think you're going to get any answers out of him this way."

Caius whirls to glare at Alec, removing his hand from Jacob's body. "Then what do you suggest? I don't suppose he'll accept a bribe. The bitch wasn't exactly forthcoming."

"Although she wept like a baby, and you didn't inflict nearly so much pain on her.

Caius steps close to Jacob, examining him thoughtfully. "Bring her in," he murmurs.

Alec disappears, and Caius settles into the chair, smiling darkly at Jacob, who keeps his eyes closed as his head tips forward. Otherwise he can see the wounds in his abdomen, and somehow, knowing just how gruesome they look makes the pain even worse. Instead, Jacob pulls up a mental image of his Bella, smiling at him over her shoulder, giggling as he chases her down the beach, laughing as she allows herself to be caught and rolled into the sand. His Bella will be safe, and that is all that matters.

By the time Alec drags Jasmine in, her eyes open and blinking in confusion against the blinding smoke surrounding her, her dress tattered and almost falling off her body, dried blood flaking off her skin, Jacob's wounds have mostly closed.

"Ah, here she is. Wrap her in chains. But leave a little bit exposed," Caius commands.

Alec opens a drawer in the wardrobe and draws out a length of chain, the links even thicker than the ones used on them in the last room. He winds it around Jasmine's body, starting at her ankles, wrapping her as tight as a mummy. The chain goes up to her hips, where Alec padlocks it tight. He takes out a second chain and binds her arms against her sides from her shoulders to her elbows, leaving her forearms and hands free. Then he drops her rudely to the floor and lifts his mist.

Jasmine squirms and twists, but there is nowhere for her to go. Caius kicks her over so that she faces Jacob. She moans a wordless cry of grief when she sees him bound to the St. Andrew's Cross, newly healed scars marring his skin, trails of still-wet blood dripping down his body and pooling to the floor, droplets of blood oozing from around the wounds in his neck where the razors bite him. He croaks out, "It's okay. I'm okay."

Caius kneels over Jasmine and says, "Your companion has been less than revealing, much like yourself. So I'm going to try something else. I'm going to ask you some questions. And for every one that you don't answer, I draw another line." He slides his curved knife out of its sheath, hanging at his hip, and holds it only millimeters in front of her left eye. Jasmine holds her breath and doesn't move.

He stands and walks to Jacob, running his fingers through the blood on Jacob's chest, tracing a swirling pattern. He presses the tip of the blade into Jacob's skin, drawing a fresh drop of blood. "First question." He turns back to Jasmine. "How many of you are there?"

Jasmine's eyes grow wide and terrified, but bound by Jacob's Alpha order not to speak, she is unable to respond. She shakes her head wildly and groans an incomprehensible sound. Caius frowns and draws the blade down, drawing a superficial slice in Jacob's chest and abdomen. Jacob grits his teeth and tears spring to his eyes. Jasmine begins to weep, but she can say nothing.

Now Caius starts to get irritated. "How many?" he demands, and slashes another slice next to the first. Jacob snarls and gasps. Jasmine moans again, then begins to gesture at her mouth with her hands. Caius cocks his head at her, frowning. She closes her fists, then begins to open her fingers one by one.

Alec gasps. "Oh! You're trying to answer! One, two, three, four..."

"Stop!" Jacob roars an Alpha order. "Don't give anything away! Not even if they kill me!"

Jasmine cries out, shutting her eyes in frustration and closing her fists shut instantly.

"Do you want to watch us kill him?" Caius yells. "This doesn't have to be so difficult! If you won't tell me how many of you there are, tell me where to find the rest of you!"

Jasmine just shakes her head.

"Fine! Then he gets another pretty mark on his chest!" And he makes a horizontal slash just below Jacob's clavicles. Jasmine sobs, looking at Jacob and shaking her head back and forth. "No? Nothing?" Caius continues. "Then how about this?" And he fiercely drives his knee into Jacob's right leg, rebreaking the newly healed fracture.

Jacob howls in pain, and Jasmine screams. He himself is close to breaking, and the sound of her wails almost puts him over the edge. "Fuck you, you filthy leech!" Jacob screams.

"Tell me what I want to know!" Caius rages. "Who are you, how many of you are there, and where do I find the rest of them?" He drops his knife to the floor and starts pummelling Jacob with punches to his partly-healed gut. Air rushes out of Jacob's lungs as his body burns. He heaves and grunts with each blow, pain making his vision blurry.

And behind Caius, Jasmine screams. She has no words, no rebuttal, no way to defend her imprint and her Alpha, so she gives the only protest she can.

Alec looks between them. "Caius," he calls out. He has to repeat it several times, as the ancient monster has lost himself in his abuse. "Caius. Caius, I don't think she can answer."

"What?" Caius turns around.

"Look at her." Alec gestures to Jasmine, writhing on the ground and shrieking, tears streaming into her hair. "She would tell you if she could." He points at Jacob. "He stopped her. Remember?"

Caius blinks and whips his head back and forth, looking at both of them. "Remember what, exactly?"

"Earlier he said, 'Don't say a word.' Those exact words. And she literally hasn't said one word since then. And she was in the middle of answering your question. With her fingers. She was counting out the number of them. And as soon as he told her to, she stopped. I think she can't answer you because he told her not to. He has some kind of hold over her."

Jasmine has stopped squirming and whimpering, and lays still on the floor, staring at Alec. Caius narrows his eyes. "He's right, isn't he?" Jasmine doesn't move, so he turns back to Jacob. "You are the shaman. You have power over the rest of them. It's true." He points back at Jasmine. "I know her kind. She shouldn't be able to withstand what we're doing to you, and she definitely shouldn't have been able to withstand what we did to her. But she didn't talk because she couldn't. Not like you."

He grins sadistically at Jacob. "There's no point in torturing you. Except for fun, of course," he laughs. Then he walks back to the wardrobe. "I think you'll end up unconscious before I learn anything from you. And I need you awake if I am to learn anything more from you." He fingers various implements one by one. "There is one thing I think I can learn from you right now, though." He turns around, a cat o' nine tails in his hand. "This will do nicely. Not quite as pretty as the one I have at home." He approaches, holding the weapon with both palms open and facing upward, displaying it to Jacob. "My favorite has a much nicer handle. A master craftsman etched the prettiest pattern into the femur bone of one of my favorite whores and embedded it in the grip. But the rest of it is the same. These little barbs on the end? They're my design. I gifted this one to my friend. Let's see how it works on her, shall we?" And in a flash, he is standing over Jasmine. He kicks her onto her belly and tears the fabric of her dress in the opening between the chains on her upper and lower body.

"Don't touch her!" Jacob roars.

"No? Not like this?" And with a flick of his wrist, Caius tears nine thin lines across the skin of Jasmine's lower back. She screams.

"You monster! Stop! I'll tell you what you want to know! Just don't hurt her!"

Caius straightens. "Ah, so you can be cooperative. So how many of you are there?"

Jacob squeezes his eyes shut tightly and grits his teeth together.

Caius lifts the whip again. "Do you need more motivation?"

"Eight," Jacob lies. "You've seen us all."

Caius whips Jasmine's back again, and she cries out. "How many?"

"Eight!" Jacob screams back. "We didn't know if there would be two of you or twenty. We brought our entire force!"

"And where are the rest of them?"

"I don't know where they are right now, probably looking for us."

"What about the bear? You said eight, but there are at least nine. The bear attacked us."

"The bear is just a bear. I asked it for help," Jacob denies. "It wasn't very hard to convince. It knows you're monsters."

"So the bear isn't one of you?" Caius looks skeptical.

"You saw eight wolves and one bear. You do the math."

Alec scoffs, "You asked it for help?"

"One of my many talents," Jacob spits back sarcastically.

Caius changes his line of questioning. "Where do you live?"

Jacob lies smoothly and immediately. "All over. I live where you found us."

"No one lives in those parks," Caius sniffs.

"Exactly. No one else lives there. Where else do you think eight giant wolves are going to live? Condos? We're part of the land. There is no other untouched wilderness. Some prefer the Cascades, or Mt. Rainier."

It is plausible enough that Caius doesn't push further. "And why on earth are you fighting alongside the Cullens? Why are you protecting them?"

Now Jacob tells the truth. There is no reason to lie, and peppering truths with falsehoods will hopefully make his answers more believable. "Our loyalty lies with Carlisle and Rosalie. They've helped us in the past. The grey female wolf?"

"What about her?" Caius frowns. "She was injured badly when she fought Irina. Carlisle and Rosalie helped her. We owe her life to them."

"So Tanya was telling the truth," Caius nods.

"Doubtful," Jacob snorts. "Half truths, if that. We never touched Jane, Felix, or Chelsea."

Alec jumps forward. "Liar! You killed my sister!"

Jacob shakes his head as far as the wire around his neck allows him to. "Why would I lie? You already have me here, and I know you're not letting me out alive. I'd gladly take credit for her death if I was responsible for it. I've killed plenty of bloodsuckers. But not her."

"If you didn't kill them, how did you know who we were looking for?" Alec retorts.

"Until they disappeared, Alice Cullen gave us information."

Caius narrows his eyes. "And where are they now?"

"Do you really think they'd tell us where they went? I don't know. Rosalie and Emmett don't know. And even if we did have a location at one point, which we never did, I have to assume they're moving around. It isn't as if they need to stay in one place, is it? All they need is a source of animal blood."

Caius grins at him. "I'm surprised you get along with them. After all, you are basically animals yourselves."

"We're at the top of the food chain, just like they are," Jacob answers.

"Yes, I suppose you are," Caius nods. "Your wolves are rather marvelous, aren't they? The size of horses. But even that is nothing compared to your trick with the lightning and the fire. I'd like to see those again, I think." Alec glares at Caius, who sees the black scorch marks crossing his face. "Ah, well, not one of those sorts of demonstrations, no. Both of us have had enough of being shocked, I think. But perhaps you could set those ropes on fire?" He points to the harness in the corner.

"I can't. Not like this."

"Not like what?"

"You found me in that trance, remember? I can't achieve that state like this. Stung up here with this shit around my neck? I can withstand a lot of pain, but I can't get into that trance in the middle of it."

Caius crosses his arms over his chest, eyeing Jacob skeptically. "I don't think I believe you."

"Believe, don't believe. It's still the truth."

"Bullshit," Caius sneers. Then he whips Jasmine's back three times and glares at Jacob. "Show me! Show me what you can do!"

"Nothing! Nothing like this," Jacob yells back. "Stop hurting her! Don't you think that if I could access my powers, I'd have done it already? To hurt you, and to escape? Do you think we'd still be chained up here if I could use my powers? If I could use them, we'd be free, and you'd be dead!"

The half-truth works. It makes too much sense. "Fine. But what else can you do? In your trance, I mean."

Jacob just glares at him until he raises the whip over Jasmine. "You saw what I can do. Control the weather. Rain, lightning, thunder. Speak with animals. Call down fire." He leaves out details of the actual spirit walk, which is the only skill that gives him any hope here. If he can spirit walk outside, he can figure out where he is and notify his pack.

"And the others?"

"Wolves. No one has my powers, except some can speak to animals. As you said, I am the shaman, and we are all animals."

"And her?" Alec asks, pointing at Jasmine.

"She has her wolf."

Caius glances at Alec. "Take her back to the other room."

Alec drops his mist over Jasmine and throws her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, then disappears from the room. Caius stares, assessing him, until Alec returns. Jacob licks his parched lips. "If you want any more answers from us, you'll need to give us water. I've lost too much blood. And I need to take a piss."

Alec shakes his head. "Why should we care about your weak human needs?"

"If you like the smell of urine, I'll go ahead and let loose right here. But I'm still going to pass out eventually if you don't give me something to drink."

Caius tilts his head, considering, then nods at Alec. Jacob watches the vampire's smoke approach him, and his pain, along with everything else, disappears for several wonderful minutes. When he regains awareness, he is alone but still shackled to the cross, but his shorts are gone, and a bucket is between his feet. He relieves himself, and then Alec appears to takes the bucket away.

Caius reenters. "Humans are disgusting, and I have no desire to watch that. I think I'll not give you water. I'd hate for you to have to do that again." He begins to pace. "Now, now. What to do about you. I'd like a few minutes to confer with my colleague. Alec, do you mind?"

Very low, enough that a normal human would not hear, Alec whispers, "He isn't the only thirsty one. I need to eat, and soon."

Caius answers in rapid-fire, low speech, not meant for Jacob's ears. "I do not trust him not to free himself while you are gone."

"Knock him out," Alec suggests. "It worked before. You can watch the girl while he's under, and you'll be here to restrain him if he wakes and tries to escape, and I'll bring something back for the both of us."

Caius grins. "I like the way you think. But you should stay here. You can incapacitate them more easily than I can." And before Jacob has a chance to figure out how to prevent it, Caius grabs him by his hair and slams his head backward into the metal beam again and again until he feels no more. He has no idea when Caius departs to search for a victim, and is wholly unaware of Alec moving down the hall to see if he can get any more information out of Jasmine.

Jacob's spirit wanders. There is darkness behind him. It is pure black and wholly evil. He runs, but his feet feel like they are buried in quicksand. No matter how hard he pushes, he cannot speed up. Black smoke swirls around him, suffocating and acrid. He can't see his own hand in front of his face. Even so, he knows where to go. His heart pulls him forward.

There is comfort ahead. Somewhere in the inky black, there is solace. Warmth. He can feel it. And so he moves forward blindly, eyes trying to pierce through the dark.

And then he sees it. A yellow glow struggling against the dark. He pushes himself, his eyes tearing and lungs burning from the choking smoke. But he knows where to go, and he moves ever forward.

And he finds himself in front of his home. Light shines in every window. It is warm and welcoming and beckons him inside.

His Bells is there.

He eagerly pushes open the front door, slamming it against the fog. He runs into his bedroom, throwing open that door as well. She unfurls herself from the little ball she had tucked herself into and wipes the tears from her face. "Where have you been?" she cries, sobbing.

He kneels down and wraps himself around her. "I'm right here." He kisses the top of her head, then every inch of her face.

She pulls back, holding him at arm's length so she can look at him. She runs her fingers across his cheeks and her thumb over his bottom lip. She stares at him with wide eyes, unbelieving. "You're here?"

He grasps her hands in his and kisses each knuckle gently. Then he pulls her up and presses his lips to hers. "I'm here."

They hold each other for what feels like hours, but probably isn't. They breathe each other in. She allows his presence to comfort her, and hers to comfort him. And the longer they stay in each other's arms, the harder it is to remember that anything was ever wrong. She finally breaks away to run her hands over his skin. She peers at him with concern while she still remembers that something is amiss. "Are you hurt?"

He frowns. "Should I be?" He can't recall, but here and now, he feels perfect. She is here, so everything is as it should be. Except for the nagging feeling that soon, it won't be. He can't stand the thought, so he shoves it aside.

"I don't know." She shakes her head in frustration. "I just don't know."

"I don't know either," he admits. He cups her cheeks in his hands, then kisses her gently on her forehead. He looks into her warm eyes and knows that no one else sees him the way she does. Knows that no one else sees into his heart, sees the truth of him, sees every strength and flaw, every fear masked as bravery, each anxiety covered with bravado, and still loves him for exactly who he is. But as she stares back at him, she knows that he works past every flaw, overcomes every fear, and turns each anxiety into bravery. But most of all, in his eyes she sees love.

He sees the movement of her pulse in her neck, and knows that no matter what happens to him, so long as her heart beats, he will have a reason to go on. The corners of his lips turn up in a smile, and he cannot be sad. Here, he has exactly what he needs.

His fear subsides.

"Does it matter?" He tilts her chin up with the tip of his finger. He wants to feel good. He wants her to feel good. So he kisses her again, gently. She doesn't stop him, so he parts his lips, and it turns passionate. Her mouth opens, and she tastes him. She tries to drink him in, wanting to absorb him so that he is a permanent part of her. Her body becomes pliant against his, whatever anxiety she feels melting away. He shifts against her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her flush against him. In return, she clutches at his shoulders, his back, his arms. She still doesn't quite believe he is here.

He, in turn, is deeply grateful to be in her presence. He knows what it is like to be without her, and wishes he never has to experience it again. But it simply isn't possible. But here, tonight, he will give himself to her once again, and have her as his own.

He lowers her to the bed. He can't decide if it is worth separating their bodies long enough to pull her shirt over her head. He fingers the edge and vaguely recognizes it as one of his own. He delays the decision by kissing her again and squeezing at her hips, waist, and ribcage. She is here, and she is his, and nothing else matters.

But she remembers that something does. He is above her, kissing her like it's the last time he'll ever get the chance, and when that thought finally registers in her brain, she tries to push him back. "Wait, wait."

"Mmm." He doesn't stop. He just drops kisses along her jaw, down her neck, suckles at the spot behind her ear that drives her mad. So she squirms as the sensation washes over her, and her train of thought is derailed. His tongue, his lips, his teeth, his hands, she cannot think about anything else. "You taste so good," he moans.

He finally decides that he needs access to the rest of her skin more than he needs anything else, so he leans back just far enough to start dragging up her shirt. She looks at the serious expression on his face, the hard line of his jaw, and the little furrow between his brow. Something about his desperate edge triggers something in her.

"Hold on." She grabs his wrist.

But he refuses to stop. He never wants to stop. He wants to lose himself in her body, in her heart, and never find his way out again. It isn't just about lust. It is about belonging. "I need you," he shakes his head, and he pulls her shirt above her breasts. When he sees them, his mouth begins to water, and he licks his lips.

And before she can utter another protest, he descends on her. He nips, he bites, he licks, and he tugs. He braces himself with one arm and runs his other hand across every accessible patch of flesh. She arches and drags her fingers through his hair, and she forgets about anything else except the sensation of him against her. When he suckles on one side and traces the outline of the mark on her breast with the other, she opens her legs and he falls between them. He lavishes attention on the subtle indentation that brands her as his. She braces her feet against the mattress and pushes her still-clothed hips against his belly, and he grinds himself into her and into the linens beneath them.

He releases her breast with a pop and blows hot air across the peak, and he growls, "I need to please your body. I need you to feel good." He doesn't voice it, but there is a primal urge for an unknown something, nagging at the edges of his consciousness, that he can only find in her. He tugs the shirt over her head.

It triggers another buried memory. "Why?" she moans as he lowers himself down against her once more. "Why do we need to feel good so badly?"

He ignores her. Whatever memories she is trying to dredge up are too awful to consider. All he wants is to pleasure them both before he returns to whatever Hell he came from, and to seek his salvation in her. He draws her breast deep into his mouth and massages with his tongue, and with his free hand he hooks the edge of her panties and starts to nudge them down her slim legs.

He manages to push them off, but when he wants to slide his hand between her thighs, has to move himself out of the way to do so. It separates him from her long enough for her to remember again. "Jacob." She pushes at his shoulders. He growls and nips at her breast. "Jacob, what's going on?"

He fingers her soft lips, finding them bare, wet, and ready for him, so he slides two fingers deep inside her. "I'm pleasing your sweet pussy with my hand," he mumbles. And after he demonstrates, he pulls out and sucks her flavor off his fingers greedily. Then he rubs his thumb over her clitoris, pushes his fingers back inside, and kisses her skin again as she moans and succumbs. When he realizes she isn't protesting, he lifts his head up again to say, "I'm going to make you come with my fingers. And then I'm going to take you with my cock until you come all over that too."

And then he proceeds to do just that.

He knows exactly how to touch her. He knows exactly what she likes. He knows what makes her wet, what makes her tremble, what makes her wild. He knows how to replace every fleeting thought in her brain with want. He knows the fastest way to break her apart.

So he reaches deep in her body and pumps as firmly as she can stand. The heel of his hand bumps her clitoris over and over. He nudges her head to turn to the side and tongues the spot behind her ear that makes her entire body vibrate, and then he murmurs in her ear exactly what she feels like trapped beneath him and around his touch. He describes in lurid detail all the things he wants to do to her when he removes his hand and replaces it with his cock. In the back of his mind, he knows that he will be yanked away from her before he gets a chance to do most of them, but he doesn't care. He will take what he can before he goes, he will give everything he has, and he can only hope it will be enough.

And when he stops the pistoning of his fingers long enough to curl and sweep, again, and again, and again, when he bends his thumb in to circle her clitoris gently, when he licks and suckles his way down to the mark on her breast and carefully reclaim her as his once more with his teeth, he knows the exact moment when she loses awareness of everything around her except him.

Her pleasure is his pleasure, and he drags it out of her and surrounds them both with it.

But his sheets feel like sandpaper against his arousal. The only thing that will relieve the bristling sensation is Bella. So as soon as she opens her eyes, and he is certain by the frantic look in them that she needs more of him inside her than his hand, he drags his fingers away.

Normally, he would take this opportunity to slowly let her down and build her back up slowly. He would extend their time together as long as possible by bringing her close and then making her beg, over and over, until she couldn't take it any more. But although he won't admit it, he knows they cannot stay here forever, and he simply doesn't have the time.

So he kneels between her legs and spreads her moisture over himself with his palm, stroking himself into sheer desperation. It delays his entry into her, but it makes her want him as badly as he wants her. She picks her head off the pillow to watch, and her mouth drops open as she forgets to breathe.

He growls, "Should I come all over your beautiful breasts? On your belly?"

Her eyes close involuntarily as she imagines it, and she bites her bottom lip. It nearly sends him over the edge. "You promised you'd fuck me first," she whispers.

"Uhh. I did, didn't I?" He sits on his heels, tugs her ass onto his thighs, and flicks the head of his penis against her clitoris until he is calmed down enough to fuck her thoroughly, but she is just on the edge.

And when she reaches out to grab his forearms, her nails digging exquisitely into him, he groans and gives in. He grabs her by the hips and pulls her onto him.

She is full with him, stretched to her limit. Nothing else could possibly feel this way. No other man, no other mate, no other love. She squeezes his wrists to hold him still, and he barely manages not to shove her back to pound into her. Since she can't take any thrusting yet, he frees one hand to thumb her clitoris again, and she immediately starts to spasm around him and call out his name.

He grins and stares down at her, his eyes glowing in the dim room. His mate is irresistible. He waits until his touch becomes too much for her, and then he returns his hands to her waist and starts moving her against him. He pushes his hips against hers as he pulls her onto him, then pulls her almost off. He repeats the motion again, and again, and again.

She cries out and reaches up to brace one arm against the wall above her head and the other at the top of the bed to keep from sliding away from him. The movement pushes her breasts toward him, and he roars a sound of pure lust at the sight. He yanks her waist up higher, tugging her into an undulating arch for each slide onto his length. The angle drives his broad head into her g-spot, and within seconds she is climaxing again.

He snarls as he holds her steady, her back several inches off the bed, mindlessly slamming into her as she shakes and cries and comes.

And then he is unable to delay his need any longer. He wants to extend his time with her as long as possible, hold them here where there is no one except them and nothing but love and bliss, but he cannot. He slides his hands up between her shoulderblades and yanks her up against him. "You're mine," he growls into her ear, and he shoves her down onto his cock. He holds her still, trying to hang on to the last remnants of his control. He wants her to come just one more time, and he hopes that in their coupling, he finds what he needs.

Her orgasms have left her feeling boneless atop him. She feels him pulsing inside her, relishing the sensation of being as close as they can possibly be. "I'm yours," she moans. Her head drops forward onto his shoulder as she feels one of his arms wrap around her waist, holding her immobile on his shaft, his other wrapping around her back and hanging onto her shoulder.

And then he lowers his own mouth to the mark on the back of her shoulder. His breath washes over it, and her arousal is renewed.

It opens up a new need in her. He senses this, and reaches out his tongue to flick against it. She whimpers and quivers on top of him. He tightens his hold on her waist, but there is no way to pound into her like he really wants to and keep contact with the mark on her skin.

"I want... I need..." she pants.

"I know," he groans.

She rises up on her knees as best she can, and lowers herself on him once more. He grunts and shudders beneath her, and she wants more. He loosens his grip, helping to lift her up and up, then yanks her back down, and she cries out. He does it again, and again, and soon she is riding him hard, him twisting his hips against her. Heat multiples between them. Sweat slicks against them. He mutters epithets that bounce off the walls. She repeats his name and calls out to God.

She opens her eyes and sees a droplet of perspiration roll down his cheek, along the neck, and nestle into the dip above his collarbone, and a flash of memory passes through her mind. She wants to drink it in, drink all of him in, so she laps it up with her tongue. He is salty and delicious, and she needs more of him. And as he feels her tasting his skin, he knows that they are close to finding that which he seeks, here in this place of safe harbor.

So as he starts to lose control, as his words turn into unintelligible growls, as his fingers dig so tightly into her skin that she thinks they might meld into her, she begins to suckle at the tender skin atop his trapezius muscle, where his neck meets his shoulder.

He can't take it any more. His cock is hard to the point of pain. He slips his hands down to palm her ass, holding her tightly in place, rises up on his knees, and starts to pound into her. His world narrows down to her pussy and her skin.

She, in turn, is already lost, overwhelmed by her final climax. The only thing anchoring her to the world is him. Electricity flows over and around her, landing in the twin bite marks on her shoulder and breast. She wants to share the energy with him, and he with her. So when he lowers his lips to the mark on her shoulder, worrying it as he slams into her, she opens her own mouth and closes her teeth on his clavicle. Jacob snarls in ecstatic fulfillment and buries himself into her as far as he can go. Yes. Oh, yes. This. This is what he needs.

Bella feels every point of contact between their bodies, and she knows nothing else. Simultaneously, they bite firmly into each other's flesh. He explodes into her at the same moment she enters him, and their bodies complete a sacred circle. Their past and their future unite in this singular moment, and they merge once more.

Minutes later, she finds herself collapsed on top of him. She isn't certain how or when, but he lowered them to the bed. He groans as she rolls off of him and settles into the crook of his shoulder.

He fingers the mark on her breast. "I love it when you mark me," he sighs.

"Me too," she answers.

"I wish it would stay."

She picks up her head to look at the outline of her teeth in his skin. It has already healed over, but the line remains. She touches it lightly and he shudders under her fingertips. "Honey, it feels so good."

"I know. Mine do too," she answers.

"Everywhere you touch me feels so..." He struggles to find the right words. He thinks to himself that he is fundamentally changed. That knowing her has shifted something inside him, pushed it into place where it was always meant to be, and it can never go back. That she is now a permanent part of him.

She nods. Hers feel the same. "I know," she repeats.

"I want it to last. I want to carry you with me everywhere I go."

And then she remembers that he will disappear, and her face falls. "I don't want you to go."

"Me neither. Was that why you tried to stop me earlier?" he asks.

She shakes her head. "I don't know. Something just doesn't feel right."

"I know. I'm sorry I distracted you from wanting to talk. I just needed you."

"I needed you too," she admits. "I always need you. How long will you stay?"

He reaches up to cup her cheek. "As long as I can."

She nuzzles into his palm. "I missed you. I'm going to miss you when you go."

"Me too."

She can feel tears building up. "Do you have to go?"

"I don't want to." He shakes his head and struggles to remember what happens outside this house, outside this room. "But I don't think it's my choice."

A single tear falls onto his neck, breaking his heart. "Why? I want you to stay. I want to stay here with you."

He crushes her to him. "I do too. I don't ever want to leave you."

She starts to sob, her entire form shaking, until she has to pull away to gasp in air. And in so doing, she catches sight of his unremarkable curtains. She sits up suddenly, grabbing at his wrist. "Jacob, do you remember? The window!"

He looks up at her, confused. "Yeah?"

Everything outside this room is blurry and hazy. But everything that happens here is crystal clear. "I found you. Do you remember? Months ago. You were sleeping in the woods. I found you as your wolf. And again, not long ago." She reaches for the curtains and parts them.

And what she sees makes her scream.

X-x-x-x-X

A/N: Thanks once again to my wonderful beta, Babs81410. Next update will be Friday.