Let's get a little more clarity about what's going on, shall we? BTW, I've never had a story pulled from ffn for content, but I also post on AO3 just in case.
Deştepta
Pairing: E/B endgame, but wolfpack fans will like the beginning
Rating: Are you kidding?
Setting: College AU
All standard disclaimers apply
Two things happen very, very swiftly: first, Sam withdraws from her fast enough to cause a legitimate grunt of discomfort. Next, the pretty stranger slams into them with the swift grace of the most delicate of deadly predators—a cobra, maybe, or a hawk. Nothing so clumsy or awkward as a bear or a big cat. His body collides with Sam's, knocking both men to the floor, catching Bella's back with his shoulder as he lunges. The snarl that rips from his throat is utterly inhuman.
So is that shoulder.
Just that little clip and Bella and Jacob are down, too. She groans, wishing she could rub the throbbing spot where he bumped her, but she can't reach.
"You okay, baby?" Jake holds her tightly, grunting as he yanks her away from the two men now snarling at each other, locked in combat on the floor. "Stay back. Let Sam take care of this." He picks her up as if she weighs nothing, setting them both back on their feet and placing his bulk between her and the fight.
His cock has softened and slipped from her, and this irritates the hell out of Bella—far more than ending up horizontal on the floor did. She was having a really good time with that cock and now she doesn't know when she'll get it back. She decides she doesn't like this intruder. Fistfights at a frat party are nothing new, but this is her welcome-back party and she doesn't appreciate the interruption.
Neither, apparently, does Sam. He proves he's not fucking around when he curses and, a moment later, the world...shifts. It feels like stumbling down a stair she wasn't expecting, or slipping off a curb. Her equilibrium disappears and she clings to Jacob's warm, sweaty skin, hugging herself to him like a koala, her belly flipping like she's riding a too-swift elevator. The sensation lasts only a heartbeat, and when it ebbs an unnaturally large black wolf stands in Sam's place, dark gold eyes narrowed at the stranger. His lips curl back, revealing the daggers of his teeth as he snarls. His hackles lift the fur along his spine and he crouches low, daring the intruder to fuck with him again.
Bella's impressed. Were that snarl directed at her, she'd probably piss herself.
"Sam says again to stay back, baby." Jacob's tight voice reveals his unease but not the answers Bella wants.
"Why?" Her heart slams against her ribs as she lets Jake put his body between her and the stranger. She's seen the boys phase before, but never like this. Never in response to a threat. She swallows hard, still mostly pissed off but beginning to feel a little nervous, too. Sam's not a nice guy, exactly, and he seems ready to rip this stranger's throat out. She'd really prefer her welcome-back party not end in rivers of blood. Her eyes narrow at the pretty stranger, who drops into a fighter's crouch and faces Sam without fear. Fucking idiot. Is he high on something? She saw no sign of it in his black eyes. "What is he?" she demands. No way is pretty-boy human. Not if he was able to knock her and Jacob flat with just a little bump. Not if he can face down Sam like he thinks he has a chance against a fucking werewolf.
"It doesn't matter. He can't have you," Jake mutters. "Keep back from me a little; Sam may order me to phase, too." He yanks his jeans up around his hips and buttons them. Bella ignores the command. She's not afraid of these men shifting.
The pretty boy tears his eyes from Sam's menacing bulk to look at her, which Bella considers stupid in the extreme considering the fucking werewolf prepared to attack. His gaze is so black, so...cold. An inadvertent chill drips like ice water down her spine. At the same time, a wholly inappropriate flame of desire kindles low in her belly. "Are you hurt?" he snaps, speaking for the first time.
Oh, that voice. Something about it turns her to jelly. It's smooth as honey, yet hard as steel. She presses close to Jacob's hot back and feels him tense as the flame inside her flares hotter in response to that silk-steel voice, her scent changing, deepening as desire awakens in her blood once more. All three men snarl.
"Of course I'm not hurt." She frowns at the intruder but remains behind Jacob as directed. She's not afraid of Sam, exactly, but those teeth of his look awfully sharp, the room now stinks like dog, and she still has no idea who or what the pretty stranger is. She inhales a breath through her nose but her senses aren't much better than a human's and at this distance, with the smell of Sam and herself in the air, this gives her no clue to the stranger's identity.
"Get out of here," the pretty intruder orders in that silky voice, so soft and dangerous. "Run while you can. I'll take care of these two."
Sam's low growl erupts into a full snarl and he feints at the stranger, snapping his teeth.
"Why?" Her irritation returns full-force, which—inconveniently at the moment—does nothing to dampen the flickers of flame in her belly. In fact, as so often, it only feeds them. "I was perfectly fine until you butted in." She narrows her eyes at the anemic stranger. Could that anemia be messing with his brain? He's not talking sense. She was in heaven until he showed up.
Those scary-dark eyes narrow at her. "Don't lie to me." That smooth voice sounds so strained, as if forcing out each word were painful. "I heard you crying through the door. Heard you all the way downstairs, even over the music. You don't have to pretend they weren't hurting you. Run."
Bella can only gape at him. Her brow furrows as she tries to decide whether he's truly saying what she thinks he's saying. She studies his eyes, his lovely mouth, but there's no sign of deceit in him. He's deathly serious.
She throws her head back and laughs.
It's not a delicate, ladylike laugh. This is a full, deep belly laugh and she hangs on Jake's shoulder for support. He snorts along with her and some of the fight leaves him, the tension ebbing from the room like a thinning crowd. Bella swears even Sam's wolfy rumble is amused, and Sam doesn't laugh—ever.
"You—you—what are you?" she wheezes, fully naked and fully uncaring, only vaguely aware of cool air against the warm slickness of her slit, her upper thighs. "What planet are you from, that you can't tell the difference between a girl having a fucking fantastic time and one in pain?" She slips an arm around Jake's hips, her palm dragging slowly along his abs just above the low-slung waist of his jeans. He rumbles appreciatively at her while trying to control his laughter. She doesn't bother, cackling with glee. "That's got to be the best shit I've heard all fucking year. A white knight—er, black knight—" she quickly revises with a glance at his dangerous eyes—"come to save me from the big bad cocks!" She howls, hanging onto Jake as tears prick her eyes.
Those dangerous, hungry black eyes, deep and devoid of light, somehow turn even darker. For the first time, Bella falters. Maybe laughing at him when she doesn't know what he is wasn't the best idea.
Suddenly the stranger moves. Oh, he's fast. Faster than the wolves. He's at her side in the space between heartbeats, and his hand rises as if he would very much like to wrap those long, slender fingers around her throat and throttle her. He refrains, at least for the moment; he doesn't even touch her. But those eyes bore into her, and he stares at her in a way no man ever has before. It's...more than unsettling. Her laugh dies swiftly, but the flickers of heat inside her do not.
"What are you?" The words feel like metal filings, the smooth honey nearly gone. Black eyes search her brown ones. "What are you?" he demands again, his volume and intensity rising. "You have a heartbeat."
"Of course I have a fucking heartbeat! What in this world doesn't?"
His beautiful mouth twists, cruel and mocking, though somehow she feels the scorn isn't meant for her. "Nothing meant for this world."
"Leave her alone, Cullen," Sam snaps, and only then does Bella realize he's phased back, the wolf gone, the man now standing before her again. He must think the immediate threat has passed. She's not so sure. "She belongs to us."
She doesn't belong to the wolves, but Bella decides now isn't the time to argue about it.
"What is she?" the stranger demands, this time of the pack alpha.
"I'm me." Her irritation rises, threatening to turn to full-fledged anger, which considering the volatile tempers of the wolves, isn't wise. She's set them off before, and it isn't pretty. They won't hurt her, but she can't promise the same for Mr. Black Eyes. "You want to know more, you ask me, not him. And you don't go waltzing through closed doors in a fucking frat house! The sock code died ages ago; get with the times."
Something about that last comment pisses the stranger off. Bella doesn't care. She's not happy about this interruption, even if she did get a good laugh out of it. "Look, I don't know who you are, but thanks for trying to be a good guy, I guess. Now beat it. This is my welcome-back party—"
"Welcome home party," Jacob corrects, but Bella ignores him.
"—and we were doing just fine before you showed up. I'd offer to let you play, but I don't think Sam wants to share."
Both Sam and the stranger scowl.
"Not with him," Sam says firmly. "Step back, Cullen. She's lambda mu alpha property, and you're trespassing."
"I'm not." The stranger's eyes rake over her one final time. Bella presses her naked body harder against Jacob's broad back. She's not scared. She swears she's not. But those eyes are so...cold. She's very used to being ogled and most of the time she inhales the attention like human women inhale coffee. Male admiration laced with lust is her version of a fucking pumpkin spice latte. But that's not what she's picking up from this man. His eyes sweep from the top of her tousled hair to the tips of her red-painted toes and back, not stopping for even a second at the cleft of her legs or the curves of her tits. The edge of his beautiful red upper lip twitches, then curls ever so slightly with the faintest hint of…
Is that disgust?
Suddenly she's furious. No male has ever—ever—responded to her with outright disgust. It's not possible. It's literally not fucking possible.
Yet there he stands, all ice-pale and pretty, with those soft red lips and baleful black eyes, artfully-disheveled hair falling in his face. And yes, that's the edge of a sneer on his pretty mouth. She tenses, ready to slap him.
Jacob feels her muscles tense and shift against his back and he moves, his arms pulling her firmly into his side, tucking her close. "Easy, baby doll." He lowers his head to press a kiss to her forehead, soothing and sweet, but she doesn't want to be soothed. She wants to smack that look of haughty disdain right off that motherfucking pretty boy's face.
"Don't patronize me," she snaps at Jake before turning her glare back to the stranger. Fire rolls in her belly, expanding through her veins, igniting her blood. Jacob and Sam hiss softly in response to the shift; the stranger's nose lifts as he scents her. "I don't need a fucking huntsman to save me from the wolves," she spits bitterly at him. "I can take care of myself." She always has. She always will.
Jake's arm tightens. Bella exhales a slow breath at his warning, attempting to calm herself. She's volatile, so are they, and there's a packed house down below of mostly humans. If she triggers Sam and Jacob into phasing the other wolves might too, and then everyone here will be royally fucked. She inhales deeply, then exhales again, blowing a long breath into the room. As she does, she sees the pretty stranger begin to tremble. Not much—the movement may not even be discernible to the wolves, but she knows that quiver from long experience. A grim sort of satisfaction fills her, cooling her anger. He can act as disdainful as he wants, but she knows the truth. She gets to him. For whatever reason, he's trying to hide it.
Well. She can play that game. He just threw down the gauntlet, and he has no idea who—and what—he just challenged.
The stranger clears his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing smoothly against his skin, and his black eyes flick back to Sam, where they probably should have been all along. "We had a meeting scheduled."
"Easy, little firecracker," Jake murmurs in her hair. "I think it's okay now."
No shit. Sam wouldn't have phased back if it wasn't. But Bella's still pissed. This is her party, and she's missing it. All because of some fucking beautiful fucking stranger who fucking sneered at her.
Sam curses low and drags a hand through his short, shiny black hair. "Sorry," he says, though it sounds like it takes everything in him to apologize to the stranger. "I got distracted."
Cold black eyes twitch to the side without quite alighting on Bella, as if he's forcing himself not to look at her naked body curled against Jake's side. "I saw."
She lifts her chin and deliberately licks Jake's pec, her tongue sliding deliciously against smooth skin pricked with sweat, her eyes on the annoying stranger the entire time. He can see her in his peripheral vision, she knows he can. A muscle in his jaw twitches, but he otherwise remains firm. He's good, she'll give him that. Controlled. Far more disciplined than she'll ever be.
Sam's mouth quirks. "Jake, take Bella downstairs. Cullen's right, we had an appointment." He strides to the other side of the antique mahogany desk and settles behind it.
"I'm not leaving you alone with him," Jacob protests, but his hand finds its way to Bella's bare ass at the same time. He's not gonna argue too much, she can already tell.
"He's not here to fight, just to go over the terms of the treaty," Sam says, snapping into business-mode as if he wasn't just at the stranger's throat.
Jacob seems to find this enough of an explanation. His hands run up Bella's sides, bumping over the delicate angles of her shoulder blades before sliding back down. Yeah, he's an ass guy, just like Sam. His grip finds the firm globes of her buttocks again and he squeezes playfully.
"Sorry for the interruption, baby doll. I know you're hungry."
"Very," she agrees, glancing scornfully back at the pretty stranger. He's the one who should be apologizing to her, not Jacob. He refuses to look at her, slowly taking a seat opposite Sam, his gaze focused firmly on the alpha. Whatever. She could break him if she wanted to, but with a whole packed frat house to enjoy instead, she doesn't feel the need. She's too hungry to focus, so seducing this one out of spite will have to wait for another time. Instead, she palms Jake through his jeans. He's soft, but she can fix that quickly.
"Go on," Sam says with a low grunt of amusement. "It's her party. Let her enjoy it."
Jacob's hands tighten on her ass and he lifts. Once more she happily wraps her legs around him, letting him settle her against his washboard abs. "Come on. Quil and Embry were jealous when you came upstairs with me. Let's reacquaint you with the rest of the pack."
She purrs happily and slants her mouth over his, drinking in the first flickers of his rekindled desire. Nothing sounds better.
Edward is fairly sure he's never felt more mortified in his entire undead life, and that's saying something since he's been a teenager for a very, very long time.
He's never made a mistake like this before. Never.
He mostly wants to blame it on circumstance. All the noise and the ricocheting thoughts of the drunk kids downstairs throw his senses, including his gift, slightly off-kilter. He was on edge already, stepping into the heart of wolf territory as he prepared to go over the treaty with Sam, the current leader of the pack. He thought it seemed a little odd for LMA to throw a party like this on the night he was supposed to conference with Sam, but he's never been interested in Greek life—or college life at all, really—so he continued into the house, weaving through the revelers, heading for the office.
He smelled her almost instantly when he crossed the wolves' threshold—a scent wholly unlike the humans and wolves pervading the house. Her scent hovered like mist in secret little pockets here and there among the crowd, like a waft of sweet perfume, except hers is no artificial chemical. It's very real, very sweet, and very, very disturbing. His analytical mind can separate out the pieces: a sweetness close to honey, liquid and sensual, mixed with a spice he can't quite identify. Nothing so banal as cinnamon or clove—cardamom, perhaps? He doesn't know. It's been so long since he's cared about food or tasted anything resembling it on his tongue. There's a sweet, lingering savor of woodsmoke, too, just the slightest hint reminiscent of old campfires, bonfires on a beach under a star-pricked velvet sky. She smells nothing like a meal—unlike the humans surrounding him—and yet, at the same time, like something he absolutely wants to devour.
He didn't follow her scent. At least, that's what he tells himself. It simply happened to lead where he already needed to go. He entered the house and began picking his way through the crowd, irritated by the sour reek of beer and wine on human breath, the sharper bite of hard alcohol. At least three drunk girls and one drunk guy tried to press against him, luring him into the dance, but he shook them all off, growing tenser and more agitated with every step. He wasn't there to socialize. He never socializes like this. All he wanted was to conduct his meeting with Sam and leave.
Then the first cry from upstairs sounded.
It was too faint for human ears to pick up, but he saw two wolves in the crowd glance at each other and laugh. "Lucky bastards," one muttered to the other.
"She'll be down soon," the second said. "Alpha always gets first dibs."
Edward remembers his lip curling at that remark. He's always loathed how boys like this treat women—like objects, or pieces of meat. Back in his day, men treated ladies like the ladies they were.
The cry grew stronger, turning into something Edward couldn't ignore. Someone was hurting her. They had to be. No girl cries out like that otherwise. He took the stairs two at a time, following the sound. He paused outside the closed office door, listening with both his ears and his gift. He could hear the thoughts of the two wolves inside—if you could call them thoughts—but nothing from the girl. He knew she was there, could smell her scent, rich and sweet on the air, could hear her cries with his ears. No thoughts. Nothing.
Whatever. He had no time to question this, not if she was still being hurt. He pushed his way through the door, breaking the little lock on the knob in the process.
Now he sits across from Sam at the antique mahogany desk, watching the wolf warily. The scent of sex still lingers in the air, thick and unmistakable. He smelled it through the door before he broke in and he knew he'd likely find something unsavory on the other side, but he wasn't quite prepared to see the two men holding the girl between them, both inside her at the same time. Sharing her. As if it were the most normal thing in the world.
And then, after he urged her to get out of here while she could, she had the audacity to laugh at him.
Yeah, he's mortified.
"What is she?" he demands of Sam now.
"None of your business." The pack leader pulls a document from a drawer and unfolds it. It's handwritten, the paper old and crumbling at the edges, but he smooths it out as flat as he can on the desk.
"My family will be here soon. That makes it my business."
Sam frowns. He hasn't bothered to put a shirt on or even buckle his belt, and Edward can smell the sweat drying on his back, his abdomen, as a warm early autumn breeze rolls through the open window. "She's ours. That's all you need to know. She comes and goes on her own terms; I never know when to expect her. I stopped trying a long time ago."
This isn't enough of an answer for Edward. At first when he scented her he thought she was another vampire, though that initial reaction quickly changed when he got a better breath. And those doe eyes that blinked languorously at him when he first entered the room, those were no vampire eyes. They were dark sepia, liquid and deep, hazy with desire that looked very, very mortal. No, she's no vampire. And she doesn't stink like a wolf. But she's not human, either. She can't be. She doesn't smell right, and he can't hear her mind.
It's all making Edward very, very angry. Carlisle sent him to meet with Sam because he's calmer and more level-headed than his siblings and his mind-reading gift is an asset in negotiations, but now Edward wonders whether his father was correct in choosing him after all. He can read the crowd downstairs just fine, each individual student's thoughts hazy with alcohol and other substances but very much still present in his mind. He can read Sam, too, though he knows Sam considers this a huge imposition and will be furious if he does it too blatantly.
But he couldn't read her. He got absolutely nothing from the girl with huge brown eyes and zero shame, the girl who watched a stranger walk in on her with two other guys and told him to get in line.
Her behavior was galling. Appalling. In his mind's eye he can still see perfectly how that naked body gripped the other wolf-boy with her long, lithe muscles, how she remained in his arms after being caught, remained on his...member...without an ounce of embarrassment. No woman from his time would even think about acting in that way, he's positive.
"This is the original treaty," Sam says, pushing the paper toward Edward and abruptly changing the subject. Edward frowns. He doesn't want to change the subject, not until he has answers. But Sam doesn't seem willing to give them. "You and your clan agree to stay off the rez and away from us, and we agree not to hunt you down like the animals you are." He flips a page and a blunt finger with a broken nail points roughly to a sketch of the Quileute reservation, its borders marked in faded red ink. "The treaty says nothing about the university here, but when I got the initial call from Carlisle I went to the elders and spoke with them. They're willing to make a deal."
Edward lowers his chin in a nod of acknowledgment. He struggles not to delve into Sam's mind to learn what the pack leader knows about the girl. Sam would consider that a breach of protocol, and his family is counting on him not to piss off the wolves today.
"We don't want to cause any trouble for you," he tells the alpha honestly. "It's just getting harder and harder to find colleges no one in this family has already attended, in latitudes cool enough that we can blend in."
Sam nods tightly. "That's what the elders figured. I'll be blunt—no one wants you here. Our tribe helped found Pacific Grove University and specifically set up Lambda Mu Alpha as a way to watch over this offshoot of our territory. Our motto is "the wolf form eternal." The wolf protects its territory, which includes this campus."
"I know," Edward says softly. "We mean no harm."
"But you may cause it anyway. If it were my choice, I wouldn't let you attend. But it's not my choice." Sam leans back in his chair and digs in his desk, producing a few sheets of paper clipped together. "The elders discussed the matter with the school trustees, who don't know what you are but know our tribe has a...thorny history with you. Everyone agreed that the school needs the money your family offered for five of you to attend and the other two to teach without salaries, one in the pre-med program and the other in architecture."
"Carlisle and Esme, yes."
"In return for five undergraduate student slots and the two teaching positions, you agree to the cash payment, and to keep your true natures secret from the humans here, not to divulge anything you know about the tribe and us wolves, and not to harm any member of our community. If you break this treaty, it will mean war." He slides the new addendum across the table. "Take that to Carlisle. Read and discuss it. The council will not accept any amendments, and they expect every member of your clan to swear and sign."
"Coven," Edward corrects. "Not clan."
Sam stares at him blandly. Right. The wolves don't care what they call themselves.
"What about the girl?" Edward can still smell her, heady and sweet, though he can tell by the thoughts of the crowd that she's downstairs now. On the dining room table, in fact. That seems...massively unhygienic. "You won't tell me what she is. Will she make trouble?"
"Undoubtedly. She always does. But not the kind you mean." A little smirk hovers at the corner of Sam's mouth. "Aren't some of you married? Best tell the taken ones to stay away. Unless she doesn't affect vampires like she does the rest of us."
That's it. Unable to hold back any longer, Edward delves delicately into Sam's thoughts, seeking knowledge of the girl. It's difficult to find what he wants. A barrage of images crashes down on him, images he vehemently does not want or need—a multitude of naked encounters in a multitude of positions, sweat and heat, more of those cries that will haunt him for ages. It's not helpful. He doesn't want a play-by-play of Sam's time with her, only the answers to what she is. But his gift doesn't run on boolean logic and he can't filter Sam's thoughts for what he needs. After a moment, he gives up.
But he can't get her out of his head, no matter how much he wants to. There's a damp stain somewhere on Sam's clothes or body—he can't see it, but he can smell it. It's not the stink of wolf sweat or artificial lubricant, but her. Mellow honey and sharp spice, the faintest trace of woodsmoke. He knows exactly what vaginal secretions are made of, and they do not smell like that, so why does she? It makes no sense. She makes no sense. He struggles to push thoughts of her out of his head, but for once his rigid self-discipline fails him. She smells all wrong, delectable but not like food, and he can't hear her. She stood there while Sam phased in front of her and was not afraid. He understands none of this, because it's not logical. It's just not logical.
If Alice knew any of this was going to happen, if she saw something and deliberately failed to tell him, he's going to tear her to pieces.
Well, not literally. Because that would make Jasper mad and Carlisle disappointed. But he'll do something. For a moment he wonders whether matriculating here is such a good idea after all. He was against it from the start, as was Rosalie, but she refused to agree with him in front of everyone else, so he stood alone. He let the rest of his family win, as he usually does, but that was before tonight. Before her.
Maybe he should leave. Go somewhere else on his own for a while. He's done it before.
But it makes Esme so sad when he disappears. No, he decides. He'll stick this out. It's a big campus. If the girl belongs to the wolves, as they say, then it will be easy to avoid her because he plans to avoid the frat as much as possible. He can do this. How much trouble can one little girl be?
A few notes: Pacific Grove University and Lambda Mu Alpha are entirely fictional. The events of this fic will vaguely follow the Twilight storyline but I had to move them from a high school setting to college because writing high schoolers having this level of filthy sex all the time was just OTT for me. A frat house is a much better place for these particular wolves.
I have no set posting schedule; updates will happen when they happen.
There will be no pregnancy and no angst. Mostly humor and snark. And filth. Probably lots of filth.
"Deştepta" is Romanian for "awaken." Not sure why a guest felt the need to inform me of the meaning of the title I obviously chose. What else to call the meeting of a succubus and a 100-year-old virgin? ;-)
Huge thank you to all my reviewers!