Author's Note: So you definitely earned two updates, and since the next one might be a while, I hope you enjoy it!
Thank you for your wonderful reviews – they keep me writing!
"Michael Rae, you have ten seconds to rush your tush or I will leave without you and conveniently forget all of your favourite foods, including your Lucky Charms and Twinkies, in favour of green beans and quinoa! Move your lazy little bum!" Daisy hollered from her open front door, turning her head at the prickle of eyes burning into her neck and waving somewhat awkwardly at her staring nosey neighbour, "Morning, Mrs Chasinski."
The older woman rolled her eyes scornfully and continued to stubbornly layer white paint on her garden fence, muttering murderously to herself about youth and impertinence, something that made Daisy keep her mouth shut about the futility of her actions, given the brewing darkness of the ominous rainclouds encroaching above.
If Mrs Chasinski wanted to waste a day in her grouchy solitude then Daisy was not about to get in her way, especially since her second favourite pastime seemed to involve peppering Daisy with overly personal and often uncomfortable questions.
But she would get in Michael's way if he didn't hurry his cute backside the heck up.
She was just about to holler wildly again when he appeared in front of her – really, that shifter speed was not fair – raising an eyebrow pointedly at her, smirking as if she were just sodding hilarious, "You don't even know what quinoa is," he pointed out. Quite rightly, to be fair.
Grinning, Daisy ushered him out of the doorway and locked up behind them, shooting him a playfully affectionate look, "For the sake of annoying you, littl'un, I'd learn." And she practically skipped down the pathway, bypassing his long, languid strides to the Jeep's driver's seat, ignoring his stubborn amusement as she went.
"Someone's extra perky for 11AM on a Saturday." He commented, hazel eyes knowing and laughing at her, "Fancy toning it down for us normal people?"
Climbing in – literally, as she was far too short for the initial step up into the seat, forcing her to clamber somewhat gracelessly onto the plush leather – Daisy scoffed, tucking her bag in the well by Michael's feet and belting up, "Ok, first of all, normal? You? Really?" She questioned, and he smirked at her, shrugging innocently, "Second of all, I am always perky, you're just not usually awake at this time to witness it, and third of all, but most pivotally, put your seatbelt on." She held up her hand to interrupt his defense, face pacifying and serious, "I know, I know, you're a supernatural creature with crazy fast and powerful healing abilities that make us mere mortals look like rag dolls, but why take the risk? And by that, I mean why take the risk of angering your wonderful big sister by not doing as she asks when she does it oh so nicely?"
"If I put it on will you start breathing between words?" He shot back tiredly, moving to pull the belt around him and clicking it into place with a sarcastic flourish.
Daisy shrugged a single shoulder, putting the car in gear and moving off carefully, enjoying the slow trundle of traffic to First Beach in the late Saturday morning, "No promises. But I will let you have control of the music to take you out of the little teenage-shifter grump you've got going on over there." She looked at him pointedly, and Michael stared back flatly, unimpressed clearly by her comment, before picking up his phone and connecting it to the speakers, flooding the space between them with Read My Mind by The Killers, a favourite of hers too.
She sang gently along as they made their way to the grocery store on the strip, her fingers tapping out the beat on the steering wheel while Michael acclimatised to, you know, being awake and capable of human interaction on a Saturday morning, an easy silence between them barring the soft murmur of her singing and the disruption of her antsy fidgeting. She was seriously missing her morning runs.
"Can we stop somewhere for breakfast?" He finally asked, removing himself from his stupor for the possibility of food, "I'm starving."
Daisy nodded in time with the song, half-dancing in her seat as she turned onto the strip that Jacob had shown her not so long ago, concentrating on turning into the wrong damn lane, which was, of course the right lane, which still boggled her senseless, before responding, "Sure, littl'un – in the mood for anything particular?"
"Nah," he shook his head, "Whatever you feel like is good by me."
She parked up in the lot of the grocery store before meandering with Michael to 'The Melt' – him ordering iced coffee, a muffin and a footlong, while she stuck to cream cheese on a bagel and some orange juice – smiling at a harried Dustin who seemed to remember her somehow, flushing red as he handed them their order, reminding her acutely of Jacob's easy teasing and handsome smile as she manipulated around him to pay.
Was it ok to miss him? Probably not – it was probably ridiculously dependent and unhealthy, but there she was all the same, missing him as if she hadn't spent the near majority of her spare time with him over the past week.
"Actually," she smiled sweetly at the teen behind the counter, watching him gulp audibly as she reached over to tap her fingernails in sequence against the counter, "Could I place another order? Please?"
Toting six additional sandwiches and a myriad of drinks, Michael and Daisy made their way across the strip and to 'Chief's Repairs', aware that the shop wasn't open to the public, but that Quil, Embry and Jacob were in the garage working on maintenances for the morning.
A thrumming, singing warmth, starting at the very tips of her toes and threading through every inch of her, developed and burned hotter as she approached the workshop, hearing hollers of hellos from within before the two of them had even made it through the door.
"Doth I smell a sweet little Daisy and a sandwich to boot? Have all my dreams come true at once?" Embry teased as she and Michael made their way into the garage, careful not to step on any of the tools and canisters strewn across the concrete floor. He was making his way to them, having been hunched (half-naked, of course) over the bonnet of the nearest car, only to laugh and back away with his palms up in surrender, because Jacob was behind her – she knew before he even touched her, feeling him surrounding her completely in his safe heat – growling a low 'fuck off' at his teasing friend.
It was only seconds, and yet far too long, before the heat of his arms and bare, barrel chest engulfed her from behind, tucking her into his body and kissing the side of her head, inhaling her, breathing her in and sending goosebumps erupting across her arms. "I didn't think I'd get to see you today."
They had tried to work something out between them for the Saturday, but with Daisy wanting a solid block of sibling time with Michael, Jacob's work and patrol schedule, plus seeing his dad and sister in the evening for a monthly dinner and poker game, it wasn't feasible. They'd both been inordinately devastated, Jacob's face a picture of disappointment that she hoped to wipe from her mind with the surprise visit and accompanying sandwich.
Before she could respond with more than a girlish smile and a movement to tuck herself further into his warmth and safety, Quil chimed in, acting like a hostage negotiator as he eyed ravenously the sandwiches in the box in her arms, "You can take the girl, Black – but I will fight you for those goddamn subs."
Daisy laughed, spurred by Jacob's grumble against her throat, and she moved out of his arms with a little more difficulty than she cared to admit, ignoring his protesting noise, to place the box on the counter by Michael and the drinks he had deposited, "I know better by now than to stand between a wolf and food. Have at it, boys."
While they delved into the boxes, Jacob reaching around her to grab a Coke and brushing deliberately against her, his other strong hand flat against her lower back, Michael meandered around the workshop, calling out to Embry and Quil with questions about the models they were working on.
Taking the opportunity for a sliver of privacy – though hindered by the super wolf hearing gifted to all in the garage barring her – Daisy turned to Jacob, eyes scanning over the handsome, chiseled features of his marble-like face to the dips and grooves of his chest, skimming gentle finger pads over the skin of his wrists, forearms, biceps and shoulders before stepping in to place a kiss to the centre of his chest, reveling in the fact that she could now. That his strong, steady heartbeat quickened and hammered in response to her attention. That, somehow, he was made for her. That she could – in Sweet Home Alabama style – kiss him any damn time she wanted.
From his fiery eyes and upturned lips, she didn't think he minded.
The thought triggered goosebumps over her skin, even when devoured by the heat of Jacob's body, and she took a moment to admire him with a smile, teasing matter-of-factly, "I figured Michael and I could sneak in a pit stop before we wreak some classic Rae havoc on the unsuspecting shop attendants of the strip." She grinned, wagging her eyebrows mischievously and reaching up onto tiptoes to lock her arms around his neck, aided by the strength of his hands on her waist, "We had breakfast at 'The Melt' to make sure we were all fired up, and since it's your job to keep us in line we thought it only fair to give you a fighting chance at rearing us in. Ergo, sandwiches."
"Hmm," Jacob nodded understandingly, grinning as he raised a hand to run through her loose curls, fingering the strands adoringly and causing an eruption of anticipation and excitement aflutter in her stomach, "Such a troublemaker. I'll be thinking of ways to punish you for that all day now, dream girl."
Ignoring the gagging noises from Embry and Quil behind them, Daisy flushed and glittered at the flirtation, brimming with happiness and warmth and something she was definitely putting to the shadows of her mind to adamantly ignore later on, "I'm afraid you'll have to catch me first, handsome, and I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't exactly have a track record of making that easy for you."
Laughing a little, Jacob ducked his head, forehead against hers and lips close enough that Daisy thought she might just melt into a puddle of soppy, wanton goo, "Are you challenging me, gorgeous?"
"Oh, absolutely." She nodded with false serious vehemence, "We can't have you getting complacent now, Mr. Black – you are the man in charge, after all. Top dog, as they say." She whispered in return, her own wicked grin wide and playful, enjoying the rumble in his chest at her words and the way his arm wrapped around her, tugging her closer and practically merging their bodies into one.
Jesus, he was intoxicating. Daisy had read somewhere once that Plato believed people were born originally with two heads, four legs and four arms. Threatened by them, the gods struck them apart into two – soulmates that spent their lives searching for one another.
It felt kind of like that when Jacob held her – as if he were trying to mold them back together, inseparable.
The thought was in equal parts exhilarating and terrifying to her.
"If I were in charge, you'd be naked and on the hood of that Range Rover right now, and I'd be – "
Jacob's growling response was cut short by Michael's shout, "Woah! Woah! Woah! Please, for the love of god, stop before my ears start to bleed."
Laughing – though how she found the oxygen to, Daisy wasn't sure, because as far as she was concerned she was literally drowning in Jacob's words, his magnetism, his bloody everything – she pulled herself out of Jacob's strong hold, which seemed unwilling to allow her movements, and turned, red-faced she was sure, to her (quite possibly traumatized) young brother. "And that's our cue to get out of your way, since you're all obviously incredibly busy, I've irreparably scarred Michael for the rest of his natural born days, and I'm probably permanently this colour of magenta."
Quil grinned, "And all in under ten minutes – you're an impressive lady."
Michael turned away as she and Jacob kissed goodbye, something she had begun as a soft peck that had morphed – at Jacob's insistence (with zero protest from her, she could admit) – into a more heated display of affection that sent a visceral fire through her arteries that only came to an end at Embry's loud and obnoxious wooping.
"Stay safe, dream girl. Text me when you're home." He'd practically ordered, and she'd rolled her eyes before saluting lazily in return, smiling as she left the garage with Michael eying up the cars in the front of the shop as they passed.
"You're thinking of using your trauma at seeing me with Jacob to attempt to emotionally blackmail me into buying you a car, aren't you?" She pursed her lips, pulling her bike up higher on her shoulder and quirking an eyebrow at Michael, who grinned cheekily in response.
"Considering I'll probably have PTSD for the rest of my life, I was thinking about it, yeah." He nodded, looking at her pointedly with sarcasm in his hazel eyes, seeming to have perked up a little following some food and, you know, near-vomiting of said food.
Daisy tilted her head, pondering, "You know, I think they call it PTSS now."
"Does it really make a difference?" Michael pointed out, throwing his arm around her shoulders as they hurried to make it across the road, "I'm going to have flashbacks every time see a Range Rover."
Daisy shook her head, pointing an index finger in his direction and, in doing so, considered getting a manicure because crikey, was she in need, "If you're going to claim to have it you should at least know what it's called." They passed a clothing boutique, Michael tugging her away with an eye roll as Daisy stopped, distracted by the displays in the window, as if she didn't have a thousand different outfits already. She returned her attention to her brother, craning her neck up to address him questioningly, "And do you even need a car if you're faster than one on four legs? Or on two legs, for that matter?"
Michael shrugged, holding the door to the electronics store open for her to pass by first, "Course I do. For dates and stuff."
Daisy wheeled round, eyebrows furrowing dramatically, images of eight-year-old Michael kicking a ball around with his tiny legs in too big short flashing before her. Dates? As in, with girls? Or boys? Or girls and boys? "Dates and stuff? Who are you taking on dates and stuff?"
Looking a little flustered, the tips of his ears reddening, Michael tried to maintain a casual disposition to combat her surprise, flicking carelessly through the shelves of old vinyl records without really looking at any, "No-one in particular, but I'm the new guy that happens to be built like a brick shit house-" he explained, rolling his eyes when Daisy interrupted with a perfunctory call of 'language!' – "- and the girls dig it."
Daisy swallowed her laugh, pursing her lips to contain her smile but unable to stem her sisterly mockery, "Oh, they 'dig' it, do they?"
"You know, this might go faster if we split up – " Michael began, moving to turn away from her when she pounced on him, wrapping her arm around his and sticking to his side, smiling innocently up at him.
"Just try walking away, buddy, see if any of those girls who 'dig it' are willing to pay for your new headphones." She stated, picking up a set of wireless Bose and swinging them on the edge of her finger pointedly.
Michael conceded instantly, watching the movement of the pair admiringly, "I love you?"
Victorious, Daisy smirked, passing him the headphones and stating through Michael's captivation of them, "Much better. And by the way, that's how you blackmail someone, for future reference."
They spent hours going through the different stores at their disposal, picking up necessities and treats, spending an inordinate amount of time in the sports store and the book store, Daisy enamoured with new sketchpads, pencils and colours.
Depositing their bags in the car, they meandered into the supermarket, Daisy left pushing the trolley through the grocery aisles idly as Michael took his time exploring, wandering off at some point to take a look at the doughnuts, promising to accompany her on a run that evening if he could pick out a dozen of his choice.
Daisy had only been left to her own devices for a minute when she turned a corner and was suddenly captured, arms locked in a death grip, nails piercing into the delicate skin of her triceps, covered only by the pitiful protection of her thin cream sweater. Wide eyes shooting up in surprise, Daisy was met with the glacial, vivid and somehow vacant glare of a middle-aged woman, taller and far more solid than herself, a stranger to her that seemed to look upon Daisy with both condescension and anger.
Before Daisy could gasp, speak, question or shout, the stranger pulled her violently closer, greying wiry hair streaking the red of her brows, lines twisted and gnarled in concession to the scowl on her weathered face. Her breath smelt of stale tobacco, repulsing Daisy further, as she hissed with near-hatred into Daisy's worried and perplexed expression, "What are you playing at?"
Taken aback by the vociferous force in the stranger's voice and, more than that, the oddity of hearing a British cadence in an American accent, Daisy gaped a little, raising her forearms in an attempt to shove the stranger away, stating in confusion as she tore herself away from the bruising grip of the woman, "Do I know you?"
Stepping back in an attempt to place more distance between herself and the weird woman with no sense of personal boundaries, Daisy unsuccessfully attempted to escape, grabbed again in those same talons, this time working red marks into her wrists that Daisy knew would purple in hours. She bruised like a peach, after all.
"He loves you," she hissed, spittle falling from her narrow lips, Daisy desperate to wipe the deposits from her own face but enthralled and frozen in disgust and despair at the woman's words, unable to move though she had been squirming fitfully only seconds previously, "And you run like a child?! So ungrateful and churlish, after all he has done for you?! You. Make. Me. Sick."
Bile journeyed, hot and acidic, up Daisy's esophagus and her eyes stung at being open wide for such a startling amount of time, but she could do nothing except digest the words thrown at her in a distant and frozen state. Was she in a nightmare? Was this – was this the recesses of her mind tormenting her again?
Because those were Caleb's words. His turn of phrase. His intonation. All of it spewing like poison from the vessel before her.
"You're lucky – so absurdly lucky – that he still wants you, still cares for you, even after you let that mutt put his filthy paws on you." She was inches from Daisy's face, shaking in her fury, or was that Daisy trembling? "You can beg him for forgiveness when he comes for you. When he has you back, you thankless cow, you can –"
Before Red could finish she was shoved violently away, clattering to the ground with a shriek of protest, and Daisy was aware of Michael's warm and comforting presence in front of her, his call of 'what the fuck?', and the wall he made of himself between her and the stranger, before the world picked up and resumed normal speed once more, not the sluggish motion it had undertaken in her worry. She heard again the music from the tannoy, the bustle of shoppers in the background, the sound of shoes squeaking against linoleum, before realising, finally, that Michael was shaking.
He was shaking. At the end of an aisle in a very public supermarket, looking about ready to tear Red to tiny pieces and make her mulch.
Daisy looked around briskly, spotted an emergency exit and began to shove her brother with all of her might, only managing to make him move when he clocked with whatever emotional intelligence was left in him in his fractured state the desperation in her eyes. He allowed her to bundle him clumsily out of the exit and into the newly pouring rain, Daisy filled with gratitude that they didn't trigger an alarm using that door – enough troubles to deal with in that moment – and thanked her lucky stars that La Push was practically 90% forest as she used all of her weight to guide Michael into the foliage, his body beginning to morph and twist in what looked like painful contortions to her. Shirt ripping, jaw and hands extending, feet bursting from his shoes, Michael was half wolf before she could consider moving out of the way, and full wolf by the time she had managed to throw herself to the sodden, muddy floor to dodge his swiping claws, keeping as low as she could as she crawled through the wet dirt and leaves to the other side of a wide weeping willow.
Helpless, she buried herself into the unyielding trunk, bringing her knees up to stay as small as possible, keeping her ears pricked to listen to Michael's movements and shuddering as he sent a piercing howl through the air.
What was she to do? She didn't think Michael would hurt her now he was fully transformed, that the shift relieved him somewhat of his surging fury, but before she could turn to check on him his thudding paws ran wildly away from her and she was left alone, cold and shaking in the deluge of mud and rain.
Should she follow him? A voice that sounded suspiciously like Jacob's told her she absolutely should not, but the thought of picking herself up and heading to the car alone, leaving Michael in the fraught state he was in, a state caused by her, the possibility of coming across Red alone again, or possibly meeting someone or something worse… every option seemed abhorrent to her.
And, as loath as she was to venture further into the unknown forest, the worse it felt to abandon Michael to the elements. She needed to check on him, to see if he was alright. She needed her brother, who was only trying to protect her, when it was her job to keep him safe.
So she stood, slipping slightly in the mud at her feet and grazing her hands along the tree bark as she steadied herself jarringly. Determinedly, she wrapped her arms around herself, sure she would lament the ruining of her cream sweater at a more appropriate time, and made herself as small as possible, huddling in for warmth and protection. She hadn't bothered with a jacket that day, knowing the heat from Michael would be stifling had she added another layer to her outfit, and so suffered in the thin, sodden denim of her jeans and light, formfitting jumper, maneuvering around tree branches and squinting against the onslaught of the fast-pouring rain.
Jacob had been on patrol for just over two hours when the sound of Michael's furious, harried thoughts invaded his, Embry's and Quil's easy conversation, the young shifter's agitation echoed in the cry he drove through the forest, scattering birds and squirrels away and into hidey-holes.
The three older wolves stilled abruptly, their familiar teasing banter halting, syphoning out the heavy sound of uninterrupted rain and taking the time to maneuver through the distorted thoughts and flashes of events sent their way by Michael, Jacob's hackles raised automatically as he recognised the minimal distance between the young shifter's position and the strip, an indication that Daisy was still there.
That Daisy was in possible danger.
It was seconds before Jacob was moving, running as quickly as his four legs would take him, ordering Embry and Quil to find Michael while he followed the faded scent of candied pecans that he could pick out from miles away, he was sure. Flashes of Michael's memories captivated him, infuriated him, panicked him as he saw a strange woman, near twice the size of his petite dream girl, spitting in her face furiously and digging, Jacob's jaw tightened impossibly, digging her nails into Daisy's soft, delicate flesh.
Then Michael's anger, the faint scent of something too sweet – not enough to signal the presence of a vampire, but enough to think one was perhaps too close for comfort – and the burning anger as he threw the woman to the ground and began to tremble at seeing Daisy's wide-eyed, pale face.
He was being shoved, by Daisy, and then in the forest, her ducking a fucking swipe from Michael's wayward fucking claws, crawling away – breaking Jacob's fucking heart – as she sought shelter. And suddenly she was gone, and Michael was running.
Jacob hammered against the slippery mud, adept at maintaining his easy balance, thrummed with adrenaline and fear, and – finally seeing her glowing ivory skin between the overhanging trees – he turned, running deftly onto two legs as he burst through the foliage and into Daisy's eye line.
She whipped her head toward him, deep blue eyes already soft and pleading in relief as soaked, inky curls spun heavily with her movement. Shoulders releasing their tension, she hurried towards him and Jacob could have cried at the vulnerability in her, the mud all over her, the faint scent of her blood in the air – her blood. He gathered her up, lifted her, inhaling in relief as her cold little nose burrowed into the crook of his shoulder and wrapped her legs around him.
"Michael?" She croaked, voice raw and weak, and Jacob buried kisses fiercely into her face and neck, so fucking happy to be holding her, tight and safe.
"He's fine, everything's fine." He comforted, feeling her breathe deeply in relief, "You weren't kidding about that havoc wreaking, huh, dream girl?" He joked weakly, and she sniffled through a laugh.
"This from the naked man in the forest?"
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