AN: Just wanted to thank you all for the reviews, story alerts and favorites. And most of all for even reading this story. I couldnt reply to your reviews, unfortunately. Internet is really messed up here at the moment. So instead of trying to reply to you all this time around (which takes me ages, because the pages load really slow), I decided I'd just post this. Hope you all enjoy, thanks again.
Chapter 4: Till Death Do Us Part
My uncle Jerry told me I could go home Friday night since he had the weekend off, so I jumped on the chance and took a taxi back to La Push. The ride took longer than usual; three hours. But time was irrelevant to me, I was just so happy I was free. Five days looking after two very hyperactive children wore me out and although I loved the twins to bits, I needed a break. Especially while there was so much stuff going on in my head.
I couldn't get that night in the woods out of my mind. It was the craziest, scariest thing I had ever experienced in my whole entire life. What he had done, stabbing himself in the side, was so wrong. The image of it haunted me throughout the day and tainted my dreams at night. One morning I woke up and in the middle of taking a shower, I felt that burn in my chest start again. It hadn't lasted as long as the first time, but still freaked me out nonetheless. I had a feeling it was linked to Jacob… somehow.
And during the times when I was alone and the children were busy eating or playing, I'd worry about his well being, whether everything was alright and if he was back to doing his job at Joan's. He said he'd be seeing me, he promised. But I was so far away.
I wasn't really sure how I felt about him; one minute I loathed his guts, next I cared about him more than I should. It was just so confusing.
Oh, but I was so worried and had no way of contacting him without looking suspicious.
That was the main reason I had to go home; I needed to make sure he was OK.
"Lakota!" mom pulled me into a hug the minute I stepped out of the taxi. I was surprised she wasn't working. "I missed you so much!"
I told her I missed her too and then we headed inside. The house smelt like it always did; of plants. My mom had this thing about flowers; she was obsessed by them and made sure every room had one. Personally, I thought she went a little overboard but I kept my mouth shut. Whatever made her happy…
"So how are they?" she asked after I had taken a shower.
I shrugged, plopping down next to her on the couch. "They're alright, Jerry's worried, can't blame him."
"Bertha will be alright, it's just the flu."
"Yeah, but she's not dealing with it too well," I said, picking up the remote and flicking through the channels. "It's getting worse."
"Lakota…" she started hesitatingly.
I glanced at her from the corner of my eye. "What?"
"Did you hear?"
This time I turned to look at her. "Hear what?"
"Honey…" her voice shook. "Jacob Black is dying."
The burning, the aching, the palpitating of my heart… I curled up in on myself, my breaths coming out raggedly and my blood running cold. I wanted to cry out, I needed help, but my voice wouldn't find me and my eyes were unmoving. I was frozen. And I heard my mom speaking to me, I felt her hand on my skin, she was panicking. She shook me, she was in front of me, and she was hugging me. But I was dying, couldn't she see that?
I screamed, she was pouring freezing water over my head, drenching me. I screamed again, because the pain in my chest was excruciating. Then I felt her clutching my bicep, begging me to tell her what was wrong, when she should've known all along. Jacob Black was different, he wasn't like anybody else, and when Jacob came into my life, he did something to me. Nobody knew this, not even me, until my mother told me he was dying.
I couldn't let him die. He couldn't die. I needed him. I needed him to be alive. Why? I didn't know. I just needed him to be alive!
"Mommy!" I yelled, but no sound come out, only a choke.
"Lakota, Lakota! Look at me honey, look at me. Don't do this; don't give in. Look at me, Lakota."
My teeth began to chatter. "Mommy," this time it came out as a weak whisper.
"Lakota, I'm here, Lakota."
"Jacob."
I have never been in love, nor have I ever felt close to falling in love. Yes, I've had my fair share of crushes on celebrities and boys in school, but I never fell in too deep. Unlike the other girls I knew, they had all fallen in love more than once in their short lifetimes. They'd tell me their stories all the time, stories I've heard more than enough. It seemed they wanted to impress me, to try and make me jealous. But what they didn't know was that I wasn't a jealous person. In fact, I couldn't care for love. I didn't believe in love.
If love was real, then why did it always end badly? Wasn't it supposed to true? Wasn't it supposed to be something special shared between two people? So why would you let something special go? It all just didn't make sense, which is why I'm an unbeliever. Love is just a fantasy.
But when I woke up the morning after I'd heard the devastating news about Jacob, I remembered my dream; I dreamt I was in love. Who I had been in love with was a mystery to me; he'd been a faceless man. However, the feelings I had had for him seemed so real that I could still feel them in reality. And for just a split second, I believed in love.
And then it was gone, replaced by thoughts of Jacob dying in his bed.
This time around I experienced no internal attack, but my body started to move on its own accord, pulling me out of bed and over to the window in my room that looked out onto Joan's backyard. And out in her backyard stood Jacob chatting to Tyler.
Jacob was in Joan's backyard. Jacob wasn't at home ill. Jacob wasn't dying. My mom must've gotten it all wrong. It was probably just a rumor.
But I had to make sure. I just had to.
"Lakota?" Tyler asked in disbelief as I climbed over the fence that separated our backyards.
Ignoring him, I jumped down and rushed over to Jacob who stood stiffly next to the twenty-something grandson. Something in his eyes wiped the smile off of my face, they seemed guarded somehow… and older. Jacob looked older. But this didn't stop me from approaching him, from touching him. My hands were already on his strong biceps, clad in the brown leather of his jacket. "Jacob!" I beamed. "You're OK! You're OK! I would've been up to see you, to check on you, but I was in Seattle babysitting my twin cousins, I'm so sorry! But you're OK!" I squeezed his arms, relieved. "When I came home last night, my mom told me you were dying. Oh Jacob I-"
"Lakota!" Tyler interjected, placing a hand on my shoulder, stopping me from speaking any further.
I twisted my head around to look at him, his expression a regretful one. "Y-Yes?"
He swallowed, pinched the bridge of his nose, glanced down at his feet and back up at me again. "What your mother told you…" he trailed off and looked at Jacob, as though seeking permission to finish off his sentence.
Jacob spoke. "I am dying, Lakota."
All the relief I had felt when I saw him standing there with Tyler was replaced once again with fear. Every cell in my fragile body burning, setting my blood on fire and in turn, my heart began to palpitate. I was so close to losing it like I had the previous night with mom, so very close. But having only inches separating both Jacob and I, I managed somehow to keep my cool, although I couldn't stop my skin from flushing. I knew without looking at myself in a mirror that my face was red and my neck was blotchy. Just like every time I had and/or was close to having an internal attack.
Staring up into his always beautiful face, I noticed that the light in his eyes was gone, and all that was left was darkness. The way he gazed down at me gave me no feeling, not even nervousness, it just frightened me. It was as if he had no soul and that the only thing he did have was a beating heart to keep him alive, devoid of emotions. Unlike the Jacob I had exchanged words and glances with over the past few weeks; he had always had a gleam in his sparkling dark orbs. A gleam I never realized I had grown addicted to until now.
Jacob was dying; it explained the aging on his once youthful face.
"… I'm going to fetch you a glass of water, you just wait right here, I'll only be a minute," Tyler was saying, settling me down on the wooden bench against the back wall. I hadn't even realized I had spaced out.
I stared blindly down at the green grass, my thoughts all jumbled together.
A warm hand was on my neck and warm breath was tickling my ear, there were words spoken but I could no longer hear. I wasn't functioning properly. And my blood turned to lava as I felt a warm body press against my side and another warm hand pushing the hair out of my face, the strong scent of leather invading my nostrils and filling my lungs.
Then I felt a glass being pressed to my lips and water filling my mouth slowly, but my throat was constricting and I began to choke.
The loud sound of smacking against my back finally brought me out of my abnormal reverie and my eyes widened as I began coughing up blood into the palm of my hand.
"It's OK, Lakota. Your throat is just a little sore, nothing to worry about. You'll be fine, you're OK." Tyler's cold hand came up to rest on my forehead. "You're cooling down, that's good. Here, drink this." He handed me the glass of water.
I took it from him with a shaky hand, stared down at it and then looked to my side up into Jacob's face. "Jacob," I croaked.
"Shhh," he hushed me, running the back of his hand down my cheek. "Drink the water, you need it."
After I emptied the glass into my stomach, Tyler took me inside, Jacob following close behind. He then told me that Joan wouldn't be home until later because he had taken her up to his sister's house and that he had to head out or he would be late for a meeting. I didn't really understand why he was telling me all of this until he said that I was more than welcome to hang out with Jacob in the empty house until he and Joan got back.
I didn't know what to say to this since Jacob and I never hung out, but Tyler seemed to have the idea that we were close and I suppose I couldn't blame him after my behavior in the back yard.
But Tyler didn't want a response from me; he seemingly didn't think he needed one as he shrugged into his black coat and said goodbye. I waited until I heard the engine of his car disappearing into the distance before I looked up at Jacob from where I was sitting in the living room.
To my complete and utter shock he dropped his leather jacket to the floor and pulled his t-shirt over his head. My eyes flew to his side where the scar would be, but from the angle he was standing in, I could barely see anything, all was hidden under a shadow.
When I looked up into his old eyes, I found him watching me, searching for something in my face. I wanted to ask him what it was he was looking for, but I couldn't speak. To be alone with him in a house had made me both nervous and afraid. I was nervous because I had never been alone in a house with a man before and I was afraid because I kept imagining him dropping dead at any given minute.
If he died, what would I do?
My heart…
"I'm infected," he told me, breaking the silence. "The knife was dirty, the germs got into my bloodstream, tainting it. The doc gave me medication to help me fight it, but my body didn't agree with the pills so I vomited them back up. He gave me another set of pills, same thing happened. After that, he tried injecting me with fluids, but they didn't work. Basically, he tried everything he could, even a blood transfusion, but nothing worked. So now I've got some sort of disease, guess you could call it an extreme infection, and slowly but surely I'm going to get really sick and it's going to kill me. Nothing can prevent it from happening."
"… I don't know what to say, Jacob," I said, my voice barely above a whisper as I willed my body to remain calm.
Sooner or later I was going to have a heart attack.
Jacob sauntered over to me, stopping just before his knees brushed mine and twisted his body around, revealing the side that he had stabbed himself in. The wound itself was covered with a small bandage, but he wasted no time in peeling it backwards to show me what it had turned into; an ugly purple scar about ten centimeters wide that left his skin folded and wrinkled. It was quite grotesque to look at, but what I couldn't understand was how it had healed so quickly.
Impulsively, I reached out to trace the scar with my index finger. "Unbelievable," I whispered, my voice coming out shaky.
"I'm not your average Joe," Jacob whispered back, his hand coming down to cover the scar up again.
My fingers flew to his middle, just beneath his bellybutton and I unconsciously moved them around in circles, enjoying the warmth and silkiness of his unmarred skin. It wasn't until I felt the prickliness of his treasure trail against my palm that I realized what I was doing and snatched my hand back, mortified.
"Jacob I-"
"I know," he said, cutting me off.
I looked up into his face, the rays of sunlight filtering through the open window behind me highlighting his perfectly perfect lips and the brown eyes that no longer had a gleam in them. Momentarily stunned by his beauty, I forgot what I had intended to say to him and felt an ache in my chest as I acknowledged the fact that soon this amazing male specimen would no longer be.
Suddenly, I was overcome with the sort of anger that only ever came out when I was outraged. "You're going to die, because of an infection?" I asked him, disbelievingly. "An infection? Doesn't that sound sort of… shady? Like maybe the doctor was lying to you? It's the twenty-first century Jacob; surely there was something they could do. It's not like someone injected you with AIDS or something."
"Lakota don't question me."
"I have every right to!" I stood up, my face level with his chest and looked up-up-up, until our eyes were burning into one another's. "What sort of infection are you talking about? What-"
"You do not have a right, Lakota! Last time I checked, we're not friends, nor are we related. And the infection I have was caused by filth! And by god, if you ever come across the germs that were on that knife, I swear on my heart and soul that I'll-" he cut himself off this time, gritted his teeth and looked away.
A moment of silence passed between us.
It seemed to last forever.
But he'd be dead by then.
So I told him what was on my mind, before I regretted never saying it to him.
"I have every right to question you, Jacob, because this is all my fault. If I hadn't ran all the way to First Beach because I thought someone was following me and passed out, this wouldn't have happened. All of this." I gestured between us. "You wouldn't have carried me into the woods, I wouldn't have fought with you, we wouldn't have acted like two twelve year olds and you wouldn't have stabbed yourself. Everyone knows you've gone through stuff in the past, Jacob. And I should've remembered that before I took that hissy fit. Yeah, you dropped me and hurt me, but I should've kept my mouth shut in the first place. I shouldn't have told you I hated you when it wasn't true. You were already down in the dumps; I shouldn't have made you feel worse. And now you're dying… because of me."
"That's- that's not true," he said, taking a step back.
"It is, I'm so sorry." I brought my hands up to my face, too shamed to look at him or anywhere. "I'm a killer. I'm so sorry. I can never forgive myself. This is all my fault."
"It isn't."
"It is!" I cried, feeling so helpless. How could I live with the guilt?
"Lakota!" he tore my hands away from my face and held them in his, but I refused to look at him and stared down at the wooden floor instead. "Look at me, Lakota! Don't you dare look away! Lakota!"
I tried to move away from him but ended up stumbling backwards and falling back into the armchair with a thud. Jacob pounced on me like a cat, his knees on either side of mine and his hands grabbing hold of my face, forcing me to stare into his eyes as the legs of the armchair creaked beneath our combined weight. I wriggled beneath him, desperate to get away. I needed to clear my head, I needed to be alone or I was going to have a panic attack. But Jacob wasn't going to make it easy.
"Please, let me go. I need to be alone," I begged, pleading with my eyes.
"So you can beat yourself up? No, I'm not letting that happen. We need to clear this up."
"Jacob it's my fault and you know it!"
His grip on my face tightened. "It is not your fault! I stabbed myself because I'm an idiot, alright? Did you tell me to stab myself? No. This is my problem, a problem that I have to live with for the time being and eventually die-"
"-Don't!" I couldn't bear to hear him finish that sentence.
"What are you going to do when I die? Mope around feeling guilty? Consider suicide? Throw yourself over a cliff?" he asked in disgust. "You will not do any of that. You will live and you will go to college and you will be the good girl you always were and you'll eventually marry someone… someone like Tyler, a nice guy, and you'll…"
"I don't want to marry someone like Tyler," I told him, surrounded by his musky scent.
Letting go of my face, he cupped my neck in his large hands and leaned forward so that our foreheads touched. "Of course you don't want to marry someone like Tyler; your heart does not belong to him."
"I don't want to marry anyone."
He chuckled. "But you do."
"I really don't."
"If I asked you to marry me now, would you say no?"
I shook my head. "I'd marry you because that's all I'd have to offer."
"Would that make you feel better? To marry me before I die?"
"No."
"Oh?"
"It wouldn't make me feel better about myself, but it'd make me feel better about you. That night in the woods you told me no one wants you, I told you your future wife and children will. But now… well now that's impossible. So if I married you… well, you wouldn't die alone. I'd be keeping to my word, sort of."
Shifting above me, he tilted his head and leaned in further, rubbing his cheek against mine. "As my wife, would you want me?" he asked breathily.
"How long do you have, Jacob?"
"A month… maybe less, maybe more."
"Is that long enough for me to grow to want you?"
He leaned back to stare into my eyes. "It's enough for you to grow to love me."
"I don't believe in love, Jacob."
"You'll believe in it when I show you."
I blushed, completely flustered by his seductive tone and words, and in turn, dropped my gaze to the pulse in his neck, which was jumping rather quickly for a person in such a relaxed state. "You're very sure of yourself, aren't you?" I asked rhetorically, gazing back up at him through my eyelashes, hoping he wouldn't notice how red my cheeks had turned.
"Not of myself, but of you," he whispered, taking my hand in his and moving off of me, only to pull me up with him and take me away.
We were in Joan's bedroom an hour now; me sitting in her rocking chair by the corner and Jacob down the end of the room painting. I didn't really understand what I was doing there or why he wanted me there, but I was quite content to sit and watch him as he worked. Probably because lately, I couldn't help but notice what a fine looking young man he was.
Dumping the bucket of rose colored paint down by the corner adjacent to the one I was occupying, Jacob began to paint the very last wall which was still a boring shade of grey. I watched him; his movements unexpectedly graceful for such a massive person. I also found myself watching the muscles in his back flex and the muscles in his arms clench as he became engrossed in his work. Jacob was dangerous in my eyes, there was just something about him that screamed 'run', yet I couldn't put my finger on what it was.
Perhaps it was the recklessness that always seemed to surface whenever I was around him for too long, like that time in the woods. Or it might be the scruffy look he had, along with the endless amount of muscles and his impossible height. I really wasn't sure, but I had a feeling Jacob was bad news.
Whenever he bent down to switch brushes, he'd look over his shoulder at me and catch me staring. There'd be no point in my turning away, so I'd just blush and smile, while he'd just smirk knowingly at me and go back to what he was doing. I didn't want to give him the impression that I liked him, but I couldn't help but admire him from where I sat.
I hoped he didn't think much of it.
"…Lakota, Lakota, Lakota…" I woke up with a start, finding Jacob leaning down to me, chuckling. I must've dozed off.
"Oh, uh, sorry," I mumbled, shifting into a more comfortable position. Wincing as I turned my neck, it felt so stiff. Must've been from whatever way I slept.
"I thought I'd wake you up before you started drooling on Mrs. Carmichael's furniture."
I managed a short giggle, but couldn't help but feel slightly nauseous. This happened whenever I napped, I'd always wake up feeling dizzy, sort of like motion sickness you get during journeys in a car or an airplane.
"Jacob," I said tiredly, reaching up to touch his cheek. "Why aren't you in bed, sick and helpless, just like any dying person? This couldn't be good for you."
In response, Jacob flinched and pushed my hand away. "I told you, I'm dying slowly. I'll probably be like that in two weeks." I could tell he was touchy about the subject, but I kept at him. Why? I did not know.
"I'm going to feel so bad, so guilty, so… torn, when you die," I said, my heart beginning to palpitate and tears filling my eyes."I don't know you, Jacob. And our time together has been short and mostly unpleasant, but I don't want you to die. You're so young." I reached up again to touch his stubbly cheek, but he swatted at my hand.
"Don't," he warned, stretching back up to his full height and stepping away. "Don't touch me."
"You're always touching me," I pointed out, irritated.
"No I do not."
"You do, you can't take your hands off of me."
It was so unlike me to be blunt and straightforward, but waking up in a room with Jacob had given me some sort of push. Then again, I was never myself around him, was I?
"Oh so you want to touch me, do you?" he asked, his voice challenging. "Or is it that you want me to touch you? Spit it out, Lakota."
I rolled my eyes, got up and headed for the door. But he reached it first, kicked it shut and double locked it. "Stop this nonsense."
"Come on," he whispered, coming up to me, almost pressing himself against me. "Tell me; after all you're the one who kissed my body."
"I kissed you out of pity, Jacob!"
"I highly doubt that." He smirked. "Anywhere else you want to kiss?"
Looking up into his face, I glared into his eyes and said in disgust. "I'll kiss you on the cheek, just like you did me, when you're dead. Because then you'll just be a corpse, no trace of who you ever where left in you. And who you are now is a very ugly person, a person I'd never dare to kiss again."
Nostrils flaring and eyes burning, he gritted his teeth and gave me the filthiest look I had ever received. But I stood my ground and crossed my arms, unfazed. I was sick and tired of his mood swings, they were giving me whiplash. And whenever I spent time with him, I went home feeling so worn out. He was driving me nuts. And despite how devastated I felt about him dying, I was so fed up with him. It frustrated me to no end.
"How dare you speak to me like that, like I'm just about any one!" he spat, grasping my wrist and dragging me over to the bed; which was currently covered in plastic so as to protect it from the paint. Pushing me onto it, I fell back and hit it with a loud thump, the air knocked out of me.
And then I was scared.
I lay there unmoving, waiting for him to hit me, knowing deep down that he wanted to. But the blow never came, and after several minutes passed, I realized I was crying; the tears rolling down my temples, dripping onto the plastic.
"What have you done to me?" I asked him shakily, afraid of myself, afraid of what was going on within me every since he came into my life.
When he didn't answer me, I leaned up on my elbows and found him sitting on the rocking chair; legs sprawled out in front of him and his head resting against the wooden back, eyes closed. Something about the scene before me made me imagine my life without him… made me see the rocking chair as empty with the knowledge of his death. I saw a gravestone with his name on it.
A whimper escaped me and his eyes snapped open, boring into mine. I suddenly wanted to fall into his eyes, to study them and memorize every single detail of their dark abyss. This realization brought a lump to my throat, because I was craving what I couldn't have, what I shouldn't have. One minute I hated his whole being with intensity, next I…
I scrambled up out of the bed and he shot up out of the chair, which left it rocking back and forth on its own. I needed to leave, I had to go back to Seattle, it was so far away and to be so far away was what I needed. Because I couldn't handle Jacob, he was changing me in ways I could've never imagined.
"Where are you going?" he demanded as I fumbled around with the lock.
"I…" unable to answer him, I focused on unlocking the door but it wouldn't turn for me. There was something wrong.
"Where are you going?" he repeated.
I turned my head around to look at him as he leaned against the wall next to the door. "Seattle," I said, deciding to be honest with him.
His face hardened. "You're not serious."
"I have a job to do, just like you."
"So you meant what you said?" he asked me sincerely through a tight throat, his voice coming out faint and scratchy.
With a sigh, I gave up on my attempt to unlock the door and leaned on my side against it, facing him. My mind was telling me to run, to escape him before I fell deeper into his ocean, but my heart disagreed, ordering me to stick around and listen to his every word, to keep coming back for more, more and more.
"Yes… no. I don't know." I focused my gaze on the ground, keeping my eyes anywhere but on him. "You confuse me so much, Jacob. It's like there's something going on, that there's a reason this is happening, and yet I don't even understand anything. But I feel like you do."
"I told you I'd tell you someday," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"That was when you had your whole life ahead of you," I reminded him, feeling a pang in my chest at the truth behind those words.
There was a moments silence before he spoke again. "Do you want me to tell you now?" he asked in a whisper.
"I want you to tell me who my heart beats for, Jacob."
"That wasn't what I was going-"
"I know. You were going to tell me who your heart beats for."
"Do you know who it beats for then?"
It was then that I finally looked up into his eyes that were now so dull and empty. His expression was that of a sad one, and it stirred up feelings in me that I did not want.
Oh my god, he was going to die. Next month he would no longer be. Oh my god.
"No." Yes, maybe, I hope….
He arched a perfectly thick eyebrow at me. "And you don't want to know?"
"Jacob." I pushed myself off of the door and came to stand directly in front of him, my head barely reaching his chest, he was so tall. Tilting my head back and back and back, I stared up into his eyes. "I can't let you die."
"Don't say that, don't say it when you don't mean it…" he trailed off, gulping.
"I didn't mean what I said earlier, you're not an ugly person… you're just driving me insane. And, when you're… dead, I won't be able to kiss your cheek, because I'll be breathing air into your lungs, hoping you'll come back to me… when you won't, and I'll die there with you. All that'll be left of me is a soulless body, begging for its time to come. Because my heart never belonged to me, it belonged…" I clasped a hand over my mouth, unable to believe I had just spoken those words to Jacob Black. As if he… as if he meant something to me. I barely knew the guy!
"Lakota," he breathed out my name as if I meant something to him, reaching for my hand and almost grasping it, but I snatched it away and rushed past him, stopping by the window to stare out onto the empty street. My heart beating so fast that I feared it may leap from my chest.
What had I been about to say to him? That my heart belonged to- no, I couldn't even think it, it was wrong in so many ways.
I wanted my old life back. My pre-Jacob life back, things had been so easy back then. Now things were so out of control, confusing and so very messy. I couldn't even look at Joan the same way anymore, every time I was around her I automatically grew suspicious of her intentions and that just wasn't right. I'd known her since I was a child, she was practically family! She was family! And this was all because of Jacob Black. I could ignore him, keep my distance and eventually forget about him… but he was dying, I couldn't.
And deep down I knew that even if he wasn't dying, I'd keep coming around to more. Because my talks and time spent with Jacob were never enough. I always needed more and more and more, until he had nothing left to give me.
Warm arms wrapped around my midsection, snapping me out of my reverie and I screeched instinctively, having momentarily forgotten where I was and who I was with.
"Shhh," he hushed me, burying his face in the crook of my neck, nuzzling me there softly. I opened my mouth to protest against his actions, but quickly shut it when he brushed his nose over a particular sensitive spot and shivered instead.
So he did it again, again and again, until I begged him to stop. My legs had already turned to mush and I was afraid my brain was next.
"Tell me who owns your heart," he murmured, dragging his lips up my neck, over my jaw bone and to my cheek, the stubble on his chin tickling me, causing me to shiver again. At this he chuckled and kissed my flushed skin, once… twice… "Tell me," he repeated.
"J-Jacob," I stuttered, placing my hands over his arms that were wrapped around me. "You're touching me… again."
"You're mine to touch," he said lowly, kissing me on the cheek once more.
"No, Jacob, I belong to-"
"Me."
The insanity to his words and the possessiveness to his hold began to scare me, and I wondered for the hundredth time whether Jacob was crazy or not.
"I need to go," I whispered, closing my eyes, waiting for his response.
"I'll let you go if you tell me," he whispered back, somehow managing to turn me around in his arms. But I didn't want to look into his dark and dying eyes, so I rested my forehead in the valley between his pecs. My eyes still shut.
Removing an arm from around me, he brought his hand to the back of my head and began to smooth it down my hair, over and over. I liked the feeling of it and I leaned in closer to him, my nose now buried into his taut skin. He smelt of musk, mint and freshly cut grass, a scent I instantly loved and craved more than anything. I fought the urge to lick him, to taste that scent in my mouth and savor it.
Oh god, what was happening to me?
"I don't know the answer," I mumbled, feeling a little drowsy.
"You do," he said, his hand tangling in the hair at the nape of my neck and pressing me closer to him, until my cheek was resting over his heart and his hardening nipple. If I parted my lips and snuck out my tongue, I would taste…..
This was why I needed to get away. My mind was already ninety-nine percent mush.
"Jacob, my mom will kill me. I'm not supposed to be here with you." I figured I might as well be honest with him since I had told him about my mother's dislike towards him in the woods that night.
I then felt him let go of me completely, before both his hands came to rest on my shoulders just as quickly. He moved me away from him, so as to look into my face, but I kept my head bowed. "Lakota, look at me." I ignored him and kept my gaze on his boots, terrified of what was to come. I felt this was a build up to something. "Look at me!" he ordered.
But I refused and shrugged his hands off of me, heading once more for the door. He never made any move to stop me, probably because he knew that there was no way I'd manage to unlock the door. However, after I slammed my fist against it, the key turned and as quickly as I could manage, unlocked it and swung it open.
I ran down the stairs at the speed of light and almost fell down the last two steps, but somehow landed on my two feet.
"Lakota!" he shouted after me in anger, his footsteps heavier than mine, causing the stairs to creak under his weight.
Pushing my feet faster, I ran towards the back door, thinking it was open and almost ran straight into the glass. But a warm hand grasped my arm and pulled me back; slamming me into the rock hard torso I had been resting against only minutes ago. I could feel him shaking against me, his brown skin on fire and his scent heightened to the point where it was consuming me completely.
This time, unlike every other time, I stood defeated in his strong hold. There would be no point in me trying to escape him again, not when this was the furthest I'd gotten from running at my highest speed. Jacob was stronger, bigger, longer and faster than I would ever be. To think I'd ever have a chance of beating him to my imaginary finish line was pathetic.
"I'm sorry," I heard myself saying.
But he didn't grace me with an answer; instead he huffed and released me, shoving my limp body away. I knew that he was angry with me for running away like that, even though I didn't quite understand why it would anger him so. After all, I was just Lakota. What did he care whether I wanted to look at him or not? The way we acted around each other was insane, as though we were a married couple with never ending troubles. When in reality, we were strangers.
It was totally screwed up.
Turning around, I found him leaning back against the wall with his head in his hands. "Jacob, I'm sorry." I walked up to him and rested my hand on his massive shoulder, which was hot to the touch. "You scared me."
"I scared you?" he asked incredulously, dropping his hands and glaring down at me. "I was holding you, I was talking to you, I was kissing you! That's scary? Give me a break."
"You're scary, Jacob. I've never met a guy like you."
He rolled his eyes and stared up at the ceiling, Adam 's Apple bobbing in his throat. "Weeks are all I have and you're pushing me away."
"All you have for what?" I asked curiously, ignoring the pang in my heart at his words.
"Lakota." He sighed, running a hand through his shaggy, silky hair, before meeting my eyes. "Promise me something."
I furrowed my eyebrows together. "What is it?"
"Promise me that you'll come back on Wednesday morning."
"From Seattle?"
"Yes." He shivered, stuffing both his hands into his pockets. "I need you to promise me that."
"I promise, Jacob."
"You're a good girl, Lakota," he said, nodding at me. "Too good for me, unfortunately."
Taking a chance, I rushed up to his side and standing on my tip toes, pressed my lips to his hallow cheek. "I promise, Jacob," I said once again, and then turned on my heel and left through the back door.
At home, I locked myself in my room and broke down, begging God not to take Jacob Black's life.
Mother heard me cry from the other side, but she left me be.
On Wednesday morning, Jacob sat hunched over with his head pressed to his knees as the freezing water gushed down upon his head and onto his shivering naked body in the tiny bathtub. He'd been like this an hour now; frozen in the uncomfortable position he was in, trying so hard to ignore the burn in his chest and to stop obsessing over Lakota. Ever since she'd left for Seattle, he couldn't think straight because she had taken a part of him with her, the stronger part. And no matter how long he tried to will the ache away, it wouldn't, instead it just grew worse.
Last night had been the fourth time he was about to run off to find her, only to force himself back home on wobbly legs, pale and dying. Billy knew something was up the instant his son walked through the back door and for just a second, Jacob thought his father knew he had imprinted. But the look of understanding in Billy's eyes disappeared a second later, only to be replaced with sorrow.
You see Billy believed that his alpha-born son would overcome his sickness and become stronger. The traces of venom that had somehow been on that god forsaken knife were nothing compared to a full dose straight from the glands of a vampires mouth. However, Carlisle Cullen had told him that no matter the amount, Jacob's body couldn't fight the life-threatening poison. That for some reason unknown to them, Jacob's immune system was failing him, allowing the venom to spread, to conquer and slowly but surely, to kill.
Holding on to hope and to the creator, Billy prayed and prayed and prayed, asking God not to take his only son so soon. A part of him felt that his prayers would be granted, but the other felt hopeless. Carlisle Cullen was a good… man, and Billy knew that despite the treaty, and despite the fact that his family and the Cullen's were enemies, the vampire doctor wouldn't lie to him, especially not after he helped Jacob once before.
But whether his son died or not, Billy swore to himself that he would find out the mystery behind that knife.
"Son? Are you in there?" he called from the other side of the door, voice laced with worry.
"I'm OK, dad," Jacob called back miserably, letting out a breath.
"Are you sure, son?" his father pushed.
"Yes, dad, I'll be out in a minute."
Jacob could hear his father's shaky sigh before he rolled back down the hall, into the living room. He felt terrible for his father; he felt he had failed him, even after everything they'd been through. What was the point in him having me if I am to die like this? Jacob would ask himself every day since the incident in the woods. Sometimes, he just wanted to die immediately, so as he wouldn't have to see his once strong father turn into a helpless old man.
But today would be different, for him and for his loving father. Today Jacob would propose to Lakota.
Just the thought brought butterflies to his stomach and he would squeeze his eyes shut, willing them away. Hell, even his heart would jump all over the place and he'd break out in a sweat; something that rarely happened to him ever since he first phased.
He knew that Lakota would say yes, she had practically said yes to him that Saturday morning in Joan Carmichael's living room. And although he was aware that she would marry him out of pity only, he was willing to accept that… for now. They would spend his last days together, every hour of every day together, and she would fall in love with him before his time was up. He knew this because he could see in her eyes that she was feeling things for him that a normal person would feel after months, years even, the only thing missing in those beautiful grey eyes he adored was love. And he would make her feel love.
It was funny, a couple of weeks back when he had first imprinted, he hated the thought of just being next to her. He wanted to fight it, to prove to the pack that imprinted on or not, he was capable of choosing the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. But all that faded away when he stabbed himself and heard her say that someday his wife and children would want him. He didn't know what it was, or why those words had affected him so much, but every night after that he would dream of her laying in his bed and two black-haired children cuddled up in between them, complaining that they couldn't go asleep without 'mommy and daddy'. His heart would be swollen with love in the morning for the wife and children he never had.
When Jacob found out that Lakota had gone to Seattle the morning after the tragic news, he ran into the deep wood and threw a fit, managing to knock down one tree. His hands had been so torn up that it took ages for them to heal, and with the venom spreading through his body, everything took double the time to heal. Unfortunately, the scar from his stabbing never faded. This both confused him and pissed him off. But Lakota! He couldn't believe she had left, and for how long? What if he never saw her again? Did he want to see her again? No, no, yes, yes, yes, yes, oh god yes!
For two days he worried she was gone forever, until he heard Joan on the phone to Lakota's mother. The relief he experienced after hearing she was gone for only a week was indescribable. He could hardly wait for her return, as much as he hated to admit it to himself.
Now, although Jacob was accepting the imprint, he was still unhappy about it. If he still had years to live, he would've never given in and would've fought it as best he could. But time was important to him and the things he felt for Lakota that he could no longer ignore made him crave her touch, her care, her loving. He didn't want to die fighting something that caused him physical pain; he wanted to die in her arms, under her loving gaze, feeling wanted and cherished.
And despite the fact that Lakota would have to live in his tiny home with his father, Jacob promised himself that he would make things work and that he would have what he always wanted; a girl who loved him in return.
Maybe what he was doing was cruel, dragging her into something that would end too soon. But he knew deep down that they both needed each other fully, wholly, completely.
The news that he had imprinted would be shocking to the pack, Jacob didn't look forward to it.
"Dad," Jacob said, appearing in the doorway of the living room, clean and dressed.
Muting the TV, Billy looked up at his son. "Yes, Jacob?"
"It's time."
Jacob drove to Lakota's house in his battered Rabbit, his mother's wedding ring in the pocket of his black khakis. He was shaking, the seat rattling beneath him, and no matter how many times he told himself to calm down, that everything would be OK, the fear of his imprint's rejection wouldn't subside. What if her mother said no? That would be a problem, because Lakota was only sixteen years old and in order to marry, she needed her parents' permission.
But it was only for a month, Jacob reminded himself, they would only be married a month and once he was buried, Lakota could go back to her mother… his grip tightened on the steering wheel at the thought of dying. Jacob didn't want to die, he wanted to live… tears stung his eyes, but he quickly swatted them away. Crying made Jacob feel weak.
Parking across the road from Lakota's house, he jumped out and made his way over.
"Yes?" her mother asked suspiciously, holding the door open a crack.
"I'm here to marry your daughter."