A/N: Je m'excuse pour mes pauvres traductions françaises. Merci pour la revue. Je mets à jour quand je peux.
If Hurricane Arthur doesn't huff, puff, blow my house down tonight, I'll post another chapter this weekend sometime. Stay safe and don't poke out any eyes with hot dog sticks or fireworks this 4th of July.
Jared bolted upright in bed, feeling a sharp piercing drilling into his side. What the fuck was attacking him? His hand swept the area, realization dawning quickly when the source of pain was attached to a hand. He wasn't being bitten by a bug; it was the pointy end of Kim's fingernail pressing into his stomach. "What? What is it?"
"The phone," she mumbled into her pillow as she rolled closer to Jared, huddling into his side for warmth.
The…phone? His girlfriend-soon-to-be-fiancée was stabbing him to death because the phone was ringing? What the-
"It's on your side," Jared grumbled back, still trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
"Not a morning person," Kim replied in one long breath that ended in a soft snore.
Rubbing his face with his hands, Jared rolled/pushed up over his sleeping mate, collapsing on her side of the bed while Kim snuggled even further down into the heated spot he had just left. He answered the phone, still mostly asleep and not even entirely certain he was actually awake.
"Jared," he announced in lieu of saying hello. Why was it his job to answer the phone? It wasn't on his side of the bed. What happened to equality of the sexes? Was the middle of the night the best time to ask philosophical questions like this?
"Jared?" A male repeated, sounding as if he wasn't sure he knew who he had called.
"Cameron," Jared clarified with his last name to the caller, trying to focus on the here and forget about the world of sleep. The other voice sounded familiar, but this conversation was messed up for taking place at…
Jared unnecessarily squinted towards a small clock hanging on the wall. Kim refused to keep an alarm clock in their room and if Jared had to be up early, he usually just used his cell. The small wall clock had been etched from a tree and was a family heirloom his parents had given them as a housewarming gift. It currently announced the time being a little after five in the morning.
"Jared?" The voice asked again, this time snippily.
"Man, it is too fucking early for this shit on Halloween. Ha ha, trick's on me. Don't call back!" Jared went to hang up when the person spoke again.
"Stop fucking around, Jared," the voice fast sounding like Jacob demanded. "I need you to get up and help me collect Paul."
"Fuck, it's five in the morning. Are you kidding me?" Jared did the face rub again, this time one handed. He was envious Kim could sleep through all of this. Although, if he had just slept through the poking, he, too, could be blissfully unaware.
"No, Sam just called," Jacob answered in a tone the pack had come to use collectively as Paul's-fucked-us. "An elder called Sam to ask why Lahote was out ringing doorbells at four thirty in the morning, talking about signing up their young men for tactile training."
"What the fuck?"
"Exactly! He's been to various houses on the Rez and one we know of in Forks, but not in any clear or easy path to follow. Sam's pissed and, of course, Paul isn't answering his phone."
"Lucky bastard," Jared muttered, semi-serious. If only he could've ignored the phone. "Are you sure he isn't just pulling a Halloween prank?"
"Paul doesn't pull shit unless the person is there firsthand to see it and none of places he's been are people of interest for him to prank. Sam and I have an idea of who might be on the list, but do you know if he's pissed at any one in particular?"
"Aside from the entire world? Nope, don't have a clue."
"Right. So get your ass up and help out. You need to make it quick and drive out to Forks. Start out on the old road and then head towards the highway."
Looking at a sleeping Kim reminded Jared of what was really at stake. Aside from the usual terror and horror Paul could inflict on the unsuspecting. "Is Arial with him?"
Jacob gave a short bitter laugh. "No idea. Sam asked Elder Pine and the man asked Sam if he often checked out the cars of people ringing their doorbells before the first eye blinding ray of sun."
"So probably a 'no' then, huh?"
"Does it matter?"
"No, it won't make a difference either way." Jared sighed tiredly. It was an important issue, but either way they'd have to stop Paul. "Check-in in forty?"
"Yep," Jacob agreed before hanging up.
Sighing in resignation, Jared fumbled with the receiver and crawled out bed. Man, leave it to Paul to pull some shit on the day of the pack's Halloween party. It sucked that it wasn't Paul who had gotten the red jellybean because Jared was sure everyone would have preferred that.
"And you have a pleasant fucking day as well, you drunk hillbilly pissgoat," Paul muttered to the raving lunatic waving a gun on the front porch he was parked in front of. The bitch didn't even know the fucking thing wasn't loaded, or if he did then he was a lying sack of shit since he'd just spent the last two minutes telling Paul where he was going to shoot him.
House number eleven and Paul still hadn't gotten a whiff of the scent he remembered from his yard a couple of weeks ago. Of course, it had been snow-raining like a motherfucking bitch since then and even with his kick ass wolf senses, enough water would fuck over the best of sniffers. That and his inner pansy wolf hadn't allowed the inner aggressive wolf to leave Urchin's side for the past two weeks. Fourteen days was way too fucking long for an effective witch hunt; Paul would just have to wing this shit.
The gears of his jeep ground loudly and painfully as he tried to punch into third and Paul eased back off, muttering a nonsensical comment of affection as he rubbed the steering wheel in comfort. He knew Sam would be on his ass shortly if he wasn't already which was why he was driving across the damn county like a drunk Girl Scout, no obvious pattern for anyone looking.
He had three more 'most likely' homes to visit before he was left with the last five "better check just in case it's a surprise Ace-bitch". Paul didn't think those punks who had fucked over his Urchin would be one of the aces, but it was better to scare the shit out of innocents rather than let the guilty go free.
Throwing it into four wheel drive, Paul gripped the steering wheel tightly, navigating down a small incline that most others would call a sheer cliff drop. It wasn't, but anything with angles sharper than forty five degrees probably felt like a drop to the average pussy driver. The struts belched loudly, the metal hissing, telling Paul his vehicle wasn't exactly in its prime for these unplanned neighborhood outings.
The next house appeared suddenly and incidentally from its backside since Paul hadn't taken the obvious road of approach. In the event Sam caught up to him, he really fucking hoped the ass didn't comment about Mr. Everstone's now slightly trail marked garden.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Jacob hissed from the darkness, reaching out to grab Paul as he exited his jeep. "Sam is super pissed, asshat, all thanks to you."
"Awesome!" Paul answered. "Now that you've delivered that riveting message, get the hell away from me. I think I smell guilt in the air and need to deliver some forgiveness." He sped up, dodging Jake's hand by the barest of distances. This was definitely a house of interest, his wolf was gearing up just underneath the surface.
"The only thing you smell is the stench of teenage boys doing normal things they do." Jake dove himself forward, landing on Paul's back. The weight pulled both of them off of the steps he had just climbed to the house, landing them in a jumbled mess on the walkway.
"They were there, that was something," Paul spat, trying to twist Jake off of him. The two struggled violently, crushing more of poor Mr. Everstone's greenery. Paul figured the man would blame his delinquent teenage son and that it would be a start to a fitting punishment for punk number one.
"Stop it, you dick! If you had answered your phone you'd fucking know I was here about Arial," Jake wheezed when Paul delivered a lucky shot to his ribs.
Not even a colliding meteor could've stopped Paul faster than someone mentioning the possibility of his Urchin being in a bad place.
"What the fuck?" Paul hollered. "Shit, stop fucking around and get off of me, ass. I need to go home!" A kip-up, bounce and hop and Paul was back inside his jeep, peeling away from the house and back on his way to home. He knew where his victim lived now and could deal with the ass at regular intervals.
Jacob stayed lying on the ground, his eyes closed and happy the intervention had gone as smoothly as it had. He didn't know what Sam was going to say to Mr. Everstone and was glad he didn't have to deal with shit like that.
"Mind telling me why you're crushing my prized orchids, Mr. Black?" A sleepy and pissed off voice yelled at Jake, probably from an upstairs window judging by the echo.
Jake tried not to groan as he was confronted by an irritated homeowner. If Sam didn't doubly ream Paul a new one for this, he sure as shit would later. It might actually be the first time one of the pack parties turned into a real blood bath.
Paul laughed like a crazy assed old coot driving back to his house. Did Jacob and the gang really think he could be such a pussy? That he would roll over like a kicked dog that easily? He knew damn well Urchin was safe and secure back at his house. Knew it like he did the back of his hand. There would've been an alarm howl if any shit had gone down, not some puppet hunting party.
Still, the knowledge that he knew he was right, didn't stop Paul from speeding just a little bit more and rolling down the window to check out the local scents for any bloodsucking monsters. Just in case.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, pulling into his driveway. "Well, well, well, we meet again, Alpha," Paul called out sarcastically, approaching the looming figure on his doorstep. Sometimes Paul thought they could've both saved a lot of fucking time if he had just built himself a doghouse in Uley's backyard.
"Why do you insist on trying to challenge every damn thing I say?"
Was it supposed to be a trick question? "Because you say the most fucking dumbass things," Paul threw back. Sam should've been able to answer that in his sleep.
"No, Paul, I say things that you want no part of and pretend aren't true or helpful."
"Well, it wasn't helpful and by doing it my way, I now know whose ass I need to bust for hurting my girl."
Sam blinked in confusion. "Jacob said you didn't have a chance to speak to David. How do you know he hurt Arial?"
"I could smell it," Paul answered, tapping his nose. "Speaking of which, you gotta leave. I can smell Urchin waking up."
"Cut the crap, Lahote. I've been waiting here for the better part of an hour and nothing has changed; scent, sound or sight wise."
"I already had to put down pretty boy Black today, Alpha. Don't make me give you a beating, too."
For once it was Sam who made an aggressive move first. His approach to Paul was fast and unexpected, Sam's hand making a hard impact into the man's shoulder as he shoved him backwards off of his feet. "We are pack, Paul. Pack! That means one leader and a trail of compliant followers."
"I don't need this shit this fucking early, Uley!"
"How the fuck do you think I feel when a tribal elder calls me at four thirty, telling me once again that one of our Guardians is up to shit and that I need to take care of it?" Sam slammed his hand back into Paul's shoulder, pushing him into the house wall again. Paul bared his teeth, the wolf rising quickly.
"Bring it on," Sam taunted. "I will happily beat the shit out of you right here, right now. And even if by some odd twist of fate you manage to kill me, you still wouldn't inherit the leadership nor would it dissolve the unity of the pack except to kill you for turning on one of your own."
Paul's rage had nowhere to go, the anger bursting through his skin in a wave of snapping bones and fur. Likewise, Sam shifted on the spot as well, both men throwing their bodies off of the porch while the changes happened.
Paul's shifting had not been a challenge to Sam in and of itself; however, the leader took the opportunity to exert his force. The black wolf's muzzle snapped audibly around the hind quarter of the silver one, a quick yelp with a long drawn out growl of pain following.
You can either wear the bruises for a few hours or I can break your leg and you can bear the burden for a few days, Sam communicated, his teeth still fully impaling a leg.
Concede, Paul answered his wolf part detached from his human part. He could care less what the furry side of him was doing; the human side of him was listening to the fact that Urchin was awake now, no doubt from Uley's shoving. Her movements were still sluggish, but increasing in speed, suggesting she was looking for Paul.
The Alpha was not so easily pacified with Paul's answer. No! I'm not letting go until you fully commit to your obedience.
Paul hesitated, his mind still focused on where his girl was and what might be happening.
Arial will come out here and discover us like this if you want. It was more fact than threat. Sam knew Arial would never be fully adjusted to their lifestyle until she learned Paul's secret. If that time happened to coincide with now, so be it.
What Sam didn't know, or care about, was that this one issue Paul knew all the fuck about and could guarantee the outcome were it to happen right know. Without any prep time, or backup plans, his girl would freak the fuck out and be traumatized for life. Like she fucking needed any more mental baggage. Urchin wouldn't have a fucking clue that the pair of Hell hounds on the porch were good guys.
Fine, I give! Paul seethed, trying to focus only on Alpha Sam. Tell me what I need to do to end this right now.
Full compliance, Paul. I don't want to have to reign you in every damn time you feel an injustice has been committed against Arial.
You want me to cut off my dick right now, too? Come on, Uley, you have got to give me a suggestion I even have a chance in hell of accomplishing.
Sam's wolf stared at Paul's. There was no quarter given in the grip he had on the leg, but the eyes moved shrewdly. If Sam had been able to control Paul earlier, he would've already done so. There was a limit to what could be asked of him, but Sam had to have some control as well.
I don't want anything like this incident to happen again, Paul. And I don't mean an exact replica of you trying to scare the hell out of local teenagers; I mean your drive to purposely always go behind my back and trying to skirt around the rules I have set.
Sam mentally pushed against Paul, the leader laying out terms for his follower. Paul was to hold back specifically on incidents concerning his girl unless there was an immediate threat to loss of life or limb. Sam wouldn't try to control most of Paul's impulsive rants and rages, only the ones that could conceivably hurt the tribe or pack as a whole.
So basically I'm to listen to you and you promise not to tell me I can't punch Fuller in the junk when he mouths off or tip over Quil's car because he loses a bet?
Fucking hell! Sam stated, seeing an unknown incident of car tipping. Relaxing his jaw, the black wolf backed away. I accept those stipulations as long as you guys don't do any of that type of shit off of La Push. You need to remember, though, this is my last warning.
This certainly wasn't the first time Paul had heard about 'last warnings' and he knew damn well it wouldn't be the last.
"Hey, Urchin," Paul greeted his worried imprint, an old sheet wrapped around his lower half. Fucking Uley and his shitty ass timing, wanting to play King of the Hill this morning. Another tremor of anger raced through his body and Paul could see Arial flinch in uncertainty. She was scared shitless and didn't know it was because Paul's furry self was still very much in attack mode. Not to her, but in general.
She looked at his choice of covering, an odd expression appearing.
"Yeah, I, uh, ruined my clothes and didn't want to shock the shit out of you by bouncing on in here naked."
Liar, liar, fuckface! his wolf reminded him. Paul could care less about swinging his dick in front of anyone, especially his imprint! There was, thank fucking god, still a small part of him to realize that if he entered their sleeping place naked and fully charged, a bed tackle would take place and…well, no need to finish what would definitely happen after that.
Urchin didn't shy away from his comment. She also didn't look down and kept her eyes on his face. Paul was okay with that, walking over to his dresser to pull out a pair of jeans. Urchin let out a weird noise and he spun around quickly, almost dropping the fucking sheet.
She was practically right on fucking top of him, or behind him, and Paul reared up, startled at the closeness.
"It's nothing," he said softly, realizing she was staring in horror at the product of Sam's mark of dictatorship love. The blood from his wound was minimum, the wounds sealed, but still raw, deep and covered in bruise colorations.
Damn him for wearing the fucking sheet like a miniskirt and not like a robe. He was no doubt flashing his ass like a Kardashian at a club. Urchin looked like she wanted to puke and Paul had no idea what to do.
"I…I went outside, see, and…fuck!" Paul couldn't lie to her about his whereabouts. Fuck it, he shouldn't have to anyways, but telling the poor girl he was just bit by some huge ass wolf would scare the shit out of her. Probably more than his wound itself, although Paul wasn't too sure about that. He knew jack shit about female's tolerance to flesh wounds. As a general basis he just assumed it was low.
His mental ponderings halted upon seeing Urchin turn and head for the bathroom. Man, she was gonna puke, he knew it and tried to drop his mini-sheet and pull on jeans at the same time so he could…well so he could do fucking something. Not like a chick needed help puking, that was pretty much a solo sport.
Either Paul wasn't as fast as he had thought or Urchin was faster than he had judged because she came back out of the bathroom clutching a tube, wet washcloth and Band-Aids. The lack of his speed merely highlighted the fact that she was met with a naked Paul. His dick was the first to salute her quick return.
"Umm," Paul hedged before his mind came back. "Fuck, urchin! I'm sorry. My ass should be covered and I was fucking trying to get dressed to help you, but damn, you're quick and…," He trailed off. That was fucking insulting, wasn't it? Telling a chick she was fast? It sure as shit was when a chick said it to a guy! "Well, I don't know about that since we haven't done anything. You did, though. You tried to and I stopped you and…what the fuck am I saying?" Paul slowed to a mumble.
Urchin wasn't even really paying attention to him, her stare still fixed on his…Oh, hell yeah! She was staring at his junk and didn't look the least bit fucking afraid or intimidated. Of course she hadn't that first time either so maybe he was actually doing her a favor. Fuck he needed to stop thinking with his dick, but this morning wasn't about to be day one of that task.
The sheet, his pants, what fucking day or time it was were all forgotten to the over excited man as his girl walked up to him without fear. Pau had never been shy a day in his life and it sure as shit wasn't about to start now.
"You want to touch me?" he asked in a husky voice. "You can touch me anyway you want or need to, Urchin," he said, damn near biting his tongue in half so as not to add the word 'please' with a double exclamation point.
Paul already knew his dick had taken over and that his brain was resting in some far off, unimportant place. Even his wolf seemed to be somewhere else, only his dick leading the senses for what he hoped was about to be the first of many dreams to come true. It took him more than a normal amount of recognition time to realize she wasn't feeling up his dick or even thinking about it. She was trying to clean his wound.
"Motherfucker!" He yelled out in complete surprise and disappointment that he tried to hide. It worked, Urchin thought she had only hurt him and her swipes with the washcloth on his upper thigh became softer, not that they had been rough to begin with.
"You don't have to do that, Urchin," he tried again. It sure as shit didn't help matters that he was still using his sex voice, although that was clearly off the table this morning. And fuck it, the idea of table sex with his Urchin wasn't helping either!
She seemed oblivious to his thoughts and if she knew how fucking horny he was—and really, you'd have to be dead not to notice it—she was doing an admirable job of pretending otherwise. She had finished wiping away the stains of red, her finger liberally coated in the ointment Sue had given them a few weeks for her.
Paul tried not to groan as his mind stayed in the gutter while she attended to his wounds. When she was done her embarrassment came right back and Paul couldn't help but chuckle as he really pulled on his jeans this time.
"No need to be shy, Urchin. I'm perfectly comfortable without anything on and there's no reason to be embarrassed, okay?"
Her back was turned to him, but she nodded in understanding. Paul could damn well feel her blush, though. It would probably take more than one or two showings before she was comfortable with his nudity. Not that he had any fucking clue how to address that issue. Most chicks in his presence stripped themselves before stripping him.
"You can turn around now. I'm dressed," he said, watching Urchin clutching the washcloth tightly in her hands. The realization of what she had done hit him hard.
His girl had been scared for him. Not because of him or because she thought she was in danger but because she had seen wounds on him. Urchin didn't know shit about being a wolf; that his wounds were literally nothing more than a scratch. Even if he hadn't been so busy ho-humming about the state of his dick, he wouldn't have noticed any pain associated with her would-be helpful treatment. For fuck's sake, he had allowed her to sticker his leg with Band-Aids.
Paul scooped her up without thought, hugging her tightly to his chest. Didn't fucking matter Band Aids were for sissies; his girl had feelings for him!
"Thank you for taking care of me, Urchin. It means a fucking lot to me," Paul mumbled into her neck. He damn near melted when she hesitantly returned his hug, her narrow arms wrapping around his neck with the slightest of pressures.
He pulled back to stare in what he hoped wasn't a dopey ass expression but probably was. "I'm fucking starved. What do you say to breakfast at McDonald's?"
Her acceptance was slow, the nod one of either confusion or uncertainty and probably both.
"Not there, we'll just go through the drive thru and come back here," Paul clarified. That fucking did it, his girl smiling truthfully this time as she tried to squirm down to get ready. He gave her one more squeeze of appreciation before leaving her be. He sure as fuck hoped Sam's party tonight went a lot fucking smoother and that the almighty Alpha wasn't forced to turn a blind eye while Paul pounded the shit out of one the pack's dumbasses. The odds were not in his favor.
Bella thought it was weird that her Paul had hurt himself early this morning. She didn't think she was a heavy sleeper -she better not be turning into one, that could be deadly for an Undergrounder- but if he had an accident that caused a wound like the one she had cleaned, why hadn't she heard him yell?
Then when she had cleaned it, he had seemed surprised and something else. She knew what the something else was and was bothered that she hadn't acted upon it. She didn't need to be with him like that, but it wouldn't be bad if she was. The Paul man had certainly looked like he wanted her to touch him in a more personal way, but he had looked that way the first time, too. Bella chewed on the edge of her lip as she tried to recall a time when she wasn't supposed to take care of a man's urges.
"What are you thinking about so intensely over there?" Her Paul man asked from the driver side of his vehicle. Immediately Bella's cheeks bloomed in color and her eyes fell to the bag of food she was holding.
"That good, huh?" he teased her. "That's okay, Urchin. One of these days you'll tell me all of your secrets and I bet it'll be my turn to blush."
He probably would, Bella thought sadly. She missed the way his smile turned into a grimace as her mood changed and soured the cab. He didn't pester her anymore and kept giving her blank looks when they got home and went inside to eat. She started to walk to the table to set the bags down when she was instructed otherwise.
"Not there, Urchin. We're going to eat in the living room, so we can watch a movie."
Changing direction, Bella did as instructed, carefully unpacking the bags and wondering why there was a French-fry in the bottom. Turning the bag upside down, she shook it to make sure there weren't any more hidden fries and then wondered where it should go. She could hear the fridge opening and closing and a lot of bad words through the sounds of cabinet doors opening and closing and decided to just eat the lone fry. Paul finally joined her, caring a mug and a glass.
"Shit, sorry, Urchin. You could've started without me. The fucking coffee pot took forever," Paul explained, giving her a quick smile before grabbing one sandwich for each hand and sniffing both of them. "You want ham, sausage or bacon?"
Bella didn't really care, they all smelled good, so she simply held out her hand and randomly pointed to one. He slid it down the table and it came to a perfect stop directly in front of her. He ate with his usual speed, purposely saving the last sandwich until he was sure Bella didn't want it.
She tried not to frown when breakfast was over and once again she had nothing to store away for her hidden supplies. True, she was always allowed to eat until she was full and would never have to walk away hungry from meal here. It wasn't only about the food like Bella had first thought. Even if given a constant supply of meals while living in the Underground, there wouldn't be a warm house, clean clothes, comfortable beds, or even the simpler things like easy access to a toilet and shower.
There wouldn't be a Paul man.
The idea of not having him around bothered Bella most of all. She liked when he held her or sat next to her, even holding his hand eased Bella in a way she couldn't figure out. She had seen thousands of couples together in the city, people like her and the Paul man holding hands, sharing food and talking.
He hadn't said anything about that night he had lost his temper and she had choked out a single word. Heck, Bella wasn't even sure if he had understood her. The few words she had spoken out loud in the past rarely sounded the same as the people around her. The monsters had known, but Bella was pretty sure one of them had been able to read her mind.
Before she had tried to steal that Jared person's wallet, Bella never would have imagined herself with a man. She was forced to be in the company of some, but not like she was with her Paul. He didn't demand things of her. He didn't hurt her. He sometimes scared her senseless, but she was mostly confident she'd be safe and even if he hurt her it would be okay. She'd take it and then make sure she didn't anger him that way again.
Still, would her Paul man really want someone like Bella? What could she offer him that compared to what he did for her? She didn't know how to cook or run the machines in the kitchen. She tried to watch him wash the clothes, but the basement was still a rather scary place. By the time she convinced herself to follow him down, he'd be on his way back upstairs, the machine already turned on and running.
He had gone outside last weekend and Bella followed to see what she might be able to help with. However, he'd gone into a small building and pulled out a lawn mower. Between the noise and the knowledge that there were spinning blades, Bella had cowered on the porch until the Paul man had pushed it into the front yard. That was all it had taken to convince Bella she couldn't help the Paul man outside and maybe she could wash a counter or fold a blanket inside the house, away from the scarier appliances. Her sigh of disappointed frustration gained her Paul man's attention, his head popping up suddenly and focusing all of his attention away from the breakfast crumbs and onto Bella.
"You okay, Urchin?" He asked, wiping off whatever crumbs remained on his hands. Inspecting his fingers first he then reached over for Bella's hand, giving it a squeeze. Even after Bella squeezed back to reassure he kept hold of her hand, a double meaning of warmth swirling within Bella delightfully.
"So, I know you already saw it, but Leah said you kinda fucking liked it and that we should watch it together. Whaddya say?" With his free hand, the Paul man reached way over to the opposite side of the couch, grabbing the black box that turned on the TV. He had really long arms and Bella was surprised he hadn't caught her that first day they had met. Her jacket had been torn because he had tried to grip it, but if he had actually grabbed her arm, she would've been pulled back above ground right then.
The screen lit up, a familiar melody increasing in volume as Bella waited to see what the movie was. Her heart felt like it stopped and left when the cartoon figure of a girl in a yellow dress appeared. That was the character who had almost the same name as Bella: Belle. She, too, had to live with monsters. Well, just one monster and a nice one at that, but still. Bella's panicked eyes rose quickly to see her Paul man staring at her. He looked sad.
"Okay, so I know you don't like this movie," Paul said with soft compassion. "Either that or you're having a damn heart attack, but you smell like the wrong kind of fucking panic for that."
Bella had no idea what to make of his comments, nor did she really think about the oddness of the words. For whatever reason he knew she didn't want to watch this and she knew he was going to make her regardless. Her Paul man was smart. Bella knew he'd pick until he had it all figured out.
Bella sat rigid the entire time the movie played, her eyes fixated on a movie she wasn't watching but could hear vividly. Every time the name 'Belle' was said it was her Paul man who would shift or jerk in his seat. He never let go of her hand, though, and in fact tried to comfort her more, his thumb moving softly across her palm.
Her Paul man must be even smarter than she had first thought. The movie didn't play for very long before the picture froze and he picked her up to sit on his lap. The question she feared most, but would happily answer for her Paul, was exactly what he asked first. Sort of.
"Is that your name, Belle?" Paul asked gruffly. Fuck, it was a pretty name for his girl and she sure as shit looked like a Disney character, all pretty cheekbones and ghost white skin. Hell, she'd been living on the goddamn streets so she probably had a dead parent and evil step sister as well. The pack of hyenas he called pack would never let him live this shit down. Not in a million fucking years.
Despite the slow shaking of a 'no' from his urchin, Paul was not to be deterred. "Are you lying?" He asked, his voice still creepy sounding even to his own ears.
"I don't get it, Urchin. It has to be your name or the damn name of someone you know who was important to you. Is that it?"
In a surprise action, his girl grabbed his face with both of her hands, eyes locked intently on his while she continued to shake her head no. Her heart rate was way too fucking high to be normal, her palms sweaty, but her intense gaze told Paul he best be fucking quick at guessing.
"Is Belle the name of someone you know, anyone? Is it someone who hurt you? Was it the name of some shitter back in Seattle? Your mom? Your sister? Stepsister? Cousin? Aunt? Grandma? Fuck, was it the name of your cross dressing drag Uncle/father/brother/cousin/friend?" Paul asked quickly, not bothering to slow down. His urchin just kept shaking her head and he felt like he had to lay it all out until she could…
"Belle," he said slowly, watching as she froze her head. "You said your name isn't Belle. Were you hurt by a bell, is that why you won't talk? Maybe your hearing's fucked up or some shit?" Paul asked in desperation. Was it tied together? Was that the fucking missing link that would unravel this shit party?
He didn't know what to make of it. Urchin wasn't moving, wasn't shaking yes or no. She just sat there staring at him with large sad eyes.
"Were you hit by a bell?" He tried again. "Did someone ring a loud bell and it hurt your ears?" Her answers were a constant 'no', but every time he said the fucking word 'bell' her body stats went bat shit crazy, his inner wolf about to fucking piss himself in anxiety.
"Bell, bell, bell," Paul said slowly, waiting for the fucking answer to light up in front of him. "Does a bell –a ringing, tinkling, gonging motherfucker- have anything to do with this?"
Again, another 'no'. At least he could stop with the crazy ass ideas of some maniacal forefather wearing a white wig and hitting his girl with a brass bell or a diaper ass sumo fucker using Urchin's head as a mallet. He could probably scratch off deranged pirates with ship horns off the list, too.
Paul also needed to fucking focus. Her reasoning, ability or inability to talk was not the current issue at hand. It might be tied into her name, in some weird fucking way, but one damn crisis at a time, fuck you very much.
"Does your name rhyme with Belle? Dell, Shell, Kell, Mel, Tel, hell, fucking Zell?" Paul asked in exasperation. He shouldn't fucking be. Every question he asked might be getting a no answer, but it also told him he was correct. Her body didn't respond at all to his crazy ass mofo ideas. Although, it could be because they were crazy ass mofo ideas. He was an idiot.
"Does your name have Belle in it?" Paul asked offhandedly. He nearly dropped Urchin when her 'no' turned into a 'yes', and her hands that were still gripping his cheeks squeezed in excitement. "Holy fucking shit! Is it…what names have Belle?" His mind went blank upon seeing the hopefulness in her eyes. He was on the right damn track and for the life of him, couldn't think of a single fucking name that had Belle in it.
Like most thought processes, Paul's hurtled back into his head at the rate of a werewolf hitting a mountain. How the fuck could he have forgotten the day they sat outside and he had narrowed down that her name began with the letter B. If her name started with that letter and it also had Belle in it, there couldn't be very many fucking names it really was, could there?
"I'll be right back," Paul said, standing up quickly, his urchin still in his lap. He had meant to set her down but like all mind fucks went, she was toted along as he walked over to a bookshelf near the front door. There, on top, was the notebook Leah had brought over filled with pages and pages of names.
'Look," Paul said as he sat back down on the couch like his girl hadn't moved with him, "this binder has a fuck ton of names in it. I'm gonna go to the B section and then you can, wait!"
Paul had flipped to the B section with the idea of having Urchin point out her name. It suddenly occurred to him that if she couldn't read, she'd feel real fucking shitty for his dumb ass pointing that out to her like she needed the reminder. Fuck, though, the only way to be absolutely fucking sure would be to ask point blank. God, he hated fucking rational logic at times.
Like a pussy, he made sure Urchin was facing forward, away from him so he couldn't see her face when he asked, "Can you read, Urchin? Would you know what your name looked like if it was printed?"
Paul knew without a shadow of any fucking doubt that he'd rather cut off his nuts with rusty toenail clippers one small snip at a time rather than get a whiff of the devastating scent of Urchin's defeat. Her shoulders slumped and her head drooped forward as she slowly shook it no to indicate that she couldn't read. He felt like a dick for even bothering with that shit and not doing the obvious, pain free approach.
"Belen, Belicia, Belinda, Belisma, I've never fucking heard anyone called these, Belita, Bella, fuck!" Paul yelled when his urchin slapped her hand on the book. Her body chemistry was emitting more craziness and Paul knew he had hit the fucking jackpot.
Nobody moved for the next few minutes, both Paul and Urchin shaking for different reasons. Paul's excitement was to the point where he fucking knew if he didn't pull back, or out as the situation usually called for, he was going to come hardcore. Despite Urchin's excitement stemming from an entirely different fucking reason, Paul's dick was presently hard enough to be a skyscraper.
"It was one of those, wasn't it?" he finally whispered into her ear, leaning over Urchin's shoulder where he had been reading the names from. Her soft nod prompted the delivery of a sweet kiss to her earlobe. This was fucking huge and oddly, rather intimate, Paul was discovering. Her real name would be a huge fucking deal and he wanted her to know how special the event was.
"I'm going to start again, backwards" he whispered, slowly moving her hand away from the covered words. "Because it would be an incredible honor to know your name and I can tell you want me to know as well. Are you ready?"
Only one name fell from Paul's lips: Bella. The read of her senses told him immediately that was her name and he felt empowered and graced to know. He already knew she was a beautiful girl, his girl, and now he knew for a fact she had a beautiful name to go with it.
However, Bella would always be his urchin, the adorable critter he had saved and who was slowly saving him as well. Now he needed to go fucking excuse himself to take care of his raging cock.