A/N: Sorry for the delay between this chapter and the last. The holiday season is my insanely busy season at work, and since my day job is also a writing job, by the time I have a minute to work on this story I am so fried I can barely string a coherent sentence together. Of course, if this chapter makes sense and doesn't read like it was written by a brain-fried Steph Meyer wannabe, then credit goes to my meticulous betas Evelyn-Shaye and Munkeerajah. They are the tinsel on my Christmas tree!

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I'm just playing with the wrapping paper and trying to get the creases right.

Chapter 24 – Miss Peculiar

It's a long, confused stumble from the cradle to the grave. At some point along the way, every one of us will face that very first can't-breathe, punch-in-the-gut "Oh, fuck!" moment when we realize that someone we love is in danger and there isn't jack shit we can do to save them. Some of us get that kick in the teeth as kids when a pet or grandparent—or maybe even a parent—dies. Some of us squeak by a bit longer and don't get the nasty lesson until we're adults, watching a friend kill themselves with booze, bad food or work.

My moment came when I was just nine years old.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and I'd spent the day playing with Jake's sisters, roaming all over the rez, getting into shit we totally had no business being in. We stole toilet paper from the community center and rolled the entire front yard of an elder's house. We pinched some candy out of one of the machines in front of the grocery store. Yeah, it had been a great day.

Twilight was approaching, and we knew it was time to go home, but we also knew we would get our butts kicked for being out so late. We were already in trouble, so walking near the train tracks—where we'd been forbidden to ever go—seemed like the perfect thrilling, forbidden end to our day of pre-teen debauchery.

I remember running up to the tracks, and suddenly one of the neighborhood dogs was there, running and playing with us. Every community has at least one of these dogs, right? A mutt that belongs to no one and everyone at the same time? One day my mom would feed it; the next day Jake's mom would toss it some scraps.

We were having so much fun playing chase with that damned dog that none of us noticed the freight train as it barreled out of a blind curve and slammed down the straight stretch of track toward us. Lucky for us, the driver spotted us right away and blasted a warning with the train whistle. The three of us scrambled off the tracks with plenty of time to spare. The dog, however, just kept running around the tracks, barking maniacally, totally oblivious to the doom that was bearing down on it.

We tried calling to the dog to come, trying to coax it off the tracks. When it became clear that the mutt wasn't going to listen, I actually started toward the tracks to drag it away. Rachel saved my life by grabbing my arm and holding me back, just as the dog darted back into the path of the train.

Dog versus train. No contest.

The train did what trains do … and kept on going.

I have never forgotten the feeling of sick, powerless dread that I felt watching that train bear down on that stupid dog. Now, every time I looked at Seth, every time I thought of my suspicions about Anjali, that same nauseated sensation punched me in the gut.

Between that feeling and the revolting stench of vampire that surrounded me, I'd puked three times in the forty-eight hours that I'd been confined to the Cullen house. Of course, I made sure to heave quietly, because if Nahuel caught me worshipping the porcelain god, he'd insist on extending my forced recuperation.

Hiding my stomach problems sucked rocks, but not nearly as much as it would suck to have to stay any longer in that house. Living in a mansion full of vampires was every bit as wretched as I would have imagined. My problems were many and varied.

Worry and guilt over the disappearance of my Alpha and his imprint plagued me constantly. No one would talk to me about what they were doing to find Jake and Renesmee. Whether that was because they were trying to protect me until I was better (Seth's excuse) or so pissed they couldn't even speak to me (Bella and Edward's motivation), didn't matter to me. I craved information, but got nothing, so the best I could do was keep reminding myself that Jake was the smartest, strongest person I knew. He was a survivor. He'd be alright.

I promised myself that as soon as Carlisle released me from his care, I'd go looking for Jake. When I found him, I intended to beg him to take me back into the pack. I had plenty to apologize for, not the least of which was realizing so late how important my bond with Jake and the pack was in my life. I knew now it was a bad decision to disobey my Alpha and break my link to him and my pack brothers. I was getting repaid for that bad decision in spades.

Seth and the others had completely shut me out of pack business. He wouldn't discuss anything pack-related with me, not even when I demanded to know what they were doing to aid in the search for Jake and Renesmee. He said it was for my own good, so that I could focus on getting well. Knowing Seth, he was probably sincere about that, but it still hurt.

And it seriously chapped my ass that my brother, my imprint—and everyone else—was treating me like a damned invalid. I felt better and ready to go home the day after my injury, but all Nahuel and Seth had to hear were the words "possible paralysis" from Carlisle and they acted like my spine might collapse at any moment. Then there was the total lack of privacy that comes from living around beings that all had supernatural hearing. There were things I needed to say to Nahuel, but I didn't want an audience.

The potential audience didn't seem to be damping my libido, however; I was in a state of near-constant sexual frustration. I wanted to pin my imprint to the bed and have my way with him—repeatedly—and I didn't care at all that our activities would be overheard by whoever was in the house at the time. Hell, Seth and Anjali didn't care, so why should I? I was horny. It had been four very long days since the last time Nahuel and I had made love.

But my heightened desire went beyond mere lust. Every night, I dreamt. Intense, vivid, terrifying nightmares in which icy hands mauled me, other unspeakably cold body parts prodded, and a whiskey voice made cryptic, undecipherable threats. Each time I had that dream, I woke from it shivering, and I knew with utter certainty that the only thing that could drive that bitter cold away was Nahuel's heat.

Yet every time I reached for him, he turned me away.

No matter how hard I pushed him, my fuck-hot half-vampire imprint refused to give up the goods until my full-vampire doctor decided my spinal injury was completely healed. At least, that's the excuse he gave me, and I wanted to believe that was why he kept me at arm's length. Wanted to accept that when his lips met mine without the passion I craved, it was only concern for my health that held him back.

But another part of me, the fat-ass-underwater portion of the slowly melting iceberg that was my core insecurity, feared something more was at the root of his distance. Maybe in the clear light of day—away from danger and surrounded by beings that were his perfect, beautiful equal in every way—he was beginning to doubt his feelings for me.

After all, even my own brother was rejecting me after what I'd done to my Alpha. How could I expect Nahuel to trust that I would continue loving him when I'd so faithlessly cast aside Jake and all my pack brothers?

Hanging over all my other worries was the crushing dread that I felt every time I looked at either my brother or his imprint. I had nothing but suspicions, but they were suspicions that made sense—too much sense to ignore.

My would-be rapist had known things about Nahuel and me that he could only have learned from someone inside our inner circle, and Anjali was the only outsider we'd welcomed in. There was a rat somewhere in our extended pack, and there simply wasn't anyone else it could be.

I had to admit, I had no idea how she could be passing information to Joham and his minions. Seth was with her constantly, unless he was patrolling. And when he was off doing pack business, at least one member of the Cullen household was with her at all times. So I didn't see how she'd have the opportunity. And even if she had opportunity, she didn't have the means. She had no cell phone, nor private access to the Cullens' landline. I had no idea how she was doing it, but I was sure she was feeding information to Joham.

The other thing that baffled me was why. Even though I suspected her of betraying us, I still couldn't deny her obvious adoration of my brother. I had no doubt she'd die to protect him. But that didn't mean she wouldn't give up me or my imprint, did it? I really felt like she'd sacrifice any one of us if it meant protecting Seth.

Was that her motivation? Had Joham offered her the same deal she'd put in front of Nahuel those first moments in the clearing all those weeks ago? Had her batshit crazy daddy offered to let her keep her "human pet" in exchange for her cooperation?

I desperately hoped that my suspicions about her were wrong, or that, if I was right, she was at least acting out of some misguided belief it would protect Seth. Then again, maybe she was just an evil bitch who was really, really good at faking feelings for my baby brother.

Worst of all, I couldn't talk to anyone about my suspicions. I'd thought I was done hiding things from Nahuel, and it was hard as hell to conceal this from him. And keeping secrets from Seth was not only difficult; it never turned out well, either. But I couldn't confess my suspicions to either of them; they were the two people most likely to be hurt by all this, whether I was right or not. If I mouthed off and was wrong, I'd damage my relationship with both of them. If I was right, they'd both be devastated. It was just a question of how much and how soon.

Damned if I do, damned if I don't. Sometimes it fucking sucks to be me. Not as often as it used to, but sometimes it still does.

A quiet knock on the door of my very luxurious prison cell interrupted my self-pity party. The distinct odor of vampire, mixed with the most wonderful aroma on the planet, alerted me to who was on the other side of the door: the only two people who could possibly make me feel better right now.

I hurried across the room and yanked open the door to find Nahuel and Carlisle standing there with matching grins.

Like goddamned Cheshire cats.

"So what's the word?" I demanded, stepping aside to allow them both to enter the room. "Can I go home?"

Carlisle chuckled at my impatience. "Well, the x-rays we took this morning show that everything has healed perfectly. As long as you agree to take it easy at home for a few more days, I see no reason to keep you confined any longer."

I narrowed my eyes at his wide smile and glanced at Nahuel. His eyes were soft and concerned. He was picking at his finger nail, and I knew what that meant: he was worried. There was no way I was walking out of here with him still wearing that expression.

I turned back to Carlisle. "Would you mind clarifying what you mean by 'take it easy'?"

He nodded, brisk and business-like. "Of course. I know you want to join the search for Renesmee and Jacob as soon as possible, but I'd like you to avoid strenuous activity like running or phasing for at least another day. No heavy lifting or driving during that time. Continue to get plenty of rest …"

I ruthlessly interrupted him. "What about sex?"

Carlisle blinked once and cleared his throat—something he so did not need to do. It was the vampire equivalent of a full-on blush and stammering.

"I see no need for you to …" his golden eyes flickered toward Nahuel, "… abstain."

I probably looked like a horny teenager, but I couldn't help my satisfied smirk. I caught Nahuel's gaze and held it, but spoke directly to Carlisle.

"Great! Thanks for taking care of me, doc," I said, finally returning my eyes to Carlisle's handsome face. "I owe you one."

He stepped forward and offered his hand. I managed to take it immediately, without hesitation; I'd come a long way.

"Leah, we consider you a part of our family," he said, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. How could something so cold convey so much warmth? "I hope someday you'll feel the same."

Now it was my turn to blush and stammer. "Uh, thanks, Carlisle. I know I haven't always been … understanding … of your cov—uh, family. I really appreciate everything you've done for me."

I glanced at Nahuel. He smiled at me encouragingly. "For us," I amended. "I promise I'm going to bring Renesmee and Jacob home. I've caused your family a lot of grief and—"

"No one blames you, Leah," Carlisle interrupted, gently but firmly.

I shook my head self-consciously. "Yeah, well, I don't know about that. But I blame me. So I'm going to make this right, even if that seems impossible right now."

"Nothing is impossible, Leah," he said, his golden eyes boring into me. Strangely, his hand no longer felt cold at all as he held mine. It was as if his undead flesh had somehow absorbed and reflected back my natural heat. "Our family is proof of that."

Tall, handsome and always looking like he stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine, Carlisle had never fit my image of how a father should look. My father had been short, wrinkled, rumpled, brown and dumpy. He and Carlisle couldn't have looked more different. But suddenly, my GQ-perfect vampire doctor seemed to be channeling my plain, salt-of-the-earth human dad. I had a weird urge to lay my head on his shoulder.

He finally released my hand and stepped toward the door. "Would you like me to see if Seth can drive you home in one of our cars?"

Nahuel spoke up. "He is conducting some pack business right now and is unavailable. He said he would send Paul to accompany us when Sue comes to retrieve us. I will call Sue and inform her we are ready to go home."

I gritted my teeth and bit back a snarky comment. I was still pissed at Paul for leaving Nahuel alone and setting off the entire chain of events that led up to Jake's disappearance. But I wanted to go home badly enough that I'd swallow being babysat by the asshat.

Carlisle nodded once. "Very well, then. Leah, you're officially released from my care." He smiled kindly and closed the door gently behind him.

Before I could launch myself onto Nahuel and begin tearing off his clothes—and believe me, I had every intention of doing just that—he pulled my cell phone from his pocket and hit the speed dial. I gaped at him in disbelief, but he studiously avoided looking at me. Was he actually calling my mother now, when we'd just been given the go-ahead to get busy? What the fuck?

I heard the phone ringing in his ear, and then my mother's voice answering. Nahuel angled his body slightly away from me as he greeted my mother. "Hello, Sue. How are you?" My mother's muffled voice responded.

"Yes, Carlisle has decided Leah may go home. One moment …" He paused and moved the phone away from his mouth, still not looking at me as he spoke. Not a good sign.

"Leah, perhaps you would like to have a shower while I speak with Sue? I will collect your things so we will be prepared to leave right away when she and Paul arrive."

I ground my teeth together and glared at him. Lousy, twat-blocking half-vampire.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," I snarled, before grabbing clean clothes and stomping into the bathroom.

I flipped the light switch, illuminating the one thing in the Cullen house that I was really, really going to miss—the bathroom.

Normally, I couldn't care less about interior design, especially when it came to the john. As long as the plumbing worked and everything was clean and tidy, that was usually good enough for me. But this bathroom … even I had to admit it was a little slice of paradise.

The side-by-side sinks, set in a burgundy granite countertop that sparkled with flecks of gold, were lovely. The floor tile was so warm and smooth underfoot that it was hard to believe it was stone, although I couldn't have told you what kind. The crowning glory, however, the feature that pushed this room from the realm of great right into outrageously awesome, was the shower.

It wasn't anything like the mundane little tub and vinyl curtain that passed for a shower in the Clearwater domicile. This shower was an actual room, a huge, walk-in affair that was roughly the same size as my entire bathroom back home.

On the wall opposite the entrance to the shower room, a large window of frosted glass blocks filled the space with muted light, tinted green from the surrounding forest. A rainfall showerhead descended from the ceiling and multiple jets, shower heads, nozzles and handles were everywhere on three of the four walls. A low bench and recessed shelving were built into the fourth wall.

I stripped out of my borrowed pajamas and dropped them in the middle of the bathroom floor. I didn't even bother trying to adjust the water temperature. I just started turning handles, and within seconds the entire room was filled with flying water and steam. I stepped into the spray and let the water envelope me.

But I was feeling too fucking rejected to really be able to enjoy my last shower in this heavenly bathroom. I turned my face up into the spray and let the beads of water bounce off my closed eyelids. I was dejected, hurt and, more than anything else, pissed. I was mad at Nahuel for brushing me off yet again and angry at myself for being so stupidly hurt over it. I knew I had bigger things to worry about right now than whether or not I was getting any, but I couldn't help the way I felt.

I ground the water out of my eyes with the heels of both hands, reached for the sponge—Alice said it was a "loofah." What the fuck is a "loofah?"—and squirted a generous dollop of some girly-smelling bath shit onto it. I started scrubbing the rough sponge over my shoulders and arms, down my stomach and legs, scouring my skin—as if I could wash away my own stupidity.

For two days, I'd been trying to stifle my suspicion that if Nahuel really wanted me as much as I'd wanted him, it wouldn't have been so easy for him to resist my advances. If he had really been holding back because of concerns for my health, well, Carlisle's awkward pronouncement should have cleared everything up for him. If that really had been the only thing keeping him out of my pants, he'd be in here with me right now, I thought.

I finished soaping and rinsing my legs. Tossing the loofah onto the bench, I retrieved a bottle of shampoo from the shelf. I turned back toward the spray … and squeaked in surprise like a little girl.

Nahuel stood in the shower doorway, stripped down to his boxers, a massive hard-on peeking through the front flap of his underwear. I smirked. At least part of him still wanted me. I let my eyes travel greedily up his body, over his sculpted abs and chest. My smugness drained away, however, when my gaze reached his face. The shampoo bottle slipped from my fingers and clattered dully on the wet tile.

Storm-filled, on-the-edge Nahuel was back and barely in control of himself.

His teak eyes were wide, angry and pain-filled. His sensual lips pressed together in a tight, white line. When my eyes met his, tremors shivered through his limbs, and he struggled visibly to suppress them. I hadn't seen him look this close to losing it since that first night in my living room.

I took a hasty step toward him. "Baby, what is it? What's wrong?"

The hand he held up to halt me shook badly.

"Do not …" he shouted, choking off when he heard the volume of his own voice. He patted the air once before dropping his hand. He drew in a shuddering breath, held it and exhaled hard before continuing in a quieter tone. "I am sorry. I have been waiting until you were recovered to speak of certain things we must discuss. If you touch me, I will not be able to continue."

My stomach knotted, and I swallowed the threatening nausea. Nothing good ever came of a conversation that started with any variation of "we need to talk."

"Okay," I said cautiously, struggling to keep my own voice under control. "Just let me dry off and put on some clothes, and we'll sit down and talk."

He continued as if I hadn't spoken at all.

"When my sire's agents took me from your house, I was unafraid."

He took a step into the shower, joining me in the hot spray. I backed away from his anger until my legs bumped the bench behind me. As if my traitorous body had registered the presence of a seat, my knees suddenly went slack, and I sat abruptly with a wet splat.

"I felt no fear because I knew you would find me," he said, taking another slow step forward, barely leashed menace evident in every trembling line of his form. "I knew that you would come for me, and that you would rescue me."

One more step, and he was right in front of me now. I scooted backward on the bench until my back hit the slick tile wall. He leaned forward and braced his palms on either side of the wall behind me. Water cascaded down his glorious face, running into his eyes, but he made no move to wipe it away. Instead, he bent at the waist, bringing his fury-filled eyes level with mine.

"But I could not imagine that you would be so fucking witless as to come alone," he growled, the uncharacteristic profanity hitting me like a ringing slap. His anger and the venom in his voice stunned me speechless. "Or that you would do the one thing I have asked you not to do—put yourself at risk—in order to rescue me."

His hands slid from the wall onto my shoulders, then down my arms. His long fingers wrapped painfully tight around my biceps.

"I retreated into my mind to escape the physical pain, but I did not know a moment's fear until I opened my eyes and saw you, helpless and hurt and alone."

His lips drew back in a snarl, and he spat his next words through clenched teeth.

"Do you truly not understand my feelings for you at all?"

He dragged me to my feet, hauling my limp, wet body against his length.

"Are you truly unaware that I can endure any pain, except your pain?"

He shook me hard, rattling my teeth, as if he'd completely forgotten that I'd just recovered from a spinal injury. His voice was thunderous, and part of me wondered why no one was busting through the door to see what he was shouting about.

"Do you really not know that your loss is the only thing I could not survive?"

"How…" Shake!

"…could you…" Shake!

"…be so fucking…" Shake! Shake!

"…stupid!"

Normally, I'd never tolerate manhandling from anyone, not even my imprint. But his rage had sliced through my self-involved haze, and I was having a moment of stunned clarity, a moment of sensitivity. I realized, for the first time since I'd found Nahuel in that god-awful barn, that I wasn't the only one in an emotional freefall because of that encounter.

I'd been angry and hurt that he was rejecting me physically, never once thinking about how my close call must have made him feel. Once again, I'd thought only of my own pain.

What the hell is wrong with me?

It was a horrible, hurt-filled moment. So of course, I made it worse. I burst into tears, stunning us both.

What the hell is WRONG with me?

Nahuel released me immediately, stumbling away from me as if I'd just caught fire. He didn't stop until his back slammed into the far wall of the shower. His face was a study in horror and self-loathing. He gripped his hair with both hands, pulling furiously, punishingly.

"Ñi piuque, I am sorry. I am sorry," he gasped. "I did not mean to hurt you. I do not know what came over me. I am a monster."

I leaped up, my feet slipping and sliding on the wet tile floor. The water, still blazingly hot (of course the Cullens would have a kick-ass water heater), continued to hammer down on us. I lunged across the floor and slammed into him, weeping hysterically and clutching him desperately. His arms wrapped around me automatically, and I buried my snot-covered face against his warm, hard chest.

"Why?" I sobbed. "Why won't you hold me? Why won't you touch me?" Was this really me, crying and clinging like some reality show regular? I just couldn't get ahold of myself, couldn't get a grip on my runaway emotions.

His rich, deep voice quavered with confusion. "I do not understand. I touch you constantly. I cannot stop touching you. After what I just did, you should forbid me to touch you ever again."

I pushed back, swiped my forearm under my free-flowing nose and gazed at him wordlessly. Surprised understanding dawned on his wet, handsome face.

"Do you mean .…" He paused and wiped water from his eyes, groping for the right words. "Do you think because I have not made love to you since your injury that I do not want you?"

I shrugged one shoulder, struggling to bring my tears under control.

He shook his head. His eyes were bewildered. "Your mother was right," he whispered, amazement darkening his voice. I didn't know why the hell he was bringing my mother into this, but I dropped my eyes from his, ashamed for him to see my weakness. "You truly do not know."

His big, warm hands rose to cradle my face. "Look at me," he commanded. I shook my head, my face crumpling again. "Look at me, my heart. Please."

Damn him, but he knew I couldn't refuse him when he used that tender, pleading tone on me. I forced myself to meet his intense gaze.

"You were injured very badly," he explained. "Your body needed to heal."

He hesitated. "And … I know what he tried to do to you. Edward saw it in your memories when he questioned you, when you were drugged and could not speak. He thought I should know, so he told me what he saw."

My tears had stopped, and now I gasped with anger. Fucking, intrusive mind-reader! I felt violated all over again.

His eyes clouded with sorrow. "I did not know if you would want me to touch you … like that … so soon. I did not want to remind you of what happened. What almost happened."

I clapped my palm to my forehead and gaped at him.

What a pair we were, each muddying the waters of communication between us by keeping our yaps shut when we should have been talking to each other. He was still holding my face tenderly, and I grabbed his wrists.

"I've been having nightmares," I blurted.

He cringed, nodded understandingly and attempted to withdraw his hands. I wouldn't let him.

"You don't get it, Nahuel," I plunged on. "There is no comparison between what that bastard tried to do and what I want from you. It's not even in the same ballpark. It's like comparing a kiss to a gunshot wound.

"Every time I wake up from one of those goddamned nightmares, all I want is you." Emotion swelled in me again. "I need you, baby," I croaked. "I just need to feel you. I n … need you to make the c … cold go away. Please."

His breath caught. His lips parted, and he studied me intently.

"Ñi piuque, I will do anything for you. You must know that I want you. Always. Forever."

I sniffed pathetically and looked down at my wrinkled, water-logged toes. "Forever? Really? That's a very long time to be stuck with the same fucked-up person, Nahuel."

For a moment, he was silent, and I thought maybe he realized I was right and was just looking for a kind way to agree. When he snorted oddly, my eyes flashed back to his angel's face.

He was struggling heroically not to laugh. My stunned expression pushed him over the edge, and he exploded into loud hoots. Even his annoying laughter sounded like a heavenly chorus, I thought resentfully.

"You are right, beloved." There's that name again. I'm thinking I like it. "Eternity is a very long time to spend with one person."

His laughter suddenly faded and his eyes became serious. "But forever is much longer if you spend it alone. I know: I have already wasted the first one hundred fifty years of my forever without you. I have no desire to attempt a minute more of it apart from you."

He pressed a sweet kiss to my lips. "I love you, Leah, and I always will."

Nahuel turned off the water that had been pouring down the drain through our entire drama, and drew me toward the door of the shower.

"You must make me a promise," he said, calmly, the anger and angst of the past few minutes completely gone from his tone. "You must promise me you will not risk yourself again."

"Nahuel, I can't promise something like that," I hedged. "I have to find Jake and Renesmee."

He snagged a huge, fluffy towel off a nearby towel bar, draped it around my shoulders and began rubbing briskly. "Of course," he agreed. "We will do so together, and in such a way that does not risk your life again."

I wanted to disagree. I meant to tell him I wasn't some fragile, glass flower that needed protecting. But even hidden within the towel, his hands were sending shockwaves of lust through my deprived body. It was becoming increasingly difficult to focus on anything other than the dampness collecting between my thighs.

"Sue and Paul will be here in ninety minutes," he murmured. "That should be just enough time."

He knelt in front of me and began stroking the towel down my legs. "For what?" I demanded breathily.

He looked up between his lashes and gave me a smoldering smirk.

"For me to demonstrate just how pleasure-filled I intend to make your forever."

Oh, fuck yeah! Bring it, baby!