Author's Note: Pussy-words Galore, I love each and every fucker who is reading BBS. For those who voted for BBS in the Indies, my eternal gratitude. Really, let me know what I can do for you :) Check out the final ballots tomorrow. Thank you to my author friends and regular reviewers for all of your support. Special thanks, as always, to jkane180 for her beta awesomeness.

Jasper Whitlock/Hale/Cullen/Jizz-Bin was a dead man, I had decided, while Jacob carried my corpse to La Push. Bella Swan was a catatonic mess, barricaded in a padded room somewhere inside my cerebral cortex. I wished that I could turn the volume down on her crying. We were better off staying with Jacob, but fucking Swan would not relent and it was beginning to mess with my emotions. I refused to let myself dwell on Edward's denial of us. That fucker would not be given another chance.

"You'll be safe with me, Bells. I promise," Jacob vowed passionately against my ear.

"Put me down, please. I can walk now and you've been carrying me for, like, miles."

"S'ok, Bells. I can handle it. You've been through a trauma-"

"It wasn't my first," I snapped harshly. "Just put me the fuck down."

He set me down on the soft shoulder of the freeway. I staggered for a couple of steps and then allowed myself to fall back against a grassy hill. The cold ground cradled my back as I contemplated my surroundings. Geese flew overhead in a V formation. Fowl. Foul. "Fair is foul and foul is fair."

"What's with the Shakespeare?" Jake asked, between pants. Big-strong-wolf-man seemed out of breath from carrying me.

"Random word association, mostly. It's from Macbeth. When the Witches prophesize his downfall, I think. It's a paradox of words."

"So?"

"It just got me thinking. What's beautiful and rotten?"

"Vampires," he sneered.

"No, Jake. It's me."

He sat down on the ground beside me. "I hate Shakespeare," he said and dragged me onto his lap.

"Blasphemy!"

-({})-

"She's awake!"

"Bella," a man with dark blond hair and circles under his eyes grasped for my hand. "Honey, you've been asleep."

I tried to lift my head but it was too heavy. My entire face felt like it was bruised and packed with gauze.

"Don't try to speak, yet. There's still a tube in your throat." The man had kind blue eyes and was very handsome. I wished that I knew who he was. The way he softly held onto my hand reminded me vaguely of Edward. It was both the reverence of his touch and the careful manner he employed in holding me, like I would shatter if he squeezed.

A doctor I didn't recognize suddenly appeared above me with a roll of sterile tape. "Mr. Flanagan, perhaps you should leave the room for a couple of minutes. We need to dress your wife's wounds."

Excuse me?

I shook my head vigorously. They had me confused with another patient!

"I'm not going anywhere, you fuckers! The last time I let Izzy out of my sight she swallowed a bottle of tranquilizers."

"If you would like to file a formal complaint, you've been given ample-"

"Fuck you, asshole! My wife nearly died in your care."

My larynx shuddered against the tube as I tried to scream.

-({})-

The small room smelled of musk; like Jacob, only super-concentrated. Slowly and roughly I roused, as if I had been dead instead of asleep. Turning onto my side, I gathered a handful of blankets and crumpled them into a ball, pulling the soft bundle into my chest. It was soothing. My eyes closed and I hoped that sleep would find me again, however the room was unbearably hot. Shit, I needed ice or something. The sweltering heat would make me mad. Suddenly, all I could think about was how sticky I felt, how covered in sweat I was, as moisture pooled in seemingly every crevice of my body. I wiped at the valley between my breasts with Jake's flannel sheet and tore the clothes from my body.

"Jake," I muttered and groped in the dark for the edge of the bed. Yeah, that's when I demonstrated a typical Bella Swan moment and fell out, catching the corner of the night table with my naked backside. "Shit and fuck and stuff," I swore dully and rubbed my sore bottom. My flight to the floor seemed to awaken Swan, the whiney slut. She wanted to surface and wax poetically emo about the loss of her demon lover. Actually, she was fucking screaming something at me but I was feeling too pig-headed to pay any heed to that annoying bitch.

I'm not a bitch, you whore.

"Shit, Bells. Did you sprout balls overnight?" Yeah, I was talking to myself. Don't fucking judge me.

We need to call Edward. Please?

"Oh, fuck no! I'm not going near that meat maggot ever again. Seriously, little girl, I was starting to even like you a little bit. You are so not going back to that brooding, sparkling piece of shit. Have some fucking pride."

We love him.

"Fuck love! If you want to love someone, try Jake. Otherwise, fuck it all!"

We love them both.

"Well, aren't we greedy little bitches, then? Now stop your kvetching. I need ice."

Please, put some clothes on before you open that door...

Fuck, that! I threw open the door and rubbed at my eyes, trying to adjust to the overhead light as I stepped forward into the hallway.

"Isabella," a stern voice said and I staggered, falling once again onto my ass. So it turned out Jake's bedroom did not open into a hallway. I was standing under the oppressive lights in the main room of the house. Was the floor plan ever described in any of the books? Hm, you'd think I would have noticed a little detail like that.

"Hey, Billy. Any chance you've gone blind from the diabetes yet?"

"No," he growled. Like, literally growled. I wondered if he used to be a werewolf too. Oh, I had the cruellest image of him suddenly invade my mind as a wolf with his two hind legs jerry-rigged into a cart on wheels.

"Enjoying the show?" I walked around him and into the small galley kitchen. There was a bag of frozen peas in the freezer and I hugged it against my chest. "Shit, Billy," I said, shielding my nudity behind the fridge door. "I'm acting like an ingrate. My apologies. Thank you for letting me crash in your home."

"Not my decision," he grunted. "And believe me, I am not enjoying the show. Not one bit."

"What do you mean it's not your-"

"Dad!" The front door was opened and at once, Jake stepped in front of me. "What the fuck?"

"Have some respect, Jacob Ephraim Black. You may be the future Chieftain but you are still my son." Billy wheeled himself away from us and without turning added, "I want that girl out of my home. If she's not back at the hospital tomorrow, I'm calling Charlie."

"You wouldn't." Jake took on a deep menacing voice but the old man wouldn't back down. "C'mon, Dad! Bella needs me." He bowed his head, giving Billy the respect he deserved.

"Stop it, Jake. This is ridiculous. I need to go back to the hospital. Billy's right." I pulled an Afghan off the couch and wrapped it around myself. "I'm sorry, Billy. I didn't mean to cause a rift in your home." I placed my palm flat on Jake's chest and shoved him back into the wall. "Apologize to your father."

"What? No!"

"Jake," I admonished. "I'm going back to the funny farm tomorrow and I'd be more than happy to give you a farewell fuck... But only if you tell your Daddy you're sorry."

I walked out of the room, dropping the Afghan.

"Sorry, Dad," Jake said quickly, nipping at my heels.

Author's Note: Review me and I'll send a preview!

An author friend of mine has been teasing me with incredible, beautiful, graphic and brilliant pieces of eroticism. Her name is Amanda Wilder and she has finally posted the first chapter of 1001 Jacobean Nights (listed in my faves). One of my literary influences is the great Anais Nin and Amanda's work reminds me of her. Check it out, if you want to get your rocks off or just to read something completely different from your everyday, run-of-the-mill, lemon. This isn't just a lemon. It's a lemon pie.