Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, or anything to do with it, however the OC's are all my own. The concept of Jasper being the 'God of War' is something that I've read in a few fics, but I don't know where it originates, so I'm sorry for not giving credit where credit's due! Plus, I have no idea what Louisiana, or Wisconsin are like - I'm from England, so please, forgive any mistakes. Have a great day, and I love you guys!
**TRIGGER WARNINGS; mentions of post-rape trauma. Apologies.**
Camilla POV
October 2020
Madison, Wisconsin
Opening my eyes, I found myself cuddling close with a sleeping Alice, spooned besides a snoozing Rosalie, and my feet resting on Char's middle, as she chose to sleep across the end of the bed, in a little adorable ball. They seemed to be enraptured in a very deep sleep, so, as quietly as I was able, I shuffled into Alice's bathroom, taking my toiletry bag with me, and brushed my teeth, quickly, running a wet wipe she had in her mirror-slash-surprisingly-empty-medicine-cabinet, across my makeup strewn face, hoping for the puffiness in my eyes to disappear before I had to be around other people.
Taking my hair out of the ponytail and braid, I let it breathe for a moment, before running my brush through it, causing it to loose the tightness in the curls - even though they were still there - and I let my hair down, hoping the volume will take away from the pallor in my skin. It was only faint, but I could smell the aroma of fresh beignets, and I thought I would break my neck, considering how quickly I shot out of Alice's room, and into the kitchen, slipping along the laminated, slick floor on the pads of my knee-high grey socks, nearly collapsing when I was hit with the full sweet scent of my favourite pastry.
"Sweet Jesus, Mrs Cullen, you're killin' me," I groaned as I approached her, the adopted mother of my new friends. Her amber eyes were wide, and glittered with delight at my exuberance. She stepped out of the way, and I crouched low, and pressed my face against the glass covering of the oven.
"Look what the cat dragged in," Emmett joked, his voice echoing through the half-empty kitchen, nearly making me jump out of my cotton shorts. I twirled on my heel, and rolled my eyes, as I took in his broad frame, and said, "You can talk."
He leaned over and gave me a big hug, and whispered, into my kinky hair, "Morning, Cam."
Tensing my stomach, as I could barely breathe as it was, with his tight grip around my mid-section, I croaked, pathetically, "Mornin' Em!"
The sky had taken on a blue hue, even though it was barely mid-October. Honestly, it should still be at least a little warm, right? Autumn and all that shit? Almost inaudibly, Peter sauntered in from the backyard, and laughed, "You shouldn't hold the kid so tight, Em. You might break her."
Emmett placed me, steadily, on my feet, and petted me atop my brunette tendrils, and said, "Sorry. Rosie says I don't know my own strength."
Exhaling, heavily, I teased, poking him in his bulging bicep, playfully, "You should! You're the size of a tank."
Peter stepped forward, and pushed the knuckle of his index finger between my brows, and said, "Don't frown, you're too cute for it to be convincing, sugar."
"Shut up," I growled, unconvincingly, bringing nothing but another grin to his face, "Stupid face."
"Sorry, sweet thang," he chuckled, causing me to pout, moodily. Esme grinned, behind her dainty fingers, and said, "Give them about ten minutes - they'll be done by then."
"Let me help you wash up, please, Mrs Cullen."
Her eyes widened, in horror, and she said, simply, "No, dearly, you're a guest."
I smirked, and replied, charmingly, "A guest who should help out with the dishes, because her gracious host has made her favorite food," and whisked around her, taking the bowls from the side and placing them in the sink filled with hot water.
She scoffed, a little, but there was no more fuss about anything else, and I washed up, without much bother, humming a little tune to myself, and by the time I was done with all of the utensils, the timer on the oven began beeping, alerting me to the goodness that were the icing covered New Orleans specialties aptly named beignets. Esme nudged me out of the way, and holding a pair of pink and white polka dotted gloves, she pulled them out of the oven, leaving them on top of a grill, atop of the island in the centre of the kitchen.
"Give them a few minutes, they're a bit hot right now," and she promptly left the kitchen, whispering about something needing to be cleaned. I took the caster sugar that was on the side, and sprinkled it over the diamond shaped pastries, completing the confectionery.
Really, this was a breakfast side dish, commonly baked and sold in New Orleans, however because it was so sweet, people usually ate it as a dessert.
Not me.
I would eat these in the morning, the afternoon, the evening - any time, anywhere, any how. I loved them that much. Peter yelled from the Games Room, "Cammy! C'mere!"
I traced his voice through the living room, and into the back area, pulling open the door, noticing he was alone, and asked, "What's up, Pete?"
His expression was minutely serious, then, and he quirked his finger at me, indicating that I should come in, and I did. He patted the side of the black beanie bag that he was sitting on, and I fell into the cushioned seat, and turned to look up at him, expectantly.
"You look.. You look tired. Are you alright?"
Exhaling, shallowly, I replied, with what I hoped was a noncommittal pout of the lips, "We were up late.. You know.. Gossip and stuff."
He smiled, tightly, and it didn't reach his eyes, and just as he opened his mouth to ask something that I could imagine would make us both feel uncomfortable, I exclaimed, "Beignets!" and promptly left the room, a trail of smoke probably following me, considering how fast I had gotten out of there.
Un-fucking-fortunately, I hadn't been paying attention to my surroundings, and I walked, slap bang, into the chest of the one person I really didn't want to see.
Last night I could ignore his face by pretending to read an article that I couldn't remember, but now? It was all one-on-one, and my heart stuttered a little at his striking features. Honestly, I felt incredibly underdressed and a little gross, if I was being truthful, but I couldn't do anything about it... Well, besides blush, of course.
"Ah-oh.. Sorry," I apologised, "I wasn't watching where I was going."
My cheeks blazed as I reddened, considering how stupid I felt in that moment. He stepped backwards, probably not wanting to be touching someone so damaged as I was, and said, firmly, "Its fine," and went to walk around me.
As he passed me, it was like I couldn't control my lips, and I dribbled out, "Thanksfortheothernight."
He paused, then craned his neck to the side, the muscles in his jaw contracting, ever-so-sexily, and he nodded his head, briefly, and repeated, "Its fine."
Feeling the need to salvage the situation, I asked, "You want one?" indicating at the rapidly cooling confectioneries, and he turned his body to see what I was talking about, even though I had an idea that he already knew.
"Thanks.. But I'm not hungry."
Biting my lip, all out of ideas, I felt the air around me become increasingly more intense and generally hotter. A low rumbling sound was heard, and I felt my brow quirk in curiosity, wondering where exactly it was coming from.
"You hear that?" I asked, my eyes bright with curiosity, and the sound suddenly ceased.
"No," and he was gone, sweeping out of the room as if I had set him alight.
My stomach felt unsettled, for some reason, and even though I had been ravenous earlier, I couldn't find it in me to actually enjoy the food that I began shovelling into my mouth.
What had I done that had pissed him off?
-0-
"You sure you're alright getting home, Cammy?" Alice asked, ever the worrier, and I quelled it, quickly, with a small sad smile, and said, "I'm fine, Ali, stop worryin'. What we spoke about last night.. It's getting easier for me to accept. It's been a year and a half, and I'm getting over it.. Slowly but surely, I am."
She didn't quite believe me, but I never expected her to, and she sighed, "Fine.. If I cant convince you to let Em drive you home, you call me as soon as you get in."
"I promise."
"Good.. Make sure you think about the Halloween party we're planning, I want you to come out and have fun. See you tomorrow, Cam," and she gave me a hug, this time noticing the wince that I gave, and sent me a very sad, puppy dog face. Char took her time to tell me that she was always there if I needed to talk, and, the most shocking of the three, Rose gave me a hug, a soft one at first, but then she said something that I didn't expect.
"It gets better.. Trust me."
Pulling back, minutely, I saw nothing but honestly in her eyes, and for a moment, it floored me.
She.. She went through it as well?
I wasn't alone?
No.. that couldn't be.. Could it?
She released me, then, and said, "Have a safe trip, Cammy," and smiled, her beauty catching me off guard for a moment, and I retired back to my bike.
My skinny jeans tucked into the same olive Docs as I had on last night, and a button up, paid shirt tucked into the trousers was the outfit that I had compiled the day before, and my hair was tied up in two French plaits. Waving at Doctor and Mrs Cullen, who both stood on the porch smiling at me, lovingly, and I kicked onto my motorcycle, my helmet being slipped over my head, and my leather jacket zipped up, and my backpack secured on my back.
The ride back to my house, I felt the true weight of what I had done and said the night before, in a moment of weakness, truly hit me, and I had to pull over, otherwise I would have fallen off of the bike and kissed the tarmac. It took me, maybe, 0.06 seconds after I threw my helmet off, before I threw up whatever breakfast I had this morning. And then, once all of the food was gone, it was nothing but bile.
And once the bile soaked up in the dirt of the roadside, I was on my knees, dry-heaving, my chest aching and I felt entire body shake with anxiety. My breathing was choppy, my pulse skyrocketed, and my stomach completely empty of everything that it could be empty of.
As much as I liked spending time with Ali and her family, I felt nervous.
What if she told someone? On accident? Or even vindictively?
I couldn't second guess her. No. I wouldn't do it.
But what if..
No. Stop.
But she could. She could let it slip. And then you'd be the lying whore again.
Stop. Stop. Stop. Please. I cant. I cant. Stop.
Curling in on myself, I couldn't get enough oxygen into my system, and my chest was heaving with exertion. If I didn't calm the fuck down, I would black out here on the road side, and I wasn't doing it.
I was not letting this beat me.
Clenching my hands into fists by my sides, I shakily placed them on the tarmac, and pushed myself up, leaning against the side of my bike, trying to slow down my breathing, taking my time.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Repeat.
Continue.
Breathe.
Repeat.
Shakily, I bent my knees, and hefting myself up onto my feet. I would get through this. I had to get through this. Clyde was waiting for me. My dad was waiting for me. They were my family and I would do everything in my power to keep them in the dark about the chaotic emotions burning through my system. Kicking my foot over the side of the bike, once more, I revved the engine, and shot down the street, my helmet having been firmly placed back onto my head.
Completely unaware of the distressingly saddened eyes of the Peter and Charlotte as they shared an equally distressed glance.
-0-
3RD POV
"Peter.. What are we going to do?" Charlotte asked, her pretty amber eyes glistening with venom, and her mate, the usually cheery, optimistic Peter Adrian Whitlock, seemed lost for words
"I don't know.. If we can do anythin', sugar," her husband of the last century said as he grabbed her hand, holding it tightly to his chest, hoping the touch of his love would open his mind for ideas, but he remained at a loss. He really didn't know what to do.
If he told his sire, Jasper would go crazy. He would hunt the scumbag down like the animal he was, with no regard for other humans that may get in his way. He would string him up by his ankles, and cut him from groin to gullet, and watch him bleed onto his shoes.
If he kept it to himself, he would eventually be found out, by Jasper - nobody else knew him well enough to see through his deception - and then he would lose some of the trust that he shared with his Sire.
If he interfered, and took his own revenge, he would be doing a disservice to his maker. Peter and his loving wife were trapped between a rock and a hard place. The 'rock' being their undying, endless love for their maker, and the 'hard place' being the knowledge that if they fucked up, they would fuck everything up.
Jasper may not acknowledge Camilla as his mate, yet, he was, however, still a Southern gentlemen at heart, and he took the treatment of a woman, especially his woman, seriously. There would be Hell to pay, and rivulets of blood will be spilled, if he ever got wind of this, now, when they weren't exactly at a place where they were.. Together yet. It could, essentially, ruin everything that they've been working towards, and they couldn't have that. They weren't sure what to do - or if they could do anything, but they trusted Peter's gift enough to let it do all of the work, and hope for the best outcome.
I hope you liked this chapter. If any of you are uncomfortable with her background, or the assault that befell her, I would like to apologize, and I understand if you no longer wish to read.