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Paprika
By : Attitudinal
Category: Twilight Series > Het
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Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or make any money from this story.
Chapter List
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Waiting
~

Jacob waited for a response with baited breath, and watched Charla chew anxiously on her nails.

“You’re Jacob.” The voice erupted out of the phone, and Jacob almost jumped with surprise. He could hear the disbelief littering the older man’s voice, and Jacob wished for a moment that his voice hadn’t gotten quite so deep when he’d matured.

“Yes.” He paused for a minute, and then hastily added, “Sir.” He heard the light grunt of approval, and relaxed a little.

“I want you to know, first off, I don’t necessarily approve of you being in my house, when I’m not home, with my daughter.” The man paused then, and Jacob hoped he wasn’t being kicked out. “But, my daughter tells me that you were shot. Twice. I can’t put you out.” He sounded thoughtful. “But I can tell you, if I come back, and find anything missing, or you touched my daughter, I will persecute you to the fullest extent of the law.” Jacob wasn’t fazed. There was nothing that the law could do to him that he wouldn’t do to himself first if he ever hurt her again.

“I understand…sir.”

“Good. Now put Charlotte back on the phone.” He demanded, and Jacob almost sighed with relief. He poked Charla in the side, and she squeaked, batting his hand away. Jacob bit his lip.

“He wants to speak back to you,” he said quietly, handing her the phone. She nodded her head, and took it.

“Hey, dad…”

“Charlotte, you be careful. I have never met this man, and I… I worry about you.” He said hoarsely, and Jacob listened intently. “Sleep with a knife or something under your pillow… In case he tries anything.” Jacob wanted to laugh. A knife would do very little, in the big scheme of things, if he had wanted to do anything.

“If he was going to ‘try’ anything, I think he would have done it already.”

“That’s not the point, Charlotte, and you know that. I really don’t have time to argue with you right now, your brother and I were going to go out sightseeing. He just got into the hotel room, do you want to speak to him?”

“No! No,” she responded hastily, looking a little panicked. “I don’t want to hold you guys up. I’ll see you soon! Love you,”

“Take care of yourself, Charla. I love you too.”

The phone went dead. Jacob made a mental note of how much she seemed to dislike talking to her brother. Her father didn’t have the same voice as the person she’d been talking to the day before, and that seemed a bit odd. Could it have been her brother then, as opposed to anyone else?

Charla clicked the phone onto its base, and looked at the clock. “It’s twelve fifteen. I guess we can stop the mad-cleaning-rush now, we do have a week and five days,” she laughed, pushing some hair out of her eyes with her bandaged hand.

“You didn’t tell your father about the stitches,” he commented, his eyes following her arm. She shrugged.

“The cuts aren’t deep at all. This’ll be out by the time they get back. No one will even have to know. How did you do this anyway?” she gestured to the gouges, and Jacob shuddered.

“I had… glass… in my hand. I’d had a… beer, and the bottle broke when I fell.” Jacob could see the disbelief on her face, but then it disappeared, and he knew she’d let it slide.

“Oh.” Was all she said for a minute, and then she shrugged. “Well, what my father doesn’t know won’t hurt him, I think.” She laughed, and scooted up to sit on the counter across from him. She was wearing oversized sweatpants and flip-flops, coupled with a plain fitted white t-shirt. The slight hint of cleavage that Jacob could see when she leaned over just so made him want to attack her…

“…to watch a movie or something later, I’d be game for that too.” She finished, oblivious to the fact that he hadn’t been listening.

“That sounds fun,” he lied, trying to smile endearingly. Charla smirked.

“Tell me what I just said.” She crossed her arms under her breasts, unwittingly making it even harder for him to think properly. Jacob floundered for a moment, and Charla pointed an accusing finger at him. “Just admit you weren’t listening, and let’s move on with our lives,” she griped, uncrossing her arms. “I said that we could go see a movie, or stay home to watch one, or do something. I’ll admit it gets a little boring up here sometimes.”

Jacob shook his head.

“I disagree… I was shot two weeks ago. That was exciting, wasn’t it?” He laughed as Charla’s face contorted with controlled laughter. She scooted down from the counter, and made her way over to the fridge. Jacob couldn’t help but watch as she bent slightly, looking into the recesses of the appliance.

“What do you want for lunch?” she said, turning quickly, and pulling a face. Jacob clamped his mouth shut. He’d almost said, ‘You.’ Charla didn’t seem to notice, and kept foraging through the fridge. “There are some leftovers, even with the way you eat.” She stuck her tongue out at him. Jacob licked his lips. “We could order out,” she suggested hopefully, and Jacob nodded stiffly.

“That’s fine with me.” She walked over to a drawer, and pulled several menus out of it. Dropping the pile in front of him, Charla sat down at the table across from him. Out of the corner of his eye, Jacob could see her eyeing him. He had been wrong, she hadn’t just let everything drop; she was wondering about everything he’d told her. And whether or not he’d lied to her the entire time he’d been here. Jacob could tell that very soon, there would very little time between now, and the truth. “Could you look at that menu any more seriously?” she joked, and when he looked up, the brooding suspicious expression on her face had disappeared. Jacob swallowed.

“Uh, Indian… is fine.” He muttered, grabbing up one of the other menus, and selecting something with lamb in the title. Charla looked at him confusedly, and nodded. She went to get the phone and place the order, while Jacob excused himself to the bathroom. He locked the door, and splashed water onto his face. The worst she could do was begin calling him a monster, and dismiss him, right? He frowned at his reflection in the mirror. Things were starting to take a turn for the worse. Jacob decided the best course of action was to act as though everything was normal, and then when she raised any suspicions, he would tell her the truth. It was best not to be the one to bring things up.

~

Charlotte had had her share of secrets. She hadn’t gone to college, and all of her aunts from the opposite side of the family were of the opinion that she was going to Skidmore with honors. She didn’t exactly lie, they had assumed that that was the case when she had gotten the scholarship letter in the mail; they hadn’t been there to see her reject it, so why correct them? When she had seen Rob and his father loading their hunting gear into their big red pick-up truck, she had been furious. It wasn’t as though they were using any of the things that they brought back. From what she saw and heard, they just sawed off the heads, cleaned them, stuffed them, and had them mounted. They left the rest of the carcasses in the forest to rot.

It was disgusting. Charla had shivered with revulsion. She had waited until night to head off to the trails in the truck her father had left home. She had heard the shots ten minutes before she found Jacob’s body, and had been too surprised to do anything at first. His breathing was shallow, and whenever she ventured closer to him, an animalistic growl would rock the little clearing. Whoever had shot him hadn’t been very smart; the body was ten feet away from the trail leading through the woods. Getting over her fear, and harnessing her desire to help him survive, Charla had hoisted him into her arms, screaming and nearly dropping him when sharp pain tore through her hand. She blinked dizzily in the moonlight, and staggered over to the truck. Charla hauled him into the back seat, and looked at her arm. The skin was shredded, and it throbbed with pain. She tore her sweater off, and wrapped it around her arm. When she was speeding back to her house, the truck had swerved a little dangerously on the road, but Charla shook herself. As she was dragging him into the house, she began trying to clear her head. It was impossible, a trick of the light, maybe.

For a moment, his arm had been covered in fur, and tipped with cruel claws.

Charla remembered being too afraid to go near him the day after; instead, stocking up on medical supplies. That night, she convinced herself to try and tackle the bullet wounds. Guilt was gnawing at her insides at the thought that she could not bring herself to get near the injured and dying man in the spare bedroom. Incredibly, he was breathing when she had finally gotten over her initial fear enough to check on him. Cutting away the blood-soaked clothing that had stuck and hardened overnight, Charla could clearly see that the bullet wounds were too far along on the healing track to be normal. It was as if she had brought him home after two or three months of rehabilitation.

She set about cleaning what was left of his injuries, and bandaging his chest, which hardly seemed necessary at that point. The next day, they were practically gone, leaving behind two rounded scars. He had come to almost two weeks later, where she had taken the time to get to know him. When he had been out, Charla had sworn to herself that she was kicking him to the curb as soon as she was sure he could get back to wherever he had come from.

Until he woke. When he did, Charla had been wary at first, but it had been two days, and not one gang member, or any angry family members, had come looking for him. He was sweet, and polite, and funny, an all around good guy. Charla hadn’t thought anything else of him until she began noticing his strange quirks. He would stare at her for long periods of time when he thought she didn’t notice, or, he would twitch, and then shake his head; small things, really. But they worried her. And when she had tried to wake him up in the morning, only to find his door locked, she panicked. Was he doing drugs or something? When he had opened it clad in only his boxers, and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, her own couldn’t help but be drawn down the lightly hairy path to the rim of the boxer shorts. She’d caught him grinning when she glanced up, and had fled to the safety of the kitchen.

So no drugs then.

She’d been freaked when he called her bluff the night before, too. She hadn’t been completely lying, either. Her brother and father both played rugby, outside in their rocky yard. Too many times to count, someone had come in with a bleeding appendage or head. She’d had to learn to stitch things up. It also helped that since college was not in the cards for her, that she’d taken nursing classes for a year. She was severely embarrassed about that; it wasn’t as though she didn’t want to go; they hadn’t had the money, on top of other things.

Charla shook herself, and watched as Jacob walked upstairs to the bathroom, and she slumped against the counter. What was wrong with her? He obviously wanted to uncover her secrets as much as she did his. And she had a feeling that his were a little more serious than hers. Resisting the urge to listen at the bathroom door for anything, Charla made the call for some delivery. Deciding to distract herself, Charla ventured into the den, and pulled out the bins of DVD’s her father had compiled. (He considered himself something of a movie connoisseur.) She was absently going through boxes of movies, sorting them into three piles: the ones she would watch, the ones she would watch if prodded, and the ones she would never watch again. Charla didn’t notice that Jacob had entered the room until he cleared his throat.

“I thought we were watching a movie?” Charla jumped slightly. His deep baritone voice always had a way of unsettling her. She took a quiet breath, and turned to face him. He was smiling, and her heart fluttered a bit.

“We are. I haven’t decided yet. Help me?” she asked, gesturing to all of the DVD’s strewn about the floor. Jacob nodded, and sat down next to her stiffly. Charla absently sorted piles of movies, staring at him out of the corner of her eye. He was barely doing anything, and seemed to be struggling. His entire body was tense, and his hands would twitch every so often. She was surprised when he sat up suddenly, with a movie in hand.

“Lets watch this,” he said haltingly, and handed her the movie. She groaned.

“No, I hate this movie…” Jacob pretended to pout, and crossed his arms, before taking it back from her.

“Why?”

“Are you kidding me?” she sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “It’s for teenyboppers, and people who have no lives.” Charla surmised, trying to snatch the movie from him, but to no avail. Jacob leaned it just out of her reach, forcing her to stand.

“Well, let’s just do it and say that we didn’t,” he said teasingly, standing up himself. He had a good foot and several inches on her, so Charla was unable to simply pluck the movie out of his hands.

“Fine,” she said, throwing her hands into the air dramatically, pretending to accept defeat. She took several steps towards the DVD player, and turned slightly. “We’ll watch ‘Mean Girls.’” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and Charla saw him lower the movie a bit to see if that was really the title he had grabbed. She lunged for it, crowing inwardly in triumph; thinking that her plan was perfect. She would snatch “A walk to Remember” right out of his huge hands, and toss it out of the window; and just for victory’s sake, she would do a little dance to show him who was boss.

She had left out the part where she slipped on one of the plastic cases strewn about on the rug, and plummet backwards. She could feel the ground coming closer, and braced herself for impact. ‘How stupid of me… I must look a complete fool, right now,’ she thought, closing her eyes. Charla was ready to hit the ground, when a hand locked around her wrist, and pulled her forward. Suddenly she was face to face—or rather, face to chest—with Jacob Black, and she looked up at him, shaken. She was about to thank him profusely for not allowing her to land roughly on the ground, when she realized something.

He had crossed from one side of the room to the other in less than two seconds. The den was by no means small, and she had meant to take him by surprise; Charla was extremely close to the entertainment system on the far side of the room.

No one was that fast. She blinked slowly.

No human was that fast. Charla felt his grip loosen, and she backed away from him as far as she could.

“That is not normal.” His eyes darkened, and she flinched. He backed off a few feet, and began to speak.

“Charla, I—” she cut him off fiercely.

“People know that you’re here! I should have listened to my father!” she gasped, tears springing to her eyes. Charla was babbling confusedly. She could fuzzily recall the cruel claws that she thought she had seen that night, and nibbled her lip anxiously. If she had that kind of ability, and wanted to keep it a secret… Things would have to be done.

Unsavory things.

Charla looked up at his face after she spoke so vehemently, and was surprised. He looked pained; like he had just survived a car crash, and found that everyone else was dead.

“I would never hurt you!” he said, his voice breaking. Charla was sorely tempted to move closer, and put her arms around him comfortingly, but she anchored her feet to the ground. Anyone could act.

“You… you…” she couldn’t finish. He healed with inhuman speed, and was faster than a normal person. He should have been as her side when she fell, not holding her up. He reached toward her, and then pulled back, that anguished look still gracing his face.

“I’m…I’m not human.” She almost laughed, but the perilously serious look on his face kept her from doing so.

“You’re not human.” She echoed, stuck between wanting to embrace him, and grasping her last few moments of normalcy. She pictured what she must look like, mouth ever so slightly agape, and eyebrows climbing steadily higher up her face. Charla swallowed. “You’re not human.” She repeated.

“No,” he responded softly. “I’m a…shape shifter,” he said, seeming to struggle with the words immensely. She slid a hand through her locks, and blinked her different color eyes multiple times. A shape shifter. He was not human.

She had nursed—granted he did not need her help as much as she thought at first—a shape shifter back to health, and he had not had the courtesy to tell her so in the first place? What if there were… things after him? Her eyes narrowed in thought. Now that his…history, had been brought a little more into focus, Charla could see that he obviously hadn’t been shot randomly now.

“Why were you shot?” she asked quietly, avoiding his eyes.

“I was… In my wolf form. Your…” she glanced up to see him frown distastefully, “friend, Rob… he fired at me.”

“Your wolf form. You have more than one?” his old grin ghosted across his face.

“Not that I know of.” It faded instantly, and the pained look was back. He cursed himself. “I should have told you… should have said something from the beginning…” Charla tried to rationalize. She could kick him out now, and tell him to take the next train back to crazy-town, or she could… believe him.

“How…” she paused, trying to clear her parched mouth. “How do I know you’re telling me the truth? I…” she trailed off, still warring between her strange attraction, and flight.

“Come outside.”

Come outside…? Charla eyed him suspiciously.

~

Jake wanted to bite his nails with anticipation. ‘Believe me…’ he thought continuously. ‘Believe me.’ Now that he had had a taste, he couldn’t let go of the entire bottle. He wanted to throw himself off of the roof for making her so terrified. His heart was racing inside his chest, and Jacob was praying to every deity he had ever heard of to give him a chance. ‘Believe me.’

He wanted her so badly, more than he could have ever wanted Bella. So this was what it felt like to give in… to be swallowed completely by the tide that was imprinting. ‘Believe me.’ He strained to keep from kneeling at her feet, and pressing his face against her legs. He would subjugate himself before the Volturi if it meant having Charla smile again…

‘Believe me.’

Her face was solemn as she cleared her throat.

“Okay.” Jacob lead the way outside, his heart pounding with the oncoming change, and with the hope that she would trust him again.

They crossed out to the backyard, the only entrance to the house that Jake could see being safe for this type of thing. He turned back to Charla, who jumped. His heart sank.

“I… I have to strip for this.” She began to protest, but he stopped her. “The clothes will be ripped.” She nodded, and turned around. He could tell by her uncomfortable shifting that she was nervous. He began to change before he was fully out of his clothes, but Jacob didn’t care, as long as she saw…as long as she believed him… She might stay.

He couldn’t speak to tell her to turn around, so he bent and nudged her slightly with his snout. She stumbled forward slightly, and whipped around. He stood tall before her, tail swaying back and forth in earnest. Charla’s mouth hung agape, and her discolored eyes widened. Before he could phase back, they rolled into her head, and she collapsed on the ground. Jacob let out a quick whine before phasing out of wolf form. His eyes were panicked and glassy, and he grabbed the clothes he had discarded on the grass before getting her inside. Laying Charla’s unconscious body on the couch in the den, Jacob hurriedly redressed, keeping his eyes on her the entire time. He knelt by the couch, and waited for her eyes to open again. The seconds ticked by like hours, with him crouched on the red carpet, and Charla fainted on the sofa. When her eyes opened, his breath gushed out of him in a sigh of relief. Jacob could breathe again.

“You… you were…!” She stuttered, sitting up violently. “A huge wolf….!” The confusion Charla was feeling shone clearly on her face, and Jacob swallowed.

“Yes.” Her eyes darted all over his face, searching for the lie. Her heart beat quickened when she found none.

“You… you did this to me…” she gestured to her arm; and he could see that the wound had taken on a new significance to her. His face fell, and his breath began to come in short pants.

“I… I didn’t know it was you… There is no excuse.” Jacob mumbled, feeling his chest tighten painfully, and his heart ache inside it. “I am so sorry…” He couldn’t bring himself to look up at her, unable to face the hate he might find there.

“I know.” She said slowly, and reached out tentatively to touch him. He reveled in it, pressing his face close to her palm, and sighing deeply. “I’m not…nothing is going to happen to me right? No howling at the moon?” Charla’s voice was strained as she tried to joke about it, and Jacob chuckled for her sake.

“No. Nothing is going to change you. I’m a shape shifter, not a werewolf.” He felt her body relax a little more.

“Okay then…” she paused, and Jacob held his breath. “I think… I need some time to get used to this… I need…” Jacob got ready to get out of her way, when she stopped him. “I want to ask you some… some questions.” He nodded, and looked up at her.

“Anything.” He said vehemently. “Anything you want.”

“I.. uh… Are you really from Forks?”

“Yes. I grew up on the La Push Reservation.”

“You… you don’t intend to harm me or my family, do you?”

“Never.”

“Why… why are you here?” this question disturbed him. He didn’t want her to know about Bella, but logically, she would have to if he wanted her to return to La Push at all.

“I… I was leaving something—” no. He would not lie to her. “Someone, behind. I didn’t want to think about her anymore.” He saw the spark in her eyes; she didn’t want to be the “rebound-girl”. If only she knew.

“Oh.” Charla said in a small sounding voice. “Are there… more of you?”

“Yes. I have a… a pack, back in La Push. We are there to protect the humans there from other supernatural… beings.” He didn’t think she was ready just yet to have an entire underground world of networks and creatures revealed to her just yet.

“Let me see… is it because of you being a…” she paused nervously, “shape shifter, that you act so strangely around me sometimes?” Jacob cursed under his breath, and noted that her questions were getting bolder.

“Yes. I..” he hesitated. There was no one here to tell him when it was okay to tell her, or when it was too soon. She was holding up relatively well on account of what he had just told her, but he didn’t know how much it would take to crack the fragile hold she had on her nerves. Would she hate him later if she found out on her own, for not telling her sooner? Or would she prefer to be left in the dark? Jacob swallowed. She would figure something out, and soon, if the questions she was asking were any indication. She cleared her throat, obviously waiting for an answer. “I... in my pack, there is this thing called imprinting…” Jacob could automatically see that her interest had piqued particularly at this point. “Where you look at someone… and know that they are…” he hesitated momentarily, “your soul mate.” He didn’t say anything more, letting Charla piece together the rest of the puzzle herself. He could see her mind working, her brow setting in an adorable frown, those cute little lips pursing in thought… She licked her lips slowly, and Jacob thought he might burst into flame. He shifted uncomfortably, and tried to think of other things. This was no time to become a raging ball of hormones.

“Me.” She said breathlessly, shying a little away from him. “The one you imprinted on… was me.” Charla stared at him, her eyes glinting. “I’m your soul mate?” she whispered, more to herself than to Jacob.

“Yes… I can’t… I don’t want to be away from you, I want to make you happy all the time, I could never hurt you…” his eyes were pleading, and he saw her search, again, for a lie. She didn’t find one.

“What happens if…” she didn’t finish the question, and she didn’t have to. Jacob felt the anguish wash over him at the thought of his feelings not being reciprocated. This was worse, even, than having Bella shamelessly flaunting her relationship at him, than knowing that somewhere, she could be a bloodsucking vampire right now. All that mattered was Charla.

“I would never find another person. It would always be you,” he choked, blinking back the tears he could feel forming in his eyes. She looked touched, and reached out to lay a hand on him again.

“What does this mean, Jake?” she asked quietly, allowing him to rest his face against her palm, not minding that his temperature was skyrocketed, compared to hers. He shrugged.

“You don’t…” he struggled to keep his throat from constricting with unexpressed emotion. “You don’t have to choose me.” They both heard the next part without him having to say it. ‘But I want you to choose me.’

“How could this work? I mean… you… You probably don’t age because of the healing thing, and—” he shushed her.

“I can stop that. I wouldn’t…I couldn’t go on if you weren’t with me.”

“Is there a way to stop my aging too?”

“Not that I know of.” Short of becoming a leech.

“Oh. I mean…” Jacob could see that she was struggling. She had known him all of two days, and he hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with information, either. “I..” Charla paused again. “I want this to work.” She said in a small voice, looking down at him. “This is so strange, you know? I feel like I’ve known you forever, but it’s only been two days. And you’re here… telling me all of this… and I feel so s-scared…” she took a breath, to try and calm herself. “But I feel like… I could do this, if you were here.” He could see the faint blush on her dark caramel cheeks, and he moved up to the couch.

“You’ll try?” he said breathlessly, holding her hands, and staring into her mismatched eyes.

“Yeah,” she said, blushing harder, and looking away. “I’ll try.”

Jacob could feel his insides flipping with joy. She had accepted him, she wanted him around! He almost didn’t hear the doorbell as it buzzed loudly in the next instant. Charla got up awkwardly to get the cash she had laid out in the kitchen for the food they had ordered, while Jacob padded silently behind.

She pulled open the door, and a young man stood there, looking bored, and out of place. Jacob wanted to bare his teeth in warning, he didn’t want him to notice her. The boy didn’t pay attention until Charla tapped him to hand him the money for the food.

“Here you go.” She said, handing the bills.

“Thanks,” he said, leaning over just a little. Jacob saw red as he appraised Charla’s body, running his eyes up and down her prone form. She was about to take the food from him, when Jacob nudged her aside. Still shirtless, he was grimacing at the younger boy. He snatched the delivery from him without a thank-you, and gave a small tip.

The boy did not complain. Jake breezed past her into the kitchen where he set the food on the counter.

“What was that?” she asked, leaning against the door frame. He could hear in her voice that she was eager for things to be back to normal for them.

Even after earlier that evening.

“Nothing. He was taking too long,” Jacob griped, pulling out two forks. He saw Charla smirking through the corner of his eye.

“That wasn’t 'nothing'!” she looked as though she remembered something, and then clapped her hands. “You’re jealous!” she laughed, striding a little closer to him. “You’re jealous that he liked me.” Jacob scowled fiercely.

“Well, you said you were willing to give this a try…” he paused, glaring at the retreating headlights from the driveway. “And wolves are territorial.” Charla sobered quickly, and laid a hand on his back. Jake felt the tension melt rapidly out of him

“And I…” she stopped, swallowing anxiously. “I am. I do want to try. But you can’t beat everyone to a bloody pulp who looks at me. You have to trust me.” Jacob sighed, and grudgingly agreed. Charla took down some trays from a cabinet, and walked back into the den. After everything that had transpired in the last hour or so, it was difficult to get back into any kind of great mood. Still, Jacob tried to lighten it somewhat.

“Still up for that movie?” he asked, setting his tray on the couch, and motioning to all the movies that still littered the ground. “You pick this time.” He said, bowing magnanimously. Charla rolled her eyes.

“You’re damn right I’ll pick this time…” she muttered, sifting through them until she pulled one up from the pile. She was jumpy, and breathing a little heavily, but otherwise acting normally. Jacob suspected that the breakdown would come later. He hoped that she would let him in if…when it happened.

Charla didn’t consult him as she stood on shaky legs to insert the DVD into the player. Jacob watched her silently, making sure that she wasn’t about to faint again. She was silent as she picked up the remotes, and her food, plopping back down next to him.

“What movie is it?” he ventured, his deep baritone startling Charla; she jumped, and turned to him, after turning on the entertainment system.

“Ah,” she said nervously, walking back to the couch to sit next to him. “Paprika… It’s a Japanese animated film, about dreams.” Jacob shrugged. It wasn’t as though he cared too much what they were watching anyway. He just wanted to be close to Charlotte.

After about fifteen minutes, it was apparent that she didn’t care that much either, and was laid out on the couch, asleep. Her food was unfinished on the tray that she’d brought into the den, and Jacob stared down at her. She must have been exhausted. God knows when she had gotten up, and then they’d had such a rigorous cleaning expedition. Then she’d dragged—he more willingly than not—the truth out of him.

Charla had every right to be tired. Jacob picked her up easily with one hand, and used the other to turn off the television; he was sure that Charla would want to watch it later with him anyway. He picked up their trays, and delivered them into the kitchen, before stabilizing her with both hands, and walking upstairs. Sniffing for a minute, he strode to the room that smelled the most like her, and stood in front of the bed. Jacob was reluctant to let go of Charlotte, she seemed so small and fragile when she wasn’t awake, and energized. It would be so easy to lay down with her here; or better yet, taker her back to the guest room, where he felt a bit more safe.

No.

Jacob sighed. How panicked would she be when she woke up in his burning embrace? Jacob reluctantly laid her out on the bed, and moved away. Charla groaned in her sleep, and caught the leg of his pants in her vice-like grip. Jake smiled, and pried her little fingers off of him, and then pulled a chair out from the desk near the bed. It wasn’t comfortable, but at least he could be sure that Charla was safe.

And he was close to her. He sat for what must have been an hour, before he felt himself begin to drift off. Her hand had found his once more, and Charla sighed contentedly before Jacob could pull away. He felt so complete with her touching him, and though he wasn’t beside her as he longed to be, Jake felt confident that that moment could come.

And if he had his way, it surely would.

~

When Charlotte woke, it was dark outside, and near ten. Sitting up quickly, she kicked the blankets off of her legs, and looked around. It was dark in her bedroom, and she idly wondered how Jacob had managed to find it. ‘Oh,’ she thought suddenly. ‘It must… smell like me.’ She sat up slowly, and was able to pick out Jacob, snoring away next to the bed. His head was cocked at an uncomfortable looking angle, and he was holding her hand. His temperature was much higher than hers, and for a moment she was worried. Charla shook her hand free of his, and padded silently to the bathroom, flipping on lights as she went. A thermometer was in the mirror-cabinet above the sink, and some flu medication was next to it. She felt bad, him sleeping that way, all to be next to her.

As his imprint-ee, Charla felt as though it was her duty to keep him safe, just like he would do for her. Going back to her darkened room, Charla turned on the light. He wasn’t fazed. She laughed silently, and could almost feel the reverberations of his snores in the ground.

“Jake…” she shook him. No response. Charla knitted her brows together, and shook him again. “Jacob! Get up I think you’re sick! Come on!” She shook harder and harder, until he almost tumbled out of the chair. He looked up at her sleepily, and smiled.

“Hi.”

“Here, open up. You feel so warm.” Charla tittered worriedly, and he smirked at her. Using this as her window of opportunity, she shoved the thermometer into his mouth and waited, shushing him whenever he tried to speak. When it beeped, she pulled it out, and gasped. “One sixteen?! We have to get you to a hospital—” He grabbed her arms gently, before she could pour half of the fever-reducing meds down his throat.

“I’m fine.” He said slowly, thrumming deep in his chest. Fine? How could he possibly be fine? Charla started to speak, but he hushed her with one finger against her lips. He shuddered. “I have an extremely high body temperature. This is natural for… what I am.” He spoke slowly, feeling the tension melt out of her at the sound of his voice.

“Oh. I was worried.” She replied, cheeks burning. He laughed, thinking the same thing she was, ‘Understatement.’

“I’m glad that you were worried for me.” Jacob was standing then, looking down at her from his massive height. Charla was pressed close against his chest, feeling the scalding heat emanating from his body. They stared at one another with hooded eyes, and Charla licked her lips in an effort to think of something to say. His eyes flashed with an unidentifiable emotion, and he leaned closer to her. Without realizing, she had risen to stand on her toes; Charla and Jacob’s faces both inches apart. He brushed her soft lips with his own, and she gasped. It was almost… electrifying. He smiled against her mouth, and she pressed herself closer to him, not knowing what to do with her hands, only knowing that she had to be closer… closer…

The phone went off, startling her out of his arms, and almost halfway across the room. His eyes were still clouded, and he was reaching for her. Charla jumped as the phone rang again.

“I… I have to…!” she ran out of the room, her face ablaze with embarrassment, and raced down the stairs, leaving Jacob alone in her bedroom. She reached the phone during its last ring, and picked it up, panting. “Hello?”

“Hey, Charlotte.” Her face blanched.

“Damien.” She didn’t notice Jacob slip quietly into the room, and stand just out of her eyesight. “What do you want?” He chuckled lightly, and Charla frowned.

“You shouldn’t speak to your betters that way.” She snorted.

“I don’t see any betters. What do you want, Damien?” she repeated, pulling at a lock of hair nervously.

“Dad told me to tell you that we were coming back a little early. He’s worried that your little boyfriend is dangerous.” His voice lowered a full octave, and Charla winced at the sound of his voice. “He hasn’t been in my room, has he? It would be very unfortunate for him to have an… accident. Dad would be very upset if you lost an appendage…” He was thinking out loud now, and Charlotte was visibly afraid. He could hurt Jacob… He could hurt her if Jacob was still here when they got home.

“You want him out of the house.”

“Good to see that you deserved all those pretty little grades you got in high school.”

“Good to see that you’re still a bastard.” She snarled, tears tracking their way down her face. Before she could slam the phone down, Charla gasped as two strong, hot arms wrapped their way around her. Unintentionally, she sighed, and leaned back into him.

“I want him out of the house, Charlotte. I don’t want to have to make a few calls.” The line went dead, and Jacob tensed. He let her go, so that she could turn around, and face him. Jacob looked angry. ‘Another understatement,’ she thought, observing him quietly. His russet skin had a slight green undertone, and he looked as though he was struggling to stay calm.

“That was your brother.” This was not a question. Charla nodded anyway.

“He’s…”

“He threatened you…” Jacob was breathing heavily, and Charla instinctively wanted to hold him. She touched his hand instead, still thinking of the incident in her room. “Why?” His voice was deep, almost bestial, but Charla, oddly enough, wasn’t scared of him. She weakly tried to defend him.

“He was just—”

“That wasn’t playing, Charla.” Her excuses weren’t going to fly here, it seemed. “Why?” he repeated.

“He and my father are both the… co-managers of a graphic arts company. My father is pretty much in the backseat, and my brother… He has some…” she paused, trying to choose the least offensive words she could, “disreputable connections.”

“He’s in a gang.” Jacob snorted, looking distastefully at the phone.

“Yes.” She sighed, giving up the cover. “He lived in California for a while, on his own. He didn’t have any money when he left... But when he came back, his pockets had cash overflow. His buddies stay with us sometimes. I couldn’t tell my father… It would break his heart.” Charla looked distant, and when Jacob touched her, she flinched back so hard, she knocked over the phone. Jacob’s eyes were bright with anger when she glanced up at him again, and he looked as though he had just cracked a case.

“He never…”

“No.” Charlotte cut him off quickly. “He hasn’t stooped that low yet.” It was true, her brother had never sold her off to make a profit. But with every dime that he made, his heart grew blacker.

“But he has hit you.” It was a statement this time. Charla flinched.

“No.”

“You’re lying.” He said softly, grabbing her chin, and forcing her to look at him. “And he will not hit you again.” She felt herself be herded into his embrace, and she cried softly. He was smarter than she had given him credit for. The Nursing classes brought in quick cash, and a quick fix whenever her brother got too out of line. “Business” deals fell through, one of his “friends” didn’t prove their worth. The first time, it had been a month after he came back. He’d pushed her down the stairs. No apology. The next time, he’d punched her for asking too many questions. Damien didn’t beat her often, but it was often enough for her to take initiative.

Charlotte Pinkett was not a victim. Her father politely kicked him out several times, until he came up with a business plan, which Damien had said would “rack in the dough.” He was partially right.

They had begun it while she was still in high school, and now a year later, they were still on the up and up. Charla bitterly assumed that Damien was one of the top dogs in his little predators’ circle.

She didn’t notice how hard she was sobbing until Jacob patted her back gently. She pushed away from him, still sniffling, and wiping her eyes.

“Don’t start treating me like a victim, or anything,” she said, choking. “I-I..” she stuttered, wiping at her face viciously. “I hate crying… nothing gets done.” Charla braved a glance at Jacob, who looked positively murderous. She staved off the rest of her self-righteous rant, to hold his hand. “Jake..?” He looked at her, and seemed to forcibly calm himself again.

“I may have to leave when he gets here.” He said chuckling darkly, crushing her body to his. Charla tried not to go up in flames.

“Why? I can… I can keep him away from you, I don’t think he meant it…!” she babbled. Even after everything he had told her, Charlotte still didn’t want him to leave. She’d said she would try. She wanted to try. This could work, right? Jacob hushed her again, and held her at arm’s length, fixing Charla with a steely glare.

“Because if I stay, there is a very good chance that I will kill him.” By the look on his face, she knew that he wasn’t faking. The minute her dope-smoking, violent brother walked through the door, and Jacob wasn’t a good distance away, he was liable to die.
Charla’s face fell. Another good thing, much like college, pulled from her grasping, outstretched arms by her idiot sibling. She felt like crying again, how much more would he take from her before he was satisfied? How many opportunities would he stomp out before she was truly trapped? Jacob lifted a finger, and pulled her face up.

“I want you to go with me.” Charla backed away from him, and a look of anguish passed across his face, before he steeled it into neutrality.

“G-go with you.” She repeated. “I don’t know you that well… I said I’d try this imprinting thing, I don’t know if I can just up and leave my life.” He looked at her, and Charla easily read his expression. ‘Not much of one.’

“When are they coming back?” He asked, brushing some hair out of her face.

“Shit!” she cursed, and then smacked a palm against the counter. “He didn’t tell me. If I call back, my dad might pick up…” Charla trailed off, and Jacob looked at the phone disapprovingly. It was about as obvious as sun in June that her father wasn’t there. “I cleaned a lot of the house, though… So I don’t think it will be that much sooner than originally planned…” Jacob grasped her shoulders.

“I won’t leave you here. But I can’t guarantee that he won’t be roughed up a bit.” An evil little smirk drew its way across Jake’s face, and Charla grimaced. “Not much that he can do to hurt me anyway.” Charla rolled her eyes. Male bravado.

“I just… I don’t want anything bad to happen.”

“I know. I don’t either. I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.” He said, smiling softly at her. Charla fought to keep from grinning back. She failed, miserably. He sobered up quickly. “But I still do… want you to go back to Forks with me. I really do.” Charla hesitated. There was always a plane ticket back to New York if she hated it there… But did uprooting her life completely count as trying? She’d known Jacob for all of two days, not counting his time unconscious in the guest bedroom. Then he’d sprung all of the facts about his past on her…

“I have to think about that one. I guess by the time my family gets here—” Jacob growled softly at her use of the word—“I’ll have your answer. I mean, it is August. I guess I could count it as kind of a vacation if I agreed to go.” Jacob smirked triumphantly at her, but Charla waved it away. “I said if, you mongrel.” He smiled anyway.

“You mean when.”

“Jerk.”

“I never said otherwise.”

~

Jacob joked so that he wouldn’t lose his mind. He imagined that if he didn’t, at this point, he might go looking for the little bastard. God help Damien if Jacob found him away from here. There would be no force—Volturi or otherwise—that would stop him from taking his revenge on Damien’s hide. Every bruise, scar, cut, every drop of blood, would be returned to him hundred-fold. Every tear that she had shed, would be a strike against him.

He hoped like hell that Charla would go back with him, he wanted her so badly. Her soft touch on his skin shielded him from the oncoming tide of rage, and again, Jacob saw red.

“Jake.” Charla said quietly, tapping his arm. She grabbed their food off of the kitchen table, and put the plates in the microwave. “Hungry?” she asked, as though she had forgotten. He smiled. How could she think of food at a time like this? And he asked her.

“Because I get hungry, like normal people.” Charla snapped, pulling out a fork, and beginning to attack her unfinished lunch with fervor. Jacob shook his head when she offered him his plate, he wasn’t hungry. “Tomorrow I guess I’ll finish cleaning, and then lounge around until they get here…” she mused quietly. Jacob watched Charla out of the corner of his eye, and smiled softly, his boiling anger stilling a little.

Her dreds were tousled from sleep, and her skin held a slight rosy hue from her nerves. Charla’s multi colored eyes would flick up to him, before her face would color even more, and she would look down again. Jake fought back a smirk, and scooted a little closer to her. Charla blanched, and tried to move imperceptibly away. His little grin widened, and his eyes darkened a bit.

She was still thinking about the kiss, which was good.

Because so was he.

Suddenly, Charla stopped eating. Jacob’s daze was broken, and he looked at her worriedly. “Do you hear that?” she said, setting her plate down on the counter. She dusted her hands off, and looked up at him.

Jacob listened quietly for a second, and then nodded. “Rain.” The drops were getting heavier and heavier on the roof, and Charla gasped.

“My laundry! The dryer’s broken, so I’ve been hanging it outside!” She took off like a shot out of the back door, and Jacob jogged after her. Out she went into the steady, sudden downpour, slipping on the grass to reach the clothes hanging on a wire connecting to garage and the house. Jacob frowned, and began to quickly help her strip the clothes off of the line.

It was mid-August, and the air outside was considerably cooler than it had been the other day. They finished pulling the clothes off of the line, and Trudged back inside, soaking wet. The clothes that Charla had tried to save didn’t look much better, and she began laying them out on the banister of the stairs. When they ran out of room doing that, she laid them out on the table in the dining room.

Charla was still dripping wet, and now shivering, when she went upstairs to change her clothes. When Jacob ventured upstairs, she was toweling off her hair in the bathroom, and tossed a towel at him. Jacob grinned, and peeled himself away from her to change his own clothes. Not bothering with a shirt, he looked around for Charla. She seemed to be avoiding her room, he thought smugly, and continued slowly through the house, until he found her in the kitchen, still shaking.

“I can’t believe I forgot to bring all those clothes in… I hope nothing’s ruined,” she muttered, turning to face him. Charla was wearing a towel on her head to dry out her hair, and when she caught sight of him, her face went a little pale, and she swallowed thickly. The sweats they had bought for him rode a tad bit low on his hips, and Jacob enjoyed showing off his washboard abs. She looked away, and brushed past him, heading for the den. She pulled a blanket from a box in the leftmost corner of the room, and started the movie again, before collapsing on the couch. Jake immediately rushed over to her. She looked so small, cocooned in the fluffy covers, and still shivering. He pushed Charla over, and snagged some blanket from her.

They watched to movie in silence.

~

When Jacob woke in the morning, he made an interesting discovery. They had finished “Paprika”, and had put in another movie, something about a dream, in midsummer, or something. They had both fallen asleep somewhere in the middle, and the Television was still on in the morning. The menu screen of the movie was on, and Jacob grabbed the remote, and shut the system of tiredly. Charla was wrapped around him, her leg wedged between both of his, and her small arms locked around his chest. Her dark head was resting on his chest, and Jacob could feel her breath, blowing out in short puffs on his skin.

The most interesting find took place a little lower, when he tried to shift her off of him. Charla would be uncomfortable if she woke up pressed so intimately against his body. He pried her fingers apart, and pushed her arms back, working quickly, so that if she woke, she would find herself alone on the couch. Or at least, her side of it.

He failed miserably.

When he tried to dislodge her completely, Charla’s arms encircled his chest again, and she began to curl up on him.

This brought her knees up, and she gently brushed them against his crotch. Jacob groaned, and tried harder to move her. Charla wasn’t budging unless she was awake, and she began trying to situate herself in her sleep. She was pressed against his hardening…problem, now, and Jacob’s breath was coming in short pants. She stretched, dragging the length of her body against him, and he whimpered. ‘This is so not fair..’

He could hear her waking up slowly, and began to panic, two sides of him warring. On one level, he wanted her to stay pressed against him like this, but on another, he knew how uncomfortable she would be if he let that happen. His conscience would never let him alone. She felt as though this was too fast, and wanted to take things a little slowly; as she kept hinting.

Jacob finally succeeded in catching all of her limbs before she could subconsciously wrap herself around him again, and laid Charla out on the other half of the sofa. Jacob spread the blanket out over her, and shifted himself anxiously. Charla began to shift in her sleep, and Jacob stopped himself from going to her. It was not what she wanted, consciously, and until she did, he had to try and restrain himself.

Jacob turned, and walked out of the room, jogging to the kitchen. He took out two pans, and rummaged through the fridge until he came out with eggs, and bacon. Jacob cracked thirteen eggs, and fried them all sunny side up, while he laid out several strips of bacon in the other frying pan. When Charla wandered into the kitchen a little while later, rubbing her eyes sleepily and stretching, Jacob found his throat a little dry. He laid some of the finished food on a plate, and silently handed it to her. Charla took it, thanking him, and began to eat at the table. The rest of the eggs and bacon, Jacob set aside for himself, and began tearing into it hungrily. He broke out of eating, when she coughed harshly, sniffed, and pushed her food away.

“It smells great, Jake, I’m just not hungry.” Charla croaked tiredly, and shuffled to the phone. Jacob watched her, hawk-like, as she dialed, and waited for the other person to pick up. Charla coughed again, and Jacob grimaced. She was wet and cold for a good period of time from the rain, it was entirely possible that she had gotten sick.

“Hello, Dad?” she said, sounding a tiny bit better.

“Charlotte, are you feeling okay? We were going to be home in a week, but I can cut out sooner if you want me too—”

“Dad,” she said seriously, cutting him off. “I was just calling to ask you when you were coming home, but now I know. You don’t need to be here any earlier. Why are you coming back early in the first place?” Charla looked like she already anticipated the answer, and Jacob took another bite of his food, to keep up appearances.

“Your brother suggested it. The client would still be coming later, but Damien wants to set up the displays earlier than that.” He said proudly, and Charla grimaced.

“Oh. But shouldn’t you stay with the client?”

“I suppose so, but you know Dame. He wants to get these clients out of the way.”

“You should talk to him.” Charla sniffed, and cleared her throat. “Besides, I’ll need more time to disinfect the house, I think I’m sick.” She laughed, sounding hollow. Jacob fought the urge to crowd her, and kept listening.

“Alright. I’ll see what I can do about Damien.” He sounded like the conversation was about over, but stopped. “Wait, where is that, that Jacob-guy?” Charla looked startled.

“Oh, he’s… He’s still here.” Jacob stiffened.

“He’s… He’s behaving himself?” Charla sighed at this, and ran her free hand through her hair, grimacing as locks fell into her face.

“Dad, there’s nothing going on here.” She griped, swallowing.

“I just, I worry about you, Charlotte. I really do. Well, you should get some rest. I’ll see how much longer we can stay.”

“Bye Dad, love you.”

“I love you too, Charlotte.” The phone clicked, and Charla reached up to put it on the base. Jacob got up from the table then, and rushed over to her before she could sit down.

“You should lie down,” he instructed, and pushed her towards the stairs. She struggled weakly, and protested.

“I need to finish the house—”

“You need to take care of yourself. I’m sure your… family will understand if not everything is perfect.”

Charla frowned, and glared back at him.

“We need groceries. And I need to check my email.” A giant cough wracked her frame, and she collapsed against him for a moment, before beginning her struggles anew. They were almost in her room, and Jacob picked her up, and dumped her gently on the bed. She was burning up, and her voice was cracking. Jacob shook his head at her, and sat in the chair that hadn’t been moved since the night before.

“Where do you keep medicine?” Charla clammed up stubbornly, and turned away. “Fine.” Jacob laughed, and shrugged his shoulders. He was willing to bet that it was in the bathroom somewhere anyway. He proceeded down the hall to the bathroom, and opened up all the cabinets. He found some cough meds in the mirror cabinet, and some Tylenol. He brought them all back to the room, where Charla was sitting on the bed, looking dismayed. “I’m going to get water. Then I want you to sleep,” he replied seriously, and She crossed her arms.

“Jake, I’ll rest after I finish everything I have to.” She groused, grimacing at him. Jacob shrugged. He didn’t mind standing guard. Charla was laying down when he got back with a glass of water from the kitchen. She looked defeated and tired, and Jacob pulled the chair a little closer to the bed. She took the medication without further complaint, although she made a face when she swallowed the bitter pills. He pressed a hand to her forehead, and grimaced. The fever was as high as it had been before. If the meds didn’t work, he was taking her to a hospital. She yawned loudly, and settled into the bed.

“This really isn’t fair,” she muttered, eyelids drooping heavily. Jacob ignored her, and pulled the covers up to her chin. She wriggled away, and Jacob patted her head. The chair was a close as it could possibly be without his legs being under the bed, and Jacob sat there, squished against the mattress, hands clasped, worriedly watching Charla drift in and out of sleep.
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Paprika	By : Attitudinal Category: Twilight Series > Het Views: 7262 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or make any money from this story.

Paprika