temper

We ended up on the beach again, wandering aimlessly. Jacob was still full of himself for engineering my escape.

"Do you think they'll come looking for you?" he asked, sounding hopeful.

"No." I was certain about that. "They're going to be furious with me tonight, though."

He picked up a rock and chucked it into the waves. "Don't go back, then," he suggested again.

"Charlie would love that," I said sarcastically.

"I bet he wouldn't mind."

I didn't answer. Jacob was probably right. Charlie wasn't subtle about his preference for my Quileute friends. I wondered if he would feel the same if he knew the choice was really between vampires and werewolves.

"So what's the latest pack scandal?" I asked lightly.

Jacob skidded to a halt, and he stared down at me with shocked eyes.

"What? That was a joke."

"Oh." He looked away.

I waited for him to start walking again, but he seemed lost in thought.

"Is there a scandal?" I wondered.

Jacob chuckled once. "I forget what it's like, not having everyone know everything all the time. Having a quiet, private place inside my head."

We walked along the stony beach quietly for a few minutes.

"So what is it?" I finally asked. "That everyone in your head already knows?"

He hesitated for a moment, as if he weren't sure how much he was going to tell me. Then he sighed and said, "Quil found someone. That's three now. The rest of us are starting to get worried. Maybe there is some sort of connection thing…" He frowned, and then turned to stare at me. He gazed into my eyes without speaking, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"What are you staring at?" I asked, feeling self-conscious.

He sighed. "Nothing."

Jacob started walking again. Without seeming to think about it, he reached out and took my hand. We paced silently across the rocks.

I thought of how we must look walking hand and hand down the beach—like a couple, certainly—and wondered if I should object. But this was the way it had always been with Jacob… No reason to get worked up about it now.

"Why is Quil finding someone such a scandal?" I asked when it didn't look like he was going to go on. "Is it because he's the newest one?"

"Honestly, Beau, it was mostly because of the conversation you and I had about Sam, Emily, and Liam."

"Oh…" I felt a tinge of guilt. "I didn't mean to start anything."

"It just made me wonder if there really was something about being a werewolf that made us fall in love with people or if Sam was just saying all that to make himself feel better. Then it made all the others wonder the same thing…" He trailed off.

"What do you think?" I asked quietly.

"I don't know, it could just be a coincidence that Quil met someone. I mean, we all know each other's thoughts—we know exactly what Quil was thinking and we still can't tell if he fell in love or if something made him fall in love." He sighed. "Either way, if there is something that makes us fall in love then we don't really have any free will, do we?" I could hear the frustration in his voice. "But then, if there's not, that makes Sam kind of a jerk. Still, how are we supposed to ignore his sacrifice? He gave up so much for the pack, we'd be complete jerks if we were ever selfish about something and put our needs in front of the pack."

We walked in silence for a moment, till I paused to toss a rock toward the ocean. It fell to the beach several meters short. Jacob laughed at me.

"We can't all be freakishly strong," I muttered.

He sighed.

"Do you think—if it's real—it'll happen to you?" I asked quietly.

His answer was flat and immediate. "Never."

"But is it something you can control?"

He was silent for a few minutes. Unconsciously, we both walked slower, barely moving at all.

"If it's even a real thing," he finally said. "If it's some bogus love-at-first-sight thing, I guess it's not something that can be controlled. Sam reasons that it's finding your soul-mate—the person meant for you."

"Maybe you just haven't seen the person meant for you." I offered. "Jacob, you haven't really seen much of the world—less than me, even."

"No, I haven't," he said in a low voice. He looked at my face with suddenly piercing yes. "But I'll never see anyone else, Beau. I only see you. Even when I close my eyes and try to see something else. Ask Quil or Embry. It drives them all crazy."

I dropped my eyes to the rocks.

We weren't walking anymore. The only sound was of the waves beating against the shore. I couldn't hear the rain over their roar.

"Maybe I'd better go home," I whispered.

"No!" he protested, surprised by my conclusion.

I looked up at him again, and his eyes were anxious now.

"You have the whole day off, right? The bloodsucker won't be home yet."

I glared at him.

"Sorry, sorry. No offense intended," he said quickly.

"Yes, I have the whole day. But, Jake…"

He held up his hands. "Sorry," he apologized. "I won't be like that anymore. I'll just be Jacob."

I sighed. "But if that's what you're thinking…"

"Don't worry about me," he insisted, smiling with deliberate cheer, too brightly. "I know what I'm doing. Just tell me if I'm upsetting you."

"You're not upsetting me, Jake." I admitted. "I'm just… worried about where things might go if we're not careful."

"C'mon, babe. Don't think about that."

"But what if everything gets ruined?" I said softly.

"It won't. I promise." He gently took my hand. "I'll be Jacob, you'll be Beau, and we'll always be friends." He smiled.

"Okay, Jake."

"So let's go back to the house and get our bikes. You've got to ride a motorcycle regularly to keep it in tune."

"I really don't think I'm allowed."

"By who? Charlie or the blood—or him?"

"Both."

Jacob grinned my grin, and suddenly he was the Jacob I missed the most, sunny and warm.

I couldn't help grinning back.

The rain softened, turned to mist.

"I won't tell anyone," he promised.

"Except every one of your friends."

He shook his head soberly and raised his right hand. "I promise not to think about it."

I laughed. "If I get hurt, it was because I tripped."

"Whatever you say."

We rode our motorcycles on the back roads around La Push until the rain made them too muddy and Jacob insisted that he was going to pass out if he didn't eat soon. Billy greeted me easily when we got to the house, as if my sudden reappearance meant nothing more complicated than that I'd wanted to spend the day with a friend. After we ate the sandwiches Jacob made, we went out to the garage and I helped him clean up the bikes. I hadn't been there in months—since Edward had returned—but there was no sense of import to it. It was just another afternoon in the garage.

"This is nice," I commented when he pulled the warm sodas from the grocery bag. "I've missed this place."

He smiled, looking around at the plastic sheds bolted together over our heads. "Yeah, I can understand that. All the splendor of the Taj Mahal, without the inconvenience and expense of traveling to India."

"To Washington's little Taj Mahal," I toasted, holding up my can.

He touched his can to mine.

"You're getting really good at riding your bike, Beau." Jacob grinned. "Have you been practicing behind my back?"

"Not even!" I laughed.

"If someone had told me back when we first started riding that you'd be this good at it someday, I would have laughed in their face!" He chuckled. "Say, do you remember last Valentine's Day? I think that was the last time you were here—the last time when things were still… normal, I mean."

I laughed. "Of course, I remember. I traded a lifetime of servitude for a box of conversation hearts. That's not something I'm likely to forget.

He laughed with me. "That's right. Hmm, servitude. I'll have to think of something good." Then he sighed. "It feels like it was years ago. Another era. A happier one."

I couldn't disagree with him. Yes, I was happy now, but I was surprised to realize how many things I missed from those days. I stared through the opening at the murky forest. The rain had picked up again, but it was warm in this little garage, sitting next to Jacob. He was as good as a furnace.

His fingers brushed my hand. "Things have really changed."

"Yeah," I said, and then I reached out and patted the back tire of my bike. "Charlie used to like me. I hope Billy doesn't say anything about today…" I bit my lip.

"He won't. He doesn't get worked up about things the way Charlie does. Hey, I never did apologize officially for that stupid move with the bike. I'm real sorry about ratting you out to Charlie. I wish I hadn't."

I rolled my eyes. "Me, too."

"I'm really, really sorry."

He looked at me hopefully, his wet, tangled black hair sticking up in every direction around his handsome, pleading face.

"Oh, fine! You're forgiven."

"Thanks, babe!"

We grinned at each other for a second, and then his face clouded over.

"You know that day, when I brought the bike over… I've been wanting to ask you something," he said slowly. "But also… not wanting to."

I held very still—a reaction to stress. It was a habit I'd picked up from Edward.

"Were you just being stubborn because you were mad at me, or were you really serious?" he whispered.

"About what?" I whispered back, though I was sure I knew what he meant.

He glared at me. "You know. When you said it was none of my business… if—if he bit you." He cringed visibly at the end.

"Jake…" My throat felt swollen. I couldn't finish.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Were you serious?"

He was trembling just slightly. His eyes stayed closed.

"It's complicated, Jake, but yes," I whispered.

Jacob inhaled, slow and deep. "I guess I knew that."

I stared at his face, waiting for his eyes to open.

"You know what this will mean?" He demanded suddenly. "You do understand that, don't you? What will happen if they break the treaty?"

"We'll leave first," I said in a small voice.

His eyes flashed open, their black depths full of anger and pain. "There wasn't a geographic limit to the treaty, Beau. Our great-grandfathers only agreed to keep the peace because the Cullens swore that they were different, that humans weren't in danger from them. They promised they would never kill or change anyone ever again. If they go back on their word, the treaty is meaningless, and they are no different than any other vampires. Once that's established, when we find them again—"

"But, Jake, didn't you break the treaty already?" I asked, grasping at straws. "Wasn't part of it that you not tell people about the vampires? And you told me. So isn't the treaty sort of moot, anyhow?"

Jacob didn't like the reminder; the pain in his eyes hardened into animosity. "Yeah, I broke the treaty—back before I believed any of it. And I'm sure they were informed of that." He glared sourly at my forehead, not meeting my shamed gaze. "But it's not like that gives them a freebie or anything. There's no fault for a fault. They have only one option if they object to what I did. The same option we'll have when they break the treaty: to attack. To start the war."

He made it sound so inevitable. I shuddered.

"Jake, it doesn't have to be that way."

His teeth ground together. "It is that way."

The silence after his declaration felt very loud.

"Would you ever forgive me, Jacob?" I whispered. As soon as I said the words, I wished I hadn't. I didn't want to hear his answer.

"You won't be Beau anymore," he told me. "My friend won't exist. There'll be no one to forgive."

"That sounds like a no," I whispered.

We faced each other for an endless moment.

"Is this goodbye then, Jake?"

He blinked rapidly, his fierce expression melting in surprise. "Why? We still have a few years. Can't we be friends until we're out of time?"

"Years? Maybe. Could be years, Jake." I shook my head, and laughed once without humor. "Could be weeks."

I was not expecting his reaction.

He was suddenly on his feet, and there was a loud pop as the soda can exploded in his hand. Soda flew everywhere, soaking me, like it was spraying from a hose.

"Jake!" I started to complain, but I fell silent when I realized that his whole body was quivering with anger. He glared at me wildly, a growling sound building in his chest.

I froze in place, too shocked to remember how to move.

The shaking rolled through him, getting faster, until it looked like he was vibrating. His shape blurred…

And then Jacob gritted his teeth together, and the growling stopped. He squeezed his eyes tight in concentration; the quivering slowed until only his hands were shaking.

"Weeks," Jacob said in a flat monotone.

I couldn't respond; I was still frozen.

He opened his eyes. They were beyond fury now.

"He's going to change you into a filthy bloodsucker in just a few weeks!" Jacob hissed through his teeth.

Too stunned to take offense at his words, I just shrugged mutely.

His face turned green under the russet skin.

"Jake, please," I whispered after a long minute of silence. "It's complicated. I wish I could explain it to you, but I can't. It's… complicated. What else can I do?"

I'd meant that as a rhetorical question.

His words cracked like snaps of a whip. "Anything. Anything else. You'd be better off dead. I'd rather you were."

I recoiled like he'd slapped me. It hurt worse than if he had.

And then, as the pain shot through me, my own temper burst into flame.

"Maybe you'll get lucky," I said bleakly, lurching to my feet. "Maybe I'll get hit by a truck on my way back."

I grabbed my motorcycle and pushed it out into the rain. He didn't move as I passed him. As soon as I was on the small, muddy path, I climbed on and kicked the back to life. The rear tire spit a fountain of mud toward the garage, and I hoped that it hit him.

I got absolutely soaked as I sped across the slick highway toward the Cullens' house. The wind felt like it was freezing the rain against my skin, and my teeth were chattering before I was halfway there.

But I didn't care. It felt cleansing, almost. Racing along the highway. I decided the bike was going to stay with me for a long time.

I walked the bike into the Cullens' cavernous garage and was unsurprised to find Alice waiting for me, perched lightly on the hood of her Porsche. Alice stroked the glossy yellow paint.

"I haven't even had a chance to drive it." She sighed.

"Don't worry," I shuddered through my rattling teeth, "I won't let him take it away from you."

"You look like you could use a hot shower," she said springing lightly to her feet.

"Yep."

She pursed her lips, taking in my expression carefully. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Nope."

She nodded in assent, but her eyes were raging with curiosity.

"Do you want to go to Olympia tonight?"

"Not really. Can't I go home?"

She grimaced.

"Never mind, Alice," I said. "I'll stay. It'll make things easier for you."

"Thanks," she sighed in relief.

I took a hot shower and went to bed early that night, curling up on Edward's sofa again.

It was still dark when I woke. I was groggy, but I knew it wasn't near morning yet. My eyes closed, and I stretched, rolling over. It took me a second before I realized that the movement should have dumped me onto the floor. And that I was much too comfortable.

I rolled back over, trying to see. It was darker than last night—the clouds were too thick for the moon to shine through.

"Sorry," he murmured so softly that his voice was part of the darkness. "I didn't mean to wake you."

I tensed, waiting for the fury—both his and mine—but it was only quiet and calm in the darkness of his room. There was no friction in the space between us. The stillness was peaceful—not like the calm before the tempest, but like a clear night untouched by even the dream of a storm.

And I didn't care that I was supposed to be angry with him. It had been a long, emotional day, and I didn't have the energy. I sighed and reached out for him, found his hands in the darkness, and pulled myself closer to him. His arms encircled me, cradling me to his chest.

I felt his lips gently kiss along my cheek, down to my lips. He kissed me softly for a moment, and then he chuckled.

"I was all braced for the wrath that was going to put grizzlies to shame, and this is what I get? I should infuriate you more often."

"Give me a minute to work up to it," I grumbled, and kissed him.

"I'll wait as long as you want," he whispered against my lips. His fingers knotted in my hair.

My breath caught. "Maybe in the morning."

"Whatever you prefer."

"You're not completely off the hook," I said while his cold lips pressed under my jaw. "So don't get too comfortable."

"Yes, sir." He breathed against my neck.

"I mean it," I said, feeling my back arch as a tingle ran down my spine.

His hand curved around my elbow, moving slowly down my arm, across my ribs and over my waist, tracing along my hip and down my leg, around my knee. He paused there, his hand curling around my calf. He pulled my leg up suddenly, hitching it around his hip.

I stopped breathing. This wasn't the kind of thing he usually allowed. Despite his cold hands, I felt suddenly warm. His lips moved to the hollow at the base of my throat.

"Not to bring on the ire prematurely," he whispered, "but do you mind telling me what it is about this bed that you object to?"

Before I could answer, before I could even concentrate enough to make sense of his words, he rolled to the side, pulling me on top of him. He held my face in his hands, angling it up so that his mouth could reach my throat. My breathing was too loud—it was almost embarrassing, but I couldn't care quite enough to be ashamed.

"The bed?" he asked again. "I think it's nice."

"It's unnecessary," I managed to gasp.

He pulled my face back to his, and my lips shaped themselves around his. Slowly this time, he rolled till he hovered over me. He held himself carefully so that I felt none of his weight, but I could feel the cool marble of his body press against mine. My heart was beating so loudly that it was hard to hear his quiet laughter.

"That's debatable," he disagreed. "This would be difficult on a couch."

Cold as ice, his tongue lightly traced the shape of my lips.

My head was spinning—the air was coming fast and shallow.

"Did you change your mind?" I asked breathlessly. Maybe he'd rethought all his careful rules. Maybe there was more significance to this bed than I'd originally guessed. My heart pounded almost painfully as I waited for his answer.

Edward sighed, and reluctantly rolled back so that were on our sides again.

"Don't be ridiculous, Beau," he said, disapproval strong in his voice—clearly, he understood what I meant. "I was just trying to illustrate the benefits of the bed you don't seem to like. Don't get carried away."

"Too late," I muttered. "And I like the bed," I added.

"Good." I could hear the smile in his voice as he kissed my forehead. "I do, too."

"But I still think it's unnecessary," I continued. "If we're not going to get carried away, what's the point?"

He sighed again. "For the hundredth time, Beau—it's too dangerous."

"I like danger," I insisted.

"I know." There was a sour edge to his voice, and I realized that he would have seen my motorcycle in the garage.

"I'll tell you what's dangerous," I said quickly, before he could move to a new topic of discussion. "I'm going to spontaneously combust one of these days—and you'll have no one but yourself to blame."

He started to move away.

"What are you doing?" I objected.

"Protecting you from combustion. If this is too much for you…"

"Oh, shut up. I can handle it," I insisted.

He wrapped his arms back around me.

"I'm sorry I gave you the wrong impression," he said. "I didn't mean to make you unhappy. That wasn't nice."

"Actually, it was very, very nice."

He took a deep breath, and I could hear he was fighting a smile. "Aren't you tired? I should let you sleep."

"No, I'm not. I don't mind if you want to give me the wrong impression again."

"That's probably a bad idea. I don't want to get carried away."

"You don't get carried away," I laughed.

He chuckled. "You have no idea, Beau. It doesn't help that you are so eager to undermine my self-control, either."

"I'm not going to apologize for that."

"Can I apologize?"

"For what?"

"You were angry with me, remember?"

"Oh. Yeah."

"I'm sorry. I was wrong. It's much easier to have the proper perspective when I have you safely here." His arms tightened around me. "I go a little berserk when I try to leave you. I don't think I'll go so far again. It's not worth it."

I smiled. "Didn't you find any mountain lions?"

"Yes, I did, actually. Still not worth the anxiety. I'm sorry I had Alice hold you hostage, though. That was a bad idea."

"Yes, it was." I agreed.

"I won't do it again."

"Good boy," I said easily. "But, I suppose, slumber parties do have their advantages…" I curled myself closer to him, pressing my lips into the indentation over his collarbone. "You can hold me hostage any time you want."

"Mmm," he moaned. "I may take you up on that."

"So is it my turn now?"

"Your turn?" his voice was confused.

"To apologize."

"What do you have to apologize for?"

"Aren't you mad at me?" I asked blankly.

"No."

It sounded like he really meant it.

I felt my eyebrows pull together. "Didn't you see Alice when you got home?"

"Yes—why?"

"You'd better not take her Porsche back."

"Why would I do that? It was a gift."

I wished I could see his expression. His voice sounded as if I'd insulted him.

"Don't you want to know what I did?" I asked, starting to be puzzled by his apparent lack of concern.

I felt him shrug. "I'm always interested in everything you do—but you don't have to tell me unless you want to."

"Well, I went to La Push."

"I know."

"And I ditched school."

"So did I."

I stared toward the sound of his voice, tracing his features with my fingers, trying to understand his mood. "Where did all this tolerance come from?" I demanded.

He sighed.

"I decided that you were right. My problem before was more about my… prejudice against werewolves than anything else. I'm going to try to be more reasonable and trust your judgement. If you say it's safe, then I'll believe you."

"Wow."

"And… most importantly… I'm not willing to let this drive a wedge between us."

I rested my head against his chest and closed my eyes, feeling content.

"So," he murmured in a casual tone. "Did you make plans to go back to La Push again soon?"

I didn't answer. His question brought back the memory of Jacob's words, and my throat was suddenly tight.

He misread my silence and the tension in my body.

"Just so I can make my own plans," he explained quickly. "I don't want you to feel like you have to hurry back because I'm sitting around waiting for you."

"No," I said in a voice that sounded strange to me. "I don't have plans to go back."

"Oh. You don't have to do that for me."

"I don't think I'm welcome anymore," I whispered.

"Did you run over someone's cat?" he asked lightly. I knew he didn't want to force the story out of me, but I could hear the curiosity burning behind his words.

"No." I took a deep breath, and then mumbled quickly through the explanation. "I thought Jacob would have realized… I didn't think it would upset him so badly…"

Edward waited while I hesitated.

"He wasn't expecting… that it could be so soon."

"Ah," Edward said quietly.

"He said he'd rather see me dead." My voice broke on the last word.

Edward was too still for a moment, controlling whatever reaction he didn't want me to see.

Then he crushed me gently to his chest. "I'm so sorry."

"I thought you'd be glad," I whispered.

"Glad over something that's hurt you?" he murmured into my hair. "I don't think so, Beau."

I sighed and relaxed, fitting myself to the stone shape of him. But he was motionless again, tense.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"It's nothing."

"You can tell me."

He paused for a minute. "It might make you angry."

"I still want to know."

He sighed. "I could quite literally kill him for saying that to you. I want to."

I laughed halfheartedly. "I guess it's a good thing you've got so much self-control."

"I could slip." His tone was thoughtful.

"If you're going to have a lapse in control, I can think of a better place for it." I reached for his face, trying to pull myself up to kiss him. His arms tensed, holding me back.

He sighed. "Must I always be the responsible one?"

I grinned in the darkness. "No. Let me be in charge of responsibility for a few minutes… or hours."

"Don't tempt me, Beau."

I could only laugh.

"Goodnight, Beau."

"Wait—there was something else I wanted to ask you about."

"What's that?"

"I was talking to Royal last night…"

His body tensed again. "Yes. He was thinking about that when I got in. He gave you quite a lot to consider, didn't he?"

His voice was anxious, and I realized that he thought I wanted to talk about the reasons Royal had give me for staying human. But I was interested in something much more pressing.

"He told me a little bit… about the time your family lived in Denali."

There was a short pause; this beginning took him by surprise. "Yes?"

"He mentioned something about a bunch of beautiful vampires… and you."

He didn't answer, though I waited for a long moment.

"Don't worry," I said, after the silence had grown uncomfortable. "He told me you didn't… show any preference. But I was just wondering, you know, if any of them had. Shown a preference for you, I mean."

Again he said nothing.

"Which one?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual, and not quite managing. "Or was there more than one?"

No answer. I wished I could see his face, so I could try to guess what this silence meant.

"Alice will tell me," I said. "I'll go ask her right now."

His arms tightened; I was unable to squirm even an inch away.

"It's late," he said. His voice had a little edge to it that was something new. Sort of nervous, maybe a little embarrassed. "Besides, I think Alice stepped out…"

"It's bad," I guessed. "It's really bad, isn't it?" I started to fill nauseous as I imagined the gorgeous immortal rival I'd never realized I had.

"Calm down, Beau," he said, kissing the tip of my nose. "You're being absurd."

"Am I? Then why don't you tell me?"

"Because there's nothing to tell. You're blowing this wildly out of proportion."

"Which one?" I insisted.

He sighed. "Taras expressed a little interest. I let him know, in a very courteous, gentlemanly fashion, that I did not return that interest. End of story."

I kept my voice as even as possible. "Tell me something—what does Taras look like?"

"Just like the rest of us—white skin, gold eyes," he answered too quickly.

"And, of course, extraordinarily beautiful."

I felt him shrug.

"I suppose, to human eyes," he said, indifferent. "You know what, though?"

"What?" My voice was petulant.

He put his lips right to my ear; his cold breath tickled. "I prefer brunettes."

"He's blond. That figures."

"Strawberry blond—not at all my type."

I thought about that for a while, trying to concentrate as his lips moved slowly along my cheek, down my throat, and back up again. He made the circuit three times before I spoke.

"I guess that's okay, then," I decided.

"Hmm," he whispered against my skin. "You're quite adorable when you're jealous. It's surprisingly enjoyable."

I scowled into the darkness. "Don't push your luck tonight."

"I'm sorry." He chuckled. "It's late," he said again, murmuring, almost crooning now, his voice smoother than silk. "Sleep, my Beau. Dream happy dreams. You are the only one who has ever touched my heart. It will always be yours. Sleep, my only love."

He started to hum my lullaby, and I knew it was only a matter of time until I succumbed, so I closed my eyes and snuggled closer into his chest.