Still Breathing [Jacob Black]

Chapter Eighteen

Felicity

For a moment, we stared at each other. Jacob's face went through an array of emotions, but mostly he seemed relieved. I wondered if he knew the answers to all the strange things I'd been noticing. Like Rosalie's use of the word humans and her and Esme's abnormal strength. Then again, if anything that had happened in the last few hours was to be believed, then Jacob was...a werewolf.

Nope. I stopped my thoughts right there. Now was so not the time to dwell on that. I was out of that house, away from Dr. Cullen, and for now I was going to relish my luck. Surely it was time to count those lucky stars, yes?

Jacob stepped forward, bridging the gap to stand right in front of Rosalie and me. He seemed hesitant once he got there, unsure what to do.

"Well?" Rosalie said. "She's yours, right? Take her."

Jacob pulled in a deep breath, his chest visibly lifting. "Is she okay?"

I was too busy staring at Jacob to see but I guessed Rosalie rolled her eyes. Her voice was definitely full of attitude when she said, "Ask her. She's literally right in front of you. Pull your head out of your ass and take her, then talk to her."

"Hate to say it," Paul's voice said from a few feet away and I flinched. I hadn't noticed him there. "But the vamp is right. Take her and let's go." He smiled at me. "Glad you're back, doll."

Maybe I smiled back. Maybe my lips just twitched. Either way, I tried and that was all the response he was getting because I decidedly needed a nap. A long one.

"Okay," Jacob murmured. He reached forward, trying to grab me as gently as possible. Rosalie wasn't patient with him, though. She practically dropped me in his arms, and I huffed a little as I was jarred. Hopefully after I got my nap I wouldn't be so sore—but I didn't get my hopes up. It'd probably take days at the very least to feel better. Still, a girl could dream.

Rosalie said, "We'll talk to Carlisle. Either we'll leave or he'll back off, but we definitely won't bother you again. You should keep a better eye on your people anyway. Step it up, pups." Then she turned around and...disappeared. Just like Esme had. The Cullens clearly were not normal.

Neither Jacob nor Paul seemed surprised at Rosalie vanishing. Apparently they were used to such behavior? Not that I should have been shocked at this. They were—

No. Not now. Now was not the time.

Now I was cradled in Jacob's arms and he was looking down at me, his expression conflicted. "Felicity," he breathed. "Are you okay?"

I frowned. What kind of a question was that? "I'm sore. And I'm tired. I need a nap."

Paul laughed. "I think we can arrange that."

Jacob cut a glare Paul's way. "Sore? What did they do to you?"

My mind ran over what had happened at the Cullen residence. The run of the mill tests that were mostly innocuous but I knew once they sunk in that later I'd feel invaded. Then the pain...the logic of which still confounded me. But my stomach was currently stitched up. I'd have a scar. I'd somehow almost forgotten that had happened—in all the soreness, that particular pain didn't currently stand out. I remembered now, my face drawing tight.

"Maybe now isn't the time for that," Paul said quietly.

"Yeah," I croaked. "Nap first. Can I talk later?" I peered up at Jacob, my gaze probably pleading.