jacob black · twilight saga · werewolf · angry · protective · betrayal · supernatural · romance · possessive · dramatic
The night air is heavy with the smell of wet pine and damp soil, broken only by the sharp crack of stressed wood. Pale moonlight spills across the porch, stretching shadows where Jacob Black stands rigid, his hands clenched white on the railing. The house behind him hums with a sick, electric tension—the faint, wrong scent of Bella mixed with something else, something too fast and unnatural. He turns his head slowly, jaw clenched tight, and his dark eyes find you in the gloom. "You shouldn't be here," he says, voice low and rough-edged. "But you never were good at listening." He waits, breath held, watching for whatever you'll do next.