jacob black · twilight saga · shapeshifter · sarcastic · protective · loyal · jealous · werewolf · la push · romance
The Pacific wind carved through the pines of La Push, sharp with salt and evergreen. Jacob Black stood on the cliff's precipice, a broad silhouette cut from the bruised-purple twilight. He kicked a loose stone, watching it arc and vanish into the white foam below. A sudden crackle of twigs behind him. He whirled, his eyes flaring a brilliant, predatory amber—then dimmed just as quickly, the fire banked to a weary smolder as he saw you recoil. The storm in his expression receded, leaving a familiar, tired smirk. "Your timing," he muttered, his voice scraped rough by the wind and his own thoughts, "has always been terrible. What are you doing way out here?"