Eclipse (Twilight Saga #3)(121)

"Jacob trusts you."

Edward nodded. "He trusts us not to try to kill him. That's about it, though."

"Are you participating tonight?" I asked, hesitant. I knew this was going to be almost as hard for him as being left behind would have been for me. Maybe harder.

"I'll help Jasper when he needs it. He wants to try some unequal groupings, teach them how to deal with multiple attackers."

He shrugged.

And a fresh wave of panic shattered my brief sense of confidence.

They were still outnumbered. I was making that worse.

I stared at the field, trying to hide my reaction.

It was the wrong place to look, struggling as I was to lie to myself, to convince myself that everything would work out as I needed it to. Because when I forced my eyes away from the Cullens-away from the image of their play fighting that would be real and deadly in just a few days-Jacob caught my eyes and smiled.

It was the same wolfy grin as before, his eyes scrunching the way they did when he was human.

It was hard to believe that, not so long ago, I'd found the werewolves frightening-lost sleep to nightmares about them.

I knew, without asking, which of the others was Embry and which was Quil. Because Embry was clearly the thinner gray wolf with the dark spots on his back, who sat so patiently watching, while Quil-deep chocolate brown, lighter over his face-twitched constantly, looking like he was dying to join in the mock fight. They weren't monsters, even like this. They were friends.

Friends who didn't look nearly as indestructible as Emmett and Jasper did, moving faster than cobra strikes while the moonlight glinted off their granite-hard skin. Friends who didn't seem to understand the danger involved here. Friends who were still somewhat mortal, friends who could bleed, friends who could die . . .

Edward's confidence was reassuring, because it was plain that he wasn't truly worried about his family. But would it hurt him if something happened to the wolves? Was there any reason for him to be anxious, if that possibility didn't bother him? Edward's confidence only applied to one set of my fears.

I tried to smile back at Jacob, swallowing against the lump in my throat. I didn't seem to get it right.

Jacob sprang lightly to his feet, his agility at odds with his sheer mass, and trotted over to where Edward and I stood on the fringe of things.

"Jacob," Edward greeted him politely.

Jacob ignored him, his dark eyes on me. He put his head down to my level, as he had yesterday, cocking it to one side. A low whimper escaped his muzzle.

"I'm fine," I answered, not needing the translation that Edward was about to give. "Just worried, you know."




 

 

Jacob continued to stare at me.

"He wants to know why," Edward murmured.

Jacob growled-not a threatening sound, an annoyed sound-and Edward's lips twitched.

"What?" I asked.

"He thinks my translations leave something to be desired. What he actually thought was, 'That's really stupid. What is there to be worried about?' I edited, because I thought it was rude."

I halfway smiled, too anxious to really feel amused. "There's plenty to be worried about," I told Jacob. "Like a bunch of really stupid wolves getting themselves hurt."

Jacob laughed his coughing bark.

Edward sighed. "Jasper wants help. You'll be okay without a translator?"

"I'll manage."

Edward looked at me wistfully for one minute, his expression hard to understand, then turned his back and strode over to where Jasper waited.

I sat down where I was. The ground was cold and uncomfortable.

Jacob took a step forward, then looked back at me, and a low whine rose in his throat. He took another half-step.

"Go on without me," I told him. "I don't want to watch."

Jacob leaned his head to the side again for a moment, and then folded himself on to the ground beside me with a rumbling sigh.

"Really, you can go ahead," I assured him. He didn't respond, he just put his head down on his paws.

I stared up at the bright silver clouds, not wanting to see the fight. My imagination had more than enough fuel. A breeze blew through the clearing, and I shivered.

Jacob scooted himself closer to me, pressing his warm fur against my left side.

"Er, thanks," I muttered.

After a few minutes, I leaned against his wide shoulder. It was much more comfortable that way.

The clouds moved slowly across the sky, dimming and brightening as thick patches crossed the moon and passed on.

Absently, I began pulling my fingers through the fur on his neck. That same strange humming sound that he'd made yesterday rumbled in his throat. It was a homey kind of sound. Rougher, wilder than a cat's purr, but conveying the same sense of contentment.

"You know, I never had a dog," I mused. "I always wanted one, but Renée's allergic."