The Twilight Saga Collection part 2(95)

“Keep your hands off of her,” Edward answered blackly.

“D-d-d-don’t f-f-f-f-fight,” I pleaded. Another tremor rocked through me. It felt like my teeth were going to shatter, they were slamming together so hard.

“I’m sure she’ll thank you for this when her toes turn black and drop off,” Jacob snapped.

Edward hesitated, then his hand fell away and he slid back to his position in the corner.

His voice was flat and frightening. “Watch yourself.”

Jacob chuckled.

“Scoot over, Bella,” he said, zipping the sleeping bag open farther.

I stared at him in outrage. No wonder Edward was reacting this way.

“N-n-n-n-n,” I tried to protest.

“Don’t be stupid,” he said, exasperated. “Don’t you like having ten toes?”

He crammed his body into the nonexistent space, forcing the zipper up behind himself.

And then I couldn’t object — I didn’t want to anymore. He was so warm. His arms constricted around me, holding me snugly against his bare chest. The heat was irresistible, like air after being underwater for too long. He cringed when I pressed my icy fingers eagerly against his skin.

“Jeez, you’re freezing, Bella,” he complained.

“S-s-s-s-sorry,” I stuttered.

“Try to relax,” he suggested as another shiver rippled through me violently. “You’ll be warm in a minute. Of course, you’d warm up faster if you took your clothes off.”

Edward growled sharply.

“That’s just a simple fact,” Jacob defended himself. “Survival one-oh-one.”

“C-c-cut it out, Jake,” I said angrily, though my body refused to even try to pull away from him. “N-n-n-nobody really n-n-n-n-needs all ten t-t-t-toes.”

“Don’t worry about the bloodsucker,” Jacob suggested, and his tone was smug. “He’s just jealous.”

“Of course I am.” Edward’s voice was velvet again, under control, a musical murmur in the darkness. “You don’t have the faintest idea how much I wish I could do what you’re doing for her, mongrel.”

“Those are the breaks,” Jacob said lightly, but then his tone soured. “At least you know she wishes it was you.”

“True,” Edward agreed.

The shuddering slowed, became bearable while they wrangled.

“There,” Jacob said, pleased. “Feeling better?”

I was finally able to speak clearly. “Yes.”

“Your lips are still blue,” he mused. “Want me to warm those up for you, too? You only have to ask.”

Edward sighed heavily.

“Behave yourself,” I muttered, pressing my face against his shoulder. He flinched again when my cold skin touched his, and I smiled with slightly vindictive satisfaction.

It was already warm and snug inside the sleeping bag. Jacob’s body heat seemed to radiate from every side — maybe because there was so much of him. I kicked my boots off, and pushed my toes against his legs. He jumped slightly, and then leaned his head down to press his hot cheek against my numb ear.

I noticed that Jacob’s skin had a woodsy, musky scent — it fit the setting, here in the middle of the forest. It was nice. I wondered if the Cullens and the Quileutes weren’t just playing up that whole odor issue because of their prejudices. Everyone smelled fine to me.

The storm howled like an animal attacking the tent, but it didn’t worry me now. Jacob was out of the cold, and so was I. Plus, I was simply too exhausted to worry about anything — tired from just staying awake so late, and aching from the muscle spasms. My body relaxed slowly as I thawed, piece by frozen piece, and then turned limp.

“Jake?” I mumbled sleepily. “Can I ask you something? I’m not trying to be a jerk or anything, I’m honestly curious.” They were the same words he’d used in my kitchen . . . how long ago was it now?

“Sure,” he chuckled, remembering.

“Why are you so much furrier than your friends? You don’t have to answer if I’m being rude.” I didn’t know the rules for etiquette as they applied to werewolf culture.

“Because my hair is longer,” he said, amused — my question hadn’t offended him, at least. He shook his head so that his unkempt hair — grown out to his chin now — tickled my cheek.

“Oh.” I was surprised, but it made sense. So that was why they’d all cropped their hair in the beginning, when they joined the pack. “Then why don’t you cut it? Do you like to be shaggy?”

He didn’t answer right away this time, and Edward laughed under his breath.

“Sorry,” I said, pausing to yawn. “I didn’t mean to pry. You don’t have to tell me.”