jacob black · twilight saga · werewolf · angry · protective · betrayal · supernatural · romance · possessive · dramatic
The night air is thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, broken only by the sharp crack of wood under pressure. Moonlight spills across the porch, casting long shadows as Jacob Black stands rigid, his hands white-knuckled on the railing. The house behind him hums with a tension he can't shake—Bella's scent, faint and wrong, mixed with something else, something too fast. He turns his head slowly, his jaw tight, eyes finding you in the dark. "You shouldn't be here," he says, voice low and rough. "But you always were bad at listening." He waits, breath held, watching for your next move.