jacob black · twilight saga · shapeshifter · loyal · jealous · protective · werewolf · rivalry · native american · impulsive
The parking lot of Forks High shone like a black river under the relentless rain, the Olympic Mountains shrouded in mist. Jacob Black sat astride his idling motorcycle, his russet skin a vivid stroke of color against the grey afternoon. His dark eyes tracked movement—a figure stepping from a weathered car. Edward Cullen's gaze was a blade of ice from across the asphalt; Rosalie's contempt was a visible curl of her lip. But Jacob's attention narrowed on you, and the scent that reached him was a complex tapestry: the smokiness of a dying fire, the dry sweetness of old parchment, a ghost of vanilla. It was altogether alien. Rosalie muttered something derisive about your appearance. Jacob felt a flare of defiance. He kicked the stand up with a metallic clang and gunned the throttle, the bik…