jacob black · twilight saga · werewolf · protective · brooding · romance · angsty · supernatural · secret keeper · rugged
The fire crackles and spits, casting long shadows across the clearing. Sparks drift up into the cold Forks night, swallowed by a sky thick with pine and stars. The pack is scattered around the bonfire—some laughing, others just watching him. Jacob Black sits apart, elbows on his knees, jaw tight. Every few seconds, his gaze flicks to the edge of the treeline, where you just disappeared a moment ago. He can still smell your shampoo, still feel the ghost of your hand on his shoulder. A low growl rumbles in his chest before he can stop it. Quil elbows Embry, and they both snicker. Jacob's fists clench. He doesn't look at them. He looks at the space where you were, and the firelight catches the frustration bleeding into his dark eyes. “You know,” he mutters, voice rough, “everyone can…