Take it Back, Jacob Black.

Jacob

It felt like being ripped apart from the inside. Even though I was doubled over in pain, I managed to find a piece of salvation. That, even if it was pain, I felt Ryder. It meant she was still alive, even if only barely. The others had long since abandoned the search, leaving me to my insanity. It had only been three more days and they practically assumed her dead. I knew she wasn't. Strangely, it was the imprint that told me. It was my soul. Ryder was...she was the other half of me, almost literally. There was no denying it for either of us, even though I had long since accepted it.

Wiping my bloodstained muzzle with my dirty paws, I made my way down the rest of the slope. A smart shape shifter would have called in backup. Thankfully, I wasn't that smart. The sound of an agonized scream was faint, but painfully familiar. With adrenaline rushing through my veins, I raced toward the sound. I smelled the blood before I saw her body lying in a heap outside the vine-covered cabin. I phased, not giving a rat's left one if I was naked or not, and rolled her onto her back.

Her eyes were wide open and the life was fading rapidly, “Jacob...” She breathed, “Run.”

Unable to move, I stared down at her. Her life seemed to spark in those beautiful green eyes of hers and it was then I realized she had been faking dying. Damn, she was a good actor, but that was besides the point. There was no way she was faking the broken leg or ribs. “Leave.” She said, just as quietly, but with more force.

“Ah...What have we here? Prince Charming come to save his tramp of a princess? How endearing! Pray tell you, Madhavi, how will this play out?” The voice was thickly accented and amused by Ryder's current state of health. I felt the anger boil in me and, sensing it, Ryder whimpered as a sign for me to control myself.

I turned my head to find the man that had taken her from me in the first place and the leech that had checked Ryder out that one time many a month ago. Her voice, though just as thickly accented as his, was obviously Indian and she smiled, her long black hair whipping in a breeze that came from nowhere. She curled herself around him and looked around his shoulders, “My Lord, this foolish mutt is young and has not an ounce of experience in his blood.” She reported.

I resisted the urge to snort. Right, I had more experience in my right one than she had in her entire tiny frame. I kept that to myself and turned my attention back to my Imprint. The stalker sighed, “Interesting, and yet he risks his life for this pathetic excuse for an Celestial.” The stalker scratches his chin, in mock contemplation and I find myself sick to the stomach, wondering why Ryder won't let me attack.

“Lucian, do not underestimate the Nephilim,” Madhavi warned, peering at the two of us with an eery far away look in her eye, similar to the one that psychic bloodsucker (Alice) got.

The sta- Lucian held up his hand and shook his head, “I need not worry about this stupid half breed. She was fun at first, but now she's become a bore. Dispose of the both of them.” He said it with such a casualness that the anger I tried to keep at bay, raged inside me and shook me from my human form. I snarled, moving so that there would be no way for either of them to get to her without going through me.

“Now, now,” Madhavi chided, her ruby eyes bright with a sick bloodlust, “You really shouldn't fight. It only makes it that much more painful for you.” She paused, trilling a sadistic laugh into the thick air and crouched, preparing herself, “Of course, be my guest.”


Ryder

If there was a time for me really not to want to be bothered, it would have to be now. Poor Jacob thought he was actually helping. It was sweet, but I could handle myself. I just had to get that Madhavi hag bitch from here so that I could burn Lucian. The beating was harsh, all twelve of them, that Lucian dealt me when he realized I had drugged his wine. I wondered why he wasn't dead yet. Grass peas were said to cause permanent paralysis, loss of breath, and list of things I didn't care about. It was the paralysis I needed. I wanted to burn.

I could see that it had some effect on Lucian, because of the short breaths he had been taking all day today. From my experience, I figured out that demons rarely became winded, so some of the affects were working. I was just praying the paralysis would kick in soon.

“Fucking psycho, I'd get the sane bloodsuckers. Figures.”

I tried to remain calm as a voice, one that could only belong to the giant wolf acting as a fortress around me, whispered. It was faint and I barely understood it, but I did understand that in his current form, Jacob couldn't speak aloud. Blaming the strange occurrence on the whole Imprint, I looked up to the sky – not that had much choice, mind you – and waited until he and Madhavi finished their strange foreplay.

It wasn't long before they were in a brawl so heated, I wasn't sure whether to continue with my plan, or watch them. Lucian seem entranced by the violent scene before him, leaving me free to crawl away from him and through the open back door. I hissed as I stood, shifting my weight onto my relatively uninjured leg and hobbled to the hallway where the first aid kit was. I pulled it open and grabbed the syringe that was for injecting anti-venom. I attempted to quietly waddle into the kitchen, open the fridge, and suck the spiked wine into the syringe.

Attempted being the key word. No sooner had I closed the fridge, had something clamped on the back of my neck and sent my flying onto the dining room table. The legs of the table buckled and sent me to the floor. I gripped the syringe closely, gritting against the pain of my new and old injuries, and squeezed my eyes shut. “You should learn to stay down, Nephilim.” Lucian growled in my ear.

Come on... I lifted my hand with the syringe and went to plunge it into his neck when he caught sight of it. He grabbed my wrist and stared at me, only minutely incredulous. “Sneaky little troll!” He exclaimed, finding my attempt at maiming him hilarious.

He bent my wrist at an unnatural angle and I bit my tongue to keep from scream. It came out as a muffled grunt. Bending my arm down, the tip of the needle stared at me. It glinted evilly and the drop of red liquid threatened to drop into my eye. “No..” I grunted, trying to force his hand back.

He was just too strong...


“Hit her with that right hook, Chrissy, baby! Don't let that bitch kick you while you're down! Greer's are better than that!”

Dad's testosterone-fueled bellow echoed out through the entire gym. I tried not to laugh as I did as I swept my opponent's legs out from under her. She hit the mat with a manly grunt and I pinned her shoulders down with my knees, slamming my fist into her face. With an incredible burst of strength, she pushed me backwards and grabbed my ankle, twisting me onto my stomach and pulling it backwards. “Tap out! Tap out!” Trace's advice sounded like good idea, but I never gave up. Ever.

On the brink of insanity, encouraged by Dad's incessant insults on her family and know-how, I forced myself to forget about the pain. “Come on, Chris, she wouldn't know what could grappling is if Fedor came and bit her in the ass!”

The particular insult on Genie “Bones” Rodriguez was what gave me the courage to do it. “Bones” felt she had the win so she bent down to whisper a not-to-pleasant remark in my ear when I slammed my head back into her head...

“Let's go, Chris, he's just another Bones. You beat her, you can beat him.” Much to my astonishment, Dad stood behind Lucian dressed in a pastel blue shirt made of cotton and white slacks, his dark hair streaked with gray. He looked better than ever.

Despite the fact that my hallucinations had become incredibly realistic, I went with the feeling my Dad/Hallucination gave me and shoved the palm of my other hand under his chin – using the fraction of the second he was vulnerable to reroute my broken hand and jam the needle into his throat, pushing the wine/poison into his veins. He coughed and spluttered, hitting the ground and rolling onto his back.

The knowledge of victory was thrilling, but I wasn't finished exacting my revenge. No way in hell was he getting away with it. I kicked him and, smirking when he winced, I realized he wasn't completely paralyzed. He could still feel...he just couldn't move. I grabbed a piece of the fractured wood from the table and smashed him repeatedly over various parts of his body that will not be mentioned.

Racing to the room where I was kept, I yanked up the floorboard and began dousing everything in sight with gasoline, leading a trail to the porch. I struck all three matches left in the box and dropped them. Like a scene from the movies, the line of gasoline ignited in the way I had it strewn. I stumbled backwards off the porch and hit the ground, whimpering as my broken leg bent against the concrete steps. Letting out a bloodcurdling scream, I dug my nails into the damp soil, trying to pull myself away from the burning cabin.

Hot arms curled under me, trying to be gentle, and I was lifted from the ground. The owner of the arms lifted me and warm, soft lips pressed against my forehead.

“Sleep. It's all over now.”