BLOOD FOR BLOOD ─ paul lahote

[ 014 ] vampires will never hurt you

Violet: we just saw each other at the skate park yesterday.

Violet: but i'll come.

Violet: for kit. and the food.

Paul: yeah you keep telling yourself that

Violet: hush. why're you not going to school today?

Paul: cause i dont want to

A sharp knock on the window snaps Violet's attention out of the conversation, just as she's about to hit send on her response (a casual, "bullshit") to Paul's suspiciously vague answer. Finally, she tears her eyes off the screen of her phone and meets Aaron's curious gaze in the rearview mirror. Lips twisting in impatience, she rolls her eyes and winds down the window, only to reveal Jacob Black's face beaming sunnily down at her.

"Hey, Violet!" Jacob says, the cheer in his voice causing Violet to wince, and as he leans forward with his arms folded on the window sill and ducks his head into the car through the window, Violet's expression darkens with irritation. It's one thing to catch her completely by surprise, but it's even worse when it's someone whose skin she knows can't be sliced open by the knives under her sleeves. She keeps them within reach anyway, just incase Jacob decides this invasion of her personal space isn't complete without trying to climb into the car through the open window. Unlikely that that would be his next move, however, considering his powerful shoulders seem to swallow up the edges of the window, his big head and body blocking all the light slanting into the car.

It's as she's pinning him with one of her signature deadpan looks that the wild thought creeps into her subliminal thoughts: Paul has better arms...

Immediately, a wave of repulsion roils through her, and she shakes it off by flicking Jacob a callous look.

"Can I help you, Jacob?" Violet drawls, tapping her nails—freshly painted black last night—against the arm rest. She cocks her head. "Oh, wait. I don't care."

It doesn't matter that he's practically Paul's brother-in-arms. She doesn't know Jacob. Barely knows any of the other werewolves besides Kit and Paul, even. She's still warming up to the idea of getting closer to any of them. Considering they're all so... loose-limbed and touchy-feely with everyone... so warm from the inside out, it's a little overwhelming to her, especially since she's grown up making herself a stranger to affection, and after Luka's death, had completely cut it out of her life.

—YOU'VE ALREADY FORGOTTEN—

Livvy.

Violet's heart aches at the name. A reminder. A time gone by.

All except Livvy.

—THIS IS WHY YOU DON'T LET ANYONE CLOSE. THEY ALL LEAVE ONE WAY OR ANOTHER. LUKA, LIVVY, THEY'RE SOLID PROOF OF YOUR CURSE—

Unable to stand the small space anymore, Violet slants a flat look at Jacob, to which he leans back, rocking back on his heels as he crosses his arms over his chest, black shirt pulling taut over his muscles, but leans back, rocking back on his heels as he crosses his arms over his chest, black shirt pulling taut over his muscles, but Violet snatches her skateboard off the floor, slings her backpack over her shoulder and shoves the door open with jerky movements, missing clipping Jacob in the hip by a hair's breadth, and steps out. She hardly hears Aaron drive off under the blood rushing in her ears.

Despite her manifest animosity, though, Jacob merely snickers, like her teeth had bounced clean off his impenetrable skin. "Oh, man, I missed that. Everyone's been so stressed out lately ever since that day in the woods—" he slants her a surreptitious smirk, an impish gleam in his eyes— "especially Paul, but you don't care, do you?"