After meeting Jacob Black, I didn't think anything could go wrong. I soon found out that I was sadly mistaking.
The Prologue is portrayed in Jacob's POV, however the rest of the story will be in the OC's point of view. xxx Jacob/OC
3. Chapter 2: Intrigue
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My entire body jolted forward, my eyes prying themselves open, lips parted gasping for air. I stared around my room, it was dark and I was definitely alone. I swallowed hard; my mouth was dry, so that was proving difficult for me.
I blinked a few times, trying to grasp my bearings. That wasn’t the first time I had that particular nightmare and I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be the last.
It has haunted me for nearly a year, I was finally starting to get over them and here we are.
Right back at square one.
The visions were brutal, and they felt so real. It was like I was watching a movie; I cringed at the thought. Watching my older brother’s end was not something I would watch in the movie theater.
I felt a stab of pain in my chest; his picture was there, where it always was on my nightstand. He was only twenty-three years old and was brutally murdered in Seattle, Washington a little less than a year ago. I felt like I was finally moving on from this, but obviously my dreams are telling me otherwise.
Pushing the covers off of my body I felt my body shiver just a bit, the cold sweat from the dream was causing the cool climate of my room to form goose bumps on my flesh. I grabbed the hoodie at the end of my bed and pulled it on, warming me almost instantly.
I found my way down the stairs as gracefully as possible at six in the morning. The sun wasn’t up yet and I was grateful for that, but by the sound of the coffee maker, my father was. He cleared his throat as I entered.
“Morning Pops,” I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, squinting at the harsh florescent lighting.
“Nightmare?” He asked pouring himself a cup of coffee; I cocked an eyebrow up at him and swiped the mug from under his nose.
“How’d you know?” I asked raising the mug to my lips, not bothering to doctor the pitch black liquid inside of it. He gave me a look, I’m not sure if that was for my question or for swiping his coffee, but nevertheless he wasn’t answering my question.
He grabbed another cup and poured another cup for himself, doctoring it while his lips remained pursed together. I was in for it; I could see that look on his face. Sometimes he acts like my mother, but it rarely ever shines through like this.
“Molly, I think you need to see someone about these nightmares you’re having,” He looked up from his cup finally.
“Pops, its fine, really. No big deal. No harm, no foul…” I mumbled pushing my messy hair out of my face.
“Mols, it’s not normal for people to have nightmares like this,”
“It’s not normal for people’s brothers to be brutally murdered either.” I bit back at him.
He sighed, his head of dark brown hair hanging in defeat. I know I probably shouldn’t have gone there, but it was the truth. Except for the other families who had lost loved ones during the atrocious couple of weeks in Seattle.
“Besides,” I mumbled almost incoherently. “It was the first one I’ve had in a long time,”
He looked up to meet my gaze, penetrating my gaze, trying to read me. Trying to see if I was lying or not. He found his answer and nodded.
“No classes today?” He asked.
“No, that’s why I stayed here last night,” I shrugged my shoulders. “Was at Maroon Bells getting a few rolls in, and decided I’d excuse myself from the three-hour drive to Denver so I could spend some quality time with my old man…”
He shook his head, “Dinner tonight?”
“Sounds delightful, what am I taste-testing tonight?”
My father was a Chef, and he loved to use his only daughter as his experimental taste-tester, not that I was complaining. He grinned at me and shook his head.
“I’m not telling,”
I glanced over at the clock on the stove and sighed, “Lo should be opening in about an hour, you wanna go for a run?”
It didn’t take much convincing but my father agreed. Downing the rest of my coffee I jogged upstairs starting to feel the caffeine do its job. I changed and met my father downstairs for our sporadic morning exercise.
By the time I got to Lo’s she was waiting with prints in hand. I happily accepted them like a kid in a candy store, paying her and tipping her as I usually did for doing such a fabulous job.
To say I rushed home was an understatement, I pushed my Civic as far as it could go running upstairs to my room and scattering my prints across the large drafting desk that sat next to my computer desk.
I was very meticulous about the prints I chose, and usually spent about an hour surveying each one, keeping a mental score sheet in my head. Usually first glance eliminated half of them, either they weren’t the right angle, the right coloring, or the right story I was trying to tell.
To most people it would look like forty pictures of the same relative place; to me each picture was different. The one I held in my grasp now, for instance. The sun was setting lower than the picture before it, causing an entirely different perspective and coloring.
Himming and hawing over the last several photos I noticed something that I hadn’t before. Something that didn’t look normal; it was something very strange in the background of two consecutive shots.
The first was a big brown blur, and the second was clearer. The second looked like a large mahogany animal. It was difficult to make out in the print that I held in my grasp, but I was going to find out.
I had spent enough time at Maroon Bells to know what animals lurked around in the distance, but this. I shook my head; this was nothing I had ever seen before. Even by the blurred picture I could tell that the animal was massive.
Nothing that big lurked in the open.
I sat myself down in front of my computer, slipping the CD in to the hard drive. I was determined to toy around with this picture until I could make out this creature that dared to ruin perfection.
It took a little more time than I had wanted, but after a few hundred clicks of my mouse I was able to make the creature out more clearly. I stared at the picture in complete bewilderment, could what I be seeing be possible? I didn’t think so, but it was.
It was a wolf.
A very tall, very large wolf; it was as big as a grizzly bear, if not bigger. I felt my stomach tighten; surprisingly the emotion that overwhelmed me was not fear.
It was intrigue.