Puppies and Promises

Chapter 2: A Diabolical Plan

Chapter 2: A Diabolical Plan 

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. . . . .

I left the pickle-sucking vamp standing there, no closer to a solution. Straddling my bike, I pushed the kick stand up, and started the engine. With a thunderous growl, the cycle leaped forward, and I was ridin' the road to La Push.

When I got home, I mulled over everything the stupid leech told me. Bella was stubborn, that much was true, and Edward was an idiot thinking I could change her mind about delivering the creature—and no doubt about it—a death blow to herself.

What could I do? I definitely didn't want her dead; I wanted to help. And sure, I had long wished to make her mine, but not like that. I was not a paid stud service, thank you very much. Jeez, that scenario had not-so-erotic written all over it. I'd probably be so tense, I wouldn't be able to do the deed. Sh**, that was a pleasant thought.

I remained awake for half the night stewing over this whole situation. Dammit, why couldn't she have chosen me? Then, none of this crap would've happened. Well, I guess if I wanted to be honest about it, it most probably would happen. Only it'd be my child, with red blood in his veins, and not some monstrous thing that may or may not suck the life outta people.

. . . . .

 

The next day, I was still considering Cullen's proposition. The tiny demon sitting on my left shoulder, coaxed, Would it be so bad if you gave it the ol' college try? Then I thought, Would it really?

 

Why was I even entertaining that idea? No ... absolutely, no. I had principles, like I told that bloodsucking prick. Jeez, I could just kill him for stickin' that suggestion in my brain. Too bad he was already dead.

I needed help making a decision, so during patrol, I asked Paul for advice. He of all the pack had no sense of honor when it came to women, or at least he had his own personal code for whatever that was worth. He took what he wanted—not that any of them were complaining ... you understand. Plus he had to have been in this dilemma at one time or another; well, maybe not this particular dilemma, but you get my drift.

I ran up beside him, Hey, Paul, can I ask you a hypothetical question?

 

His furry muzzle turned to meet my eyes. Whoa ... the great Jacob Black, asking me somethin'? That's a switch. You're usually giving me the score.

 

Will you give me an honest answer or not?

 

Paul snorted. Go ahead, shoot!

 

Here goes. Say a husband of a woman you were in love with asked you to sleep with her. Would you do it?

 

That all depends ...

 

On what?

 

On why he would do that.