Be Careful What You Wish For

Chapter Nine

1 Ever since Renesmee had been born, the mornings at the Cullen household went the same way: she woke up, wanted blood, wanted to face-touch everyone and show them not only what she'd dreamed about, but also individual visions that were meant only for the recipient to see – well, the recipient and Wardo, since Nessie didn't exactly try to hide her superficial thoughts from him. She always showed Jacob the same things: visions of her as a grown-up, holding his hands, smiling, telling him that she loved him.

Oh, yes, Nessie had always had an adult mind. That stupid little 'I was born ready' saying? Yeah, in her case, it was actually true. The problem was, he had no idea if she knew how tormenting these visions were, how wrong it felt to think of her as someone who would once be a grown woman, who would once be his. It wasn't like she was a sadist, or anything. No, that was Creepula's domain. He was sadistic as all hell and, these days, didn't even bother pretending otherwise, anymore. Jacob had never seen anyone so much at ease at the prospect of an all-out, game-changing war with a clan of super-powered werewolves.

No, Nessie was not a sadist. She couldn't be. She was too precious, too sweet, too good, too perfect. She was too insecure, too. All she wanted was love and devotion. That was certainly not a crime. Every morning, when she woke up, Jacob brought her a blood-bag. She'd smile at him, and everything else just faded, somehow, became grey and blurred and unimportant. He'd sit down by her side, let her touch his face, see what she wanted him to see, listen to the music of her little voice as she talked. She was a little girl, and he loved her like a daughter, or a little sister. He didn't want to see her being all eager to grow up, to become his girlfriend, but since this was all she showed him, there was no escaping those terrible, disturbing, awful thoughts. In a sense, it felt as if she were just as imprinted on him as he was on her.

My Jacob, she called him in these visions. Mine. Forever.

Forever, he couldn't help thinking, feeling poisoned and unclean for it.

God. This was so, so fucked up.

The first thing he did, after their little party returned from the cluster-fuck that had been the meeting with Sam, was grab a blood-bag out of the fridge and carry it up to Nessie's room. She'd be waking up right about now; it was always the same every single morning.

As he entered the room, he saw that Queen Bitch was sitting by Nessie's side, grinning like a loon, and that Nessie had her dainty little hand on the leech's face. "Good morning," he said.

"Right on time," Queen Bitch said tartly, since that was the only way the self-important cow knew how to address anyone, especially a lowly werewolf.

Nessie's face lit up in the sweetest, most enchanting smile. It was as if she were growing more perfect every day. "Jake! Come here, I'm thirsty."

Sighing inwardly, he did, taking up Barbie's former spot, as she vampire-flashed to the other side of the bed. Well, there was no love lost between her and any of the wolves, least of all Jacob. "Here you go, honey," he said, and handed Nessie the bag. "I hope Auntie Rosie here hasn't spent the entire night drooling on you again."

"Shut up, mutt," Barbie spat.

"Make me," he replied, smiling wryly, and giving her the finger.

"Don't fight," Nessie said, after draining the bag dry. She touched Jacob's fingers and reached out to Barbie, who hurried to sit down and take the offered hand. "We are all one big family. I need you to be friends."

"Of course, angel," Barbie said, simpering, but cast Jacob a last little black look before picking up the empty blood-bag and darting to her feet again. "I'll go prepare your bath, Nessie, dear. Be right back!" With that, she was gone. Finally.