With Bella in danger, Jacob’s transformation escalated; their shared goal of saving her meant they worked together, hostilities put aside. Their speed was for naught, arriving in time for the snap as James broke her neck and tossed her aside, her limp body a crumpled heap.
They didn’t play with their prey. The wolf harried James into a corner, the vampire tore out his throat. It was the work of moments and did little to satiate their thirst for vengeance.
They surfaced from their anger long enough to say their farewells, straightening bent limbs, stroking long, dark hair back from her bloodless face.
A tense conversation while they decided who next: the red-headed bitch or the coward< Laurent.
Victoria's scent from James’ clothes and they were off. A chase through woods, the moonlight glinting off her hair as she fled. She was fast, but the vampire was faster. She was vicious, almost pulling his head from his shoulders before the heated breath of the wolf from behind, huge jaws snapping shut around her throat. Her eyes remained open in shock as her head separated from her body.
The blood was like ambrosia on the vampire’s tongue, the taste sharpened when shared. Neither had true experience of what to do – all they knew was that as their minds raged, their bodies wanted. The heat of werewolf flesh against the stone-cold of vampire skin; wrestling for control before simply rutting against each other to completion. Their mutual spend mingled with the drying vampire blood on the frosty ground.
Laurent had not managed to get far. This time, they did play. They allowed him to run, let him think he was free before closing in. He fought but was barely a challenge. Severing of his hamstrings, draining bites, the final snap of his neck. They ripped his body to pieces and scattered it around. Yet still, the anger boiled. Now they turned their rage on each other, snarling and screaming out their mutual pain as they battered at each other.
What right had the wolf to be so mad? She had not been his – he had not waited over a hundred years for her?
What right had the bloodsucker to be so enraged? He had endangered her, and though no imprint had occurred, there had been something there.
They used each other's bodies as a conduit to Bella, to what might have been. The wolf submitted, bending over for the vampire, the pain of entry helping to bleed off some of the pain of loss. It was the smashing of hard hips against soft flesh; the clawing of hands in the frozen dirt; the pulling of long, dark hair that wasn’t hers but that at that moment would do; the clash of teeth as they kissed; the howls of completion before collapsing in tears.
Their families found them there, were stunned by the carnage. Each was claimed and taken away: to recover, to mourn.
Neither would forget the one day and one night.