Hey y'all. I've changed the timeline of the books, but everything is explained so it shouldn't be too difficult to follow along :)

Chapter One: She doesn't hate you…much.

Paul watched her. He just leaned against the tree and blatantly stared as she scampered around the bonfire, helping her brother Jacob get ready for the council meeting. Paul's brows knitted and a scowl was fixed upon his undeniably handsome face. Rachel hated him and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

It wasn't his fault that she was the biggest prude on the rez and that he had developed somewhat of a –uh…- reputation as a ladies man.

And it certainly wasn't his fault that she'd come home from college and he'd been unlucky enough to imprint on her. Paul scowled at the thought. Imprinting. Really! It was his least favorite part of this whole 'I'm a big bad wolf' deal.

But, admittedly, that deal, was pretty fucking cool.

He was one of the most sought after boys on the rez. Like the rest of the pack, he had girls lining up to submit to any sexual fantasy he proposed. When the aforementioned ladies became clingy or used the 'f' word that did not end with 'uck' –yes, some of them had the audacity to actually mention the future-he had the option to toss a 'sorry 'boutcha' over his finely muscled shoulder. He had the ability to phase into a magnificent wolf and hide out until they understood that he was a lone wolf. He rambled to his choice of destination with nothing holding him back, save the nights he was on patrol.

Really though, could he be blamed? A fine specimen of man that was Paul, couldn't actually be expected to be tied down to one woman, could he?

Paul huffed as his eyes roved over the surely soft expanse of her lower back that peeked out from beneath her tank top as she leaned over the fire. He felt a low growl rumble in his chest and his hands clenched in the soft tufts of grass where he sat.

His breath came out in short, angry puffs, but he couldn't look away from her lithe form. He didn't want to want her, but he couldn't seem to sate his need for her body to be pressed sinuously against his own. He'd imprinted a week ago-seven agonizing days-and he'd barely been holding on.

Not that his absence was any skin off of Rachel's back. She'd made it perfectly clear what she thought of Paul and his ungentlemanly, late night discrepancies.

"Still haven't given in yet?" Quil smirked, taking a seat next to the hothead of his pack.

Paul snarled and then sucked in a sharp breath as Rachel leaned down, ruffling Seth's hair in a sisterly way as she passed by. His head turned to the left, following her slowly disappearing form and it wasn't until she was out of his line of vision that he let the air whoosh out of his lungs.

"I'll take that as a tentative maybe." Quil chortled, loving the fact that he finally had something for which he could legitimately razz on Paul.

"Shut the fuck up." Paul barked, his nose curling up in distaste. The intense pain of seeing her and not being allowed the comfort of running his needy hands over her silken skin had depleted somewhat with her absence. Oh, but the aching burn resonating in his chest just wouldn't waver. "I'm doing just fine."

"Mmhmm." Quil placated his buddy, slapping him on the back to let him know he understood his pain. "At least you don't have to wait an insurmountable amount of time before Rachel is eighteen." Quil bobbed his brows in an effort to lighten the other pack member's fierce mood. Quil was purely joking. He loved Claire more than life itself and he would wait for her to mature into the woman that he'd someday marry, but for now, he was content nurturing her.

"Wouldn't matter if she was a hundred and eighteen." The cynical tone Paul sniped out didn't do much to cover the angst that laced his words. His heart was actually hurting.

And that fucking pissed him off.

"She doesn't hate you…" Quil started and the paused for a brief moment before he finished his thought. "…much." He added with a smirk.

And all Paul could do was growl.

"Come on man, you guys were best friends…" Quil began slowly, but quickly clammed up when Paul snarled.

"Yeah, in middle school." Paul clipped out, pushing himself up off the ground and bracing himself against the tree trunk which Quil was still lazily lounging against. "And then she became a royal bitch." Even as the surly word left his lips, his chest constricted as if his body was punishing him for dishonoring his intended mate.

"Or you ditched her for your misogynistic ways." Quil quirked out and he sounded just a tad bit nerdy for a raging Adonis like creature.

"I didn't fucking ditch her." Paul rolled his eyes, taking a deep breath. He relished in finally having the ability to breathe clearly, but that damn tugging in his chest wouldn't quit. "She's two years older than me and she didn't want a boy tagging along with her and her high school friends, bitch." He spat the slur at his friend, knowing full well Quil wouldn't be offended. After all, it wasn't the worst thing he'd been called. "I did my own thing and she's obviously fine with that."

"What you need is…" Quil was about to bestow a hefty does of reality on his brooding friend when Paul jabbed an angry finger toward him.

"What I need is a stiff drink and a cold shower." Paul spat, raking a rough palm through his black as night mane.

"She was all about you and you know it." Quil gave a dismissive wave, standing up and preparing to walk down to the bonfire. "Don't bite my head off because you fucked up four years ago and now you can't get your imprint in your bed, buddy."

Paul harrumphed at Quil's lighthearted jab and then called after him as the other boy strode away. "I'll bite your head off whenever I God damn please!"

Another dismissive wave and Quil settled by the bonfire with a giggling Claire snuggling sleepily in his lap. Paul took in the sight before him. Sam gently caressed the side of Emily's face as they waited for Billy to begin the storytelling. Across the circle sat a blissful Jared, who even in human form seemed to be relishing, in wolf-like glory, snuggling against his imprint, Kim.

Normally Paul would have been up front and center, cracking jokes about his pussy-whipped packmates, but tonight was different. Tonight he felt a longing that he wasn't sure could ever be sated. As much as he willed his mind to abhor the thought, he unconsciously clenched his fist against his t-shirt covered chest. He wanted to be up front and center during Billy's stories alright, but he wanted Rachel with him.

He wanted to feel the full weight of her luscious body pressed back against his chest while they listened to Billy's wise words. He wanted to trail his fingertips down her lean arms as he buried his nose against her sweetly scented neck. He wanted to scrape his teeth along her shoulder and nip-not too roughly- just enough to let her know what he'd have in store for her when he finally had her alone. He wanted to mark her. He had the primal, irrevocable need to ensure no other man would ever mistake her as anything but his.

But that wasn't in the cards and Paul knew that. It was the damn imprint talking. He didn't want those things. Sure, he'd had a crush on Rachel back when he was in 8th grade, but when she'd moved on to high school, he'd moved on with his life too. Or he'd tried anyway. He'd gone through more girls by the 10th grade than most boys see in a lifetime. However, none of them seemed to do anything for him other than give him a tremendous headache with all their incessant bitching.

Their smiles weren't sweet like Rachel's. Their hair wasn't quite as smooth and their skin not as silky.

But that was the fucking imprint talking, Paul rationalized even though he was in a terribly irrational mood.

When Rachel showed her face again, tiptoeing around Billy's audience to find a seat, Paul lost it.

He wanted her so much that his chest was heaving and his shorts were uncomfortably tight.

He gave her one last fleeting glance and he cursed as she looked up, her gazed meeting his heated glare. That was the fucking imprint too, the connection he felt with her.

Or was it the bond he shared with her as a child, pleading with them to make amends?

Paul didn't care. He wasn't going to be another pack statistic and have his destiny chosen for him.

He was Paul- the fuckin' man. He did as he pleased.

He tore his eyes from her delectable body and took off into the woods. An agonized growl permeated from his chest as he leaped, phased and dashed off into the unforgiving night.

It's 2:00 AM, so I'm feeling sleep deprived and loopy…

Is this worth continuing? I've always liked Paul for some reason (Maybe it's my soft spot for misunderstood bad boys? Who knows. Hehe). I hope I haven't gone too OOC on anyone so far, but I do tend to alter the characters to my liking *cue evil laugh* Muuahahaha *grins*

The M rating is for naughty wolf language and future lemony goodness, if I continue.

Suggestions? Insights? Anything you want to happen? Let me know!:)