The Imprint
Embry's breath rushed out of him, and he felt nauseous and elated at the same time. Golden eyes – and what an unusual color that was – stared back at him, framed by dark hair pulled up in pigtails, and Embry was torn between going towards them and running as far away as he could before setting himself on fire.
It was a lot more fucked up when it was him imprinting on a toddler instead of Quil.
Those strange gold eyes were still staring at him from across the street, the little girl's head cocked just so to the side to resemble a curious puppy, and Embry was definitely not going to throw up. Not here, anyway. Maybe once he got his body to actually listen to him and move, goddammit.
Embry broke eye contact – and, god, why was that so hard? Imprinting was all sorts of awful so far, what the fuck – and swallowed roughly, his throat burning and his body shaking.
Move, move, move, it shouldn't be this fucking difficult, why couldn't he just move, dammit
It was so hard to not look back at the little girl with the gold eyes and the curly, black hair, and god, he was such a creep, this was so fucking wrong, he might just have to –
A small hand tugged at his own, insistent and firm in a way he wouldn't expect a child to be.
"Mister, are you okay? You don't look so good."
Fucking great, his creepy, wrong, disgusting wolf imprinted on the cutest little girl ever with the cutest goddamn accent who was talking to him and didn't anyone ever tell her not to talk to strangers? Where were here parents?
"Edolyn Theodora Lupin," A harsh, stern voice called, "Get away from him this instant!"
The little girl jumped in surprise and ripped her hand away – a fact that Embry both despaired and rejoiced over – before stumbling backwards away from him.
"But Grandmother," she whined, "He's sick!"
"All the more reason for you not to touch him," the voice was way closer now, like only a few feet away closer, and Embry wanted nothing more than to place himself between his imprint and this stranger, only he was the stranger here.
He swallowed uncertainly and closed his eyes, desperate not to get another glance at the little girl with the golden eyes. He was still trying to get his body under control, but all he accomplished was to tone down the tremors enough to make it look like he was only cold rather than seizing on the side of the road.
When he opened his eyes, a different pair – these ones were so gray they looked silver, and that was just as strange as the gold eyes – stared back at him in suspicion. It was an older woman, with black hair just like the little girls and a face that could be called beautiful even with the lines – few as they may be – marring her skin.
Embry blinked, fighting against the need to look and find the little girl with the golden eyes and an accent he'd only ever heard in movies by keeping eye contact with the intimidating woman in front of him.
He knew his eyes were probably glazed over some and that his pupils were probably shaking from the strain of not searching out his imprint, but he just couldn't bring himself to look at the little girl no matter how much his instincts told him to.
And, god, what a fucked-up thing those were. It wouldn't even make sense for his imprint to be a toddler back when Taha Aki was still walking, so obviously, something was wrong with him. It was probably why he and Quil were such good friends, they were both fucked up spiritually, or whatever. Wonder what that meant for Jake.
The woman was talking, but all Embry could hear was the soft breathing and steady heartbeat of the little girl standing behind her, and he really needed to stop that because it was creepy.
A harsh stab with something blunt to his ribs is what it took to jolt him to the real world, and he glared at the woman, bewildered that she would actually provoke someone so much larger than her. A mocking smile that was really more of a sneer was directed towards him, and Embry really didn't find her to be that pretty anymore.
"Now that you're paying attention," she said, her voice colder and meaner than he's ever heard anyone before, "I have some questions for you, boy."
Fuck.
Embry tried to stutter out an excuse, but the woman ignored it completely, her unnerving silver eyes trained solely on him, still narrowed in suspicion and distaste.
"Hush, boy. You're making a fool of yourself," Her voice was sharp, and Embry had never felt so cowed before, not even in front of Sam, "Now, tell me what has a shifter so interested in my grandchild."
Embry froze, his mind grinding to a halt as he stared at the woman in horror. He was so dead. Either by this terrifying lady here or the pack when – if – he ever makes it back to the reservation. His answer was really more of a strangled gurgle, and he could see what little patience the woman had snap.
She dug her stick further into his ribs and hissed, "Now, shifter, before I decide to just kill you and be done with it."
"I-I-I don't know!" he rushed out, "It just happened, and – and I didn't mean for it to happen! I'm so sorry, but I can't – I don't – I'm so fucking sorry!"
God, he was screwed. This scary, small, not old grandma was going to kill him right here in front of his imprint, and Embry couldn't even be mad because what sort of sick fuck imprints on a toddler?
Oh, that's right. Him and Quil. What the fuck.
"What do you mean, it just happened," the woman bit out and god, he was going to die but he deserved it.
"Grandmother," that cute, little accent sounded so put out, and Embry just wanted to give her all the chocolate and toys until it was breathless with laughter and happiness and no. He needed to stop, this was not okay, what the fuck.
"Not now, Edolyn," the woman snapped, jabbing her stick – and what the fuck was with the stick? – even harder into his ribs. He was definitely going to bruise there, even if it wouldn't last long.
"I'm sorry," he offered again miserably. The woman sneered, her face twisting in a way that made her seem demented and dangerous, and Embry had to fight the urge to grab Edolyn – and he had a name now, just fucking great; his wolf would never forget that, no matter how hard he tried – and run.
"What did you do," It wasn't even a question anymore, and Embry still couldn't say anything. He looked at the woman, trying desperately to convey that without words. Her narrowed eyes never left his, silvery gray staring straight into his soul with all the weight of the judge, jury, and, if she discovered ill-intent, executioner.
He gulped and tried to explain, anyway, "I, uh, it was an accident, and I can't actually say anything, but if I call Sam, he'll come and talk to you, promise!"
Those eyes narrowed even more, and Embry was sort of curious to know if the woman could still see. "Call him," she hissed before turning on her heel and grabbing her granddaughter by the hand to lead her back across the street and into what he assumed to be their house.
He stifled a whimper as he pulled out his phone, Sam's number on speed dial. The ringing in his ear was like the toll of funeral bells. Sam answered with a sharp, "Hello," that only made Embry want to curl up and die. He was so screwed.
"Uh, so, Sam, hey. We have a, I mean, I have a problem. You know, like, an imprint problem. But it's sort of like a, um, Quil type of imprint problem," he rushed out, stumbling over his words in his nervousness. The answering silence was not reassuring, and Embry cringed, waiting for the backlash.
The soft, "What?" that he got was much better for the sake of his hearing, but way more intimidating than yelling could ever be. Embry flinched and rattled off his last ten minutes to the alpha with a lot of stuttering and backtracking while Sam only listened. When he finished, the silence was nearly overwhelming before Sam sighed, already sounding exhausted. Embry bit his tongue, guilt welling up in his chest, and muttered a quiet apology.
"It's – well, I won't say it's fine, but you did a good job in controlling yourself, Embry. Especially once the woman interfered. I'm proud of you for that," Sam said, and Embry managed a small smile that nobody saw before Sam continued, "Give me the address, and I'll be there with the truck as soon as I can. I have some – concerns – that I'd like to talk to this woman about.
Embry did as he was told, and, after Sam hung up, he sunk down to sit on the curb to hold his head in his hands.
"Fuck."