Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: Thanks to my fantabulous beta Maria Vilson for helping me wade through the muck. Warnings ahead for a bit of citrus (if you're under eighteen walk away) and a large dose of foul language (blame Sam, I do).
Chapter 1
Sam's POV
He felt his responsibilities like a physical weight pressing down on his broad shoulders, constricting around the ever steady beat of his heart. Digging his bare feet into the dirt, he breathed in the smoke from the bonfire down the beach, attempting to center himself.
Leah was there, he knew. And she, who understood nothing about this unbearable weight, was the only one who could help him carry it. Another deep breath in, and he was moving toward the fire, feet matching the pounding rhythm of the waves that crashed along the rocky shore.
And there, there she was. Her skin lit by the fire, and those sharp cheekbones pointed toward lips he'd had wrapped around his dick just two hours past. He moved toward her as if she were reeling him in, moving effortlessly through the crowd without seeing a single person other than her. Her. It was always, only her. His Leah.
Finally, he was there, and a smile graced those beautiful lips in welcome. "Sam," she breathed, brushing a small hand down the hot skin of his forearm. "This is my cousin Emily."
It took him a second to realize there was another woman in the vicinity; he was so wrapped up in her scent—cinnamon and apples—and the way her hand continued to rub up and down, up and down. He was picturing those hands tangled in his hair as he drank her in. Eating her was like burying his face in a fresh baked apple pie.
"Sam?" Leah smirked as she watched his eyes focus back in. "I'm trying to introduce you to my cousin."
He turned, reaching out with a giant, burning hand, and met the eyes of one Emily Young. Sam's heart, with its once steady beat, stuttered and then raced wild as his world fell apart and reformed around this woman, this stranger whose tiny hand now rested in his own.
For a moment, he heard her breath hitch, and he knew then that she felt it too. He watched, rapt, as a soft blush climbed her chest to her face. So beautiful.
It was minutes, hours, an eternity before he even remembered Leah. His Leah, whom he'd planned to marry one day, was still standing there beside them. He knew he should let go, turn back, but he ached at just the thought; and, though he could feel the guilt and anger flowing somewhere down deep, the imprint, fuck, the imprint was drowning out the world.
They'd told him this could happen, Billy Black and Leah's own father Harry, but they'd said it was rare. So rare he was the first wolf to phase and here he was drooling over his fiancé's cousin. His whole body was straining toward her now, and his wolf was at attention, ready to take her, make her his.
"Sam," Leah prodded, agitation now coloring her tone. "You can let her go now."
So he did, wrenching his hand free, ignoring the searing pain in his chest. He turned to look back at Leah and felt a whole new pain brand him as he saw a blur in the place of what once was the only clear thing in his world. He tried, desperately, to remember how it felt to be inside of her, but his wolf fought him, clawing him up from the inside. Not our mate. Not ours. Sam wanted to cry.
"Sorry," he muttered, hands fisted at his sides as a silent reminder not to grab his new mate and run. "I'm not feeling so hot, Leah."
She brushed her hand across his face in a loving caress, and he swallowed a mouthful of vomit. "You're pretty warm."
"Yeah, I think I'll go crash for awhile."
"Want me to come?" Leah asked.
"No," he almost shouted. "No it's fine. I'm fine. Stay here and have fun. It was, um, nice to meet you Emily. I'm sure I'll see you again."
He turned around without another word and ran.
XXXXXXXXXX
It was only an hour before Sam couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't breathe; he needed her. Following the pull, he raced, silent and half-feral, through the night. He found her, smelling of the sea breeze, standing on the edge of the cliffs above first beach.
Fisting her midnight locks in one hand, she turned to face him. "What's happening to me?"
"You're Makah?"
She nodded.
"Have you heard the Quileute legends? Specifically the ones about spirit wolves?" He stalked her as he waited for her answer, keeping a choke hold on his salivating wolf.
She lifted a brow, the rest of her face remaining expressionless, and asked, "Are you saying they're true? You're a, what, a werewolf?" A hint of incredulous laughter rolled across her face, but he could see, beneath it, that she believed; she could feel the truth weighing on her, breaking down any defense she might have had to the ties that were binding them together.
"Yes. Well a shifter but yes."
A moment of silence then, "What does that have to do with me?"
"You're my imprint." He stood only a foot away from her now. "My soul mate. The moment I met your eyes, nothing else mattered. You became my world."
He could see in her eyes that she knew. Oh she could feel it, but her voice was harsh when she asked, "What about Leah?"
"There's nothing but you anymore." He was on her before she could reply, a hand wrapped around the back of her neck, the other cupping her ass, and his mouth catching hers just as it opened, moist heat against moist heat.
She didn't fight him. Instead she clung to his broad shoulders and kissed him back, moaning from the feel of him, so big and warm against her.
He drew his mouth away so they could breathe and trailed his lips down the side of her neck. "Do you understand? This. This is everything. My body to your body. We're tied so closely the world could burn and it wouldn't fucking matter."
"Y-yes," she stuttered, breath heaving and body shuddering.
"Good." Giving her no time to think, he spun her around and pulled her in tight, grinding her ass against the hard line of his cock. "I'm going to fuck you now. Claim you. Make you mine. Say yes."
"But—"
"Say yes." He whispered against her neck, lifting the hem of her dress with his rough fingers, brushing closer and closer to her heat. He inhaled and groaned. "I can smell you."
"Yes."
He picked her up then, one hand buried between her thighs, the other banded under her small breasts, and walked her to a nearby grove of trees. Setting her back down, he leaned forward and set his teeth around the back of her neck, letting out a growl that vibrated her entire spine.
She moaned and pushed her hips back. "Don't move." He grabbed her hips and squeezed in warning before sliding his hands back around and ripping her panties off. "Bend forward, place your hands on the tree, and don't fucking move."
She did, arching her back and lifting her ass for him.
"Good girl."
He lifted the dress to her waist, shuddering as her scent hit him again. "Fuck." He went straight for what he wanted, shoving two thick fingers into her heat.
"Sam," she cried, rocking back against his fingers.
"Be still," he muttered, slapping her ass, then palming her now red cheek, as he watched his fingers plunge in and out; she was swallowing him whole.
He pulled his fingers out and sucked, moaning at the taste, as he fumbled with his zipper. He leaned forward and ripped the front of her dress, so he could reach her breasts, rubbing the palms of his hands over her rigid nipples before squeezing and pinching, and fuck it, he slammed inside in one fast thrust.
"Yeah," he grunted, slamming in again. The sound of his balls hitting her ass joined her wails, and his rasping breath, and goddamn it was so good. He was so deep inside of her, his mate. And she was screaming now.
"Fuck yeah. Scream baby." He grabbed her throat and pulled her back against him, snaking his other hand down to her clit. "Do you want to come?"
"Please." She was whimpering now splayed wide against the force of his thrusts, moaning incoherently as he pinched and pulled at her clit.
"Say it. Say you're mine."
"I-I—"
"Say it," he roared, dropping them both to their knees and pushing her face forward as he rammed into her.
"Yours! I'm yours," she screamed, as he hit that spot deep inside of her.
He saw white as he came, teeth buried in the back of her neck, dick jerking wildly, wrapped in her heat. They collapsed there, side by side on the forest floor.
"You're mine," he repeated.
"Yes."
XXXXXXXXXX
The walk down from the cliffs was silent, full of sideways glances and almost touches. Everything was right and wrong at the same time. Sam, the man, was howling, beating at the bars of this cage, but the wolf, he was quiet, still and sated.
When they reached his small, white house, he turned toward her, intending to say what he didn't know. He was interrupted though by a small shadow unfolding on the front porch.
Leah. It was Leah, and he could smell her tears from across the yard. His wolf was awake now, agitated as it pushed him to stand in front of Emily, whose head was down, hands clutching the top of her dress together.
"What the fuck, Sam?" Leah hit the porch railing with a shaky fist. Her shoulders were hunched over, arms wrapped tight around her. "I came—I came to check on you, because you were supposed to be sick. But you're...with my cousin?"
"I—" He what? What was he supposed to say? I'm sorry, so sorry but I just fucked your cousin against a tree, and now we're gonna spend our lives popping out puppies, while I chase vampires in circles? "I'm sorry."
"You're sorry? Sorry? You gave me your grandmother's wedding ring, Sam. And Emily, we're family. What the fuck?"
He could smell his imprint's tears, her whole body wracked with fine tremors, and his wolf was vibrating now. Deep down, Sam remembered that he'd loved her, god how he'd loved her. But that love was all twisted up now with the guilt and the anger and the bile rising in the back of his throat and Emily.
Everything was twisted up in Emily.
Sorry. He was so sorry, but there were no words to make it better. No way to even regret without strangling himself in the bond.
He looked up to see that Leah had moved to stand in front of him. Her face streaked with tears, she stretched up and pressed her mouth to his, and as he vomited on her shoes, so close to slipping his skin, she kicked him in the nuts and ran.
The phase, the wolf, was coming he could feel it, so he struggled to move away. Don't hurt Emily. His wolf agreed, but it wanted out. And then the battle was lost for him.
"She's right," Emily said, voice small and shaky. "I'm supposed to be her family and I just had sex with her fiancé. We can't do this Sam."
Oh god, he was choking on air. Her rejection flowed across the bond like venom, searing his skin in its wake, and without his permission the wolf tore free. His bones broke and shifted, realigned, and when he opened his eyes, there stood his Emily, blood pouring from wounds made by his claws.