You could feel the tension vibrating through the atmosphere, and even recognize the tautness of my father's stance in front of me as he growled at the boy with glittering green eyes piercing through the barricade of males to search for me again.

You imprinted on my daughter.

Dad's words were ringing through my ears, and only then did they process through my brain as a gasp made its way out of my lips.

Holy shit, I was imprinted on.

Unbelievably, I couldn't even fathom that I was imprinted on—and by an Abercrombie & Fitch-slash-Hollister Co. model looking shape-shifter, at that! But setting those thoughts aside, it seemed as if my dad was more than ready to pounce on my imprinter. I still felt that it wasn't plausible enough to even happen, but it actually did and I have absolutely no idea if I'm thrilled or intimidated.

Even so, I felt the sudden urge to run to him and know his name, but it doesn't seem possible to do with the swarm of indestructible bodies acting like a fence in front of me. I tried to look around for a way to get to my imprinter because for more than anything, I wanted to know his name. I felt the desperation seeping through the pores of my skin and dissipating through the air, I almost wondered if the people around me could smell it in the atmosphere.

At some point, it didn't feel like I was the one acting on my actions, and so I let whatever it was that was controlling me do whatever it was supposed to do, as if I had this immediate trust in whatever was inside of me. I looked at the bodies in front of me and ran to the right side where my grandfather and grandmother were standing in the speed that nearly goes over my limit because, knowing those vampires and shape-shifters, they could outrun me at any cost.

I stood behind the both of them for a while before running to my imprinter. I heard leaves crunching behind me. They didn't sound like the wind disrupting the position of the leaves like how vampires would run, but more of feet pounding on the ground like a hammer, signaling that my dad was the one running to get a hold of me. It was then that the most unexpected thing happened.

I ran for a chair and lightly used it to plummet myself to the air and grabbed the nearest branch hovering above me. My sudden agility was uncanny and it surprised me to the extreme, but that feeling was swept off when I took a good look at my imprinter again and, once again, giving my attention solely to the beautiful being I was reaching to get to. I swung myself with as much force as I could to the direction of my imprinter. I quickly unclutched the branch I latched on to and fell into the arms of the wolf whom the spirits connected my soul to, who ran to my direction and caught me with ease.

I was breathless for a second, trying the best that I could to catch my breath as I stared at the beautiful orbs that encapsulated me just a few minutes ago. He was much more handsome up close—like a man with an underlying boyishness to him, and with a better look of his eyes, it had some gold flecks shimmering along his iris. His eyes were an unbelievable shade of green—an emerald green, to be exact, and it almost seemed unreal, unreal enough to look artificial, and yet it completely matched his features. His skin looked flawless, almost poreless, and I would've considered that he was a vampire because of his flawlessness if it weren't for the heat coming from his skin.

"What's your name?" I asked as I gained a bit more control over my breathing.

"Ian Call," he answered. Heavens, if his looks were a killer, his voice was one hell of a murderer. His voice was deep and husky, as if there was a permanent roughness in his voice, and it shot a million sparks through my whole body with every word he said, sending me to an overwhelming Elysium of never ending scintilla. It seemed too mature of a voice for him, but it matched his entire self perfectly.

"What's your name?" he directed the question to me this time.

I pursed my lips together before opening my mouth to answer. "Bree Black," I whispered.

He stared at me for a few seconds before his countenance broke into a grin, big enough for me to wonder if his face could possibly break. His entire visage brightened and it sped my heart rate more than I expected it would. The happiness that slid through my entire body because of his smile felt all too addictive, at once. If he would just be this happy looking at me for my entire life, then I, without a doubt, can already die in peace being a human.

A growl rippling through the air broke my connection with Ian's eyes. I shifted my glance to the vibrating body of my father, who looked more than ready to rip me out of the arms of the shape-shifter carrying me. I bit my lip and quickly jumped out of Ian's arms, hearing a small whimper from him as I did, which made my heart clench slightly. Was this how it felt like for the other imprintees? It's insane, it felt like my soul was made to be painted with his, and although it was very much endearing, it was quite frightening, as well.

Another growl from my dad made me brisk walk to his side, in which he quickly grabbed me and positioned me behind him. Damn it, my dad's way deep down maximum overprotection overdrive. You would expect that a seventeen year old daughter of a supernatural shape-shifting husband and vampire-human hybrid wife would have a bit more liberation compared to most people, but that's not necessarily applicable down here. Heavens have mercy, my father is the most overprotective person existing in this world, next to my mother and my extended vampire family.

"Jasper," dad said tightly, to which my called uncle swiftly ran to my father's side. "Take Bree and get her out of here first. I need to have a long discussion with my pack brothers."

Uncle Jasper simply gathered me in his arms and ran to the living room of the house in vampire speed, the rapidness of his vampire speed making the forceful wind hit my face and weave through my hair. I sighed as my uncle put me down gently on the couch and sat beside me.

"I can't believe I was imprinted on," I groaned into my hands as I smashed my face on my small palms.

"Things happen when we least expect it, lil darlin'," he said, his gentle southern accent, that always sounded like music to my ears, lingering under his words as he gave a gentle pat on my head endearingly. "I'm sure your father wouldn't place you in any danger, at all. You know Jacob, he's very protective of his family. Whatever his actions may be, he does them because it's what's best for y'all."

I sighed for the nth time for the past hour and shrugged. This was going to be a long day, I could feel it. It was just supposed to be Mama Esme and Papa Carlisle's anniversary, but things took a different turn, but I have no idea if it's for the best or for the worst. Their anniversary celebration was ruined because of me. I'm literally the very definition of a walking disaster, it's not even funny.

"Whatever you're thinking of," Uncle Jasper said. "It's not true. It's not your fault, Bree. None of this was anyone's fault. It's something beyond our control, and blaming yourself is something unnecessary because you did nothing wrong."

Damn, I almost forgot I had a supernatural relative right beside me who could sense my self-deprecation.

I merely sighed and nodded, waiting for the time to go by.

It seemed like hours passed by when, really, just half an hour was used up when their discussion was finished. I tried to get Uncle Jasper to tell me what they were talking about, but the southern soldier wouldn't budge, hence, I gave up trying to get him to talk, lest he uses his gift of pathokinesis. Considering the fact that he is an empath who can control emotions, he could control mine to calm me enough to put to sleep just so I would stop bugging him with the unknown discussion that occurred outside our humble abode.

Uncle Jasper guided me out of the living room and back to where everyone was. It seemed as though everyone has calmed down to a certain degree, although dad still looked like he had a bit of excess tension in his body because of his tight lipped smile.

"Hey, honey," he greeted as I walked into his embrace. The scent of rain and the natural outdoorsy smell my dad was always surrounded with enveloped my senses, sending me to my own tranquility in the comfort of my parents.

I looked around and saw the dominating tanned and russet skinned people of the reservation, many of whom I'm completely unaware of who they were. Some of them were as muscled as my father and brother; some weren't exactly buff, but it seemed like they were getting there, which was a sign of possible phasing (or extremely good health and fitness routines); and some were older looking, but had traces of once being a warrior of the pack.

Dad led me to one of the older bunch of the guests. He seemed intimidating, with an older looking face that seemed to always look stern, but the laugh lines around his mouth were telltale signs that he has been living a very happy and content life. The woman beside him was exotically beautiful, regardless of the terrifying scars that ran down the right side of her face. They both had the conventional Quileute copper skin tone, with black and dark brown eyes. The man stood at a very monumental height, around 6 feet and 6 inches, a bit below my dad's height; he seemed to be a shape-shifter. The woman, on the other hand, was an entire foot lower than the man. He had his arm wrapped around the woman's waist, and the latter seemed to have a friendly and motherly aura surrounding her.

"Bree, this is Sam. He was the alpha before me, and your uncle," dad introduced with a smile.

"Hello," the man's deep voice invaded my eardrums as he lifted one of his hands for me to shake. "I'm Sam Uley, and this is my wife, Emily."

I shook both of their hands, enveloping the natural warmth coming from them in contrast to the cold temperature of my mother's family. Emily—or rather, Aunt Emily—flashed me a kind smile, one that I simply couldn't help but return.

"It's nice to meet you both," I said.

"We've been bugging your father to introduce you and your brother to us, but at that time, he only brought Brian and we weren't able to meet you," Aunt Emily told me, giving my father a pointed look, to which my dad smiled sheepishly.

I let out a nervous laugh, knowing that I wasn't around here when dad introduced Brian to them. "I think I was a bit too preoccupied during that time," I answered. I heard a bitterly sarcastic snort come from behind me, which I knew came from my brother, to which I did nothing but ignore.

"At least we got the chance to finally meet you," she smiled. I smiled and nodded as Sam ushered three younger people to him. One of them looked exactly like Uncle Sam, but slightly younger. Another looked like Uncle Sam, but had Aunt Emily's nose and lips, while the lone girl looked exactly like a younger version of Aunt Emily, minus the scars.

"This is Adam, my first born son and the current alpha of the new growing pack," Uncle Sam introduced. I smiled and gave a polite nod while shaking his son's hand.

"Nice to meet you, Bree," Adam said with a smile. "We only got to meet Brian last time."

"Likewise," I said. "Sorry about that. Things were a bit tight that time."

The other boy waved and brought out his hand for me to shake. "I'm Alexander, but everyone calls me Xander," he said. I smiled and nodded, saying polite 'nice-to-meet-you's.

"My turn." The girl pushed through the other two boys and pouted at me as she grabbed my arms and pulled me closer.

"Please, please, please tell me you're my age," she cried. "I'm seventeen."

I blinked, surprise running through my expression at the first words she spoke to me. "I'm seventeen, too," I answered. Her inquisitive facial expression broke into a grin as she pulled me towards her and hugged me.

"Finally!" she squealed. "I finally have a girl my age! I'm Julianne, by the way, but everyone else calls me Julie. It's driving me crazy how it's always full of testosterone around the reservation, you should drop by some time—or all the time! We should hang out."

I chuckled at her hyperactive personality. "It's nice to meet you, and I guess you'll have to ask my dad about whether or not letting me go around the reservation," I told her.

Dad laughed beside me, amused, but not surprised, with Julie's attitude. "Yeah, yeah, of course she can," he said.

Julie hollered. "We're going to be great friends, I can feel it!" she grinned, making me mimic her contagious smile.

"Come on." She pulled me along. "I'll introduce you to everyone else!"

There were so many of them from La Push, it made my head spin.

There was Uncle Jared, his wife, Aunt Kim, and their children: Leonel (or Leo, as he so asked me to call him), the current beta of Adam's pack; Darrell, the second born; Belinda, or Bel; and Bailey, or Lee for short.

Next was Uncle Paul, his wife and my dad's sister, Aunt Rachel, and their children: Benjamin, or Ben, who was Adam's current third-in-command; and Caitlyn, or Cait.

Then there was Aunt Leah with her husband, Uncle Chris, and their children: Ryan and Jesse.

After them came Uncle Embry, his wife, Aunt Angela (who was, apparently, my grandmother's friend in her high school days), and their children: Eleanor, or Ellie, who was the first girl in the new pack who phased; Xavian, or Ian (whom I had a staring contest with until my dad growled in warning and we both looked away bashfully); and Dakota, or simply Kota.

Behind them was Uncle Seth, his wife, Aunt Maya, and their children: Matthew, or Matt for short, and Owen.

There was Uncle Brady, his wife, Aunt Michelle, and their children: Clayton, or Clay, and Teagan.

Next was Uncle Collin and his wife, Aunt Aira, together with their children: Finnegan, or Finn, and Vincent, or Vinny for short.

Last, but certainly not the least, were Uncle Quil, his wife, Aunt Claire, and their children: Caleb and Kendall, or Ken for short, who was also the youngest out of everyone else.

By the time everything in the small (but not-so-small in size) gathering was finished, I was completely drained of energy and ready to get to bed. I waved goodbye to everyone who came, along with a promise to Julie that I'll drop by the reservation as soon as possible. Ian flashed me a smile and a shy wave, despite my dad's growling protests. Mom got him to stop by pinching his thigh really hard, and it made him whimper. I merely bit my lip and waved slightly, unsure of how to handle the imprinting business. We didn't stop the eye contact we had until his beautiful emerald spheres were completely out of my sight.

A dull ache went up to my heart once Ian was gone. I sighed and lightly rubbed the surface of my skin where my heart was under as if it was going to help with the small throbbing that was occurring there.

Once I was in my room and ready to go to bed, a light knock resounded from my door. I gave the signal of whoever was knocking to enter, which revealed my hybrid mother in her pajamas. I smiled and waved, making space for her on my bed as she closed the door and sat beside me. She gathered my hair in her hands and weaved them to a braid slowly.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

I sighed and shrugged. "I don't even know what I'm feeling, what I'm supposed to feel, or what I should feel about what I'm feeling," I muttered, leaning towards my mother. She stayed silent as she finished with my hair and tied my copper locks once she was done. She turned me to face her and she brushed the few shorter curls framing my face that couldn't be tied by the hair tie.

"Sweetie, it's okay to feel confused," she started out. "I know things seem out of proportion right now, but it'll fall into place later on, trust me."

"Mom, things are more than just 'out of proportion'," I mumbled out. "The thought of being imprinted on scares me a bit. The fact that I was chosen by the Spirits to be the one for a shape-shifter makes me feel like there are expectations I have to live up to. I don't even know the guy, mom. It's crazy!"

"I know things are bizarre, but since when were things mundane for supernatural beings like us?" she said.

"You mean supernatural beings like you guys," I muttered, bitterness evident in my tone.

"Bree, being human doesn't mean you're any less special," she uttered. "Just because you're different from us, it doesn't mean you're not one of us. Your abilities or whatever lack of preternaturalness doesn't make you any less of a Cullen or any less of a Black. You will always be one of us. You're mom and dad's granddaughter, you're my uncles and aunts' grandniece, you're your brother's sister, and you are my and your dad's daughter."

I bit my lip and nodded, letting go of this issue for now. My mom sensed my hesitation to believe her, as any other mother would feel when their motherly sensors are always around. She sighed and pulled me closer to envelope me in one of her warm and loving embraces.

"Everything will turn out okay," she assured me.

Why do I find that so hard to believe?