Sam

I knew, as soon as he stepped into the room, that he had imprinted. His eyes were glazed over slightly as he thought about her, and the spring in his step was a little bit too joyous to be average happiness.

"Who is she?" I asked, not looking up from the newspaper, it was good to keep an eye on things, see if our world had collided with the humans, to see if there were any reports of wolf sightings, or worse.

"She's called Rachel," he said, his voice dreamy. God I hope I didn't sound that pathetic when I imprinted on Emily. "I have her number, but I don't know if I should call her,"

"What?" I asked confused. There was no doubt with me and Emily, nor with any of the other imprints. Maybe he just had a crush on a girl.

"We had a war through my window. She used her umbrella as a machine gun. Then left her number on the car," he said it so rationally I almost accepted it as normal behaviour. Then something clicked.

"Rachel?" I asked, he nodded, his face lighting as I spoke her name "As in that girl who just moved here? The English one? Whose a bit odd?"

He nodded "Amazing," he corrected me.

"Jesus," I sighed. It was bad enough bringing half the res in on the secret, but now this? She was a complete stranger, an outsider and I wasn't fully convinced we could trust her.

"Don't worry Sam," Embry told me "I haven't even spoke to her yet. I'm gonna screw it up,"

"If you've imprinted on her, nothing you can say will screw it up," or do I added mentally. I knew first hand that that kind of love would withstand anything.

"But what if I haven't imprinted on her, then I can screw it up." he worried too much.

"Then don't worry about it, if you haven't imprinted on her then you'll imprint on someone else and forget all about her," Paul interjected strolling into our small kitchen with his face in a packet of chips.

"I don't want to imprint on anyone if it's not her," Embry's eyes widened in fear of losing her.

"Look, either way you'll be fine. Trust me," I said.

"Who we talking about anyways?" Paul asked, settling himself quite comfortably into the conversation.

"Rachel," Embry sang, like her name was a prayer.

Paul sat up straight and an instinctive growl erupted from his throat, the food forgotten as it hit the floor, he was about to pounce when I put my hand on his chest to restrain him. "Not yours. She's from England." He relaxed visibly and sat in a chair he'd knocked over.

"Did I sound that pathetic when I imprinted?" Paul hissed screwing up his nose in disgust. I grinned.