Oh man, this took me forever didn't it? I just moved to a new town and got a new job. I can't promise quick updates. Sorry :(

WARNING: Semi graphic depictions of rape.

Chapter Eleven

Paul couldn't stop sneaking peeks of his alpha imprint, the prince smiling bashfully each and every time he noticed the older wolf's gaze on him. Showing up clad in a bathing suit for a meal probably wasn't the best idea, although Paul would fervently disagree.

They ate lunch in amicable silence, yet there was so much on the tip of Paul's tongue that yearned to be said. He wanted to tell the prince he was beautiful, that he smelt divine, and that he wished it was Ryan on the gold trimmed plate in front of him so he could lick and suck and taste every part of him. He also wanted to ask the little wolf his favourite colour, his favourite movie, and if the sexual tension Paul felt between them was all in his head or if it was truly thick enough he could practically swim in it. He said nothing, however, because he's stupid like that.

Paul's eyes wandered from his lunch to the pretty delicate curves that made up Ryan's face, and as if the prince could feel the prickle of Paul's gaze, the little wolf turned his head, cheeks a stunning pink as he humorously eyed the older man. Paul had enough dignity to look at least a little embarrassed for being caught, but he didn't divert his gaze and instead grinned like the happy lovestruck fool he is. Paul couldn't take his eyes off the prince, didn't want to in fact. Looking at the prince was like looking into a crystal ball; Ryan held all the hints and secrets of his future. Paul believed he was about to embark on the most extraordinary journey of his life. He was going to fall so madly, deeply, and irrevocably in love, he was going to have a mate, and one day they'd even build a family together. All he needed to do was prove himself worthy to the beauteous alpha prince; and really, how hard could that be with fate on his side?

"I love it when you do that," Ryan mused.

"Do what?" Paul merrily queried, none to subtly eyeing the luscious way the young man's lips moved.

"Smile like you haven't a care in the world," the prince's words were quiet, introspective, like he couldn't quite fathom what he was saying... what was happening right in front of him.

Ryan's attention quickly ceased on Paul and it fell back upon his food as he lifted a mouthful of spinach and sliced almonds to his lips. Everything felt too good to be true. Everything was too good to be true. This wouldn't last. Couldn't last. He didn't share his brother's optimism, and he'd long since lost all hope of a future where he and Paul were married with 2.5 pups. All his imprint's newly kindled spirit would be is but a fleeting memory. His imprint's smiles would fade. The sparkle in his eyes would go out like a flame, and this happy, gorgeous, smiling Paul would wither and die only to be replaced by the bitter angry wolf Ryan once knew. That simple realistic fact had Ryan's heart and soul aching.

Paul's smile faltered as he sensed the alpha's growing upset. Resisting the urge to pry for information that wasn't freely given, he instead decided to lean to the side and place a chaste kiss on the prince's cheek. "Sometimes I find myself smiling so much it hurts," he said, gently cupping his hand over Ryan's which rested on the edge of the table. "I don't think I could be happier if I tried," he dazedly hummed, the heat of Ryan's sun-kissed skin seeping through his palm and turning his mind to little more than mush.

"Sometimes I think I must have died and gone to heaven, or maybe I'm still in a coma and you're just a figment of my imagination. This hardly feels real." Paul said. Ryan canted his head with his demeanour questioning. "You look like a dream," Paul explained, squeezing the prince's small, soft hand. "How are you even possible?" The older man gazed at the little wolf in wonder before glancing around the room. "How is any of this possible? My home is a palace. My best friend a king. And you're my imprint. If I am still in a coma, I don't ever want to wake up, and if I'm dead... I don't want to live."

"Paul..." Ryan breathed, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "You're so fucking cheesy..."

The older wolf bit back his laughter and gasped in feigned shock. "And you, your highness, have a dirty mouth. What would the kings say?"

Amused, Ryan chuckled, though it sounded suspiciously like a flirtatious giggle. "My parents have more important things to worry about than what I choose to do with my mouth."

"I can only imagine the trouble that thing could get you in," Paul drawled, gently swiping his thumb along Ryan's plump lower lip. "Your lips a thing of poetry. The type of beauty men start wars over."

The prince felt the temperature rise in his cheeks. "What did I just say about being cheesy?"

"Everybody loves cheese," Paul said with a nonchalant shrug of his broad shoulders.

Ryan playfully scowled. "You make me feel lactose intolerant."

A funny look came over Paul's face, one the prince couldn't quite place. "You make me feel all sorts of things, but lactose intolerant isn't one them." The wolf eyed the prince adoringly, giving Ryan's hand another light squeeze. "I never apologized for my advances my first day home. I didn't mean any offence... I really thought we were together." Paul nervously gulped. "I want us to be together."

Regardless of wanting that too, the prince frowned sadly. "You don't know what you want, Paul. You're confused."

Paul fervently shook his head. "I want you," he insisted as he scooted his chair closer to his imprint, the two wooden seats now connected and their thighs touching. "I'm attracted to you. I think you're gorgeous and sexy and adorable. I think you're brave and heroic and tough. I think you're sweet and pretty and fucking marvellous! The beauty of your femininity twists my stomach up in knots and fills it with butterflies, yet the alpha in you makes me nervous and self-conscious, but that doesn't stop me from craving him. I want his respect and love... his devotion. I don't want to be a lone wolf, I want to be his wolf... your wolf." Paul earnestly stated, lacing his fingers with Ryan's atop the table. "So don't tell me I'm confused or that I don't know what I want because there's no denying I want everything about you."

Ryan opened his mouth to speak, to deflect, however a strong russet finger pressed over his lips to shush him. "I think you should just shut up and kiss me," Paul confidently proclaimed despite his bones feeling a lot like jelly and his nerves being completely shot. His mind was shrieking at him like a little girl, both horrified and impressed with himself for demanding what he wanted from an alpha... and a prince... from fucking royalty! Paul was either an idiot or insane, yet neither option seemed to bother him much – well, didn't bother him until he saw his imprint's reaction.

Ryan's emerald eyes widened dramatically and he yanked himself away from the older man as if he were fire itself and every little touch burned. Ryan darted to his feet, clinging to his brother's oversized swim trunks that were hanging loosely around his waist so they didn't end up at his ankles. "I'm sorry, Paul," he said, chest heaving, gaze feeling a bit misty. "I'm so sorry. I can't... we can't. It's not that I don't want to, because I do. I love you... I've been in love with you since before I could even understand what it was that I was feeling... but your past. You, the real you, doesn't want this... or me. He'd never want me."

Ryan desperately wanted to take his brother's advice – he wanted to leap head first into this, to throw caution to the wind and steal his first real kiss from Paul. But, that's exactly what it would be: stealing, and Paul had already had so much stolen from him. Ryan couldn't be a part of that. The Paul Ryan knew would never be able to forgive him if he purposely kissed him on the mouth, not after promising he never would again... not after that one time.

Everything was a buzz of excitement after Ryan shifted for the first time, especially after he imprinted. He desperately wanted a pack of his own, and it surprised no one that he wanted Paul to be his beta. Paul, for a few years, had been Jacob's beta. Though, with the wolf's ever increasing agitation and the rocky history he had with the alpha king, things were tense within the pack. Paul was inevitably demoted – a grudge he never failed to rid himself of until he'd forgotten it along with everything else.

For Jacob it was bittersweet when Paul left the pack for Ryan. He felt both relief and guilt. Relief because the troubled wolf was no longer his responsibility, and guilt for not being able to help him, for being part of the problem... for failing Paul in epic proportions. Yet, if anyone could get through to the wolf, it would be Ryan – or so Jacob thought.

Jacob had watched as sheer delight spread across his son's furry white face as he'd clamped down around the silvery fur of Paul's neck, just barely breaking the skin. The alpha could see the moment Paul's thoughts entered Ryan's mind, his green eyes sparkling as he preened in delight, licking clean the few droplets of blood that Paul had shed.

When they shifted back Paul was smiling, a rare gem in those days. To celebrate, Jacob organized a camping trip, and thought nothing of it when Ryan tiptoed out of the tent he shared with James and snuck across the clearing to the one Paul slept in alone. Inside the tent Paul sleepily wrapped himself around his sixteen year old alpha imprint, muttering that he loved his angel dearly. Ryan naively responded with a kiss on Paul's moist rosy lips, albeit chaste and over just as quickly as it began.

Any fatigue Paul felt vanished in an instant, and he darted upright, sitting stiffly on the wobbly air mattress. "What was that for?" he whispered in question.

"You," Ryan merrily chortled, moving his head on the older wolf's lap. "My parents won't care, you know, about the age difference and us being together. We're imprints. Besides, dad was only a year older than I am now when he met my father."

Paul shook his head, roughly pushing his alpha from his lap. "I don't understand why you'd do that. Why would you do that?" he hissed.

Ryan's brow furrowed as he seated himself by Paul, sitting face to face. "Because we're mates..."

Paul shook his head once more. "No, puppy, no," he earnestly protested.

Ryan tightly gripped the wolf's naked forearm, sternly meeting his gaze. "I'm not a puppy anymore. I'm your alpha... and your mate. Fate says so." With his free hand he brushed his nimble fingers along the curve of his imprint's stubbly russet cheek. "Nothing and no one will ever hurt you again. You don't have to be afraid anymore. I'll protect you. I'd die to keep you safe. Trust me to take care of you."

Paul bit his bottom lip like he wanted to say something, yet wouldn't allow himself to actually speak the words. Instead he placed a hand over the one Ryan held against his arm, squeezing the slim fingers. "You can't die for me, not when you're the only thing I've got to live for."

Even in the dark Ryan's pretty smile still dazed him. "If anything ever happened to me you'd keep on living. You'd never give up." It wasn't a suggestion, it was an alpha order Paul couldn't possibly disregard. "You better believe I'd be keeping an eye on you from heaven. I'd want to see you doing beautiful things with your life. Do you understand how disappointed I'd be if you were unhappy, if you gave up on life just because I was gone? Do you want to disappoint me?"

Paul shook his head for a third time. "I never want to disappoint you."

"Of course not," Ryan said, cupping his imprint's cheeks. "Because you're a good wolf, a perfect wolf." Paul nodded along with the prince's words, entranced. "Do you have any idea how special you are?" Ryan murmured.

Paul blushed. "I don't know about that. But... but Ryan..." His voice trailed off as he cleared his throat. "I do know we aren't mates. You're going to marry a lovely woman one day. She'll have your puppies and they'll call me uncle Paul, or even uncle Paulie – I'd put up with the latter because of how obviously precious they'll be."

Ryan leaned in close to the wolf, lips trailing along his jawline before white teeth nipped at a heated earlobe. "What if I want my puppies to call you daddy?"

Paul jerked away, once again shaking his head in denial, ignoring the tingle in his belly – a spark of yearning. "That's not right."

"Because we're two males?" Ryan queried, and his imprint nodded. "Look at me, Paul, really look at me," he said while lifting the wolf's hand, guiding callused fingers through the waves of his silky brunet hair. "I may be your alpha, but I can also be anything else your want or need as well. If you want a girl I can be your girl... I can be your princess."

Paul's brow crinkled with confusion. "You're a guy."

"But I don't look like one. If you want me to wear skirts and dresses, high heels, makeup, the whole nine yards, I will. I'd pass. I'd look unquestioningly female. I could be your wife one day, and when my parents retire I'd be your queen and you my king." Paul's expression was completely unreadable, so Ryan clutched the hand that wasn't fiddling with his hair and asked, "Would like that?"

"I- I don't... don't know what to think... or say..." Paul was speechless.

The prince smiled a hopeful smile. "Can I kiss you again?"

Paul dropped his hand from Ryan's hair to the sleeping bag pooled at his waist. "I... I really don't think that would be appropriate."

The prince canted his head. "Why? I said I can be whatever you want, whatever you need. Just tell me what that is."

The older wolf hummed thoughtfully as he stroked the back of his imprint's hand. "All I want and need is my angel."

Ryan eagerly nodded. "I can be that, but I can be more than that too. Anything you want. Anything."

Paul smiled sadly. "That's all I want, sweetheart."

The prince's eyes widened, shocked and pained. "Are you saying you don't want me to kiss you? Daddy always said that imprints, especially a pair-" Paul placed a comforting hand on Ryan's knee, squeezing gently to shush him.

"Whatever your father told you is wrong. Gay is wrong. We're imprints, yes. Soul mates? Most definitely. But mates in general? No. Two men cannot be mates. That goes against nature. Women and men were made for each other." Paul brought Ryan's hand up to his mouth, kissing the rolling plains of his soft skinned knuckles. "I love you, angel, and I don't want to see you going down a bad path. I don't want to see you living some filthy homosexual lifestyle. You're so beautiful and precious, and I'd hate it if some sick, depraved man put his dirty hands on you. All faggots are perverts, that's just a fact. You need to settle down with a nice wholesome girl."

"But I wanna be with you..." Ryan murmured more to himself than to Paul. He wasn't surprised by the wolf's opinion, but he almost wished he were. The prince had overheard Paul talking to Edward a couple times where he'd made derogatory remarks about gays. Ryan typically ignored those comments, went as far as pretending his wolf never said any such thing. Now it was impossible to ignore, though he still tried.

Paul leaned forward, hands on his imprint's shoulders, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs. "That's just what your parents trained you to think. It's part of their gay agenda. Faggots always want to recruit more faggots."

Ryan unhappily frowned. He had so many choice words for the wolf, yet he didn't want to start an argument. He didn't want to upset the man "I think you're being paranoid. My dad is your best friend; can you really imagine him pressuring me to be something I'm not?"

Paul visibly deflated. "No," he admitted. "But Jacob on the other paw..."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Daddy is bisexual and will brag about it to anyone who'll listen. That wolf wouldn't care if I married two women, a man, and an emu. He'd just be happy I'm getting laid."

"You're too good for that shit," Paul growled, scowling.

The prince quirked a questioning eyebrow. "Too good for what shit?"

"Sex. It should only be used as a means for reproduction."

Ryan cutely pouted. "I don't want to live like that," he replied honestly. "Besides, I'm gay... very gay... very obviously stereotypically gay, and I have no intention to live life like a monk. I do want to get married, I do want a family, but I want that with a man." Ryan nervously swallowed as he placed a hand on Paul's knee, a teal sleeping bag a barrier between them. "I want that with you."

For a fleeting moment the wolf's fingers hovered over the prince's, itching to touch, yearning to cling to the smaller, softer digits. He pulled away, however, fervently shaking his head. "No," he snarled. "No! That's disgusting!"

"You're not even thinking about it," Ryan quickly replied, snatching up Paul's hand, clutching to it tightly. "At least try to consider the idea!"

Paul yanked his hand free, sneering at his imprint. "I am not some sicko faggot, Ryan, and neither are you!" he roared.

The prince's gaze turned pleading. "Please, Paul, please don't say stuff like that."

"I'll say whatever the hell I want to say!" The wolf rose to his knees, leaning over the little alpha prince. "If I had things my way, each and every queer would be hanged, drawn, and quartered," he viciously hissed. "I'd have them all slaughtered for their twisted, perverted ways. I'd make them all suffer like they deserve."

Ryan opened his mouth to speak, though no words came out – he was too pained to be able to form a simple sentence. "I hate queers," Paul spitefully continued. "They should all die!"

Trembling, Ryan carefully pressed his palm to the warm russet flesh of Paul's bare chest. "You can't possibly mean that. I know how much my parents mean to you, my dad especially. I know you love him." Paul didn't argue, he just stared at the prince with cold brown eyes full of malice. "You love me too, Paul, and as much as you want to deny it, I'm gay. I'll always be gay, and I have a feeling you are as well; you're just too traumatized by your past to admit it."

There was absolute silence save for the chirp of crickets and the crackle of the campfire outside the tent before there was blinding pain. Paul's fist had swung through the air, connecting with his imprint's nose, twisting the nub almost unrecognizably. By the force of the blow, Ryan was knocked on his side, his hands flying up to cup his broken nose as blood poured from his nostrils. It was barely an instant before Paul's hands were on him, apologetic and soothing.

"Oh my god," Paul gasped in horror as he tried to pull the prince upright. "Oh my god, angel! I didn't mean- it was an accident!"

Ryan wriggled in his grasp, elbowing his ribs and shoving him away with a bloody hand. The prince tumbled from the tent, stumbling over his own feet as he kept his nose covered – red dripping down his wrists and arms. Paul came staggering out after him, latching onto his upper arm. "I'm so sorry," he earnestly apologized. "I don't know what happened."

Ryan shook him off. "It's fine," he curtly remarked. "I get it."

"I'm not gay."

"I get it," Ryan brusquely repeated.

"Neither are you," Paul dared to add.

The prince sighed, no longer having the energy to argue. "Just stay here. Go to bed," he demanded as he headed for the campfire, the outline of Jacob's oversized form still sitting there.

Paul tried to follow, though found he couldn't move, bound by his alpha's orders. "Sorry..." he whispered, the meek sound of his deep, masculine voice caught in the breeze while he stood there looking as guilty as a scorned dog, watching his imprint walk away from him before he ducked back into the tent.

Jacob lifted his head from the bright orange flames as he listened to Ryan's approach. He flicked his vision to the little wolf as the boy took a sullen seat beside him on an old log. "You look like shit, son," he said, tone amused and brown eyes sparkling in the firelight.

Ryan grumpily huffed. "Could you at least try to act a little concerned?"

The king chortled, shrugging out of his navy blue muscle shirt and handing it over to the boy. "It's Paul," he deadpanned, acting like those two words explained everything. "The wolf's a loose cannon."

Ryan winced as he pressed the shirt to his nose, a large frown marring his face worse than his bloody and crooked nose. "You were listening?"

Jacob smiled at his puppy as he poked the fire with a stick, sparks bursting upwards with the heavy haze of smoke. "Not purposely, but you two are anything but subtle."

"He hit me," Ryan confessed, as if it weren't already obvious.

Jacob nodded, wrapping a comforting arm around his son's slim shoulders, dragging him against his side. "Well, puppy, that's what you get when you call a bigoted man gay."

Ryan grimaced. "I'm not a puppy."

The alpha king laughed, hugging his boy close and tucking a kiss into his hair. "You'll always be my puppy."

"That's fair, I suppose," Ryan sighed in easy defeat.

"You always were a reasonable one," Jacob chuckled. "C'mere," he said, angling his son's face toward him. "We need to fix your nose before it sets." Ryan dropped his filthy, bloodstained hands to his lap and squeezed his eyes shut as his father painfully gripped the crooked bridge of his nose. "Big breath now," Jacob instructed, and once the prince's lungs were full, the king gave a flick of his wrist. A slight crunch was heard over the sound of Ryan's stifled whimper, and just like that it was over.

Ryan blinked open his watery eyes, a few tears inevitably escaping. "Thanks, daddy," he breathed, quavering hands pushing his father's shirt back up against his nose to keep the blood at bay.

Jacob roughly slapped his son's back, grinning ear to ear. "You took it like a man, champ!"

"I am a man," Ryan grumbled.

"You're getting there," Jacob teased. "But don't be too eager to grow up. Being an adult isn't all it's cracked up to be. Trust me, I know. I am one."

Ryan nodded. "Daddy?"

Jacob quirked an eyebrow. "Yes, my darling puppy?" he teased.

For a fleeting moment a ghost of a smile graced the prince's lips. "I don't think Paul is a bigot. I think he's confused and angry... and very very sad."

"Yeah," Jacob murmured in agreement, solemnly nodding. "I think you're right."

Ryan turned his head to the side, earnestly gazing up at his father. "I don't know how to help him."

The king patted his son's shoulder. He didn't either. "How about starting with a cuddle? I hit my imprint once. Whatever Paul is feeling right now is worse than any punishment you could ever give him."

The prince's jaw dropped. "You hit dad?"

Jacob glumly nodded. "You didn't see it happen, but you were there. Maybe you were too young to remember. It was awful. I back handed him." The king shook his head, trying to get rid of the memory of the cracked vampiric flesh of Edward's cheek. "I don't want to think about it." Remorsefully, he met his son's eyes. "I never hit him again, and however volatile Paul may be, I know the wolf won't hit you again either. It's not his nature to hurt someone he loves."

Ryan cocked his head. "I probably look like a battered housewife right about now, and you're telling me I should just forgive him?" He incredulously asked.

Jacob sighed, meagerly smirking. "I'm a horrible father, aren't I?"

"Nah," Ryan disagreed, the slightest smile playing on his lips. "But your advice tends to be a bit questionable."

The king crookedly grinned, mussing up his son's hair, earning himself a halfhearted scowl. "Good thing you've got a perfectly good head of your own. I put my two cents in, now you do what you gotta do, puppy."

"At my own risk, I think I'll offer Paul that cuddle."

"Good man," Jacob said, giving his son's shoulder a tight squeeze, then a hard slap on the rear when the little wolf stood up. "Go get 'em tiger!"

Ryan whipped around, a what-the-fuck sort of expression on his bruised and bloodstained face. "You're so fucking weird."

"Hey!" Jacob playfully snapped. "You watch you fucking language with me, boy."

The prince dramatically rolled his eyes as he headed off behind his father toward Paul's tent. "Yeah fucking right," he muttered.

"I fucking heard that!"

Ignoring his father, Ryan peeked inside Paul's open tent, still holding his father's shirt to his nose. Although, he couldn't be certain if he was really doing it to catch the bleeding or using his father's scent for comfort. His inner musings were quickly forgotten as he crawled inside, realizing his wolf was gone.

Ryan scrambled back out, dropping the shirt from his face as he went. His eyes darted around the clearing, finding Paul's huge paw prints by the tents exit which disappeared into the forest. Panicked, the prince whined to himself as he shoved down his sleep pants just in time to allow the shift of his bones without tearing the flannel material.

Ryan had a sickening feeling in his gut. There was only one way Paul could have evaded his alpha order. When Ryan was on four legs, snowy white fur glistening in the moonlight, his mind was silent – there were no thoughts that weren't his own. With his bushy tail tucked firmly between his legs and his ears pinned back, he lifted his snout upwards and howled. Only seconds later the sharp cry of Paul's sorrowful howl was sung through the air, rising above the trees and travelling for miles. The wolf had severed its connection with its alpha, feeling unworthy of the prince. And although Paul only meant to punish himself, Ryan couldn't imagine a worse feeling. He drove his imprint away from him and their two man pack. He hadn't even lasted twenty-four hours as someone's alpha. He'd never felt so inadequate in his life.

A heavy had rested on the prince's flank. Ryan didn't have to look to know it was his father. "What did I say about Paul being a loose cannon?" Ryan's only reply was a deep miserable rumble as he stared off into the trees. Jacob tugged on a floppy white ear. "He won't go far, kid. You'll see him in the morning."

The king was right, Ryan did see him in the morning and that was when he felt compelled to promise the wolf he'd never attempt to kiss him again. He promised he'd keep his hands to himself and never entertain the thought of them together as couple, at least not out loud. He promised many things while intermittently begging Paul to give him another chance as his alpha. He'd royally fucked, like only a stupid prince could do, and Paul refused each and every one of his pleas to return to him.

"It's not you, it's me," Paul explained. "You did nothing wrong. You shouldn't be apologizing. You're still just a puppy, and I should have never taken advantage of that. It was wrong of me to submit to you. I- well, I just wanted the closeness, but clearly those feelings were inappropriate. Like I said, you're a puppy. I'm a full grown wolf, and although you're an alpha, I'm an adult, and a line has to be drawn somewhere. I'm saying it's here. We can't be pack. It clearly isn't good for either one of us."

If there was one thing Ryan learned from their time together in the tent, it was not to argue when Paul got something stuck in his head. "I don't want you to be alone. Will you at least go back to daddy's pack?"

"Yes," Paul assured the little alpha. Though, that's not how things worked out. Jacob had a strict rule that whenever he thought about adding someone new to the pack, the pack votes on it – they decide. Paul wasn't exactly new, but he wasn't part of the pack either. Ryan will never forget the look of utter misery on Paul's face when the pack unanimously voted against him joining.

Ryan couldn't blame them, not really. They said Paul was too depressing, too hotheaded, too this, and too that. According to them, Paul always found something to get upset over, was often verbally abusive, and was easily outraged by some perceived injustice. Ryan could definitely understand their reasoning, but that doesn't mean he agreed with their final decision. Paul had considered them all brothers for over a decade, and suddenly he wasn't good enough to be their brother anymore.

One by one they all faded from Paul's life, even Jacob. Although, in the king's defence, that had more to do with guilt and a serious case of purposeful avoidance to evade awkward and uncomfortable feelings. Ryan felt more responsible for the wolf than ever. Paul always tended to hover around him before. Yet, the pack had often been there to distract him – dragging him out to the woods for a hunting trip or into town just for fun. Suddenly, it was just Ryan and Edward that took up his time. However, Edward was a very busy king.

Paul was always there, in the prince's face, in the way and getting into trouble by picking fights with other wolves, vampires, or humans that wanted Ryan's time and attention. Though, there were occasions when Paul was nowhere to be seen, locked in his room for days or even weeks at a time. Those were the times Paul refused Ryan's company, only Edward was allowed to enter – he'd only talk to Edward. Ryan knew something was up. What that was exactly, he couldn't say. Maybe he'd never know.

However, all that brought Ryan to this moment right here and now in the palace's dining room. Tables were completely turned and it was Paul begging for a kiss, for his love and companionship. Hell didn't begin to describe the sort of agony it was to deny his imprint what they both wanted, but Ryan couldn't in good conscience break his promise. The Paul that wanted to kiss him now wasn't the Paul that didn't want to kiss him then. These were two different men with the exact same face and body. The prince was in love with them both, and he couldn't begin to fathom where his loyalties lie.

His mind was telling him to stick with the old one, that's who he'd loved first. Yet, every other bit of him yearned for the new Paul and all he had to offer. Ryan never felt so selfish in his life. This couldn't be about himself or what he wanted. It was about Paul. It would always be about Paul. The old one. The broken, bruised, and needy one. The tormented, haunted, and disillusioned one. The one Ryan imprinted upon. The one Ryan would so easily give his life for. The one that needed him most.

Ryan hesitantly watched as Paul pushed his chair back, rising to his bare feet, the bottom of his frayed jeans dragging on the floor. Ryan's fingers circled the knob of the door that led to the foyer – he had the strangest urge to bolt. Yet, if there was one thing Ryan wasn't, that was a coward. He stood his ground, eyeing Paul as the large wolf stalked near.

"My past then. That's the main issue. That's what's holding you back?" Paul queried, rounding the table. Ryan nodded, not trusting his voice enough to speak. "My past actions, or my past experiences?" Paul asked next as he halted in front of the little alpha, standing a good foot taller.

Ryan gazed up at the Paul, barely recognizing the wolf his imprint had become. "Both, though mainly the experiences that led to the actions."

Paul's brow furrowed. "And if I said I remembered those experiences?"

"You don't... you can't." As much as the new Paul intimidated him, he didn't want to lose him, not quite yet. He'd never seen Paul smile so fully or laugh so loud until after he came out of that coma. They were two of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen or heard... he'd mourn their loss, but he didn't think he'd ever get over them.

Paul was quiet for a few minutes, thinking, contemplating risk and reward. "I remember," he finally stated, lying, but the prince didn't need to know that, which was the whole point entirely. "Not a lot, but I remember bits and pieces. I think I remember what it is that's making you so cautious."

Ryan gazed up at the wolf curiously... observantly. "Do- do you remember your time in prison?" He hesitantly questioned, and in return Paul solemnly nodded, doing his best to act the role of a victim of rape. It was sick to pretend something so morbid, to lie about something serious like this, but he was desperate... desperate for his imprint's touch, his kisses, and his love. And technically, technically, he wasn't pretending to be something he wasn't. He truly was a victim of rape; he just couldn't remember being one.

Paul forced himself to think of tragic things to conjure up tears. He thought about abused animals, the destruction of war, children with cancer, and even starving families in Africa, though none of it so much as made his eyes water. In a desperate attempt to make himself feel something, anything, he thought of himself as a fifteen-year-old boy with the weight of his mother's death on his shoulders – he'd tried to save her, but was instead charged with her murder.

Paul imagined his shame and heartbreak as his own father testified against him. He imagined the dread he must have felt when the jury read out the verdict: Guilty as Charged. He imagined himself being dragged into a filthy prison as he kicked and screamed to no avail. He imagined himself locked inside a cage with monsters in the shape of men.

Paul didn't have to imagine how scared he must of been, how utterly fucking terrified he was when his first abuser put their hands on him. He felt it as a bitter chill ran along his spine, leaving him weak kneed and his breath stuttered.

The smell was biting – the thick acrid scent of urine, along with the off-kilter combined aroma of cotton candy and decaying flesh which distinctly resembled that of a vampire.

Paul heard the sound of tearing cloth before he felt it – his grey oversized prison garb pants torn from his body as he flailed, screaming for someone, anyone, to help him. A cold, dry, almost scaly hand covered his mouth as his attacker, a leech, snarled shut up by his ear. Paul furiously bit the hand that tried to silence him.

A fist connected with the side of Paul's head, the strength of a vampire behind it. Pain radiated through his skull while his vision flickered and his limbs went slack. His limp body was tossed onto a musty old cot and his face immediately pressed into the scratchy threadbare material. He tried to struggle, tried to hit and kick and punch. Yet, when two rough, unforgiving hands dug into the two round globes of his ass, spreading the cheeks apart, he went utterly still as he begged and begged and begged for this to stop.

When the most intimate part of him was spat on, moistening the area and making him go rigid, he knew that no matter how much he begged and pleaded or kicked and screamed what was coming next was inevitable. He'd shrieked the first name that entered his mind as he was brutally penetrated, tearing his heart, soul, and body to pieces. Jacob, he'd wailed in agony, Jacob Jacob Jacob. But his alpha wasn't there to protect him – Prince Jacob Ephraim Black only cared about himself.

Ryan became concerned as he watched tears stream his imprint's cheeks, the wolf's watery eyes having a faraway look in them. "Paul?" The sweet, kind, lilted sound of his imprint's voice dragged Paul back to reality and punched sob out from deep in his chest – he had horrible, ugly feeling he wasn't imagining anymore... he was remembering.

Ryan, for lack of better ideas, practically threw himself at the wolf. Tying his arms around his imprint's waist and squeezing deathly tight, silently promising to never let go.

Paul's head fell to the little alpha's freckled shoulder and his arms loosely circled the prince. "Oh my god," he quietly cried. "Oh my fucking god," he repeated, shutting his eyes – tears caught in his thick ebony lashes. "Aro," he breathed. "His name was Aro." And that wasn't something he'd read in any papers.

"His hands were cold. They were always so fucking cold. They felt dry. Sickly. Gross. Wrong," Paul brokenly explained. "I hated those fucking hands," he bawled, barely able to catch his breath. "Not like yours," he choked out, tugging Ryan's arms from around him and grabbing his thin wrists, bringing the prince's palms to his soggy cheeks. "Nothing like yours," he murmured, soaking up the heat his imprint's delicate hands emitted. "Yours are right."

Ryan stood stark still, stunned and scared, feeling like one wrong movement or word would send Paul fleeing, have the wolf revert back into his old self and never look back. "Tell me what to do... show me what to do," he desperately pleaded. "How do I help you?"

While looking down at his imprint, the intake of Paul's lungs stuttered as he tried to find his barrings. Despite tears and the raw ache of his emotions he found himself entranced. He leaned closer, releasing one of Ryan's wrists so he could reach forward and press his fingertips to the full rosy mounds of his imprint's mouth. It was just as soft as when he'd touched them earlier, although far warmer.

Hot heavy breaths ghosted over Paul's hand, tickling his russet flesh in the most tantalizing way. He moved his face even closer, his own mouth only a hairsbreadth away from Ryan's two faintly parted lips.

Ryan watched nervously as Paul hummed, the wolf's eyes fluttering closed as the enchanting tender breeze of Ryan's heated breath swept over his cheeks, the honey sweet scent smelling delightfully like home. Safe. Happy. Mate.

When more memories of Aro tried to invade the wolf's mind, he shut them out by greedily pressing his mouth to his imprint's warm pillowy lips, growling softly enough it could easily be mistaken for a purr – perchance it was a possessive mix of the two. "Alpha," he whimpered, salty droplets of tears dribbling down his flushed russet cheeks. "Kiss me back, alpha," he begged. Take away the pain, he silently added.

"Paul," Ryan murmured, attentively brushing the wolf's tears away with the pads of his thumbs as he turned his own face away. "Jesus Paul..."

The wolf didn't let Ryan's face go far, catching him by the mouth with his own. "Please," he murmured beseechingly against the prince's lips, nipping the delicate flesh and kissing chastely.

Ryan's hands pressed to the wolf's chest, pushing him away. Paul startled at first, wet eyes wide and searching, believing what he saw to be rejection. Yet, Ryan kept on pushing until the back of the wolf's thighs hit the wooden dining table. Calming, smiling knowingly through thick melancholic emotion and weighted watery tears, Paul took the hint and shoved away a royal blue placemat along with the china and cutlery on it. He lifted himself atop the table and easily spread his jean clad legs for the prince to slip between. Seated as he was, he no longer looked down at the little alpha prince and instead the pair were eye to eye.

For what felt like the first time, the prince's vision freely roamed Paul's body, taking everything in, cataloguing each and every part he wanted to touch and taste and call his own. His fingers caught on the hem of Paul's cotton t-shirt, and he hesitantly curled his fingers into a fist, slowly lifting the shirt up the wolf's belly to see more. "This okay?" Ryan queried.

Fervently nodding, Paul tugged the shirt right from Ryan's grasp and off his body, chuckling nervously at his own urgency as he handed it over to the younger wolf. Ryan used the soft cotton material to properly clean the wolf's tear stained cheeks before he allowed himself the liberty to truly appreciate the form of his half naked imprint.

Little bolts of lightening tingled the ends of Ryan's fingers as he reverently trailed them along the silky hills and valleys of the wolf's copper abdominals. His thumb swept over the indent of the wolf's navel before his palms flattened over Paul's ribs, gliding along his thickly muscled pectorals – Ryan biting his bottom lip to stifle a pleased groan as he watched Paul's nipples harden from the tender touch.

The prince couldn't help his eyes from passionately wandering, from staring adoringly, from gazing admiringly at his imprint. There wasn't a hair in sight, just smooth beautiful skin that made the little alpha want to snarl mine. He kept his mouth securely shut, however, afraid to ruin the moment, to somehow snap back to reality, because this certainly couldn't be it. This was a dream. This was what heaven felt like. It was Paul whom stole the title of angel.

As Ryan skimmed his hands along the wolf's wide masculine shoulders, over Paul's powerful biceps, and down Paul's strong forearms, Ryan lifted his emerald green gaze to look into Paul's eyes. There was barrage, a kaleidoscope of emotion that left nothing to the imagination. Ryan didn't have to wonder what Paul was feeling; it was all right there, thrust upon him. Hunger and love. Lust and devotion. Hope and desire. Want and need. And it was he who made the wolf feel it all.

When Ryan reached Paul's hands he lightly squeezed his fingers around Paul's stronger, rougher, and larger ones to lift them, placing them on his own bare chest. He wasn't nearly as lean as his imprint, and there was no doubting whose masculinity far outweighed the other's. Yet, Ryan didn't feel self-conscious. He didn't feel inadequate. He felt the opposite. With Paul's eyes on him, he felt beautiful. He felt loved.

"Do you want to touch me too?" Ryan meekly inquried, so used to his imprint's rejection that even now he expected it.

The wolf nodded, cheeks glowing crimson. "Every part of you," he murmured in reply, his hands dropping to his imprint's hips, squeezing and kneading the flesh. The tips of his fingers dipped below the waist of Ryan's shorts which were already hanging dangerously low, and Paul all but keened at the feel of his imprint's silky backside. Unable to help himself, he eagerly pulled the prince flush to him, chest to chest, skin to skin.

Their arms circled one another as they breathed each other in, nuzzling affectionately. Their hearts pounded in tandem, their breaths synchronized, and finally, finally, Ryan let their lips meet.

The moment the prince felt the first tender glide of Paul's mouth over his he whimpered in both pain and pleasure. Pain because after six years of being denied his imprint he was finally smashing through Paul's brick walled boundaries head first. There was an underlying feeling of guilt, even shame, that couldn't be ignored.

Yet, it was all pleasure when Paul lost his hands in Ryan's hair and crossed his shins over the back of Ryan's legs to keep the little wolf close. Ryan couldn't breathe let alone think, at least not rationally. Paul was wrapped all around him – a protective possessive cocoon of imprint which the prince revelled in.

"Mine," Paul rumbled, nipping the prince's plump bottom lip while roughly tugging at the roots of his messy sea damp hair. "You're mine now."