A/N: I'M BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK! Gosh, it feels as though I've been gone for ages! Not really sure why, in all honesty, but hey there you go! *grins* How are you all? I'm positively chirpy (which is a tad weird I know!) but I just re-read Chapter Eleven and wow! My feels! Eak. Gosh I love Paul, don't you?! Ok ok! On we go!

Bella's POV

He held me securely to his chest, a rough purr emanating from his chest. It was soothing to my frayed nerves. It reminded me that in the last couple of days, the only time I'd truly felt peaceful was in the cage of muscles I was currently residing in. It was odd, but not entirely unwelcome.

His heart beat out a steady pace and I found that our breathing had changed to match each other. It was a testament to how close our 'imprint' was already, in that we hadn't really spent any time together in the context of it being consensual on both parts.

I sighed, rubbing my cheek against his bare chest in a sort of contentment, feeling safe and secure with him close. His purr deepened before cutting off as he pushed me back, holding me almost at arms-length to look down at me. He was unbelievably tall, but that wasn't off-putting. No, just different. Not many men could boast they topped six and a half feet or there abouts. His dark eyes were so full; I couldn't even begin to dissect the emotions behind those twin storms. However, the glint in there told me he found my perusal of him amusing.

"What're you looking at little girl?" his voice was deep, so deep that it reverberated in my chest and sent small tingles down the backs of my legs. His scent was just indescribable. It was spicy and dark, cinnamon and pine, ocean currents and fog. I blushed, realising he was watching me inhale him, and still waiting on an answer.

"How tall are you?" he smirked down at me, his eyes full of mirth at my diversion but he answered me anyway.

"Six foot, six and a half inches." He grinned, looking me up and down.

"How about you, little girl, how short are you?" I huffed indignantly as he laughed at his own play on my words, but my lips pulled up the slightest bit. His laugh was simply gorgeous.

"I'm five and a half feet, actually, so I'm not all that short, you big oaf. I'm just extra short to you because you're half way to being a damn giant." He choked on his laughter, staring down at me incredulously. I raised a brow expertly and gave him a smirk of my own. He muttered something under his breath that was too low for me to catch, but I felt my smirk grow wider anyway.

I stepped back, out of his arms and he scowled at me, reaching for me instantly. I laughed lightly and made my way to my bed and sat at the headboard, motioning him to join me. He did, gracefully folding himself onto my too small bed. Even with his knees tucked up, his feet were touching the floor. I frowned, wandering how he could possibly be comfortable, before he drew my attention back to his face. His long tapered finger curled under my jaw, lifting my face to look at him, his brows drawn down in confusion.

"What?" I shook my head sighing. He would move if he was uncomfortable, meaning there was no cause for concern. I reached up with both hands to hold his giant one in them. His skin was both soft and rough. Clearly he worked with his hands, probably doing some sort of manual labour. I smiled, envisioning him taking out his fury on some poor, unsuspecting building, before smugly smiling at a job well done.

"What has you smiling?" I looked up at his face and my smile grew. His lips were curved up at the corners, clearly enjoying watching me play with his hand. I traced my finger-tips lightly over the veins and tendons on the back, enamoured by the way the skin stretched around his bones and muscle.

"You do manual labour. I can imagine you beating the crap out of a building none the wiser to your anger." He laughed at that, nodding his head.

"There have been a few times that that's been the case. Physicality helps me burn off excess stress." I smiled back up at him, before hesitantly bringing my hand up to his head height. He stilled for me, watching me watch him. But there was no sign that this made his uncomfortable, or that he didn't want me to touch him. Slowly, I rubbed my fingers through the silken strands of his inky black hair, the texture so soft it was at odds with almost all of the rest of him.

Everything I knew about him was contradicting in one way or another. He had so many aspects to his character that I don't think I'll ever have him worked out. He was everything I'd been warned off of, mostly by myself truth be told, yet he seemed to be exactly what I needed.

"It's the imprint, I guess." I jerked my head back around to look into his face, seeing him watching me intently. His eyes were dark and brooding.

"What do you mean?" I hadn't said any of that out loud, of that I was almost one hundred per cent certain. I pulled back from him so I could get a better read on his body language. His shoulders had tightened in the small time it had taken me to move away from him, so this was obviously something he didn't think I was going to take well.

"An imprint is…well basically she's everything. The wolf is very instinctual by nature; everything he does is mainly for survival. None of us knew how to hunt while phased, the wolf did it just because that was natural, instinct, for him. He doesn't think the way we do; his thoughts are a lot simpler, his needs and want a whole lot more basic. He doesn't feel emotion the way that we do, and the limited emotion he does feel couldn't be compared to how we feel. In some ways it's a lot less, I guess. His feelings are a lot less colourful, meaningful and yet he has a depth to him that cannot be explained, because as humans we simply cannot comprehend the intensity to which the animal feels.

His needs are simple; food, water, shelter, pack…and a mate. This is what an imprint is essentially. She is the perfect match for the wolf. Everything about her balances him, and in turn the man he goes with. The wolf picks his mate, because as soon as he sees her, looks into her soul, he knows. He knows that she is the only thing that he's ever going to need to keep him sane. He knows that she'll be everything he thought he could never have; a sense of security that's always missing. She brings a sense of balance, something that the wolf has always struggled with; being that he finds it hard sometimes not to just kill for the sheer exhilaration.

Sam imprinted on Emily, and he's…a better version of himself. I won't lie to you little girl, it changes people, even others around us. Sam was engaged and in love with Emily's cousin but as soon as his wolf saw Em and recognised her as his imprint, he was gone. He loves her like you could only imagine; both wolf and man. He's totally devoted to her and only her. There will never be another for him or for her now.

The Elders have some bullshit theory that the wolf imprints to make stronger wolves in the next generation, but they haven't seen inside Sam's head, they don't know the way he feels about Em, never-mind his wolf. His wolf would happily eat each council member for insinuating that the wolf only wanted her for her pups. Don't get me wrong, the amounts of times that Sam's been phased and had phantasies of Em round with his pups are too many to count, but that's only an upside to him and his wolf. It isn't what attracted the wolf to her.

The wolf needs his imprint, although it is said to be extremely rare. Each non-imprinted wolf feels the missing part of himself that his imprint will fill, make him feel whole. She's loved, always and unconditionally, even after she dies. If the imprint dies first, the wolf will always be right behind her, dying simply, of a broken heart.

In a simpler way, I suppose an imprint is a soul-mate."

I could feel my jaw swinging, but I couldn't bring myself to find the energy to close it. The only real thought that I could process was that the internet hadn't done Pauls legends justice.

His hand cupping my jaw pulled me back into focus and I was able to close the gaping hole in my face long enough that I could successfully stare at him incredulously. What he was saying, was that I was his soul-mate – for all intent and purposes. That was just bizarre. We hardly knew each other, and yet from what he'd said, we were tied to each other for life, completely and utterly.

"You don't have to accept the imprint, Bella. If you really didn't want this, then I can't and won't force myself on you. It's really up to you. But I can be whatever you need me to be. If you need a fried, then I'll be as good a friend as I can. If you need a punch bag for having a shit day at school, I'll buy you gloves and stand and take it. If you want a brother, I'll be the best there is. It's entirely up to you." He was trying to make this easy for me, but I could tell by the look in his eyes that there was something he wasn't telling me.

"What if I didn't accept the imprint?" his whole body stiffened and he sharply pulled away from me. Gasping in shock, I tried to reach out for him, but he was already off the bed and pacing around my small room, looking far too uncomfortable to be inside.

"If you were to reject the imprint, you'd be just fine. You could go on with your life and pretend that I didn't exist." That wasn't exactly true; I'd never be able to forget about him.

"What would happen to you? To your wolf?" he rounded on me at that, teeth bared and eyes flashing.

"We'd suffer. The wolf would slowly die inside, taking me with it." I flinched at the hostility in his voice. He clearly didn't want any part of this imprinting thing, but he didn't really have a way out of it.

"I'm sorry, Paul. It's hardly fair, that after everything you've already been out through that your gods do this to you as well. It can't be easy to sleep at night knowing that you're myth logically bound to a girl you don't know and don't want to know. I don't have an answer that would make it better for you, I can't just cut you loose from this-"his huge, burning palm slamming over my mouth cut my off. My wide eyes travelled up the length of his are, across his tense shoulder muscles and up his corded neck to his face. His mouth was set in an angry line, his eyes burning in their intensity.

"Shut up, you little idiot." I huffed out a squeak, rather insulted.

"No, would you be quiet? Listen to me and listen to me good. I know you and the parts of you I don't know, I want to know. I love the way you smile and mothers with their infants, like you miss seeing the innocence of this world, and I understand now why that is. I hate that you're so shy, because you don't have any need, nothing about you is imperfect. You babble when you're nervous, and sometimes you do it in your sleep, though not very often. You have a bad habit of cracking your neck when you're stressed, and it's your fingers when you're uncomfortable. I know you, little girl, and I like you. Isn't that enough?" his eyes watched me closely, searching for a sign that I was going to disagree with him. That sign was not forthcoming.

Slow tears filled my eyes and made my vision blur, but I could still see his eyes roll. He gathered me into his arms and sat on the bed with me in his lap. Stroking my back, he made soft, soothing noises that helped me to calm down.

"What's with the tears?" I sniffled, before looking up at him.

"I didn't like the idea of you not getting a choice, and even now, when you know how broken and damaged I am, but you're still stuck with me, whether you want me now or not." He shook his head, brushing his lips over my forehead.

"You are not broken, nor are you damaged. You're a fighter, and trust me little girl, there is nothing sexier." I snorted at that but snuggled further into his arms anyway. He didn't really know the truth, but I had a feeling that he'll find out. One way or another.

A/N: So, yeah, Paul's explanation on the imprint. I hope I did it justice in my own weird way. Anyway, I hope you all have a lovely Easter, as it's safe to say that I won't be seeing you before it! Bye my lovelies! Xx