I had morphed from werewolf to zombie overnight. Everything felt like it was hanging from rusty hinges, waiting to crumble away and drop in some random location while I was looking in the way. I could practically picture my disembodied hand laying palm-up on my bedroom carpet, fingers wriggling in dismay as I wandered off without it. I didn't feel like I'd notice.

I couldn't concentrate on anything except...

Renesmee.

Renesmee, my heart breathed. Renesmee, Renesmee, Renesmee.

Though my brain continued to make the feeble contribution of murmuring, "Bella", any opportunity it received, which wasn't much. Unless it was tied to the idea that Bella was Renesmee's mother, which was still not exactly something I wanted to link together.

Ever.

But it was there, and I must have been blind and stupid not to put it all together to begin with. The eyes were Bella's, I knew. As I stepped into the living room, finding Ren sleeping soundly on the couch, I felt guilty for not having offered up my bedroom again the night before, but I had needed the solitude, the four walls to close myself into by shutting and locking the door. I needed to feel cut off until I could sort all of this out.

I had been really stupid to think that that could be accomplished overnight.

Looking at Ren tucked into the faded cushions of the couch, I wasn't certain if I'd ever figure any of this out. How could I explain why I felt like gravity itself was pulling me toward Ren? The imprint? What did that even mean? It was a poor definition to explain away why everything in me pivoted around one girl. I'd known her maybe a week, and I knew that I would die for her.

The entire Volturi army could try to come for her, and I'd fight them until I was dead. It was insane. I barely knew her.

All I knew was what she had told me—all of it seeming less than the entire truth—and the fact that she had her mother's brown eyes and...

Her father's bronze hair.

I rejected that idea the most. I didn't want to look at Ren and see Bella, let alone Edward. Maybe I had been in denial about all the features that were key to linking her with Bella, but I refused to see anything of Edward. He was the core to everything in my life that was screwed up. He had murdered Bella, one way or the other, and he had driven me away from everything I had been meant for.

Hadn't I?

I stared down at Renesmee. The curls, as bronze as her father's, were draped over the side of the couch, a few lying peacefully over her forehead. I could feel the gentle beat of her heart in the air. Mine was slowing in rhythm to match. I couldn't stop it. It just happened. Like we were two pieces of some intricate, crazy puzzle fitting together after a long separation.

Had I ever really loved Bella?

The question cropped up into my skull before I knew it was coming. I scowled. I refused to believe that I had somehow linked myself to Bella with the foresight that she was going to have the child that I would one day imprint on.

That alone didn't make any sense. Ren wasn't a child.

I sucked in a breath through my nose, holding it as Ren's lashes fluttered open. I saw the glaze of sleep covering her irises before gradually clearing, her pupils focusing on me immediately, as if she had already zoned in on me in her sleep. Maybe my presence was as difficult for her to ignore. Maybe she felt me like I felt her—practically listening to me breathe a room away like I had been listening to her.

"You're my age."

Ren didn't answer immediately. I could see her calculating the best answer to this question, her lips pursing so slightly that she might not have even realized she was doing it. But I noticed it. I noticed the purse of her lips and the slight indentation between her brows it created. I wanted to trace my finger down that indentation, down the bridge of her nose, and rub away the pout of her mouth with my thumb.

What the hell was wrong with me? I wondered in disgust. I'd turned into some creepy, poetic stalker during a few short minutes of watching Ren sleep.

"Yes."

I frowned. "Physically."

Ren frowned back. "I like to think mentally too."

She pushed herself up slowly, sliding her legs over the edge of the cushions so that she could sit up. I was glad for it. Seeing her curled up on the couch like that had done all kinds of things to me that I wasn't up for dealing with at the moment. I'd gotten too close to breaking the night before. Now, I wanted a few more answers before this whole thing spiraled out of my control.

"But...I've only been gone a few years."

Ren took a deep breath, pushing her fingers through her hair. I wished she wouldn't. It was filling the air with her. Like it wasn't already hard enough for me to keep my thoughts straight, to keep from thinking about how desirable she looked rumpled from sleep, sitting on my couch, in my living room, almost glowing from the warm sunlight that peeked through the cracks of the blinds.

"I'm a hybrid," Ren said. "I've told you that already. I'm part vampire. I don't grow like other people. I was fully matured when most babies were just learning the alphabet."

I knew plenty of shit about the world was strange. I was a werewolf, for crying out loud. But wrapping my head around the concept of Ren's existence was almost beyond me. It didn't help that htat little voice in the back of my head kept trying to insist that it didn't matter, that I loved her regardless—would have loved her even if she'd still inhabited the body of a five-year-old kid. If that wasn't messed up, I didn't know what was.

"Vampires can't have babies."

I was still trying to fight it, trying to rationalize away the inevitable. Physical boundaries that should have existed didn't matter, because all the proof I needed were the eyes on Ren's face. They were screaming Bella at me from the beginning.

I could tell what I'd said had made Ren uncomfortable. She fidgeted, dropping her gaze to her hands that had clasped together on her lap.

"Female vampires can't," Ren agreed, "but my mother was human when I was conceived."

I felt sick. I had already been told as much, but I'd been hoping I had dreamed that conversation instead of having actually witnessed it. It was easier than accepting the images it painted in my head of Cullen with his damn hands all over Bella, bruising and hurting her. As despicable leeches--

I grimaced, staring at Ren.

Vampires, I amended, because I wasn't quite capable of tarnishing Ren's name.

As despicable as some vampires went, Edward Cullen was the worst. He had filled Bella's head with all that fake remorse he pretended to have about turning her in order to knot her up in his web, so that he could keep her until there was no turning back. He had as good as murdered her.

"You still think he...he destroyed her," Ren said. "I can see it on your face."

I looked away and didn't answer.

Ren pushed herself up higher onto the couch, as if she was trying to straighten her spine until any trace of a curb was nonexistent, like it would make her look intimidating to me. Despite the fact that I was twice her size.

"Whatever you think," Ren went on, "I wouldn't exist if they didn't love each other. I've—I've seen my father's thoughts, Jacob. He doesn't know it, but I have. When he knew that my existence was going to quite possibly kill my mother, he tried to convince her to get rid of me."

I stiffened, the tears I could sense underneath Ren's tone drawing my eyes back to her. I didn't see them on her face yet, but I knew they were there, teasing the weak surface that kept them hidden. I could practically feel my whole body wanting to lurch forward, to reach out and draw her in and comfort her. But how could I? I couldn't just accept this—whatever it was—because I hadn't chosen it. Ren was not my choice. The was the wolf's choice, and I was pretty certain I'd decided a few years ago that I was completely happy not existing inside the same body with that monster.

Ren continued, "I don't hold it against him. When you love someone, you'll do anything to keep them safe. Luckily, my mother was able to give birth to me and still survive, and yes, that meant her becoming a vampire, but she'd already chosen that path. Everyone knew that. Even my father."

Pain was twisting up my spine, because, back then, I had known it too. I'd known it from the second my body had ripped in half during my first phase, and I'd gained that extra sense of awareness that told me that every human I had ever met had the potential to be not quite what they seemed. I had seen it on Bella's face when Edward had left her for those few glorious months that I'd had her. I looked right into the shell of her, and I'd known. I had done everything to fight against it, and I had failed.

If I hadn't failed, I would have never imprinted.

Had I been meant to fail?

What a moronic question. I hated my imprint for making me wonder.

"You knew it too," Ren seconded what I was already thinking. "I know it. I saw it in your thoughts."

Her eyes were dark, reflective with the moisture that had gathered, shimmering as she held back the tears. Again, I thought of the guilt she had felt when she'd realized she'd been killing her mother. But I hadn't blamed her, had I? I'd blamed Edward. If he'd had any sort of morality, he would have stayed gone all those years ago. He would have realized what kind of treasure Bella's beating heart had been.

"She wasn't being rational," I muttered. "He'd already cast his spell over her by then."

Ren shifted, drawing herself to the edge of the couch. I tensed again, afraid that she was going to push to her feet and cross to me. Then my brain would melt into a useless liquid mess, and I would forget that I was supposed to be fighting this imprint.

"You want to see that, because you loved her," Ren disagreed, "but she loved my father. It's easier to think that she didn't. I know how much you loved her."

I clenched my teeth together. I couldn't stand the way she was looking at me, like she was seeing straight into my soul. I didn't want to hear the things that she was saying. They'd haunted me for years. I'd relived my last few months with Bella a million times. I'd considered every angle of the situation. It had hurt then, and it still hurt now, despite the imprint.

But I didn't want to talk to anyone about it, let alone Ren. Bella was my secret. She was my skeleton to keep locked in my closet to view whenever I chose but to never expose to anyone else. Letting the memory of her out to breathe only threatened the possibility that someone, like Ren, would make me see all the things I didn't want to see.

I changed the subject, "So, is that what you do then? You read minds, like—like your father."

I could see Ren considering fighting the redirection of the conversation, but I was glad that she decided against it. If I didn't get away from the topic of Bella, I was going to shut down completely. I was going to implode with all this need for Ren and the hurt that I no longer felt anything for Bella.

Not even a flicker.

"What I do is different. I can see into people's thoughts by touching them, and I can also project my thoughts into other people."

"Like you did to me."

Ren nodded. "Yes."

That meant that any physical contact with Ren was dangerous on more than one level. Not only did it threaten my sanity, but it opened up the possibility for Ren to see exactly what she was doing to me, putting me at her mercy. I didn't want anyone to see how pathetic I was on the inside.

"Do you want to know anything else?" she asked me. "Or have I passed the test yet?"

I stared at her, feeling her existence in the center of my soul, like she was an entity inside of my body as well, along with the wolf. I listened to her breathe. I felt her pulse in the air. I now existed because she existed, and for no other reason. Had she passed the test?

Yes. The basic one. The one I was hardwired to accept.

The problem was that I didn't want to accept that test. I didn't want to be a part of whatever it was that loved her. She was beautiful, intelligent, and pleasant enough, but she wasn't my soulmate. She couldn't be. Because Bella had come first.

"This," I paused, gesturing between us with my hand. "What you feel between us, is called an imprint."

Ren lifted a brow.

"Every wolf in my pack imprints. It's our way of choosing our mate. It's not a conscious decision. We don't even make it. It just happens," I told her, knowing my voice held a trace of desperation. "It only happens once. We only imprint on one person."

I licked my lips. My mouth had gone dry. Ren remained quiet.

"When it happens, your whole world turns over. You live and breathe for that person. It's like love at first sight. It's stupid and improbable, but it happens, and the two people involved don't have a choice. It's—It's fate. Whatever that is."

I could feel it at the pit of my stomach: the horrible knowledge of the imprint, the truth I was fighting to deny. It lay there like a dark pool, making my stomach uneasy and sick.

I was staring at the woman that fate had picked for me. The woman I was now eternally bound to. I was a prisoner.

How could I fight against something I couldn't see? Like a disease, it had spread and infested, and there was no anecdote.

"We only imprint on one person," I repeated, "and we mate for life."

I could feel the prison bars slamming closed. I was desperate for escape. I wanted to get out from underneath Ren's searching gaze. I wanted to breathe again and not inhale her.

"I'm your imprint?"

No, I wanted to yell. No!

All I could do was nod. Nod and lie and hope that I could wedge some distance between us. Just enough distance to let me gulp in a few quick swallows of fresh air.

"The problem is: this can't work," I told her, my voice flat, "because I still love Bella."

Ren recoiled, as if she'd been slapped, her eyes going dark and confused, hurt and upset. I could feel the lie laying heavily between us. I didn't want it to be a lie, but that didn't make any difference, because it was. As much as I searched, there wasn't even a small pocket inside of me left to hold any feelings for Bella. There was a void where all those feelings had once been, and it was being rapidly consumed by Ren.

Ren's voice was quiet, "You're lying."

It was my turn to wince. "What? No, I'm not."

"I've seen inside your head, Jacob," Ren reminded me, her gaze lifting to mine, curtained. "You want to love her still, but you don't."

"Yes, I do."

Ren shook her head. The air came alive with her again.

"I can feel it too, you know," she told me. "Do you think I wanted to feel this either? For a stranger? A stranger already carrying more than his fair share of baggage? Maybe I had plans for my life too, Jacob."

I frowned against what she said. "Then why did you come here?"

I watched one of her dainty hands close into a fist on her lap.

"If I'd known this would happen, I wouldn't have. I would have let you keep hiding in your little hole."

"I'm not—I'm not hiding," I snapped. "I chose this. I didn't choose you."

"I didn't choose you either!" Ren reminded me, and she finally rose to her feet. "I didn't come here hoping to sweep some disgruntled hermit off of his feet. I came here looking for help. The Volturi are after me because of what I am and what I can do. You were my last hope."

I wanted to be that hero she had come looking for. The hell if I should have, but I did. Every fiber of my being wanted to wear the armor she had painted onto me and fight for her, but she wasn't mine to fight for. She was the object of my predestined fate, not the object of my true love.

Besides, I wasn't anyone's hero. I had failed miserably in all previous attempts, and I wasn't game to risk my sanity just to lose again.

"You were mistaken," I told her, darkly.

"If you want me to leave, then tell me to," she hissed. "Prove that you still love my mother, and tell me to go to hell and get out."

Oh, I wanted to. I could feel my anger surging upwards, bubbling and hissing as she provoked it. I could see the fire in my eyes reflected in the fire in hers. I could taste that angry command on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't speak it. I couldn't lift my hand, curling my fingers until only the index remained pointed outward to gesture her to the door.

I wanted to tell her not to let the door hit her perfect ass on the way out.

But I couldn't. And now she knew it. Why the hell had I thought telling her what the imprint was would be a good idea?

"I'd like to."

Ren stepped forward, putting us toe-to-toe, but she'd pissed me off so several that, for once, I wasn't all that tempted to reach out and touch her.

"All right, then let me help!" Ren spat. "I'll leave of my own accord. Right now. I'll solve this problem for both of us."

She went to step around me, and I did touch her then. I caught her around the elbow and held her in place. I watched her gaze flick to my hand and then back up to my face. I felt the muscles in her arm contract, and, for a split second, I wondered if she was thinking about hitting me. I almost wished that she would. I needed some sense knocked back into me.

"I can't let you."

"Why not?"

"Because the Volturi will get you."

Ren scowled. "Why can't you let me go, Jacob?"

She was trying to push my buttons now. I gritted my teeth.

"Because I--"

Love you.

Hell no.

"--imprinted on you. It won't let me let you go."

Ren wrenched her arm away in disgust, and I let her.

"When are you going to wake up and realize that Isabella Swan fell in love with Edward Cullen, not you?"

She might as well have hit me.

"That was low," I growled.

"I'm not going to sink on this ship alone," Ren warned me.

"We'll see."

"Yes. We will," Ren agreed. "It's time for you to open your eyes again. You're stuck in the past."

I straightened, glaring at her as she glared right back at me. I wanted to ignore the part of me that was aroused by the light of war in her eyes, but it was persistent, and it was coupled with the physical attraction I had felt for Ren before the imprint had ever worked its magic.

Damn it.

Through gritted teeth, I told her, "I like it there."

Ren snorted. "You should get out more often. There are new sights to see."

She reached up a hand, surprising me, and touched my face. It was a brief, almost curious touch. Her fingers caressed my cheek, trailing back until they combed through a tiny portion of my hair. I felt the touch all the way to the balls of my feet. I wanted to dip into it, and that pissed me off.

But, before I could retort, Ren brushed past me. I would have went after her if she'd headed for the front door, and there was nothing I could do about that.

However, she curbed to the right and went for the bathroom instead.

"I'm going to take a shower," she told me, "while you attempt to remove your head from your ass."