Paul.
Bile and dinner comes back up my throat hand in hand, my stomach sore from heaving, my hand bracing against the bathtub, white knuckling the fiberglass until I hear a small crack.
Dad lets out a huff, something else for him to fix that I've messed up somehow or another.
"You've been doing this all day, Paul, I'm about getting ready to take you somewhere to get checked out."
"I don't need to go anywhere, Dad, I'm fine."
"You didn't do anything to piss Emily off did you?"
His insinuation is meant to make me laugh, or at least crack a smile, but there's no avail.
"No." I say it painfully, miserable. Nauseated.
I feel like I still need to throw up but there's nothing left in me to throw up.
Breakfast came back up after I left Emily's, but I deduced it to the cause of the situation at hand.
I had to push through patrol to try to keep my insides from hurling from my mouth...then lunch was the same way, and now dinner.
I want to blame it on the food, but I know that's complete bullshit.
In Sam's mind imprinting always appeared desirable, peaceful. To have the opportunity at an absolution, someone that we just know will be what we need, and we'd be more than happy to be anything for them without even a question.
Yet here I am, sick to my stomach and feeling as if I'm going to die, exhausted already with trying to force away what's natural to our kind.
"Paul?" My father's concern slips through my thoughts.
"Yeah, dad?" I take in heavy breaths, flushing the toilet to get rid of the vomit, standing up on legs that shake while sweat rolls down my bare back.
"I'm gonna call Sue and tell her what's going on, maybe get her opinion."
"Please, don't do that. I'll be fine by the morning." I argue, wincing, knowing if I keep up what I've been doing it'll probably only be worse.
"You think you need to go to the doctor?" He asks me next.
I've been in the ring for nearly twelve hours going round after round with nature. It's coming at me with rose colored glasses, trying to pin me down, and chain them on me with a padlock.
"No, dad, I'll be fine." I shake my head.
Sam's been looking at me today as if I'm overreacting completely, throwing a tantrum like a child not getting what they want instead of being grateful for what they've been given.
"You don't look like it."
I catch a glance at myself in the mirror. I look fucking exhausted.
I feel exhausted.
"Go back to bed, I'll talk to Sue and see what she suggests." The way my father says it reminds me of being a kid again.
"I wish you wouldn't." I groan out, not wanting to bother her with this.
"I wish you'd man up and let people help you." He counters, stepping out of the bathroom, back into the kitchen.
"Damn it." I mumble to myself, managing to get back to my room and burrow under the covers of my bed.
XXX
Heat broils my skin in the wake of fingertips that are tracing, soothing, exploring, with lips that press to my jaw, my neck, my chest...
A juncture between thighs hovers above my body, centimeters separating us from meeting fully.
My own hands roam, wandering over bare hips, up the soft skin of her waist, grasping at the start of her ribs.
It's now that the muscles of her thighs flex, a deliberate move of her own hips downward nearly punches the breath out of my lungs just as she grabs ahold of my hands, moving them to her chest, as she grinds into me, her dark hair shielding her face from me until her head tips, honeyed eyes rolling back in pleasure as full lip part.
I feel as if my whole body is going to combust into flames.
She leans forward, catching my lips with hers, her bare chest pressing against mine, my hands running up and down her back to grasp at her thighs, baring my finger tips into them, cementing her still as our lips part and our tongues explore one another.
She pulls her mouth from mine, slowing down the friction that comes with rubbing against me as she says, "I want to taste you." Her soft voice is a mesmerizing hypnosis, one that has me almost crawling out of my skin to a appease her.
I just give a small nod and a breathy, "okay."
A look of relief washes over her features before she rips through my skin, teeth gnawing on my flesh, tearing it open in searing pain before her hand grasps around my throat and rips it out.
A bark cuts through the air, forcing me awake when I hit the cold wood of my floor, my brain feeling as if it's cooking itself, my skin doused in sweat, my being uncomfortably tight with trying to keep control of myself, forcing a wolf to keep from coming out.
I have to heave my breaths in and out, focusing solely on that, reassuring myself it was just a dream. A fucked up one, but a dream nonetheless.
My cheek rests against the floor, and I wait for my nausea to come the way it has all day, but it doesn't...
I just close my eyes, the pounding of my heart in my ears is beginning to subside, the tightness of my skin is fading.
I'm nearly able to get to a place where I may just drift back off before a brick is thrown through that possibility.
Sue's laughter stranded together with Mari's voice slips under the door and breaks into my calm.
The wood under my feet creaks as I step to the door, being pulled by an invisible rope that I don't have the energy or will-power to fight against anymore today.
Perhaps I'll try again tomorrow.
Just her scent brings another wash of comfort, the misery I've been in all day is a memory of the past upon seeing her seated at the table with Sue and my father.
"Hey, you," Sue says as she looks to me first, opting Mari to look in my direction, her eyes brushing up my body, lingering on the bare skin of my top half before finally settling on mine.
Heat once again begins to prickle up my back but for entirely different reasons.
"How're you feeling?" Dad asks, his brows raised.
"Better." I have to catch myself from keeping my sight set on her, forcing my eyes to meet his.
"We brought you some stew..." Sue's words are muffled, my attention back on my imprint.
Her dark hair has been braided intricately descending from her scalp meeting together to become a single, thicker braid, curving over her shoulder.
I wonder if Emily or Sue did it, or perhaps Leah.
My eyes fall from her hair to her face.
She looks as tired as I feel.
My mind can't help but to creep into thought of what exactly keeps her up at night.
The skin of her chest is the next thing to greet my line of vision, the bruising from where she fell at Emily's is still very much there.
My dream is recalled in my mind, my face beginning to burn.
I want to look away from her but I can't, and she's not looking away from me.
When I realize this, I do drag my eyes off of her, seeing that Sue is still speaking to me but I have no idea what she's been saying.
Dad looks between Mari and I, clearing his throat, an expression on his face that I know all too well.
He's not amused.
"Paul." Sue states and I look to her. "Did you hear what I asked?"
"I'm sorry, I zoned out." I admit to her and she sighs out, putting on a face of sarcastic irritation, pulling a smile to my lips.
"I invited you and your father to come to the house this Saturday to eat and celebrate Marisela's home-coming." She says and I use her words as my excuse to look at Mari again.
Her gaze hasn't left me, continuing to lick over my skin, honing in on my tattoo for a moment.
"Who all is coming?" I hate to ask it, but I do anyway to try to keep my attention off of her.
"I haven't sat down and gone through everyone who said they're coming but when I do I will let you know." Sue promises me, kindly. "But regardless of who comes I would really like it for you to be there." She speaks to me specifically. "And afterwards, if you're not busy, I was hoping you could take Mari down to the old house and show her around, maybe jog her memory a little bit." Her attention moves to Mari now, who looks back at her with a confused expression. "The house you lived in before you moved." She clarifies.
"It's still here?" Marisela questions her, not entirely convinced.
I take the opportunity to jump in, clearing my throat as I answer her question for Sue, "We lived there for a couple years when we moved back here. It's still in pretty good shape."
I have to brace myself against the kitchen counter when she shifts her focus my way, and I catch just the glimmer of a smirk from Sue as she repeats, "Would that be okay?"
It's posed as a question to me and her niece, who looks as if she's waiting for me to speak before she does.
"I don't see why not." I answer first with a shrug, and she follows with a, "yeah, that would be nice."
Dad is squirming in his chair at the table before he stands.
"Sue, I need you to come out here and take a look at this porch, I might need some help from Harry to rebuild it the next couple weeks." He informs her.
"Oh, I saw it before we came in." She assures him.
"Well, I need you to see it again."
It's obvious to me it's a move to talk to her alone and tell her how he's not fond of the idea of Mari anywhere around me, especially alone.
My mind goes back to how my dream ended. My throat in her hand.
I can't help but to think Jared's influence has something to do with my subconscious running wild with unlikely fantasies.
Unless it's a warning of some sort and she's actually fucking evil.
My dad gives Sue a specific look with his eyes that has her bringing herself to her feet, letting out a deep breath.
"Be back in a second." She tells Mari before she glances at me with that same sly smirk.
When the screen door closes I'm turning to grab a glass from the cupboard to try to distract myself while Marisela rests her hand on her neck, elbow gritting into the wood of the table.
"I'm Paul, by the way." I speak up, remembering I never introduced myself to her early this morning before I'm turning the sink on and filling the glass to the brim with water.
"It's nice to meet you, Paul." She replies to me and I bring the glass to my lips and chug the water in an attempt to keep from dissecting the way my name slips from her lips. "I'm sorry about this morning, by the way. I wish that you and Jared didn't have to see me like that."
Glass hits against wood once my water is gone, my head shaking.
"You were pissed off. It happens." I find myself making an excuse for something that has no excuse.
"I wish you could explain that to Emily." She scoffs, her eyes falling to the table, a burgundy finger nail tracing the curves of the wood. "I'm probably gonna get home to all my shit packed right back up."
"It wasn't that bad. She and Sam have gotten into it worse than what you and him did, so..." It comes from me before I can stop myself.
Thick lashes blink once before the eyes they shroud jump to me, her dark brow lifting up as if she doesn't believe that.
"Really?"
I scramble to find a save.
"They got into it over Leah when Sam told Emily how he felt about her. It wasn't quite to the extreme of getting in each other's faces and cursing each other out," I start, making my way to the table, feeling warmer and warmer with each step closer to her before I sit in the chair that Dad left vacant, "But it was on the same level. It was pretty bad."
"Do they fight often?" Concern envelopes her question, a flash coming to my mind of Emily's mauled face, deeply cut and dripping with red that leaks into her eye, smatters down half of her face, to her neck, staining her shirt.
"No." It's spoken like a reassurance. "No, they get along pretty good."
"Mmm. Clearly." She mumbles, bitterly, giving several more seconds before she adds, "That's so fucked up," referring to Sam and Emily repeating what she had told Sam earlier, but instead of a defensive fierceness that was used in her voice as if to take up for Leah, it's now said with a solemn disappointment.
"It is." I can't help but agree.
We all agreed it was screwed up when it first happened, even Sam was upset over it. But we learned to accept it no matter how harshly it complicated things or makes Sam and Emily look.
"But we can't change it. Leah can't change it. Sam can't change it...you don't have to like it or understand it. You just have to not bite his head off about it every time you see him. Because I assure you, Leah usually does enough of that for everyone that isn't fan of the situation."
This seems to relieve her in some way.
"Yeah, I guess." She mutters, looking at me as Dad and Sue come back in.
"It's getting pretty late, Mari, Emily's gonna be calling and fussing at me for keeping you out." Sue chuckles, looking at me. "You look much better already." She points out, patting my shoulder.
"Must be your presence." I sarcastically reply and she lets out a short chortle.
"Have a good night." She tells me with a little wink that Dad nor Mari catch, I just offer her a small nod in return matched with a smug smile.
I feel the heat on my right leave me upon Marisela's movement, standing up and walking to the door as Sue tells Dad, "Goodnight."
One last look is stolen of her, our eyes meeting for a moment.
She offers me a little wave and I give a small one back before she and Sue are leaving out the back door, the hinges quietly hissing as the door shuts.
My father waits a beat before turning to me.
"Don't get pissed or puff up or raise hell or tear the house down when I say this," I already know what he's starting, and I heave out a breath and close my eyes, holding back a frustrated groan, wishing he would just let me have this one moment to be at ease before her scent dissipates and leaves me with a heavy weight on my chest, "I'm gonna tell you the same thing I told Tommy, and I'll leave it at that." He continues, waiting for me to look at him again, meeting his eyes. "Don't do it."