Embry was ready to murder Paul. Yeah, he thought the imprint bond was important, but Ames was his. Not in any sexual or romantic way whatsoever, but she was one of the people he'd always loved as a sister. Suddenly having one of his pack members – and Paul of all people – establishing some kind of ownership over her made him want to hurt someone.
Ames was different. And she'd told him about boyfriends who had panicked and freaked out after finding out about her anxiety and after seeing her without her clothes off for the first time, even though she usually tried not to spring her whole condition on them – which, ew, was too much information. Paul could easily do the same. Embry knew Paul had slept with a couple of girls, and he was always appreciating the hot girls on the reservation. Ames was different in every way. Good ways, in Embry's opinion, but still different.
His anger was cut off by the sound of loud, uneven footsteps coming down the stairs. When Ames finally walked into the kitchen, Embry couldn't hold in a loud laugh.
Ames and his mom both weren't morning people, and right now was a perfect example. Sweatpants matched with one of his oversized t shirts complimented her tangled hair and smudged makeup perfectly. Without bothering to respond to him, Ames just bee-lined for the coffee pot and gave him the finger.
After filling up the largest mug in their house to the brim, she spooned in an ungodly amount of sugar, blowing on it to cool it off. When Embry's mom came into the kitchen a few minutes later and saw that Ames had already grabbed the big mug, she let out an unhappy grumble before getting her caffeine fix as well.
The kitchen was silent for the next ten minutes as the two women drained their coffee and Embry stayed out of their way. When Ames finally spoke, it was to turn to his mom and say in a whining voice, "Mooooooom, my leg hurts. Make Embry help."
Embry made a protesting noise, but his mom turned to glare at him – yeah, Ames obviously hadn't talked to her yet about the lack of a gang – and frowned. She was obviously overplaying her annoyance, but it was still insulting when she immediately said, "Embry, don't be rude. Amelia is a guest."
With a victorious smirk, Ames immediately propped her leg up across his lap. With clinical speed that had come from the last three years, Ames undid all of the buckles and detachments that came along with her prosthetic leg. Letting it drop carelessly to the floor, she scooted sideways on her seat until she was practically splayed across her lap.
After a resigned sigh, Embry started digging his fingers into the muscles just above where her knee would be. When he saw Ames let out a relieved sound, he didn't feel as annoyed. Obviously she'd actually been in pain.
After a few minutes more of quiet, Ames said in an interested voice, "I've been around the reservation a million times. You didn't need to draft your friend to keep me company. And he better not take me to the beach."
Embry snorted and pushed her leg off of his lap, standing up and walking to the coffee machine for his own mug. Over his shoulder he spoke in an entertained tone – Ames was so oblivious to what was going on – when he said, "I know you have. It'll just be good to wander around. You can just tell him you want to skip the beach."
Ames let out an agreeing hum and when he turned back to the table he saw his mother looking at Ames with an apprehensive look on her face.
"Amelia, you won't be with… one of his new friends, right?"
With absolutely no subtlety, Ames waved her hand at him, signaling for him to leave the kitchen. As soon as he left the room, he heard her say quietly, "I want to talk to you about that actually. I spoke to the guys you were freaked out by and they don't – "
She. Was. The. Best.
Amelia wasn't exactly in a good mood when the doorbell rang. However, when Tiffany went to open the door she seemed moderately friendly, which was a surprise when it was Paul who walked into the kitchen. Amelia had already changed into some of the clothes she'd left at the Calls' house - jeans and a loose sweater, seeing as it wasn't frigid out or anything. With a somewhat resigned sigh - really, she could have stayed in bed for another few hours gladly - she pushed her chair back from the kitchen table and walked over to the garbage to scrape off the remains of her toast before putting the plate in the sink.
With a light groan she stretched out her shoulders. However, she noted when she turned around that Paul was decisively not looking at her. So he assumed he'd been looking at her as her sweater had shown off the small of her back.
It was fairly flattering.
Amelia let a more genuine smile than any she'd worn all morning cross her face as she strode over past him to the door. Leaning against the porch's rail, she called out to Paul in an amused voice, "So are we going or what?"
It was clear that Amelia - he figured he didn't have permission to call her Ames yet - had been around the reservation more than a few times. As they'd walked down the road toward where he'd parked his truck she'd smiled at a few middle schoolers playing with a soccer ball on their front lawn and was met with equally warm smiles.
After they slid into his truck, Amelia immediately reached for the radio dial, switching the song from the rock station it had been on to something playing an indie song he didn't recognize.
When she turned to face him and saw what had to be a confused look on her face she laughed lightly and smirked at him before replying, "Bon Iver is my one true love. Changing the station is non-negotiable."
To Paul's extreme embarrassment, there was a second of deep anger and jealousy directed towards the man or band that she was apparently devoted to.
Fuck, imprinting was weird.
They drove in silence, but it was comfortable. After a few minutes Amelia reclined and seemed to relax further into her seat before turning her head towards him and asking, "So where are we starting? I usually like the trails in the woods up by the cliffs."
Paul smiled back at her, something fairly out of character for him unless he was trying to get into a girl's pants, and replied, "Alright. Your wish is my command."
Amelia laughed at his response and Paul was overcome with a strange feeling of pride for making her laugh. Because it wasn't necessarily that he wanted to immediately fuck her - although Jared had bitched multiple times about the multiple fantasies he'd been imagined all of last night when they were patrolling - he wanted to genuinely know her. Especially if genetics had suddenly declared that she would be good for him.
They made good time, but Paul didn't drive as fast as he usually did. For some reason when he went even five miles over the speed limit she tensed up and grabbed her seatbelt tightly enough that her knuckles looked white. So she was weirdly law-abiding considering he already knew she'd been arrested.
Now that was a story he needed to hear someday.
When they exited the truck near the start of the trails he knew she'd been describing an enormous smile covered her face.
As soon as Paul walked around the truck, Amelia grabbed his wrist and began yanking him towards the path.
"I haven't been here in almost eight months, I want to see the ocean after living in the city for so long."
Paul was glad she wasn't looking at him, considering there was very likely a sappy expression on his face as he watched her march them straight into the forrest.
With a tone he hoped was casual he tried to conversation with her as he asked, "So how often do you come to the rez? I've never heard of you."
And - okay - that wasn't exactly smooth. However, Amelia seemed amused when she easily replied, "I came more when I was a kid and the Calls sometimes come to visit me. But I mean, you and Em only became friends recently when you started doing things for the Elders, right?"
Flashing a joking smile over her shoulder, she continued in a lofty tone, "Of course it's entirely possible he didn't think you were prepared for my magnificent self."
Paul smiled back, and the comfortable silence took over once again when they reached the cliffs. To Paul's immense relief, she didn't try wandering too close to the cliff's edge, something he already knew would probably make him freak out. Too his knowledge, throwing a woman over your shoulder and frantically running away while carrying her was not acceptable.
After what was probably half an hour but felt much longer, they agreed to head back to the truck. The new trail happened to put the beach in sight, and when a challenging, cocky smile took over his face he said, "I dare you to put your feet in the ocean."
A weirdly serious expression took over and Amelia looked more firm than she had since she'd kicked him to the ground and her voice was thin when she responded, "No. I can't walk very well on the rocks, and especially not the wet rocks."
Paul smiled a little wider and kept the playful tone of voice when he said, "What, you clumsy?"
Amelia let out a barking laugh and looked like she was wickedly amused when she responded, "Oh, you are going to feel like such an asshole."
With little fanfare, she bent down and rolled up her jeans so Paul could see a few inches above her boot.
She had a prosthetic leg.
Jesus fucking fuck fuck fuck she was right.