MS: Once again I manage to take forever to update... :/ But good news. Tomorrow, I write the last exam of my first year of nursing school... then I either have the summer to update, orrrrrr I fail out and have forever. Please, don't wish that I fail out. LOL. I hope you guys enjoy this; there's one chapter left after this one! And once again, if you guys have questions or just want to chat, feel free to send me an email or add me to Twitter!
Paul went home after that day's patrol like he did every night. He went home, found Rachel sitting at the table on her laptop and kissed her forehead, like he did every night.
But something didn't feel... right.
Maybe it was awkwardness.
Maybe it was fear.
Maybe it was anger.
Maybe it was guilt.
Jesus, maybe it was indigestion. Whatever the fuck it was, Paul didn't feel like himself. He rooted around in the cupboard for something edible, settled on a can of ravioli and spooned it into a plastic bowl.
'Because Rachel isn't here and I wanna fuck.'
His own words rebounded inside his head, played like the lyrics to a neverending song as he shoved his bowl into the microwave. He could feel Rachel's eyes on him, burning into his back and wondered once or twice if she knew.
Decided on the third try that if she didn't, something wasn't... Right, with her. Surely Sam let it slip to Emily by now what he and Leah did. Or did he... maybe his friend wouldn't do that to him. It was a nice thought. Paul had kept his mouth shut when Sam told him about falling in love with Emily behind Leah's back. (Paul wasn't going to even bother thinking about how much that pissed him off now. ...For some reason.)
Either that, or... Rachel didn't believe Emily. Didn't believe Sam.
"Rachel trusts me to know when I'm okay and when I'm not."
"...I would be worried... I'd be home."
As the microwave dinged Paul fetched his ravioli out of the hotbox and placed it on the counter before the steaming plastic burned him. After Leah had said that, Paul had tried to remind himself that Rachel was good at other things. That she was there for him, at other times. Like when he first imprinted on her.
And then remembered that she hadn't even given him the time of day before he'd phased. In fact, when other girls fell all over him and made him feel self-accomplished, Rachel had never given a damn. For someone her own age, she'd considered him Sam's asshole friend who didn't know how to keep his dick in his pants. Then he imprinted on her when she came home... and after weeks and weeks of begging, by himself and the rest of the pack...
She made time for him.
Paul took his bowl and plopped it down so hard some of the red sauce spattered the table. Rachel looked up from the glowing screen of her computer and raised a finely groomed brow.
"What's the matter with you?"
"Nothin'."
"Okay..."
She didn't sound convinced, but she let it lie.
'Just like you to not bother anymore. Just like you,' he thought. Paul started eating that pasta like it had committed a felony. Feeling like this, feeling angry... Paul was used to this. He was naturally an angry guy, he assumed, according to everyone else. He was always in a hot mood until someone pissed him off (then, hellllooooo boiling!) and he bulldozed over whatever the issue was.
Paul was made of aggression, courage and stubborn. Rolled into one 6'6 hunk of burning werewolf.
But this type of angry, of begotten, of... disappointment, was new to him.
He was an imprinted man, and as far as he knew, he should never feel those feelings. They shouldn't even exist for him when it came to Rachel. Imprinting was holy, sacred and all-knowing. It didn't mismatch people. Jared and Kim were imprinted bliss; Emily and Sam, role models to be had for the perfect couple. Jacob and Renesmee were happy as pigs in shit. Quil and Claire, christ no words even had to be said there. Imprinting removed all the negative aspects of your life, and tied you to the person who was supposed to do nothing but make you happy for the rest of eternity. Just as you were supposed to do the same... be the Great Protector; keep her safe, keep her happy... and she'd hold you to the ground as sure as your own gravity.
And now here he sat thinking of nothing but how he was disgusted with his relationship.
Almost like he was disgusted with his best friend for making Leah cry. Again.
As Paul thought her name, his healed leg gave a discomforting twinge as if to remind him that it wouldn't have healed so perfectly if Leah hadn't cleaned it, tended to it.
One messy fuck after a vampire attack, and suddenly he was in love with Leah Clearwater? That wasn't how this shit was supposed to work.
How the hell did he have sex with her in the first place? Paul admitted to not thinking about it at the time... A piece of ravioli slid down his throat the wrong way; he nearly choked for a minute and gave a harsh cough to set his innards right. He didn't think, about it, when he was inside her; had his fingers in her warmth.
No dude's ever really thinking then.
But now he thought and thought hard.
As he swallowed the last hunk of his Chef Boyardee Paul got up and dumped his bowl and fork in the sink, hearing the resounding clatter.
"Do you need to be so loud all the time?"
Paul lifted his head and looked over his shoulder at her.
...Maybe Rachel truly didn't know. Maybe. Maybe Sam hadn't told Emily... maybe. Maybe Emily just hadn't told Rachel yet. Maybe.
Or maybe-
He walked out the door.
Leah reached out and stroked an awakening through the steam-covered mirror of her bathroom. As her reflection stared back at her she found it somewhat amusing how much the comparison of being awake or asleep truly suited the condensation-coated glass. How the shape of her hand had plowed a way through to reality... less dank, brighter. More real.
Then again, Leah thought as she remembered the events of the past two days, perhaps cloudy and invisible was a better way to be. Asleep... and mindless.
She tucked errant strands of her damp black hair behind her ears and took solace in the cool of her bathroom, a reprieve from the hot shower she'd had.
'I can't wait.. Until Sam sees this.'
She cringed. Watched her own eyes crease with pain, staring back at her.
Before going to the group patrol where Sam had verbally called her down for the hundredth time, Leah had been racking her brain trying to figure out why she'd actually gone along with Paul's revenge fuck. Then she remembered that starring moment... and couldn't really understand how she'd forgotten that scene in the first place.
Paul had just sunken deep into her, and she was staring at him over her shoulder. Imagining the look on Sam's face when he saw, through the packmind, his best friend buried balls-deep inside his ex. She had felt her chest warm with the satisfaction of seeing him phase in anger.
Maybe even a fight, between Paul and Sam.
And she had that chance today. She had that fucking chance... and she let it slip away.
Leah reached over her shoulder to the center of her spine, the copper expanse that lay between her shoulderblades. She could still feel the tenderness there... the imprint of Paul's teeth.
She slid her fingers a little to the right and met another twinge of pain. Bruises. Christ, even her scalp hurt a little ; possibly Paul had pulled out a few strands of her longer-now hair. Leah couldn't even remember him doing that.
She had so much to shove into Sam Uley's face... to shove into the pack's faces. Watch Jacob go wide-eyed and regretful over not returning her fleeting feelings the months before. Give Embry one of those flustered, unsure faces he always got when something made him nervous. Make Jared doubt his lovelorn imprinted bliss with Kim. Ensure Collin and Brady had wet dreams for the next month. Laugh as Quil's brain was forcefully yanked out of infancy. Make Samuel Uley regret the day he ever told her he no longer loved her... that he loved Emily more. And...
...And watch Seth die of embarassment.
Okay so that wasn't a goal, but thinking about it now and how funny it would've been made Leah crack a faint smile.
Knocknocknock.
She pulled on her bathrobe and headed downstairs to the door. She could only imagine who it would be... (Started with R and ended with -achel; or an E with -mily.)
He stared back at her with clenched teeth; arms heaving at his sides.
...Not who she was expecting.
"What are you-"
Paul grabbed her forearm and all but shoved Leah back indoors. He closed the door behind them, locked it; raised his nose into the air and inhaled the scent of free Clearwater household: ...No Seth or Sue in sight.
Then he faced her again, stared her down as she stared right back him... hair wet, still dripping down the back of her silky robe. Her eyes wide, maybe with disbelief; maybe with surprise. Maybe with fear. Maybe... hope.
Paul actually found that he liked all those options.
"You never said anything to Sam."
"...What?"
"You never told Sam we screwed. You actually kept your mouth shut, like you fuckin' said you would."
Leah stammered. "I.. I-"
"Jesus fucking christ... Rachel has no goddamn idea!" Paul raised his hands to his hair as though he was going to pull the inky mop right the hell out. When they lowered to his sides again, saw the confused look on Leah's face, he growled. "...You had the perfect arsenal against his bullshit to fire back with, to get back at him for all the times he made you fucking cry yourself to sleep, made you watch him fuck Emily in his head and pretend that-.. that HORRIBLE sex was good..! ...And you kept. your goddamn. mouth shut."
To say Leah was floored was somewhat of an understatement.
Her thoughts in the bathroom just minutes before came flying back to her and she swallowed roughly.
"I didn't want to ruin you and Rachel..!"
That was the truth, wasn't it. Paul was pacing the floor and he paused, glared at her. It almost made Leah quiver.
"...That's my point, Leah..." Paul shook his head. "That's my friggen point. You wanted to spare me and Rachel... Me and Rachel! THINK of a goddamn time when we didn't give you shit! When we didn't treat you like you were a fucking lepper because you had nobody and the rest of us all felt like we belonged!"
Leah's jaw was pretty much kissing the floor.
"You're... you're MAD at me because I didn't snitch on you and ruin your relationship?! ...Your perfect, imprinted RELATIONSHIP?!"
They were almost screaming at eachother now.
"YOU KNEW ALL ALONG IT WASN'T PERFECT!"
Leah was gulping air like a fish on its way to the other side. She didn't know what to say... what to do. Or even the first step in the process of understanding why Paul was there. She was nearly knocked off her feet when Paul grabbed her forearms again, shoved her backwards until she met the wall of the Clearwaters' living room. She was almost shaking when he brought his face real close to hers. Almost scared.
Paul took a deep breath. The deep browns of his eyes swirled, flickered like a chestnut flame was licking away at his irises. Leah's breathing only got quicker when she recognized the movement as the animal within, wanting to come out. Wanting to say hello.
It seemed like a fortnight that they stood there, both combatants trying to remember how to speak... how to put their thoughts, their confusion, their emotions into words.
Finally Paul spoke again.
"...You made me realize that you were right... all along. I don't fucking love Rachel... and, and my chest fucking HURTS, it's tearing me the hell apart...!"
Leah was still shaking as she reached a hand out, muttered something Paul couldn't determine, and pressed her palm over his heart. It was trying to beat out of his chest. Paul had felt the pain start the moment the door of his house slammed behind him. Before his feet hit the grass it was a full-blown crushing weight that doubled in intensity, tripled when he'd reached the front steps of Leah's porch.
"You made me hate her, Leah. Fuck, I hate what I've become since gettin' with her... I hate imprinting. I hate it for pairing me up with her. And I hate-"
"Me...?" Her voice was as soft as her hand on his chest.
He swallowed roughly, the colors settling in his eyes for a moment and the pain taking a sharp turn towards his leg... the healing bite. Paul slowly looked down at the limb between them, and remembered with shocking clarity.
Leah sat up and Paul watched her, assuming she was ready to leave. But instead she leant forward, breasts swaying with the movement and she gently pushed the balled sheets of Paul's bed away from his right calf and ankle.
"How does it feel...?"
"I don't hate you. I thought I did. I wish I fucking did."
Paul felt a growl of emotion bubble out of his chest. He moved his arms from the walls beside Leah's head, raised both hands to grip her face in his coarse palms and he mashed his mouth to her own. The kiss was all lips, tongue and teeth. It was a male wolf, a strong wolf... a beta, taking what he now fully intended to claim in the wake of loss.
In the wake of... Paul's inner wolf rumbled real low-like.
In the wake of waking up.
"...But I don't."
They were so close, pressed chest to chest... she could feel the beating of Paul's heart. Could actually feel the forceful, sustained pumping as though something were trying to squeeze the tender life out of the organ. Leah could feel Paul's trembling... the shake of his hands where he held her cheeks.
Leah could feel the bulge of his groin, too... pressing against her heat.
And the way he looked at her, well that made Leah feel something entirely different altogether.
"...Take it all back."
His deep eyes narrowed in confusion.
"What?"
"Take it all back," Leah swallowed so heavily Paul practically felt the vibrations in her jawline. "All of it. ...If you don't, this is gonna happen again... and again."
Paul shook his head. "So?"
Leah gritted her teeth... pushed him away from her.
"You're turning me into her..!"
"Who?!"
"Emily."
Paul sucked in a ragged breath, then let it go somewhat hollowly. He watched the emotions play across Leah's face, watched her raise a hand to sweep back sweat-and-water-damp hair.
Paul shook his head. "...You ain't like Emily."
"How can you not see the resemblance!?"
"How can you?!" Paul's shoulders almost sagged a little. Leah opened her mouth to find words, but there were none.
"...You ain't Emily, Leah... Not in the plainest sense. Emily broke up a happy relationship... Sam never had a choice."
Leah looked away from him and gritted her teeth. Not this shit again...
"...You're not breakin' up anything that is, or ever was.. happy."
And those words might've hurt Paul worse than the pain stoking away in his chest.
But when Leah opened her arms and held him, it made it just a little better.