Billy wasn't much more helpful than Sam had been. He was willing to talk to me about everything which was a step in the right direction I suppose; I doubt that Old Quil would have been as receptive to the idea—the geezer was stuck in another century. The elders that knew of the wolves already knew that Embry had imprinted on me—I wondered if everybody already knew why it had taken me so damn long to figure it out—but Billy told me that some of them refused to acknowledge that it was a true imprint.

Not being a wolf himself, Billy didn't have any personal experience to offer, and really only had the old histories to draw on otherwise. He did try to insist that I do what I felt was the right choice for me and not worry about how it would affect Embry—which only served to prove that he had no idea how the pack worked. In reality, there was no way that I could make a choice that I knew would cause one of my brothers harm intentionally; I was a selfish prick, but they were the only family I had.

Billy didn't have any advice on how to accept the imprint without it being a physical relationship either. Again his knowledge here only came from records of the previous packs, and imprints had always eventually led to a mated pairing.

"I don't know what else to tell you, Paul; if you don't want that sort of relationship with Embry, then tell him that. The histories say that the wolf becomes what the imprint needs," Billy calmly explained again. He'd said the same thing a thousand different ways already.

"I don't really see how it can be that simple," I scoffed. Of course, I hadn't told him that I was going out of my fucking mind because I did want that sort of relationship—I just didn't want the permanent aspect that came with the imprint.

"You're thinking too hard about it, Paul. Go with your instinct. Either accept the imprint or don't; you can't let it eat you up. Do what you think is best for you, son." Billy sighed and clapped his hand on my shoulder—a gesture of finality. "You should really go talk to Embry. He's probably just as worried about this as you are. Maybe you can work through it together," he suggested, as I stood up from the kitchen table.

"Yeah. Thanks Billy," I sighed dejectedly, shaking his offered hand.

I left Black's house, thankful again that Jacob was in Forks with the little leach-lover and not around to get his nose in my business while I was there, and headed down to First Beach. I didn't have anywhere to be and since the day was gloomy and overcast there weren't many people around. I could see someone sitting in the sand about half way up, but other than that the beach was deserted except for about a thousand gulls.

I walked slowly down the rocky sand, thinking over everything I had learned that morning—which really wasn't a fucking lot. Neither Sam nor Billy had been able to give me a definitive answer about accepting the imprint on different terms than what I had already worked out for myself .

I wasn't exactly against the idea of a sexual relationship with Embry—the complete opposite in fact—but the idea of being tied to him exclusively for life made my fucking head spin. I was the first to admit I had fucking commitment issues; being faced with a binding, life-long commitment was terrifying.

I looked up when I was about half way to the bend before the docks, and realized the person sitting there was none other than the person I'd been agonizing over all morning. Embry sat with his elbows resting on his raised knees staring out at the waves crashing to the shore. His hair blew around in the wind, and if he'd been a normal guy I'd say he would probably be cold sitting there in the wind in cut-offs, a t-shirt and nothing else. Every time I looked at him lately I was hit by how much I wanted him, this was no exception.

I continued walking slowly toward him. He seemed oblivious to me, but I knew for a fact that there was no way he didn't know I was there. I stopped a few feet from him and stood awkwardly with my hands in my pockets and my shoulders hitched up nervously.

"Hey," I breathed after a long moment.

He turned slowly to look up at me, squinting against the wind and pushing his hair out of his face. "Hey."

"Can I sit?" I asked. He nodded and looked away from me. Things were stilted and edgy between us; like he wasn't able to even look at me because it hurt. I fucking hated it. We sat silently for a long time. It was clear he didn't know what to say any more than I did.

"I went to talk to Sam and Billy this morning," I started finally.

"Did it help?" he asked, skepticism lacing his voice heavily.

"No. Not really," I admitted. We sat quietly for another awkward silence .

"They both said to talk to you, but I don't know what to say." My confession hung between us unanswered.

Embry folded in on himself—pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them—and I could feel the tension and anxiety rolling off him. He drew in a deep shuddering breath before quietly saying, "You don't need to say anything." He sounded utterly dejected.

"Emb, I..." I tried, but he interrupted.

"You don't need to explain," he sighed. "You're sending me packing. I get it," he added quietly, curling further into himself.

"No," I replied quickly. I shifted so I was facing him before continuing. "I don't want to hurt you, but I hate this fucking situation, too. I don't want it—the imprint," I forced myself to say the word and watched Emb crumple even further at my admission. I put my hand on his shoulder trying to comfort him and get him to look at me.

"Hang on Emb. I fucking hate it, but I can't do this to you either," I gestured toward his fetal position and turned back to face the water. "I can't. I would be lying if I said I couldn't feel this...thing. It's too late; I can't hurt you like that."

At least what I'd said was enough to relax him a little even if I hadn't actually said much of anything yet. I waited until he was calm before continuing.

"So, what happens if I decide I don't what this to be, you know, physical? What then? Are we just, I don't know, friends?" I asked. I really couldn't get my head around how that would work.

The elders said the wolf needs to claim his mate in order for the imprint bond to be solidified. That he couldn't do so until the imprint had accepted him. There was no history of two wolves being imprinted, or of an imprint not accepting a physical relationship either. There was history of wolves imprinting on children, which was fucking creepy if you ask me. That was why the elders said the wolf becomes what the imprint wants; the records spoke of these wolves acting as guardians to their imprint until they were old enough. All of these cases ended up with the imprint as a mate eventually though.

"Yeah, if that's what you want," he agreed immediately. He sighed heavily, obviously relieved I was still considering accepting the imprint at all.

"Right, but how does that work? How are we connected if we don't...have sex? What? I just tell you that's what I want? Because I can't really get my head around that," I admitted truthfully.

"I guess so. I don't really know, Paul. There's not a rule book or anything." His shoulders slumped forward and he hung his head again.

"And this...," I struggled to describe the pull between us, "this sexual energy? Will it go away then? Will things go back to normal between us?" I questioned him knowing that he likely didn't have answers for that either.

"If you actually want it to, I think it would, but I don't know. You'd have to mean it," he quipped.

"You think this is my fault?" I asked, not entirely shocked at his implication.

He looked at me, his face suddenly determined. "Why did you kiss me yesterday, Paul?" he asked, his voice laced with anger and something else.

"Because I fucking wanted to," I growled back.

"Right. And let me guess, you've been thinking about it for a while, right? Say, three weeks or a little longer?"

"Yeah? So what?"

"That's about when things changed for me, too. I went from just feeling, I don't know, protective over you, to wanting to fucking possess you, almost overnight. I didn't really understand it then but I started to pick up on things from you."

"Like what?" I snapped.

"Your scent changed, for starters. Arousal has a pretty distinct scent, Paul. You know that. Even mixed with confusion and denial, it's hard to miss."

"You've been sniffing me?" I asked incredulously.

"Every fucking chance I get," his face looked pained as he admitted it.

It had more or less become second nature for the wolves to try and afford each other as much privacy as possible despite our heightened senses and being linked mentally while phased. The idea that he'd been scenting me made me feel violated at first, but I quickly realised that I really liked the idea of it, which, knowing that he was probably picking up on that, too, just had a snowball effect. All I could do was sit and stare at him as desire flooded through me. I watched his nostrils flare and his pupils dilate, as his shoulders tensed. I inhaled deeply, consciously letting his scent fill my own lungs. It was like a punch in the gut.

"Fuck," I gasped succinctly. That was a powerful head game to be playing with; too fucking powerful considering the whole imprint issue. Especially since I still couldn't see myself accepting it like that.

"Yeah," he breathed his agreement and looked away from me again.

We sat silently in the sand a few feet apart as I fought to gain control of my own body. What I really wanted to do was attack him. I understood now why we had been fighting so much; I was torn between wanting to fuck him or punch him.

"I'm going to need some time," I asserted after sitting quietly a while and calming myself down enough to think.

"I get that," he nodded. I could tell that wasn't what he'd wanted to hear though. Everything about him—his posture, his face, even his scent—was fighting against his words. Just sitting next to each other like this was fucking torture.

"And some space, I guess," I added. The last thing I really wanted at that moment was space though. I wanted to close the gap between us and fucking devour him.

He drew in a deep breath and swallowed thickly before answering, "I can do that." Could I?

I should have just got up and left—that would have been the best thing for both of us really—but I felt like I owed him some sort of further explanation.

"Just so I can think about it without whatever the fuck this is fucking with my head," I explained, motioning between the two of us to indicate the crazy tension we both felt. Hell, if anyone else had been around, I'm sure they would have been able to feel it too.

"Yeah," he nodded, still not looking at me, "I totally understand. Take however much time you need." Those were the words he said, but when he did finally turn to look at me his eyes were pleading with me to not do this. "Just..." he shook his head and turned away from me again with a frustrated huff.

"What?"

"I was going to ask that you let me know either way, but I..."

"I will," I interrupted him to assure him that I would. He nodded again, sadly.

I wanted to take it back. I wanted to tell him it would be okay even though I wasn't sure that it actually would be. I wanted to kiss him so fucking bad it hurt. I stood up and walked away before I had a chance of doing either.