Tada! Here is the next chapter! ;) See, Liz, I got it out extra speedy just for you.

Emily closed the door gently, her palm pressed flat near the frame and her hand slowly twisting the knob back into place. She'd told Sue not to wait up because she'd be home soon, and the house was dark so her aunt had thankfully listened. Emily wasn't sure what she'd have done if-

"Why were you with Sam?"

Emily whipped around, heart pounding painfully against her rib cage, when she heard the hurt, accusing tone. Leah stood in the hallway, her white pajama shorts and tank standing out in the shadowy dark. Emily took in her stance with a fast glance - arms crossed, brow furrowed with hurt, eyes angry and bright. The stance screamed confrontation ready, but also had a look as if she were trying to defend herself from a possibly strong and cold blast of wind.

"We were out to eat," Emily said slowly, feeling like she was being cornered by a dangerous animal.

Which was silly. It had just been a friendly dinner. They hadn't even hugged so it wasn't like it had been a date. No matter how much Emily suspected she would have liked it to be, it hadn't. Leah didn't have any right to be gazing so accusingly at her, as if Emily had just killed her bunny.

Except... she sort of did, didn't she? Emily had feelings for Sam when she didn't have any right to. Besides her and Leah just being cousins, they were best friends. That made Sam automatically off limits forever.

Once again, a certain bitterness towards her cousin stirred in her. A childish part of her mind whined that it wasn't fair.

"Oh."

The single syllable was an accusation all of it's own. Leah's next words cut Emily to the heart, partly in shame that she wished they were true, partly because they hurt so much.

"He's a great kisser, isn't he," Leah sneered bitterly, hurt coloring the undercurrents of her tone with pain.

"I wouldn't know." Emily almost snapped the words angrily, but managed to soften her tone to gentle. "It wasn't like that."

"Oh really?" Leah scoffed. "What was it then?"

What Emily said next tasted vile in her mouth, because it wasn't true. What she said next made her chest spasm with guilt, because it was a downright lie. What Emily said next made her almost think she could greatly dislike her cousin.

"We were talking about you."

Leah blinked, her arms falling to her sides and her expression clearing to vulnerable and hopeful. Tentatively, she asked, "Really?"

Throat tightening like the words she said were vomit - and they burned just as badly - Emily nodded and lied, "About how much he cares about you and how he's going to make it up to you." Swallowing, she admitted something that was finally the truth. "He told me not to worry about you. Things have a way of working out," she quoted.

Relief was so obvious on Leah's face, so strong, that Emily thought she just might be sick, right here in the hallway, right this instant. She felt like she would double over and throw up, without warning, any moment now.

"Sorry," Leah finally said sheepishly. "I should have known better. I shouldn't have thought you'd do something like that." She smiled. "I know you would never.... I'm sorry," she repeated.

"It's okay," Emily whispered faintly. "Don't apologize." Please, please don't apologize. Because that makes my lies all the worse and my feelings all the more shameful.

"Let's get to bed," Leah said, smiling. "We have a busy next two days before you leave." The words were meant to be teasing, but the tension of Leah's accusations and Emily's lies still lingered between them and made the two girls feel it more sharply than before.

As Emily climbed into bed, she promised herself she make her lies the truth. Tomorrow, she'd find Sam. And they would talk about the repairing of his relationship with Leah, stat.

Swallowing down then shoving aside violently the feelings of self pity and unfairness such thoughts provoked into being, Emily yanked the comforter to her chin and rolled onto her side angrily.

She did not have a crush on Sam.

~*~*~

Sam watched in the woods until his guilt at his lack of serious patrolling at night became large enough to shove him to his feet sometime around four or five in the morning.

Not that it was really night anymore. But it was dawn, which was earlier than he'd managed to leave the past few nights anyway.

Shaking himself a little, Sam stretched and yawned and started at an easy trot towards the treaty line. The woods around him were just starting to come to life, birds singing in the trees before flitting higher as he approached, squirrels starting to chatter in their hollows, night predators slinking through the bushes to return to their burrows and nests.

The morning air was crisp and moist, carrying scents from far away and making them seem closer. Somewhere he could smell a coyote kill, the scent of hours-old death and blood a strange intriguing scent to his nose.

He'd never felt compelled to hunt like a wolf. He hadn't felt the urge to eat raw meat or anything. But the smells were processed differently, not nearly as offensive as he'd probably find them if he smelled them as a normal human. It wasn't an appetizing smell, just an interesting one. If he didn't have a job to do, he might have checked it out.

As it was, it had to be one brave coyote. Since he'd phased, most of them had run off from the area, sticking to places that he didn't patrol. They were uneasy, mostly non-confrontational animals for the most part, and he was a larger-than-should-be-possible wolf. Common sense told any creature to stay away.

He reached the border line, sticking his nose to the ground and snuffling, drawing the scents deep as he paced along the line a few yards. No one had been around here for a while. Lifting his nose to the air, Sam inhaled, his wolf-nose processing the scents on the air. Perhaps a vampire had used the trees or jumped. They were crafty, cheating devils, after all.

The faint scent of the Cullens reached him, but was faint enough that he knew they'd not come anywhere near the treaty line. No other sickly sweet scents reached him, so he assumed safely that no other vampires had been by. He had to admit it was a small benefit of the Cullens being here. Such large numbers seemed to deter random passerby vampires from coming close.

Pointing his nose close to the ground once again, Sam began to run along the treaty line for a few miles, circling around the edges of the Rez until he reached the shore and beaches. Even today, when it was cloudy and cold, the wind rustling his fur angrily, darker clouds piling in the sky, people would be at the beaches.

Carefully, he walked as far as he could, now focusing on keeping his nose in the air to scent vampires on the water - damn things didn't have to breathe, which made them most dangerous in places like the ocean - and his ears perked to listen for people coming close. It wouldn't do for them to see a gigantic wolf wandering around. No one but the Elders really believed the legends anymore.

When he started picking up voices, coincidentally when he started nearing the more open stretches of beach, he slowed to a stop. Sitting, panting lightly, Sam listened closely to the voices. It was a bunch of kids, no more than a couple of years younger than he was, blissfully ignorant of what was really true in their worlds.

The scents he took in on the breeze told him one of them was Jared. He recalled a discussion with the tribal Elders, how they mentioned Jared was showing signs of phasing soon as well. From the smell of it, Sam suspected it would be very soon. There was something wild connected to Jared's scent, something wolfish and woodsy.

Oh, yes. Jared would get his life turned upside down soon. Sam sighed in sympathy, remembering vividly how confusing and terrifying the first time he'd phased had been. It had taken a long time for the Elders' words to penetrate his crazed thoughts and to make any type of sense. They had kept assuring him that this was a normal occurrence. That he had nothing to be afraid of.

Sam shook his head, mentally scoffing.

Hopefully he would be able to tell when Jared had his own experience. Hopefully, seeing and hearing that someone else knew exactly what the fuck was happening would offer some comfort to the poor kid.

Sam could only hope he'd be able to make this easier on Jared than it was on him.

Turning around, Sam hurried back to the woods and weaved his way to his house, avoiding the places the foliage grew sparsely and people tended to pass through regularly. He was planning on phasing back behind his house and then rushing around front and inside to shower when he picked up her scent.

Emily was waiting for him? At his house?

Now?!

Oh shit. He was in trouble.

Frantically, Sam tried to remember if he'd left a pair of pants in the woods outside. He didn't think he had. He was apparently SOL, which made him agitated. Whining in frustration, Sam paced the woods at the side of his house, back and forth, watching Emily from the shadows and cover the trees afforded him. She was sitting on his porch, her chin in her hands, nibbling on her nails nervously.

Something was wrong, something was bothering her. Greatly.

His frustration mounted along with desperation. Another whine broke from him, louder and more insistent.

Thankfully Emily didn't seem to hear it.

His ears instinctively quirked toward the sound of a twig snapping and leaves rustling. He almost dismissed the noise as simply an animal - squirrels were noisy things - when it came again, closer, louder. Sam froze, turning his head in the direction of the sound, scenting the air carefully. Unfortunately, the wind was blowing away from him. A soft growl climbed up his throat. Whatever the cause of the noise was, it better not be a threat to Emily or he'd-

"Sam? Dammit, Sam, I know you're around here somewhere!"

Cocking his head curiously, Sam's growl stopped and his defensive crouch eased, muscles relaxing at the annoyed sound of Harry's voice. He headed towards the older man; Harry startled with a soft swear of surprise when the giant black wolf came out of seemingly nowhere, not a sound to announce its approach.

"There you are," Harry said, amusement coloring his tone as he carefully walked forward. "I assume you noticed your guest?"

Sam snorted.

Harry chuckled. "Yes. Once I found out where Emily was planning on going, I knew you'd be getting back from patrol soon. When I saw her waiting outside, I knew might be stuck."

Again, Sam snorted and growled lightly. Harry smiled and held out a pair of cut-offs. Gratefully, Sam phased back, only moderately bothered by his nudity in front of the older man, and took the jeans, pulling them on.

"Thanks, Harry," he said quietly. "Usually I store some in the woods but..."

"But you didn't last night," the elder said in joviality.

Sam shrugged. "I was in a hurry," he defended, watching him from his peripheral vision.

"Mmm," Harry said, raising his brows. "Well, the Elders would like to speak with you later today, if you wouldn't mind, about Jared's approaching transition, so make this visit with Emily quick."

Sam rolled his eyes and nodded, turning back for his house.

He walked out of the woods and approached Emily, who didn't seem to notice him until he stood right beside her. He smiled at her kindly. "What are you doing here?" he asked, subtly breathing in her wonderful scent.

Emily wondered how the hell a big guy like Sam could move so quietly, then shook herself and processed what he had just asked her. She stood quickly, tucking her hair behind her ear and shoving her hands into her coat. "I, uh, wanted to talk to you."

Cue jealous sick feeling in her gut.

Sam's brows rose slightly in surprise, but he looked... pleased. "Sure." He grinned and opened his front door, holding it open for her. She walked in ahead of him and he followed behind. He wondered if maybe he followed too closely, but couldn't really find a reason to care if Emily didn't protest.

Emily noted the dirt clinging to Sam, across his bare chest, all over his hands and bare feet. It fell in light dust clouds from his hair as he ran a hand through it. He pulled his fingers back quickly, grimacing at the dirt, and looked over at Emily sheepishly, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Uh, I'm gonna go, uh, take a fast shower? Is that okay?"

Emily nodded silently, hurriedly. It would put off the conversation they'd have, the one that would possibly cause her to turn green with jealousy and said jealousy to make her throw up in Sam's lap. And wouldn't that just be a great impression to leave him with?

He turned for the hall, then whipped back around, a light cloud of dust falling from him. "Uh, feel free to help yourself to anything in the kitchen." As soon as Emily nodded, he grinned and turned back for the hall, slipping into a room and closing the door.

Swallowing, Emily sat on the couch for maybe two minutes before her antsy feelings overtook her and she stood up, pacing. After just a minute of that, she turned for the kitchen, determined to do something, make a snack, anything to distract herself.

She didn't want to talk to Sam about fixing his relationship with Leah. Whether this was because she didn't want to help it along like a petty, jealous bitch or because she truly thought she wouldn't be able to stand hearing him talk about Leah with adoration she wasn't too sure.

Emily loved her cousin. Leah was more than family, she was a best friend. They had the best of both relationships and were close. Nothing had ever been off topic between them - clothes, cramps, details of broken bones, embarrassing moments, fights with family and friends, when Emily lost her virginity, nothing. It was how Emily knew Leah really did love Sam.

But it was what was also now eating Emily alive. Because she had lied to Leah. She wasn't telling her everything.

And while Emily did want to make her cousin happy and help things between her and Sam, Emily also wanted to be selfish and say "screw it".

Because she'd seen Sam. She'd truly seen more than she suspected Leah saw. She really hated to say it, but Leah was too absorbed in her side of the relationship to see something was truly bothering her sort-of boyfriend. Emily knew Leah didn't see the tiredness in Sam's eyes. She knew Leah didn't see the deep unhappiness. Leah didn't see how desperate he was to make everyone think he was okay, and she didn't see that something was plainly and simply wrong.

Emily knew if she tried to tell Leah any of this, it would only further infuriate her cousin. Leah wouldn't want to see that maybe Sam wasn't the culprit, that maybe some of it had to do with Leah herself. Leah never told Sam what was bothering her. When Sam had tried talking to her that first time that Emily had been here, she'd kept cutting him off.

Of course, Emily had thought Leah was totally in the right to do so at the time. Now... now, though, she wondered what would happen if Leah simply sat down and had a calm, rational talk with Sam.

As it was, Emily advising Leah to give Sam some slack might make the girl even more angry with them both. Leah was still so young, Emily realized. Through no fault of her own, she couldn't understand that life sometimes sucked and kicked you while you were down; if life was doing so with Sam, as Emily suspected, Leah was only make it harder for him.

Sighing, Emily pulled open the fridge and saw several slices of pizza in a baggie. Leftovers. A glance at the clock showed it wasn't even ten in the morning... but whatever. She pulled out the large baggie and shut the fridge firmly.

Sam could hear over the water pounding his head the faint sound of Emily pacing and then heading towards the kitchen. Whatever was bothering her had to be something important. He hurried in his shower, but was thorough. That need to impress her was still so insistent and strong, such a driving force.

He stepped out, shaking his head over the sink hard, until he felt dizzy, and then grabbed a towel from the rack rubbing it over his head until he swore his scalp had something like rug burn. Sam brushed the towel over his body quickly, then heard a crash in the kitchen followed instantly by a curse. He froze for maybe a nanosecond before wrapping the towel around his waist and walking out of the small room into the kitchen.

"Are you okay?" he asked worriedly, only to glare at the floor as he saw Emily carefully picking her way over the glass there. He took two large steps forward and snatched her around the waist, lifting her off of the floor and ignoring her surprised gasp. He carried her to the living room, sliding her sandals off of her feet and throwing them back into the kitchen. They were thin, cheap things and the glass had already embedded itself into the soles easily.

He gently pushed her onto the couch and sat beside her, pulling her feet into his lap and checking them. A few small scratches were on her feet; one piece of glass had lightly, just barely, lodged itself in the skin between her pinkie toe and the one next to it. Carefully, slowly, Sam pulled it free and pressed a finger to the cut, looking up at Emily in concern.

Emily stared at him, mouth open slightly. She'd dropped a glass on the floor because she'd stretched too high to grab it, and then tried to get a plastic one just out of her reach so she wouldn't have to be careful with a glass one.

Yeah, that hadn't worked out so well. The plastic cup had knocked the glass one off balance, and it had fallen right at her toes, shattering into a thousand damaged shards. She'd been heading for the broom and frantically planning exactly how she'd apologize to Sam... when he'd shown up.

In a towel.

A. Fucking. Towel.

Now Emily understood why her friend Sarah swore God had to be a woman.

She'd see him shirtless before, even wet and shirtless, but with him wearing only a towel it felt different. A towel that looked like it was hastily donned and could easily fall off.

Thankfully - or... maybe not so much so - it hadn't yet.

He'd picked her up easily and set her in the living room, pushing her onto the couch and tossing her dollar-store flips back into the messy kitchen, before he checked her feet. She hadn't even really thought of that so much. She could feel the sting where a piece of glass had obviously got her, but she'd been more concerned with cleaning up the mess than herself.

Sam didn't even seem to realize she'd shattered one of his few nice glasses.

"Do you want me to get a... band aid? Or some Neosporin? Or-"

Emily shook her head, partially to clear her thoughts but also to answer him. "Sam, it's just a little cut." She smiled at him. "I'm fine."

He eyed the cut suspiciously, hand still holding her foot and his thumb absently brushed over the laceration. "It wouldn't be a prob-"

"I'm fine," she repeated in amusement. "But, uh...." Embarrassment caused her to look down. "Uh, sorry. About your glass."

She peeked up to see him looking momentarily confused before he suddenly understood and rolled his eyes. "It's just a silly glass, Em."

She blinked at his easy use of the shortened nickname. No one called her anything but Emily, not even her friends. She didn't like anyone shortening her name - heck, it was short enough already! But... she thought maybe for him she could make an exception.

"Still, I'm sorry," she said quickly.

He shrugged, standing, and glanced into the kitchen. She was busy staring at the towel that had just fell down almost a good inch. Oh holy-

"Don't go into the kitchen. I'll clean it up in a bit."

"Uh no Sam. Let-"

"You'll cut your feet up."

"I'll be careful."

He opened his mouth to argue, then tilted his head, watching her. "You really don't have to clean it up, you know."

"Sam, I made the mess. I'm not going to let you fix it for me."

After a moment, he nodded, but said firmly, "I have some sandals or shoes or something by the door. Put them on before you go in there."

While he went to his room - Lord, but the man had a lovely sculpted back - Emily turned and found the sandals he was talking about. They were freakin' huge on her, but she didn't care too much. By the time she finished sweeping up the glass, Sam was back, dressed in dark jeans and pulling a T-shirt over his head.

"So. What'd you want to talk to me about?" He grinned, leaning against the door jam and staring at her feet. "You have really small feet, you know that?" he chuckled.

Emily looked at her feet swimming in his sandals and planted her hands on her hips, giving him a mock stern glare. "They only look so small because your feet are the size of Bigfoot's."

He shrugged, grinning smugly, and she rolled her eyes, grabbing her heated slice of pizza and kicking off his sandals to a corner. They both headed into the living room and sat down on the couch. Sam leaned back, arms draped on the back of the couch and the arm behind him, and smiled easily at her.

"So?" he asked again.

Emily suddenly realized the pizza tasted horrible in her mouth. Like trash.

She forced herself to swallow and set the plate on the table. No way was she going to be able to eat while talking.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, and let it out. When she opened her eyes, though, Sam was closer, leaning towards her in concern.

"Hey," he said quietly, brushing her hair over her shoulder. "You okay?"

She swallowed and nodded, forcing herself to smile at him. His hand was rubbing her shoulder and it felt nice. He was so warm.

"Are you?"

She hadn't realized the words came out until they both froze in surprise. Shyly, she glanced at him after a moment. "Well?" she gently pushed when he didn't respond.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"Because-" she started, then stopped herself, puzzling out how to phrase what she was trying to say. "Sometimes... you look like you're... haunted? You look like you're carrying the world on your shoulders all alone. But... you also look like you're trying to hide it. I was just wondering if... if something was bothering you." She shrugged, blushing. Oh, god, that had sounded so incredibly lame.

Sam took in a deep breath and pushed it out in a harsh sigh. "I-"

Emily glanced up when he didn't continue, her eyes gentle and curious, comforting him to share. At least... to share some of it. "I was pretty stressed out before, feeling like a lot of things were obligations I was being held to. And still angry I couldn't do some things I always expected I'd do. But I've... moved on, now." Those were the right words, he decided, so he repeated them. "I've moved on."

Emily nodded slowly. "So you're okay... now?"

He grinned gently at her. "Yeah. I'm good."

She nodded, turning her head to stare in front of her and stealing herself. "So when are you planning to make things up with Leah?"

He was silent, staring at her. She peeked at him from the corner of her eye to see several emotions flashing across his face. Shock. Hurt. Anger. Then a mask pulled over it, the almost expressionless one that didn't quite hide the pain.

"I don't know what you're talking about Emily."

His voice was distant and cold. For some reason, it hurt that he used it with her now, when it had seemed they were at least becoming friends. Then Emily slapped herself - mentally of course - because she shouldn't care how he spoke to her as much as she obviously did.

"Of course you do," she said, a touch impatiently. "Now that things aren't so bad for you, you're going to go and win Leah back." She paused a moment, then added, "Not that I think you'll have to do much. Some sort of sweet, amazingly thoughtful gesture should do the trick just right, along with an explanation to her like you gave me."

"Emily," Sam said firmly, still somewhat coldly. "I'm not going to get back together with Leah."

Emily felt sick at the note of finality with that last statement. Sick because it made the lies she'd told her cousin all that more horrible, and also because... a part of her felt gleeful about the news.

Swallowing thickly, she hoarsely said, "You have to."

"No. In this matter of my life, I don't."

Was that relief in his voice? A spark of anger on her cousin's part lit in her chest.

"You say that like being with Leah was something you were forced to do," she accused.

Sam hesitated, glancing away ashamedly. "It became that way," he admitted quietly, sadly. "It shouldn't have. It's my fault it did. But... eventually, it became another obligation."

And he'd moved on from those, hadn't he? Wasn't that what he'd just told her?

"Leah is not an obligation," Emily snapped.

"I know," Sam said quietly. "Which is why I'm letting things truly end this time."

"No!" Emily burst, jumping to her feet and whirling to face him, desperate. She'd told Leah... he couldn't just... it wasn't fair! "You can't just let things end with her like that! You have to go back and show her how much you love her because I know you do! A guy doesn't just keep coming back to a girl like you did unless he loves her!"

Sam watched her, slightly surprised, a little sad, a lot tired looking. "I did, Emily. I hate to say it, but I did. I kept coming back for a damn selfish reason."

"You weren't have sex with her!" Emily snapped. "Besides, with your looks I don't think you'd be lacking in the ladies throwing themselves at you. She's not rich or anything. The only reason you could keep coming back to her like that would be if you loved her!" she insisted, yelling.

Sam breathed in measured breaths through his nose, feeling the tension begin to tighten in his chest. As Emily stood there breathing heavily, waiting for him to say something, Sam focused on breathing. On her light fresh scent.

The tension loosened.

Relief flooded him.

"Emily, it's hard to explain." He huffed in slight frustration. "There's things that you don't know about that complicate everything in my life."

"Oh yeah? Like what?" she shot at him.

He clenched his jaw. "None of your business." Except the words weren't exactly true. She was his imprint. It was her business. If it would make her happy, he'd tell her the sky was purple and Santa Clause was at the north pole this very instant with a bunch of tiny elves making toys for all the kids in the world. He'd tell her she could have the moon, that he'd get her world peace if it would make her happy. Anything she wanted... was hers. All she had to do was ask.

"Fuck that Sam!" she shouted, startling him. He hadn't heard her swear before, and he figured it was a sign of just how ticked off she was. "If you don't have any reason, don't give me cryptic bullshit!"

He shook his head hesitantly. "Emily, you don't understand."

"Why not?"

"Because...." He looked at her helplessly. "Emily, you just can't understand."

She scoffed, starting to pace his living room. "You're so full of bullshit, Sam Uley."

His breathing was picking up, and the tension in his chest was tightening, but it was slight. He kept close tabs on it.

"I'm not," he denied, but she immediately yelled back at him.

"Yes you are!" She whipped around and glared, right in his face, her voice just quieter than a yell. "You say that came back to her for a selfish reason, but can't explain what that reason is. You say that it's complicated and I don't understand, but you can't tell me why or explain it! I think you're just running, I think you're being a fucking coward!"

Before he'd realized what he'd done, he'd shot to his feet. That intense urge to impress his imprint was so strong that it wouldn't take her accusation without a fight. His wolf snarled at the thought that she thought he was cowardly. So strong was the urge to prove himself to her that the words leapt from his mouth before he could censor them.

"I'll prove it!"

He froze, paling slightly, as Emily eyed him suspiciously.

"Okay. Do it," she challenged.

A part of Sam acknowledged that this might not be the smartest idea. A part of him wondered if he should really be telling her everything in this conversation, when they were feeling these types of emotions.

That part was drowned out by the instinct to impress his imprint, to be what she needed. And Emily needed him to be honest with her, to prove that he wasn't a bad guy. He somehow could feel it, his wolf insisted that these things would make her happy. To know he wasn't lying to her right now, wasn't running, wasn't 'full of bullshit'.

He just had to make her happy.

His eyes slid to the door. Harry would be wondering where Emily was soon. He might send Seth or Sue or - god forbid - even Leah to come fetch her, if not himself.

Sam sighed, running an agitated hand through his hair. "Okay. Come on." He led the way out the door, pausing as Emily grabbed her flip-flops from the kitchen and tugged them on her feet. She pushed her hair out of her face and stared at him in confusion.

"Where-"

"Into the woods," Sam explained. "I don't want anyone interrupting us," he added in a mutter, stalking towards the woods. He checked the coil of tension in his chest. It was a little stronger than before, but not enough. The thought of sharing his secrets with her had soothed it greatly.

He lead her along a path that he knew led to a man-made clearing not too far into the forest. Sometimes, kids used it to camp out at night in the summer. It was a popular Fourth of July camp spot. Right now, it'd be empty. It had been for a while, he knew from his patrols.

Sam turned to face her when he reached a few yards in, feeling vaguely nervous. His hands were shaking slightly so he shoved them in his back pockets.

"It's going to sound insane," he warned her. "But I swear to you I'm telling the truth. You could even ask Harry, if you don't believe me."

Emily nodded, not speaking, and crossed her arms over her chest. Sam could smell her anger faintly cloying her light scent, making it heavier, more tart.

"The legends around here are true. There are things that our people need protection from," he explained, purposefully trying to avoid the words that would make her quite likely even angrier at him. "Remember I said I work as an enforcer of sorts for the Elders? It's because of the legends. Remember I said I didn't chose it? Remember?"

After a moment, she nodded, looking cautious and confused.

Sam swallowed. "There are things out there, Emily, that are very very dangerous for the normal person. And I'm not normal." Anymore.

"Sam," she said slowly, softly. "You're not making any sense." She shook her head slightly, brows lightly drawn down.

He looked straight into her eyes, finding nothing but a desire to understand, care, and compassion. Even angry with him she cared.

That was enough to give him the courage to say his next words.

"I'm a werewolf, Emily."

God that sounded so B-horror movie corny.

She stared at him, and then her scent erupted with anger, her eyes narrowing and glowing brightly with it. "Oh. Oh, is that right," she snarled. "You're a goddamn werewolf and that's why you're life sucks. That's why you've been a crappy boyfriend. That's why everything is complicated. It all makes sense now!" she declared loudly and mockingly, throwing her hands in the air. She dropped them and glared hatefully. "This is such a horrible thing to do, Sam. I didn't think you were capable of it."

She turned to go.

His wolf howled in fear that she was leaving him.

"Emily," he said frantically, taking a few steps closer. She had to believe him. She couldn't just not believe him! He'd even told her she could ask Harry! Didn't that mean anything to her?

Thankfully she stopped and looked back at him, tears in her eyes and looking so hurt and insulted. "What Sam?" she said, her words clipped yet rough with tears.

His chest clenched with pain that he'd caused those tears.

"Emily, I swear to you. I'm not lying. I'm not trying to be cruel. I can't hurt you. It's impossible." The words were pouring from his mouth now, unstoppable as Mother Nature. "There's this thing, called imprinting. You-"

She turned to leave. "Don't talk to me, Sam."

"Emily!" he shouted desperately.

She didn't stop and he rushed forward, begging words slipping from his lips, though he couldn't say what they were. She was shaking her head, hands clapped over her ears. He could smell on the strong wind the sharp, bitter, salty scent of her tears and pain. It mixed horribly with her anger and natural scent, driving his wolf wild with guilt.

"Please, Emily, please, don't leave!"

Suddenly she whirled around. "I fucking hate you!" she screamed at him. "I'm leaving and never seeing you again, you got that?! I don't want to ever ever see you again!" Her voice screeched with how high her scream had gone towards the end, but Sam didn't notice the pain it caused his ears.

Because he'd just realized two things.

He was less than a foot away from her.

And he'd lost control of the tension in his chest.

Roaring in pain at her words and horror at what he realized was about to happen, Sam phased violently.

Less than ten inches from Emily's face.

Uh... I'm just going to go into hiding to write the next chapter now.

Heh.

Review.