Chapter Seven

It's Kind Of Romantic, Isn't It?

Lilah's POV

It had been one of those weeks which were so dreadful that its miseries could only be surpassed by a catastrophic event that involved bloodshed, and when I say that I mean the "arterial spray that signified immanent death" sort of bloodshed. I hadn't waited around at Emily's for anyone to offer me some horseshit explanation about the fact that Sam and Paul could magically transform into werewolves, that would have surely sent me over the edge into homicidal territory and in the end I had planted myself at the end of the driveway, far from the house, and had called a cab to pick me up...and things had gone seriously downhill from there.

After days of searching I had finally found a job, not a continuation of my career in teaching bright young minds, the occupation I'd studied for, oh no, I had found a position that required me to be on my feet for eight hours, slinging hash for groups of regulars whose idea of a good tip was one buck, which was true, when they were having a cup of coffee, but not when they brought their entire family in. I wasn't inclined to disrespect those who spent a lifetime waiting on others, I respected their dedication and endurance...it just wasn't something I'd spent my life dreaming of, that's all.

Then there'd been Sonny, the slimy little maggot who'd started this whole damn episode of melodrama, making my life into somewhat of a soap opera, one that involved werewolves, for chrissakes. I'd been forced to meet him at the door of my cabin, the shotgun my dad had given me tucked into my shoulder, before he'd finally taken the hint that it would be best if he stayed away from me. It was kind of surprising that Paul hadn't killed him yet, I mean it wasn't as though he didn't have the ability, but somehow the bastard was still breathing...he was as resilient as any cockroach, I suppose.

To top everything off, as though my life hadn't been enough of a headache, my phone rang day and night, everyone from Sam to Embry begging me to give Paul another chance, to understand that they hadn't been lying to me, that the subject just hadn't come up, and then there were the calls from the man himself, begging me to hear him out. I thanked God that he hadn't actually elected to show up in person, because the act of listening to him plead, on my answering machine, was heartbreaking enough, I knew that I couldn't have stood it if I'd had to look at his face while he implored me to forgive him and give him another chance.

I'd just returned to my cottage, intent on showering away the greasy smell that clung to me, an aftermath of my shift at the café, cleansing it from my skin and hair when a knock sounded at the door, a soft, but insistent knock. I was tempted to ignore the sound, to head for the bathroom and luxuriate myself in the warm flow of my shower, pretending that I was the only one alive in the world, but for some damn reason I was drawn to the door and turned to find Emily standing there, peering at me through the glass panes. She was another one who'd felt the need to frequently "reach out and touch" me, another that I'd disregarded, but it was clear that she wasn't going to be ignored any longer.

I opened the door and stared at her, surely leaving her in little doubt of how I was feeling, so it came as somewhat of a surprise when she threw her arms around me and held me close. "We've been so worried about you Lilah," she said in a scolding tone of voice. "Why didn't you answer the phone? Do you have any idea what Paul has been going through? He's been beside himself, beating himself up, and even though it was almost physically painful for him to do so he stayed away, he said he wouldn't come here unless you invited him."

Her chastisement deflated my temper somewhat, not completely, but enough that I didn't remind her that they had all lied to me, that his dishonesty had been the worst, and that I didn't owe them a damn thing. The truth of the matter was that I had behaved badly, by ignoring the messages on my machine, acting like a child as opposed to letting them know how I felt, and to hear how torn up Paul was made me feel like a completely cruel person. How would I feel if the situations were reversed? I don't think that I could imagine myself transforming into a werewolf, but what if I was and he had tossed me aside because of it, refusing to see or speak to me? That would be absolutely awful...no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

"I never meant to worry anyone," I answered, gently untangling myself from her arms. "The truth of the matter was that I didn't have anything nice to say to any of you, so I thought that it would be best to not say anything at all. And I'm sorry that Paul has been...suffering...because of me. I just don't know how I can face him after what happened...what would I say to him Emily?"

She stood still, staring at me for a moment, then placed her hand on my arm, leading me to the couch that dominated my tiny living room, taking a seat and pulling me down beside her. "There is a lot of information that you need, that you have to know, now that you've seen Paul and Sam. I'm sure that you are aware of the dangers that fill the world, from what I've seen from you; you know that evil exists in the world. Am I right?"

Of course I knew that evil existed, how could I not? It wasn't a pleasant part of life, but it was a reality, and in some ways, a necessity, but what did that have to do with what I'd seen? Oh no...Surely she wasn't trying to tell me that Paul and Sam made up a part of that evil, was she? That would wipe away any chance that may have remained that I could forgive and forget...there was no way that I could stand beside any sort of wickedness, or any harm to those who were innocent.

She must have seen the alarm that I was feeling on my face, and she quickly continued with her explanation. "Because of the fact that evil exists all over the world, it is essential that there are those who step into the role of guardian of those around them. They sacrifice themselves to that cause, and in some cases, have no choice whatsoever to safeguard those around them. Sam and Paul have made that sacrifice...along with others that you have met...and they are admired, held in the highest regard by the tribe."

Was there a criminal on the loose that I was unaware of? I had never gotten the feeling that it wasn't safe on the Rez...in fact it seemed as though everyone walked a very straight line, and maybe this was the reason why, the adopted guardians of the Quileute people, a pack of werewolves, of all things...it was just too freaky to wrap my mind around.

"There is so much to fear in the world, so many heinous acts perpetrated on innocent people every day, as you well know, but the...pack...only has one enemy, one group that they protect our people...all people...from." She turned toward me on the couch, her face and eyes growing very serious. "There are beings that we whisper of in stories to one another, or that we read of in novels and watch in movies, that we even dress up as on Halloween, but that we really don't believe in. Do you doubt, at all, what you witnessed, the...transformations...that took place in Paul and Sam?"

I looked at her incredulously, laughing sarcastically. "Well, yes Emily," I answered, rolling my eyes and shaking my head. "Granted that I do have a very active imagination, but somehow I don't think I made-up what I saw...what we all saw."

"The reason that I asked was because I had to know if you were willing to accept the truth of what you witnessed, that some creatures of folklore are a reality, that there are some things that exist that we've been told were only fairytales, or maybe just cautionary stories meant to scare people. Now...knowing what you do about the pack, can you accept that other...creatures...exist among us, ones that force the protectors to take the form of the wolf and destroy that which threatens our people, and the people whose land borders our own? Are you willing to hear the truth, with an open mind and heart?"

I couldn't imagine what myth come true could be worse than werewolves, but my mind raced with a variety of possibilities. In horror movies werewolves were always among the worst of the worse, huge, monstrous creatures intent on at the very least biting you, making you one of them once the next full moon set, or the more likely outcome, tearing you from limb to limb-wait a minute...the sun had been high in the sky the day that Paul had metamorphosed...weren't werewolves required to have the light of the full moon to transform?

"Just tell me what you came to say Emily," I said, impatient to hear the whole truth. "You can trust in the fact that I will believe anything you tell me, after what I've seen, whether I want to or not."

"There will be a gathering of some of our tribe soon, elders and those who will record the telling of our legends, and I want you to attend. What they have to say about all of this will make more sense than what I can tell you. I know that you would believe me, after what you have seen already, but they will tell the whole story, our origins. All I will tell you of our enemy is that they are old, they are monsters, and it is essential, for everyone, that the boys are what they are."

That was absolute crap...first she said that she would tell me the truth, and now that I was dying to know she was reneging on me? My face must have broadcast my growing temper, because she raised her hands in an action that told me not to throw a fit. "I haven't told you the most important thing Lilah, the main reason that I came to speak to you. I want you to know about the bond that exists between Sam and I, why he can't stand to be far away from me for very long, and why Paul is suffering so much right now."

I felt a surge of pain and of guilt, knowing that he was suffering, though I wasn't sure why. We hadn't exactly been a couple after all, and I was the one who'd been lied to, but I still felt horrible, knowing that I was the one responsible for his misery. "I never meant to make him so unhappy," I said, frowning as I thought of his face, always smiling or making a joke, looking miserable and forlorn instead. "I wish he knew that was never my intention."

"For him, to know that you were so angry at him, that was very painful," she said, reaching over to pat my hand in a consoling manner. "But even worse was to be forced to be away from you every day...that separation was absolute agony for him."

I started to speak, to offer some sort of apology, but she interrupted me. "There is another, I guess you could say, experience that occurs for some members of our tribe, an event even rarer than shape shifting, and that is when one of them lays eyes upon the person who exists to give their life purpose, their companion for life, the other half of their soul. This is a concept romanticized all throughout the world, but with their kind, it truly is a bond made for life. They simply cannot live without the one that they imprint upon. I am that person for Sam...And you are that person for Paul."

As I sat back weakly against the couch, striving to absorb her words, I felt a fluttering begin in my stomach, moving up to my heart, a quivering of shock, of panic, and of excitement. I had always been a woman who wanted to marry, to have children, and I had to admit, at least to myself, that in my most secret moments I had imagined a life with Paul...one I thought would always remain just that, a fantasy, and now it was within my grasp...if that was what I really wanted.

"Are you okay, Lilah?" Emily asked, watching me worriedly, like she was afraid that I might have a breakdown or pass out at any moment. "I know that it can be a lot to process, like I said, I've been in your shoes, but it's nothing to be scared of, you know, especially since you don't detest him or anything...thank God it's not that turd Sonny, huh?"

I laughed out loud, then made retching sounds and rolled my eyes in disgust. "That would be one attachment that would go unfulfilled, that's for damn sure," I said, thinking of the sawed-off runt who'd been a continuous pain in my ass since I'd arrived. "And yes, I'm fine, just a little; make that a lot, flabbergasted, if you know what I mean?"

She smiled and nodded...of course she knew what I meant...hadn't she just told me that she was to Sam what I was to Paul? That was very interesting to me, because more than once I'd watched the two of them together and thought how lucky they were, to be so happy, to be so much in love...and now I had the same opportunity, if I was just brave enough to embrace it.

"Will you do me a favor?" I asked, smiling when she immediately nodded her answer. "Tell Paul that I don't want him to be a stranger any longer...tell him that he is welcome here...that he will always be welcome here."

Paul's POV

It was good to be back home, because that was the way that I thought of her, as being the center of my universe, the place where I would always be safe, where I would always belong. It had been bad enough knowing that she was furious with me, knowing that she was thinking hateful things about me, probably hoping that something horribly painful would happen to me, that she sat by a ringing phone, refusing to answer out of spite, but it had been an absolute torment, being kept from her, from her smile, her voice, her smell...everything I loved so desperately. I owed Emily big time for putting a good word in for me, though I still wasn't sure how I was going to handle the big imprinting talk...not to mention how she'd handle learning the truth about the leeches that were all around...and how she'd react once she realized that the good Dr. Cullen, who she thought was the cat's meow, was a freakin' bloodsucker...things could get real damn ugly, real damn quick...I just hope she didn't toss me aside again...once was more than enough for that special variety of hell, thank you very much.

I stood on her porch, knowing that she was in her bed, asleep, because the hour was so late. I would have liked to have arrived earlier, to have actually been able to see her, but I'd been too useless for rounds all week, and everyone had covered for me, and I hadn't felt comfortable asking them to do so again. It would have been enough anyway, just to stand on her porch, welcome once more, but then I noticed the note that she'd taped to her door.

P.

When I said that you were welcome here, I meant that you should think of this as your home now.

L.

P.S. The door is open...there's clean sheets and blankets waiting for you on the couch...and the fridge is stocked...don't be afraid to use it.

On one hand I was thrilled by her note, overjoyed by the fact that she wanted me in her home, close to her, and on the other hand I was stunned by the fact that she'd left a note like that, taped to her front door, the one that was unlocked, the freakin' door that any bastard, intent on rape and murder, could have just casually strolled through. I was quickly losing my firm grip on my temper and talked to myself, calming myself down as I opened the door and went inside, my knees nearly buckling beneath me from the strength of her scent, floral and musky and feminine, all throughout every room.

I helped myself to a few sandwiches, demolishing a bag of chips that I found in the cupboard, washing it all down with a pitcher of lemonade, and thought that I was full, but then I found the Tupperware filled with chocolate chip cookies, and thought to myself that she was probably expecting me to try them out, and not to do so would be rude, so I helped myself to six. After the enjoyable chore of eating was done I found that I was exhausted and made my way to the couch, intending to make it up, but the smell of her was even more intense on the bedclothes. They were freshly washed, but I had learned from stealing her panties that laundry soap and softener didn't quite cover her scent and I raised the sheet to my nose, deeply inhaling her bouquet and groaned, closing my eyes, picturing her laying in her bed, wrapped in this sheet, lost in sleep, maybe dreaming about me, trailing her hand over her breast, down her belly, onto her hot and dampened-

Well, that was just freakin' great...I went around in a heightened state of arousal every time I was around her anyway, so it wasn't like I had needed to summon up the images that were currently wreaking havoc in my mind, but what else had I expected? I hadn't exactly lived the life of a monk, unless there were a lot of monks that went around having knowledge of the female body in a thoroughly biblical manner, but this was different. I couldn't even remember any of those women that I'd been with, all I could think of was her, my Lilah, and I couldn't even tell you anything about her, other than what my overactive imagination had cooked up.

The part of my mind that devoted it's time to being ethical and honorable griped at me to cease my lustful thoughts and put the damn sheet on the couch. Then it started bitching about how I always did this kind of thing and how I needed to go to sleep. I normally would have seen the wisdom in its words, and would have made-up my bed and did my best to ignore what I wanted more than anything. I would have lay down and made myself pay no attention to the lust coursing through my body. I would have forced myself to go to sleep, but tonight was different. I told my principled side to shut up and made my way to Lilah's bedroom, assuring Mr. Goody Two Shoes that I just wanted a peek...just one peek...and then I would go to sleep...I promised.

Her door opened quietly, I could have slipped in and never woken her, but I found myself frozen in the doorway. The moon was full in the sky and was shining through the gossamer curtains that covered the twin windows that framed her bed, filling the room with its ethereal luminance...ah jeez...I was starting to let this romance stuff get to me...since when did I go around, saying...well, thinking...about gossamer and ethereal and luminance...anyways, the room was bright enough that I could see her clearly. She was dressed, dammit, in a nightgown that looked comfortable, but which covered her too much for my liking. The only good thing about it was that it bared her legs up to mid-thigh, but the bad thing was that she'd opened her windows that night before going to bed and then had tossed her covers aside sometime in the night and the air had grown a little chilly. She was nearly curled up in a ball on her bed, clearly shivering and I growled deep in my throat, telling my good side that I didn't have a choice in the matter...she was cold, so that meant I had to do more than peek.

I took a deep breath, which was meant to strengthen me, but turned out to be a big mistake. Her smell, which had been tormenting me since I'd entered the house, did more than just fill my nose, it infused itself in my thoughts, and in the pounding pulse that surged through my body...damn...there I went again. If this kept up I was liable to start having a complete Massengill moment, spouting flowery poetry or watching Titanic and crying like a baby, for chrissakes. Anyway, I made my hard-on stand even more at attention, so much now that it was becoming painful, and cursing quietly beneath my breath I crossed the room to her bed, watching the even rise and fall of her chest, smiling at the way she slightly puckered her lips while sleeping, almost like she was asking for a kiss.

I bent by the bed, contemplating her lips, and thought that there was no reason that I shouldn't take her up on her offer. I grabbed her covers with one hand, taking the time to admire her short, but shapely legs up close before I covered them, then started to lean forward, fully intending to taste her at last when a scrap of paper resting near her hand caught my attention. I picked it up and unfolded it, recognizing her handwriting immediately.

P.

I'm glad that you decided to stay and I assume that you helped yourself to some food, and hopefully, the cookies. I'm also going to assume that you made-up your bed on the couch and you are standing here, reading this, because curiosity got the best of you and you thought that you'd take just one peek, an idea that obviously fled you if you're standing this close to my bed. I don't blame you for being curious...that's normal and to be expected...but if you're thinking of sneaking another peek or anything naughty like that, let me advise you that it would be unwise of you to do so...and your balls would never fully recover from the damage that I would inflict upon them. Sweet dreams honey...I'll see you in the morning.

L.

I smiled and tucked the note into my pocket; bending forward to kiss her forehead before rising to my feet to leave...it would appear that my chivalrous side and my Lilah were in cahoots with one another...dammit.