A/N: Kudos to my beta, Shadowpast620. Thanks to those of you who have reviewed.
Bunch more of boring stuff you are NOT required to read and is all jumbled: As I hope most of you are aware, this tale is a work of fiction. I am neither attempting to glorify nor downplay the severity of being homeless. I am also not SM for more reasons than I have time to write in ten lifetimes. ;) I seem to recall mentioning this fic will probably be around twenty chapters. Unfortunately my plot bunny is a rabid and wordy monster and that number is now wrong. No idea at this point but I have up to chapter 25 sketched out and I can't tell if I've hit halfway yet. If that scares you, think how Elmer must feel. :D Gained quite a few new readers last chapter and I'd love to hear from you. Having failed at spacetime continuum manipulation, I lack the ability to answer reviews, but your questions and observations help me keep the story on track. Okay, that's it for now. Enjoy the latest. :D
Bella woke up later than she had expected, but at least she knew where she was this time. Rolling over she froze when something extremely warm tightened around her waist.
"A few more minutes," a deep voice mumbled above her head.
Trying not to eep in panic, Bella quickly looked down to make sure she was still wearing clothes, the too big shirt still on her, but just barely as it had shifted and was stuck under her hip. Somehow the blanket was encased on the side of her pressed against the couch, the fuzzy looking material a small comfort.
When the Paul man had come back upstairs after she had hidden her food last night, he said he wanted to talk some more and took her back to the couch, motioning for her to sit next to him. He had been sort of touchy, his hand either around hers or his hand stroking her head, occasionally her stomach, too, although he didn't do it often after she flinched when he brushed her sore.
He had asked why she had been shuffling and since he already said he knew she had been outside, Bella just looked towards the darkened window where she knew the forest was. He may have been okay in knowing she had been outside, but she didn't want to show him how she had gotten outside. Thankfully he didn't ask, but he had picked up her foot and tugged her sock off to look at her feet again; a peculiar behavior to Bella.
When he had placed his palm against the bottom, she couldn't stop the look of pleasure from crossing her face as the warmth was a welcomed presence. Nor could she stop herself from leaning back and relaxing when he rubbed certain spots that had felt really good until he found a bruise. The Paul man hadn't let go when she tried to jerk away in discomfort, but he did stop pressing there and just laid his palm back against it instead.
He had asked her so many questions, most of which she couldn't answer and the few that she could, she didn't know how to tell him. She quickly became flustered, worried that he was going to start hitting her when she didn't talk, but he hadn't.
Eventually he had turned on a TV, one Bella hadn't even noticed until the screen flickered to life, illuminating the room in funny colors and loud sounds. Watching a show about an ancient civilization, she had stared in fascination; so much so that she didn't even remember falling asleep.
Oh, had it been a few minutes yet? Bella really needed to get up, but she didn't want to anger the Paul man.
"What's wrong?" his voice sleepily rasped again, his arms tightening around her and not helping at all.
When she didn't answer, he relaxed his grip and cautiously tapped her lightly on the shoulder indicating she should roll over. The look she gave him must have explained it all because he laughed and then unexpectedly lifted her up and over; Bella suddenly standing up right on the ground and him in a sitting position on the couch. By the time she came back to the living room a few minutes later, the Paul man was in the kitchen, her blanket neatly folded and on the couch.
"Do you want some coffee, or juice, or something?" He asked nicely, making Bella wander towards him in hesitation.
Was he…was he going to feed her again; so soon and without payment?
Bella didn't know what to make of this strange development. He had tried to feed her a lot last night, even giving her some of his own food right out of his hand! She had been scared to death that it was a trap, that when she leaned forward he would grab her hair and bang her head on the table. Instead, he'd offered her a second taste, even wanting to give his own bowl of soup to her. People didn't do nice things like share food with Underground people, at least not food they were still-
"Urchin, are you thirsty?" he repeated, startling her thoughts. He obviously was going to feed her, or at least give her something other than water to drink.
She watched him make a pot of coffee then froze in panic when she saw the spaghetti noodles she hadn't been able to make yesterday still soaking in a pot. When he picked up the pot, she lowered her eyes, knowing that was to be her breakfast. Food was food, though and she'd eat them when told to do so.
The unexpected noise of an electric tool scared her and Bella almost tripped backwards in her haste to get away.
"Shit, easy, Urchin. It's just the garbage disposal. Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," the Paul man told her, shutting off the noisy thing, wherever it was. "Here," he offered, pouring a glass of juice to hold out to her.
The noodles were gone and he was still offering her something nice to drink… Bella couldn't keep up with his unexpected actions. She didn't want to make mistakes, but knew she had and needed him to tell her!
He smiled when she hesitantly took the glass from his hand, using both of hers to hold it securely. "What do you want for breakfast? Do you like pancakes?"
The glass was raised to her lips halfway when Bella froze, unsure as to what he meant. A pancake; was that food? It wasn't something she had ever eaten at one of the soup kitchens. She thought hard as to whether she liked pancakes or not. Truthfully, the word sounded familiar, but she couldn't put a picture to it and ended up shrugging.
That made the Paul man frown. "Do you want something else to eat?"
Shaking her head, she tried to smile that pancakes were okay so as not to anger him. He watched her for a minute before turning away to dig in a cabinet and bring out a pan causing Bella to take two steps back.
"I'll make the pancakes, Urchin, but you better eat them."
That didn't sound good at all; the words, not his tone. Maybe she didn't want pancakes after all, not if they were something really gross. She knew she couldn't be choosy here, but this was definitely a test. He knew what they were and had offered to make something else. Instead she had agreed without complaint, thinking her acceptance would be easiest.
Had he known that? That he was offering something she should have enough sense to say no to? Taking a large sip of juice, Bella tried to keep the tears away. Crying wouldn't help her now and men didn't like to see her cry unless they were hurting her.
"Hey," the Paul man said softly, suddenly kneeling in front of her. "Are you okay?" He took her juice and sniffed it before taking a sip himself and wrinkling his nose. "I know it's not the best tasting stuff; I have no idea what the hell Jake was thinking of when he bought this crap."
Setting the glass aside, he stood up to pour some of the freshly brewed coffee into a mug and then handed it to Bella. "There's milk in the fridge and sugar over there," he said, pointing to a spot on the counter before going back to make breakfast. "We'll buy better juice when we go to the store."
Looking at the coffee and then the backside of the man who hadn't hurt her yet, she was helplessly confused now. The smart thing to do would be to load up the steaming beverage with sugar and did he say milk? She tried not to scrunch her nose at the thought. Creamer would be a preferred option for her frequent staple of survival.
However, as much as the coffee would warm her up, Bella wished he hadn't taken her juice. It wasn't as sweet as one would expect, but it still tasted good and Bella was worried that these pancakes things would be bad. She watched as he mixed some things in a bowl and then tipped the gooey mess onto a funny looking pan.
She didn't want to stare, but it was weird, watching the white mess begin to form small tiny bubbles. When the Paul man suddenly flipped them over, to reveal a rich goldenness on the other side, she gasped.
"It's great, huh? It used to take forever making these on the stove, but with the electric skillet, I can make 'em faster and more of them," he explained, not turning around to look at her. "I almost forgot I had it."
Bella continued to watch in awe when he took them off and then poured more of the mixture back onto the skillet, fully engrossed in making pancakes; a food Bella decided couldn't be that bad and wondered if she had ever found any in her previous hunts, her eyes accidentally shifting to her right.
Her juice was still sitting on the counter, and it was calling to her subtly. If he didn't look for a few seconds, she could just drink it and then hide the glass. He'd probably never even notice with so many dishes lying around the sink.
The coffee cup still clasped in her hands had to sit down in order to pick up the juice glass. It made a small clinking sound and she turned her head sharply towards the Paul man, hoping he wouldn't turn around and ask her what she was doing. When he didn't, she quickly picked up the juice, still watching his back and drinking it as fast as she could.
When it was all gone, she wondered where she should put it. Checking to make sure the Paul man still hadn't turned around, Bella looked for options. She was closest to the sink cabinet, but her food was down there and it'd be a bad thing if she got caught with both the empty glass and hidden food. To the right was another cabinet and it looked to be a good hiding spot for now; at least until she could figure out what cabinet the glass was supposed to go in.
"Hey, Urchin?" The Paul man's voice called to her, making Bella freeze in terror, her eyes snapping closed in front of the still open cabinet.
Oh… she had been too greedy! If she'd just ignored the juice, he would've let her have coffee and pancakes. Now he was probably going to tell her no and might even find her other food. She didn't even breath, waiting for the invariable punishment he was overdue to impose.
"Go ahead and take your coffee and mine into the dining room, please. I'll be right there with our plates and food, okay?"
Slowly peeling one eyelid open at a time, Bella couldn't believe he was still turned away and scooping the new batch of pancakes off of the thing he used to cook with. Silently she closed the cabinet and stood up; her fingers trembling slightly when she picked up both mugs and shuffled away to sit at the table.
When his urchin had left the kitchen, Paul tried not to sigh in frustration. Why the hell had she drunk that shitty juice after he told her not to? And then hide the glass? He had watched her and had to force himself not to tell her to stop, afraid that anything he might have said then would cause her to drop the glass. He could've easily caught it, but then she'd wonder how he had been able to move so quickly.
Jesus, he never thought life could actually be easier after telling an imprint about his unusual furry side-effects. Sam wouldn't let him do that yet, though. Not until they were able to determine something about her…mainly her age.
Out on patrol last night, Sam had joined Paul to help cut the time down so he could return to his sleeping urchin. Like Paul, it was perfectly acceptable that she was eighteen, but there were enough doubts to say it might not be all that they wished.
Likewise, Sam had been frustrated at Urchin's inability to communicate. When asked if she could read or write, she had looked so goddamn terrified, her hesitant 'no' almost making Paul forget all about the answers he wanted. Thank fuck Sam hadn't enforced his Alpha bullshit and told Paul to keep pushing for answers. They had both decided to take what they could and not push unless it meant imminent danger to her or the tribe. It wasn't like Paul was completely fucking miserable. He felt damn proud of himself for being able to give his little urchin a warm breakfast, even if she didn't like it.
Pushing those thoughts aside, he genuinely smiled as went to sit next to her, giving them each an empty plate and then stacking the bundle of pancakes in between them. Paul couldn't fucking wait until they reached the phase in their relationship to eat off of the same plate.
"How many do you want?" He asked his girl, spearing three of the five inch round cakes onto the end of a fork, leaving seven for himself.
She stared at the end of his fork like it was fucking trap, or he was getting ready to stab her with it, making Paul inadvertently pull back slightly and causing his girl to sit up higher, holding out two quivering, bunny eared fingers.
"Only two?" An equally hesitant nod of the head. "Okay, but I'm not a bad cook; not chef worthy or any of that shit, but I can make pancakes," Paul explained as he dropped two of them onto her plate, deciding he was still going to save her a third one.
"Sorry, all I have is syrup for now, "Paul continued, piling four pancakes onto his plate before pushing the glass jar of real maple syrup towards her first. "Jake didn't buy any whip cream or fruit that would taste good on these unless…did you want bananas?" This time it took her a full minute to indicate no, his hand hovering over her plate with syrup aimed to pour.
Damn it! She probably did want a banana and Paul was willing to go get it, but then she'd freak and…
Fuck it! She'd be okay with syrup this morning and next time, he'd just surprise her with sliced bananas, sprinkled with chopped pecans.
Totally fucking grinning over the thought of a next time, he doused her cakes with a liberal amount of syrup, waiting until the top pancake was entirely drenched.
"There you go; eat up," Paul exclaimed happily, pouring twice as much syrup on his plate and heartily digging in.
He told himself he wasn't going to fuck this meal up and let her eat in peace without a shit ton of stupid questions. Instead, he decided to tell her what he had planned.
"So, Urchin…" trailing off, Paul watched her watching him, or more specifically his fork. Her own silverware was lying untouched next to the plate; his urchin's fingers slowly drawling away from where she had been about to grab a pancake.
Being a wolf meant he could shovel food into his mouth fast. He had no idea that his urchin had been attempting to use a similar tactic; her fingers allowing her to grab the food quickly before it was taken away. She stared at him with sad eyes and Paul didn't know what the fuck to do, both his train of thought and appetite disappearing.
"Umm, yeah, like I was saying," he started again, dropping his eyes to his own food so she could do whatever she wanted to. "I figure today we'll go get you a bed of your own, so you don't have to sleep on the couch."
Still not looking up, he ate a few more huge servings, his ears finally picking up the small sounds of her attempts to eat followed by rapid swallowing of coffee.
"We can drive out to the city and then…Shit! That won't work." Pausing mid-bite, Paul tried to think if any of the pack had a camper top on their trucks. "I could probably tie it to the jeep top, but it's supposed to really fucking come down in buckets later today and for the rest of the week and I don't want to have to worry about a time frame, or a tarp coming loose."
Shrugging, he finally looked back up to his urchin, noticing that she had stopped eating and was leaning back in her chair.
"We'll figure it out," he assured her with her a smile before frowning. "Are you done?"
Her plate still held a full pancake and most of the first one, maybe only a half of it eaten. Sitting back up, she fumbled to pick up her unused fork. With worried eyes focused on him, she made a mess with the fork, hacking the pancake into shreds before trying to eat some more; tiny fucking bites the size of peas.
"I'm not trying to rush you," Paul explained, taking another stack for himself. "It's just not a lot of food and I figured you'd want more."
Inching her fork down, his urchin half smiled, relaxing back into her seat, but watching him carefully for something. When he was finally done, he finished his coffee and then cleared the table, asking one more time if she was done before taking the dishes to dump in the sink.
"Alright, I'm going to get cleaned up. Did you want to take a shower?" Paul called out to his girl still sitting in the dining room.
Her eyes nearly took up her whole face in fear, a faint clicking of wood against wood indicating she was trembling in her chair. The noise sounded loud to Paul's delicate hearing and he advanced towards her in concern frantically lifting her up to cuddle…
Not fucking cuddling! His mind screamed, Comforting!
He sat down heavily in her chair, still holding the scared shitless girl in his arms as he ran his own hand over her forehead—still kind of cold—down her arms and scratched hands—nothing unordinary there—and then finally lifting her shirt slightly to stare at her stomach wound.
It was far from healed, but looked ten times better than it had last night when Paul had reapplied the ointment. His fucking Alpha had scared the shit out of him, commenting as they were headed home that it was a good thing his urchin hadn't been allergic to the antibiotics he had given her. Paul barely remembered to throw his pants back on before silently charging into his house and studying his girl sprawled out on the couch.
Her breathing was normal, her color still wan and waxy, but not grey and she still felt cool to him. He wasn't trying to be a psycho when he got the sudden urge to lift her shirt and stare at the knife gash; thoughts of how she could even receive something like that sending his wolf in a tailspin. On his knees, next to the couch, he had leaned over the delicate area and sniffed carefully, all the while keeping an ear tuned for the possibility of her waking.
His urchin didn't awaken then, but after sleeping for several hours on the couch earlier, he had watched how she slept; a deep and heavy slumber for about an hour and then an abrupt, half awakening. It wasn't an even sleep his urchin took, those half awakenings leaving her eyes closed, but her mind somewhat aware, processing the atmosphere around for signs of danger.
He had been engrossed in the TV the first time it happened and he damn near launched off the couch in a panic, wondering what it was that she felt and he couldn't. When there was nothing to be found and her body hadn't tensed, Paul allowed himself to relax, wanting to stroke her feet for reassurance, but afraid it would awaken her fully. By the third cycle of this unusual sleep pattern, Paul realized that if he placed his hand on her while in deep sleep, her half awakenings didn't last as long.
Fuck! Would he be considered an asshole if he insisted she just slept in his bed with him?
Bringing himself back to the present with a still trembling urchin, Paul was relieved to see that the knife wound had benefited greatly from his wolf side. He had gone ahead and done what he wanted to from the beginning; gently cleaning it naturally and soothing the raging monster of a wolf trying to tear out of his skin and take care of shit properly.
"Urchin, what's wrong? Does something hurt?" Paul asked finally, unable to figure out why she was panicking.
As usual, she didn't say anything, her head tucked under his chin as they rocked gently back and forth, Paul trying to figure out why she had been fine one minute and then completely terrified the next. He couldn't understand what she was thinking and not knowing anything from her past other than she was homeless made the whole experience a lot like trying to put a puzzle together blind.
Morning turned into early afternoon and Paul thought she might have fallen into another half awake/half asleep state. He stood up to take her into his room and let her rest on his bed while he took a shower. If need be, his urchin could stay here and sleep while he took care of acquiring a bed for her.
She automatically curled into a ball once her body touched the mattress, her frame shifting away from Paul so that he couldn't see her face. As quietly as he could, he gathered some regular clothes and then disappeared into the bathroom, keeping both ears trained on to any sounds she might make.
Just temporarily, Paul thought, soothing both him and the wolf at the idea of having to buy a second bed. He didn't want his girl to feel like a fucking unwanted guest and be made to sleep on a couch night after night. He also couldn't very fucking well offer his bed to her, the whole idea screaming serial killer to him. It was perfectly rational to buy an extra bed for her to use. Hell, he even had an empty room to accommodate it.
Getting new clothes for his girl was a priority as well, but after her latest zombie mood swing, he felt it was best to stay home for the day. He didn't know how long it would take for her to be okay and wanted to be close to home, if not in his damn home, if she zoned out again.
Twenty minutes later, a billow of steam floated out of the bathroom as Paul exited. Even with an exhaust fan on the room held temperature like a damn cryogenic freezer, making Paul wish he had fucking thought to put in windows that would actually open. His girl was sitting up in the bed looking at him blankly when he made his appearance.
"Hey, Urchin," Paul practically whispered in happiness. She didn't look as scared as before and he was relieved. "Are you feeling better?"
She nodded that she was okay and Paul debated with himself. He didn't want to push her about whatever had triggered the earlier event. If she needed to freak for a few minutes and then sleep it off, he could handle that.
"I'm going to go grab your stuff from downstairs and then you're free to get cleaned up, okay? I'll be right back." With his towel thrown over his shoulder, Paul hurried to fetch her things, trying not to moan in grief when the pants he pulled from the dryer should be considered a casualty. The shirts and jacket had survived, but they still looked like shit and he fucking knew his ass had best buy some clothes before she was forced to be naked. Discarding his towel into a hamper, he flew back upstairs, slowing down right outside of his bedroom door so as to appear normal.
"Is there anything else you need?" Paul asked, setting the things down next to her and then backing away while she shook her head. She was answering him, but still looked scared shitless. "I'll be in the living room when you're done; just come out whenever, okay?"
Closing the bedroom door, Paul went to slump on the couch, feeling like a retard at the way he was talking to his imprint. He never realized how hard it was to communicate with a person who only nodded without adding an 'okay' at the end of everything he said. It bothered him more than he cared to admit; the action making him feel like he thought she was dumb!
What if she is dumb? Some evil inner fucker asked, neither Paul, nor his wolf fucking appreciating it very much. The voice didn't stop, though, bombarding Paul's mind with the scenes of his urchin's poor attempts at washing, or her lack of using utensils.
She is not dumb! Paul screamed mentally, replaying the scenes of the tree; her ability to climb out of the basement window; her attempt at cunningly trying to hide food—which, if he wasn't a fucking wolf, he probably would've missed.
Why doesn't she speak? There's no indication of past or present throat injuries, the ghastly voice asked Paul's subconscious causing him to stand up and pace.
People talked every damn day and yet Paul couldn't even remember if she had even muttered a sound close to resembling a word. He had heard her sigh, moan and make some type of weird squeaky noise when she was really fucking scared; other than that, there wasn't anything in the way of a language. Wouldn't she have said something by now if she spoke?
Pacing his way into the kitchen, Paul started to load the dishwasher while still thinking about the no speaking thing. How was he supposed to communicate with her; let her tell him what she wanted, needed, or desired if she couldn't talk or write? He still didn't know her name and while she seemed okay with being called "Urchin" and it fit her, it'd be a lot nicer if he knew her real name.
Was it even possible to suggest they learn sign language together so he could have a fucking clue once in awhile? If some bitch had asked him to learn sign language because he knew what she was saying, but couldn't respond in kind, he'd be fucking offended all to hell and back.
Sue had mentioned his urchin being around nasty germs and shit. Had become really ill and lost the ability to speak? What if some evil fucking street hustler had punched her in the throat and broke her vocal chords or some shit? Paul tried really hard not to slam the remaining dishes into the racks as he pondered over the last two possibilities. Once again, his mate probably hadn't had any protection and would end up paying for it for the rest of her life.
Twenty minutes later when the urchin made her appearance, Paul didn't know he had subconsciously made the decision to be the redemption his urchin desperately needed in life.
The screen door opened, a man in a wheel chair rolling out on the porch to watch as Paul helped a girl out of the other side of his jeep. The handicapped man gaped silently when the jeep door was finally closed and the large Quileute Native began to herd a small figure towards the house, careful not to actually touch her, but just barely.
Paul could feel the older man's eyes on them and he looked up to meet the stare, his own clearly stating that the man would be wise to tread discreetly.
"Hello, Billy," Paul finally greeted him, waiting until his urchin had taken the first two porch steps before he climbed up behind her.
"It's been awhile since I've seen you, Paul," Billy said, his signature smile flashing brightly. "Something I can do for you?"
"Actually, yeah," Paul said, trying not to sound as hesitant as he suddenly fucking felt like. "Jake mentioned last month that you were considering remodeling and turning your three bedrooms into two for more space."
"We did discuss it, yes," Billy answered slowly, unsure as to what Paul was getting at. "There haven't been any definitive plans made, though."
"Relax, old man. I'm not trying to pan handle a job," Paul joked and then bit his tongue hard. Of all the fuckwitted things to say…"I was wondering if I could possibly buy one of the beds from you. I'd drive to Port A and pick one up, but I just have the jeep and I doubt I'd make it back here before the storms start," he hastened to explain, a low rumble of thunder in the distance signifying the truth to his statement.
Billy's eyes were glued to the quiet girl staring at her feet. He didn't know who she was, but he definitely knew what she was; an imprint. "Whatever you want, Paul," he offered, backing up to open the screen door again. "Come on in."
Directing his urchin into Billy's living room, Paul pushed her into a chair, whispering that he'd be right back and to just wait a minute.
Billy continued further into the house to the bedrooms, flipping the lights on in Jacob's old room and then went across the hall to do the same for his daughters who had left home several years ago. Neither of the girls had ever expressed an interest in returning home, but Billy had been hesitant to ever do anything with what had been left behind. His youngest, Jacob, had insisted that Billy move in with him and his wife, but Billy liked his house. He had bought it as soon as he had saved enough for the down payment and while his life had drastically altered with his handicap and wife's death he had paid the mortgage off some seven or eight years ago, leaving him the pleasant feeling of being able to accomplish something.
"There you go, Paul; Jake's old bed is to the right and the girls' are to the left," Billy pointed out, watching as Paul stuck his head into Jake's room for all five seconds before detouring suddenly into the girls' room.
"None of them are very nice, but Jake's is bigger; it being a full and all," Billy offered helpfully when Paul looked indecisively between the set of twin beds.
"I will not have her sleeping in another wolf's bed," Paul grumbled.
"It's true then; this is your mate?" Billy asked cautiously, masking his happiness. If any wolf needed an imprint, Paul did.
"She is."
Thoughtfully, Billy stared off into space. Paul certainly had the symptoms of being imprinted, carefully seeing to the girl's comfort before coming to the rooms. His answers were short, though, not the usual gushing of happiness from a wolf. Maybe something was wrong.
"She's a lot smaller than the other imprints," Billy finally commented as the wolf continued to look back and forth between the beds.
Paul slowly turned his head to stare at Billy, the beds forgotten. "And? Does that make her defective somehow?"
"Of course not! I'm simply speaking from the view point of an Elder who knows of the bonding but not the true reason or meaning behind it. Only you would be able to say if you felt she was defective somehow."
"She's fucking fine and I'm keeping her as is," Paul gritted out through clenched teeth, failing to understand what the hell it was to Billy Black if his imprint was smaller than the other girls. He decided to ignore the crazy old man and walked over to the closest bed, sitting down to test for comfort.
"Don't you have a large bed already?" Billy asked curiously, satisfied with Paul's previous answer. "Far be it for me to promote promiscuity, but why do you require another one?"
"Have you seen her, Billy? She's not ready to share a bed with me; hell, I just managed to convince her to share a house with me. Had I even considered the possibility of finally finding my true mate, I would've already had a room prepared for her."
It was a ridiculous notion, the idea of having a room prepared for his girl. Fuck, what the hell was the point in that? Paul wouldn't have known what she'd need or even what kind of shit she liked. Forty eight hours later and he still didn't know her name. His fingers clawed the mattress in frustration.
Billy felt sorry the man who was used to getting anything he wanted from females. He felt sorrier still for the small girl who had to cope with her wolf. "I'm not trying to upset you, Paul, but even my own son has confessed how difficult the first few months are with an imprint and the need for constant contact while they are slumbering. Why didn't you just simply let her have your room and then join her later?"
"Because, it's kind of fucking creepy watching a person sleep or even thinking someone is watching you sleep," Paul answered truthfully, thinking how fucking morose it would be to wake up staring into the face of someone you barely knew; past fuck-buddies the one exception.
"Where did you sleep last night then?" Billy asked with a knowing eye gleam.
Paul slammed his damn mouth shut before he could lie; Billy, the nosey fucker, was right, damn it!
"I didn't sleep next to her the first night," Paul commented sullenly.
"And you probably paid for it," Billy gloated slightly, leaning back in his chair. "Jacob complained every day for the first month after he imprinted, whining about how uncomfortable it was to sleep in need underneath Nadine's window."
Yeah, well Jacob was an annoying bitch like that, Paul almost said before realizing that if the circumstances had been different, he very well could've had a worse experience, sleeping in a fucking sewer.
"Tell me," Billy asked with a know-it-all smirk, "did you not even check on her once?"
Paul knew he could sleep like the dead at night, especially when his fucking cell started to chirp; if it was that fucking much of an emergency, they better contact his ass via Wolf-Bell. That first night, however, he had easily retrieved the phone, his eyes fixed solely on his urchin as soon as he had hit the living room and not leaving until he had returned to his room to ream out the asshole—in that instance, his Alpha—who dared to call so goddamn early in the morning.
"Well, I'm already here," Paul huffed, tired of the conversation and refusing to answer the old-bat. "And I told her she'd be getting a bed. It'd looking really fucking odd if I reneged on my deal."
"That it would," Billy agreed with a mischievous smile. "Have you decided which mattress is worthy of your mate?" Rolling over to the other bed, he pushed up and down on the bed in exaggeration.
"Ha ha, old man, real fucking funny. I'll take Rebecca's; it's the least offensive at the moment," Paul answered, sliding the mattress to the side and easily hoisting the box spring. "I'm going to go outside and set up the roping before I come back to grab the other one. Is it okay if my girl just waits inside?"
Nodding in acceptance, Billy turned to wheel himself back out to join Paul's imprint, eager to meet the woman who had captured the soul of the most aggressive wolf in the pack.
Paul set the box spring on the porch, jogging over to his jeep to grab some tarp, duct tape and rope he had known he would need and had thrown into the backseat. It didn't take long to wrap the mattresses, secure them to the front and rear hitches and then again to each other to help prevent movement. Had he been alone, he would've just thrown the bitches on to the roof and extended his arm out the window to hold tight. His little urchin was with him, though, and she'd get cold with the window open or might require his attention for something.
Another low rumble of thunder echoed across the sky, reminding Paul they didn't have much time before it rained. Giving one last tug to the ropes, he went to retrieve his girl.
"Alright, Billy, I got them secured and we should probably go. How much do I owe you?" Paul asked, digging his wallet out of his back pocket as he walked into the Black's living room.
"Don't be silly, Paul," Billy responded waving off the wolf's offer. "As you said, my son and I were talking about remodeling and I had no plans to keep them once it began. Eventually I'll get rid of the others and replace it with a queen sized bed in case either of my daughters comes home for a visit."
Paul knew Billy Black was a proud man and wouldn't accept any type of money for a pack-related need. He also knew his own damn pride wouldn't accept the gesture without monetary compensation and withdrew two twenties and a ten to leave on a bookcase closest to where he was standing.
"Is she feeling okay, Paul? I introduced myself but she hasn't spoken?" Billy asked, startling Paul as he tried to inconspicuously return his wallet.
"Oh…umm…yeah…well, she doesn't talk much and hasn't actually told me her name," Paul explained embarrassedly when his urchin suddenly looked up to stare at him. "It's okay, though. We're good with calling her Arial until she feels comfortable enough to talk to us."
Shrewdly Billy stared back and forth between the girl with a blank expression and Paul, who looked out of his place in the lie.
"She doesn't look like an Arial," Billy commented daringly, trying not to snicker when Paul gave him an evil look. "In fact, she sort of looks familiar to me…where did you say she was from?"
"I didn't and you couldn't possible know Arial. She grew up in Seattle."
"Hmm," Billy sounded, still staring at the petite, ill groomed figure. "I could've sworn she reminded me of someone…"
Anxiously, Paul licked his lips, wondering if this might be a break in their favor. Could it be possible and Billy really did recognize her from the past? He didn't know if he wanted to push the issue right now and have it blow up unexpectedly in his face, although knowing her real name would be real fucking nice…
"Oh well!" Billy replied jubilantly as another boom of thunder filled the house. "If it was important, I'm sure it would've come to me. It was nice meeting you, Arial, and I look forward to seeing you guys again."
"Yeah, thanks, Billy," Paul returned before leaning over to whisper to his girl and hold her hand for balance. "Come on, Urchin, we're all set."
Paul had no sooner shut his front door with both mattresses safely inside when the sky opened up and the rain came down in torrents, lashing steadily at the windows.
"Wow, we were pretty fucking lucky, Urchin. I'm going to go set this up in the other room for you; do you want to come in there and show me where you want the bed?" Paul asked as he once again easily hoisted both mattresses before deciding he'd best do that shit one at a time before he accidentally banged into a wall or scared his girl.
When he came back to grab the other one, she slowly rose up from the couch to trail behind, her heart rate picking up slightly as she entered what would soon be her room.
"Do you want it here, under the window?"
Short and quick she shook her head. Then with scared eyes, pointed to a corner, far away from the window.
"Yeah, we can put it there," Paul answered easily, relieved that she was at least participating. Once in place, he smiled, realizing that if Billy had been right and his sometimes furry ass needed to be close to his little urchin at night, he could easily enter and sleep on the floor next to her.
"Shit!" Paul yelled unexpectedly, causing the girl to visibly flinch and back away from him. "I forgot to ask Billy if he had any sheets that would fit. I'll have to go grab some that are meant for my bed. They'll be large as fuck, but when we go shopping, I'll grab some smaller sets, okay?" With another smile, he left to go retrieve a clean, king sized set from the linen closest, listening to the shuffling of her feet as she went back to the living room.
Damn it! Was she disappointed he hadn't remembered to ask for some? Trying not to beat the shit out a pillow at his carelessness, Paul grabbed one of the huge ass feathered monstrosities from his own bed before returning to her room, surprised to find that his urchin had returned as well, clutching her blanket.
"Good idea." Paul rambled as he started to dress the bed, trying to fold enough of the excess sheet under the mattress to make the bottom tight and not pull up if she should move too much or get up and fucking trip. "I also grabbed you a different pillow. Sorry I didn't think of that earlier; that couch throw pillow must have felt like a damn rock."
When it was as good as he could get it, Paul turned to face her. "You want me to add the blanket now?"
Her face kind of dropped and slowly she offered it to him, her eyes staring at the ground when he moved to get the blanket. Studying the material without actually touching it, another nasty thought bloomed wildly.
"Is it not good enough?" He asked unthinkingly and frowning.
That blanket had shit to offer in the way of warmth and she must have been hoping he'd give her a better one. His neglected imprint needed so damn much! Paul needed to sit his ass down and actually make a list before he forgot something that seemed common to most, but that his girl required to live like food and heat.
Startled to shit when the blanket hit the floor and she backed away, Paul swooped in to retrieve and hurriedly throw it on the bed before grabbing his urchin around the waist.
"I'm sorry, Urchin; it's the only one I have," Paul crooned softly, turning the upset girl to hug. "Shit, let me turn the heat up, or if you want, we can still go out to town?" he offered as a last resort.
God, he felt like a first class asshole. He couldn't seem to do anything right for this helpless creature. His own childhood had been harder than most and often he had been denied the comfort of hugs. It probably wouldn't solve anything with his urchin, but until she communicated for anything it was all he had to give and Paul did so freely, his arms secured around her form to offer an emotion.
He had no idea what was going on in her head, his arms locked securely to offer warmth of many levels. She was stiff and unaggressive, pressed to Paul's body; the wolf once again muttering apologies and promises to make it up to her.
When his girl placed both of her hands tentatively on his chest, Paul thought his ass was about to fucking swoon in delight at the contact, his vocabulary halting midsentence. He just stared down at her with a loopy smile as she shook her head and stepped back, her hands still pressed lightly to him. He finally regained his goddamn senses when she broke away and gave him a hesitant twitch of something close to a smile before looking down again.
"If you're sure?" He asked again, still feeling blissfully high as a fucking kite. "It's raining like a bitch, but we can go if you want to."
Instead of answering, she went to the bed and laid down, curling up into a ball like a tiny puppy.
"Okay," Paul whispered happily. "I'll leave you be to take a nap and come wake you for lunch." Closing the door quietly, Paul tried to shake off the happy giddiness shit clouding his head so he could start a list.
Grabbing a notepad and pen, he sat at the dining room table, idly sketching as he thought about his happy little urchin. As the haze lifted, he stared down at the shapes littering the edges, growling in distress.
Paul Lahote did not fucking doodle hearts!