My dad chose 7AM this morning to knock on my door. "Rachel?" I had no idea when he even returned from the council bonfire last night. Granted I crawled into bed around nine, so it might not have even been that late. He'd come in and out at various points of the past week, feeling bad about leaving his two children – freshly beat up by leeches – all alone. But we knew he was meeting and talking about The Situation - as Jake and I referred to it - so we just assured him we'd all be okay.

"Come in…" I rasped out as I felt around the stitches Dr. Fang had checked out recently, before pulling my hair up into a knot.

My door popped open and my dad stopped dead not three feet into my room. "Rachel…" he asked slowly, trying to phrase his question – I'm sure – in a manner that would not make me flip out. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Nooo," I moaned leaning forward over my lap. "I feel like crap…"

I heard him come closer and stop at the side of my bed. "C'mere…" I sat up and Dad placed a warm hand on my forehead. "You actually feel a little chilly."

"It's freezing in here," I sniffed.

"It's almost seventy degrees out, Rach. I think someone is sick."

"I'm not sick," I protested, even as I felt a pressure headache beginning behind my eyes. Plus I had been using that as my excuse for odd behavior yesterday. "I'm as strong as an ox…"

"Okay, well the oxen need to take a day off today. I know I can't tell what you kids are up to while I'm at council, but I'll assume you haven't been listening to me when I told you to take it easy."

"Dad, I'm twenty-three…"

"But when you're under my roof, I'm the head honcho. Now I need you to set a decent example for your brother because I've got enough forces acting against me with that boy. Can I get your word that at least for today you'll relax?"

"Fiiine," I whined. "I'll hang out and do nothing today. I swear."

"Thank you. I feel bad enough as it is leaving you two here–"

"We're fine, Dad," I intoned. "We can feed ourselves and use the phone and Jake even has potty training down."

"Ah, you're my daughter all right," he sighed as he began to turn. "Stay in bed. If you need me for anything, call. Otherwise, I know Leah's home as well as Mrs. Call. Don't be afraid to call them."

"Mhm…" I muttered and rolled over as he left. I was so sure that Embry's mom would be willing to come help either Jake or I. Not that she was a mean or bad woman, but she was fairly well convinced that Embry had joined a gang and Jake and Quil and all the other pack boys were a part of it. Because she didn't know about the pack. Of course, it was just shape shifter nonsense, but she'd brought 'the issue' before Tribal Council more than a few times and Dad and Sue and Old Quil had to just shrug her off. I'm pretty sure if we called her for help, she'd shove us off a cliff. He must've been desperate.

But whatever.

I plopped back down and passed out until one that afternoon. I was awakened by my own pounding head. I was freezing, I couldn't breathe through my nose, my whole body ached and my head was throbbing and spinning all at the same time. I was really at my prime as I huddled beneath my covers and placed my head between my upturned knees, trying to keep the horizons where they belonged.

And because it wasn't bad enough, there was then a knocking on my front door. I figured that my brother was still passed out on last evening's pain meds and I had zero desire to move, so I shouted from my spot. "Who is it!"

"Take a fucking guess!" was the reply.

Awesome.

"Go away!"

Instead of continuing our intelligent screaming match from the other side of the front door and across the house, Paul let himself in. Because it's not like we lock our doors in La Push. Something I was seriously starting to consider. Like it would stop him, my subconscious argued. "Get out of my house!"

I was still pissed at him. Not only for halfway making me choose him or my brother, but for being so damn angry after the fact. I felt bad about what I happened, really I did, but where the hell did he get off? Not to mention, he came to me last night a pile of self-deprecating worry, he kissed me like there was no tomorrow and just left.

I heard him walking across the living room and down the hall, all the while I kept getting more and more angry. I didn't need this right now. I really didn't. I was torn between ripping the covers off and beating the crap out of him and simply curling into a tighter ball as he stepped into my room. I started reaching around for something heavy to throw at him.

"Rachel, would you please just talk to me?" The boy was almost hysterical. "I can't even see straight!"

"Paul! I cannot do this right now!" I had to pause here for a sneeze. "I am not coming out of this blanket cocoon for at least another 48 hours."

In retrospect, I suppose Paul was partially upset about our prior issues. On the other hand, I'm pretty sure some part of his genetic makeup was becoming attuned to the fact that my system was in a steady tailspin. I look back at the track of his attempts to contact me and they get more frequent and closer together the worse my sickness had gotten over this past week.

And never mind sensing my illnesses from across town, he could tell – without even seeing or properly hearing me beneath my blanket cave – that something was totally and completely awry.

That is imprinting.

And because the world is the most passive aggressive bitch I know, the entire argument we were about to have dissolved. I felt the edge of my bed sag. In an instant the corner of my comforter was tossed open and I was exposed to the dull light and frigid air of the outside world. I clamped my legs closer to my chest and shivered convulsively as Paul slipped under my covers and through that narrow gap.

For a moment I just watched him as he sat in my little heat bubble with me. He was clearly upset. His face was all distorted and his eyes were wide. He looked really tense and I felt bad.

"Are you all right? Why are you sick? What can I do?"

"Paul!" I shouted through my slowly deteriorating voice. "Breathe… I'm fine. I'm just sick. It's a cold or the flu or something. I'm just dizzy and cold and can't breathe."

"Well, I can't help the vertigo but you know I operate at a temperate 108 degrees," he offered.

"No way. I am not coming any closer. I look like total crap. And you're a damn jerk!"

"Rachel, I would feel a lot better if you just came over here. There are plenty of other things we can argue about, okay?"

I could already feel it getting warmer under my comforter since he'd joined me. And truth be told: I also had no self-control. Except I didn't explode into massive dog shapes when that became a problem.

"Fine," I grumbled. I couldn't really deny the comfort of Paul's natural warmth. I moved myself forward and collapsed rather ungracefully into his lap. My body was still terribly tense, but as his arms wrapped slowly around my waist I couldn't help but relax into his shoulder. For a few minutes I just sat there, enjoying the comfort it brought me.

I tried to remind myself to stay mad, that it was only his heat that made me feel better. Not the fact that he'd completely switched gears the moment he sensed I was sick. Not the feeling of his arms strong and gentle and around my stomach. Or his even breathing down the side of my neck as I fell into rhythm with his natural rocking tendency. None of that was important. I was still mad. Right?

I couldn't even stick by my guns with this guy. He just turned me to a pile of Jello. See? No self-control.

"Stop," I whined. His arms came away from my waist immediately and he froze as if he'd burnt me.

"What?" he asked.

"I'm supposed to be mad at you," I insisted as I contradicted myself by burrowing further into his chest.

"Oh," he laughed once. "So that's what this is about?"

"Yeah," I groused.

"Well, you can wail on me later, okay?"

"Deal."

I never actually fell asleep, though Paul swears I did. I just sort of drifted into that state of total relaxation. I was on the very cusp of sleep: my eyes were closed, my breathing shallow and even – but I just couldn't ruin the moment by sleeping through it. Even though I probably could've used it.

I'm not sure how long I just sat there in his lap, eventually though I came back to coherency. I begrudgingly turned myself around so I could face him. I was in a much better frame of mind compared to when he arrived and we really needed to address the pink elephant in the room. Because it was starting to do cartwheels.

The fact that I could barely see him through the darkness under my comforter was kind of nice.

"So," I began, resting my forehead on his shoulder. "I think we need to talk."

"I'm sorry, Rach."

That was not what I was expecting.

"Excuse me?" I asked, picking my head up to look at him.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…" he was having a hard time verbalizing whatever he was thinking. I later found out that this was mostly because Paul didn't regularly apologize for things. It just wasn't what he did. He wasn't used to it at all.

"I didn't mean to make you upset. I didn't want to make you choose between me or your brother – that's not what I meant. I was worried Rachel. I was almost fucking sick with it. I just don't want anything to happen to you ever, okay? I realize that's totally unrealistic, but just know that I can't really change it. It's natural."

I chewed my lower lip as I thought over what he'd just said. I was glad that he realized what set me off. I was also glad that he hadn't intentionally given me an ultimatum. However he was graciously avoiding the crux of our confrontation. That one thing that had cut through our argument like a flaming arrow.

I had given him a clear demand.

I had made him do something. He couldn't disobey me like a regular boyfriend, because he was pre-programmed to do whatever I desired. It didn't help that Paul personally hated being told what to do. He didn't like others having power over him. I can't say as I blame him; I feel the same way. The only difference is that I'm fully capable of ignoring people.

"Wow… you make me feel like crap…" I admitted, pressing my cold fingers to his chest to warm them.

"What? C'mon… I'm trying to make it better."

"I know," I nodded. "But I made you listen to me. I told you…"

His whole upper body moved with his following sigh. "I won't lie, Rach: I hate being told to do shit, you know that. But… you have me. I'll probably do anything you want from now until the end of time – and love every minute of it. It was just… it was just a worlds collide sort of scenario. I'm so used to just knowing what you want, that you don't need to tell me. So once my brain got clouded to the point where I couldn't sense that anymore and you had to tell me? I just… I didn't think you'd ever have to be so blunt and forceful with me. I thought I'd just be able to figure it out before it ever came to that."

"Do you realize how irrational it is to expect to be able to read my mind?" I asked him. "Even for you and I, I'm sure they're going to be things that will need to be explicitly stated. We're not telepathic, just instinctual."

"I know, I know..." he replied. "It's stupid. Don't judge, Rach... don't judge."

"That's what I'm here for, babe. Now, I gotta get up. I got shit to do today."

"But it's so spacious and luxurious in this blanket fort you've created," he mocked.

"I was cold," I pouted, pressing my still chilled nose into his shoulder, making him flinch. "Don't judge, Paul. Don't judge."

"So," he continued, ignoring my jibe and began slowly extricating us from my comforter. As long as he was in range, I wasn't too cold. I wasn't shy about how I more or less used Paul as a space heater. I loved and tolerated him, I got that privilege right? "What shit have you to do today?"

I let my legs dangle over the edge of my bed and swing idly as I watched Paul absently begin to pick up my room. He handed me a sweatshirt from the chair next to my desk and I tugged it over my head. "I have a job interview. At QNR."

"Really? I didn't know you'd applied," his sentenced trailed off, a bit forlorn as he realized we hadn't talked in a while. I decided to nip it in the bud and just continue in a casual explanation before he got too self-loathing.

"Yep. They're looking for a lab assistant and the fact that I might actually be able to wrangle a job relevant to my education is pretty sweet."

He turned back to me, a fist full of my clothes he'd picked up off the floor, and pause before opening my hamper. Then he got that forlorn look again.

I knew this one... It was the same conversation that my dad had had with me when I applied. Paul felt like he was keeping me on the res. Which, yes, he was. But I was glad to; it wasn't something I resented. I don't think the fast-paced urban setting of Seattle would've suited my low-key tendencies.

I rolled my eyes. "Stop it,"I said. "Am I going to be able to say anything to you today without your feeling bad about it? QNR would be a great job. It's local, it's what I want - environmental - and I get to stay near my dad." I knew if I mentioned Dad, he wouldn't feel like I was doing it just for him - which I wasn't - but his stupid boy head... Whatever! "It's small now, but they're definitely going to be experiencing some growth, since we live in a national park. I'll be able to move up... It'll be good."

I watched him proceed to my hamper and dump my clothes in. After that, he opened my closet door and started firing my shoes in. "Are you seriously cleaning my room?"

"Hey," he retorted as he shut the closet door. "It's like chaos in here. I'm a neat-nick. Ever hear the phrase 'cluttered space, cluttered mind'? It's totally true. Besides, you're sick - the least I can do is help you out. Maybe I'll find a stash of porn or your underwear drawer or something..."

My Paul was back. "No way!" I shouted as I crinkled my nose.

"No porn for you?" Paul feigned disappointment.

"Oh, tons. I was talking about the latter. What makes you think I wear underwear?"

He tried not to smile and just quirked an eyebrow at me. He stepped across my now clear floor and bent down. I extended my neck and met my lips with his own. Delicious. He tasted so warm and wonderful. He hummed in contentment as he pulled softly against my lower lip. Clearly the time apart hadn't been good to him. I wrapped my arms gently around his neck, letting the fingers of one hand play with the fringe of his hair, while the other rested beneath the collar of his shirt on his scorching flesh. I opened my mouth to mumble, "I'm gonna get you sick..."

"Doubt it," his warm breath coursed over my neck as he moved his lips to my jawline. "This body temperature will burn off Ebola." His hands moved from their spots - planted on each side of me on my bed - and covered my hips. His hands were so huge, he probably could've wrapped his hands entirely around my waist. I could feel the warmth radiating through my hips and across my belly, only vaguely disguising other warming sensations he caused. He reached his right thumb beneath the waistband of my sweatpants and hooked it into the side of my underwear.

I gasped, not really sure what he was doing. We'd drawn the boundaries pretty clearly. I wasn't ready to have sex with Paul. It's strange because I've known the guy for six months now. We've been a 'thing' for about three. Now, I'm not a complete prude, I've been with other guys before - totally willfully unbeknownst to Paul. But for some reason I just don't feel right about sleeping with him yet.

Sure, it should make sense that I should. He's mine forever; we love each other. If anything was closer to set in stone than this, I don't know what it is. And, despite my track record for commitment - I'm totally okay with that. But maybe it's for this reason that I can't bring myself to sleep with poor guy yet. It's important now. It's not just some fling - it really means something. Despite how corny that sounds, its true. And then the core of the issue? Mating. I am not there yet. And Paul may be biologically able to procreate but he is not ready for fatherhood.

And I won't lie when I say I'm a bit scared. For multiple reasons. Number one goes back to that mating business. What if the pack guys are virile enough to thwart birth control? It's not like we know that either way yet, but it's a total possibility. And I don't wish to start the experiments.

Second concern: pain. Paul is a big ass guy and despite his attempts to hide any sort of sexual reaction to me, I have borne witness to a few on occasion. And I'm scared. I don't think he's anything abnormal, but if he's proportionally the same size all over as every other guy - it's gonna hurt a lot. I'm sure he'll be a self-destructive mess after the occasion as well. It's just not a bridge I want to cross right now.

He's so attuned to me I don't even need to say anything but that doesn't mean I don't know he wants to jump my bones all the time. But I feel so bad. Like I'm holding out on him. He'd never make me feel guilty about it, he doesn't even mention it, but how much can a person take? That can't be fair to him.

I pulled my arms from around his neck and fisted them in the material of his t-shirt against his chest, willing him to not make me be bitch and say something. Just as I began to panic, he smiled against my skin. "I knew it. You do wear underwear." His teeth nipped at my collarbone. "Don't think for a minute I wouldn't have noticed that you don't wear anything. I'm insulted." It was here that he paused for a moment. He leaned back a fraction of an inch and sniffed me. Yes, he sniffed me. Just below my ear. "You have mono," he informed me matter-of-factly. "Now get that tight ass of yours in the shower or you're going to be late."