To read Vanity and Patience, which is the original this fic is based on, please go to my profile and find the link.
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, and its characters, or plot. The characters, books, and plot are property of Stephenie Meyer. I make no money from writing this. I just love Twilight.
Warning: Lemons in future chapters. Rated NC-17 for a reason. Violence, adult language, drugs, assault, and sexual content.
Chapter Specific Warning: Adult content, but no lemons.
Big thanks to my beta, Lisa aka cfmom, who totally rocks. This story would not be what it is without her.
Playlist:
Ernie Halter – Whisper
John Waithe – Missing You
One Republic – Apologize
Chapter 5: When Remorse Sneaks up on Ya 'n' Kicks Ya in the Keister
I knew I was somewhere in the Carolinas, in a medium sized town, scaling the buildings and hopping on roofs as quietly as possible. I'd finally rested on an interesting spot, overlooking the busiest street. As I glanced around the streets from the rooftop of a small store, my throat felt like a potbelly stove, roasting in ardent thirst.
I was ready for my next hunt.
I observed the prey that walked by, looking for the right one, the right moment, the private, isolated moment that I could take it discreetly and suck the living daylights out of my prize.
There were a few groups here and there, but in the mask of my blood craze, I saw them as herds of wildlife, and I was a bear… waiting, ready.
One particular herd veered off, and my eyes zeroed in on one that seemed to be left behind, too slow for the rest of its contemporaries wait for it to catch up. My ears caught the sound of the beating heart, every wet thump pumping something amazingly scrumptious through its veins. The scent assaulted my airways, and my throat went from a stove to a large furnace full of roaring fiery longing and hunger.
I took one step into the air, letting myself fall and landed softly on my feet in a nearby ally. I snatched the little creature, easy as pie, muffling its small cries with my hand over its mouth while my other hand.
The feeble creature didn't put up a fight, and though a small part of my mind realized this one was smaller and weaker than most I've killed, I didn't care. I wanted this—needed this—more than anything.
Without further ado, I brought my mouth to its freshly broken neck. I felt the tantalizing pulse of my prey beneath my tongue before I sank my teeth into the flesh. My razor sharp incisors cut through the thin membrane of skin and layers of muscle like butter, and almost immediately, my mouth was flooded with warm, thick, salty goodness. It hit my stomach and I rejoiced in a roar, as the source of my life's existence came to be one with me. There was nothing in the world that could ever compete with this feeling, sating your thirst with a good healthy dose of human blood.
It was what we were built for.
Why the hell would we deny it?
An image flashed in my mind of the misguided doctor and his family as I filled my belly, relishing the savory liquor from my prey's veins to the last drops. They were some silly folk to think that I could give this up, and take on their lifestyle. The reward of such top grade nourishment was all that I had lived for these past few days, and I intended to carry on this way.
I fed when I needed, with this being my ninth human kill, men and women of all ages. The doctor and his psychic son hunted me down to tell me of the rules of the so-called Volturi that first day. They approached me, keeping a few yards of physical space between us, their hands up in a sign of peace. I couldn't really blame them, as I'd snarled at them, crouched and ready to lunge at them in self-defense. I couldn't be too certain if they were there to avenge the angel's injury.
Luckily, they had calmed me down enough for me to stop and listen to them. With a slow approach, their hands raised in peace, and their calm tone, they were able to talk me down from my distrust and anger. It was hard not to listen to the doctor, who seemed so kind and sincere for a vampire.
I'd thought that being immortal meant invincibility, but apparently there were others that could make even the most invincible fall. The Volturi sounded like they needed to be taken down, but the doctor and his son were adamant about their power and their danger. A collection of the most powerful of immortals with special abilities could certainly impair and end an individual. That wasn't what I was after. Death didn't become me, and this life was just way too neat for me to give up.
I'd kept my word that I didn't want to bring trouble. I'd traveled south, as far as Georgia, spreading my kills through a span of several states, to keep my killings from being suspect. On occasion I fed on animals, but they were never to my liking. Once I'd even hunted livestock from a farmer in Kentucky—all his cattle, even his horses. I tried my best to spare the farmer himself, but ended up feeding on him the next day. And his wife.
But aside from keeping my kills discreet, nothing could stop me if I wanted it. No one could ever get in the way of my chosen prey and me.
As I finished draining the limp corpse, I dropped it down before me, my eyes changing in focus from their red-blurred, thirsty vision to give me a clear picture of my latest conquered creature.
I froze, a gasp escaping from my lips in utter dread.
My stomach twisted with a sharp pain as my eyes took in the sight of what I'd just drank... the frail lifeless being in front of me.
It was young schoolgirl—no older than six, still in her school uniform.
She had bright red hair, with freckles that dotted her pale face, and immediately my mind recollected a blurry image of someone I knew in a past life.
Betty?
The name came to me before I could even figure out what the person was to me in my past life. Family? A friend?
She was a young version of the girl I once knew, one that I'd known what felt like a lifetime ago. The image of Betty wasn't clear in my head anymore, but the likeness of this child to the fuzzy memory was so uncanny that my stomach rolled in discomfort once again.
Fuck.
I'd killed little Betty.
I immediately backed away, my back hitting the brick wall of the building behind me. I sank down to my ass, till I sat with my legs bent in front of me, trying to understand what I'd just done.
She was just a little girl—a helpless fragile little girl.
What have I become?
My heart broke for the poor, defenseless kid. I was no match for her, at least twice her size and one hundred times stronger, yet in my bloodlust I still pursued her like I did. My hands balled into fists at my side as I pounded the floor in dismay, my stomach doing flips within me. I grabbed my abdomen in response, but I was powerless to stop such a gut-wrenching sensation.
It wasn't until the frenzy had passed, directly after feeding, that I could actually think straight. This was when reality set in, and at this moment, it all came crashing down on me.
I shut my eyes in shame, but was hardly rewarded with what I saw in my mind. An unwanted memory I'd tried hard to suppress came back to me, the same familiar stomach pang. I'd only felt it one other time, just a bit over a week ago, only by much larger magnitude.
This happened often. I couldn't see past the red haze of my bloodlust. That much was true. Nothing could penetrate such a frenzy, but once it all passed, once I was satiated, the fiery haze that blurred my sight only brought one vision back consistently. It was another thing that entered my mind just as soon as I was done quenching my thirst—her haunting butterscotch eyes.
The angel.
The beautiful angel, the Godsend, the one that I didn't want to think of ever again—that'd run hundred miles to forget—seemed to bewitch my consciousness whenever sense returned to me. I recalled knowing that I could never look at her the way I'd looked at other dames before. The thought of her rocked me to my core, something I was sure no cat could ever resist. She flooded my mind day after day: her long golden hair, her porcelain skin, her perfect rose-colored lips, and piercing amber eyes. Those eyes had been haunting me for days.
My stomach seemed to distort as my mind spiraled into my next thought. I didn't understand it either, and the aching part of my stomach would always come to me just as I would relive my last memory of her. It came when I would remember what I'd last done to her with my own hands before I'd left. The heavenly face would only last but a second, always followed by the image of the angel, lying on her side, gasping for air in obvious pain. Her neck, cracked and lacerated, was covered with wounds in the shape of a large hand.
My hand.
My greedy, uncontrollable, senseless hand.
I held my hand up to my face, staring at it, detesting it. It was my enemy. I could never be worthy of such an angel by my side again with a hand like this one.
I exhaled deeply, turning up to the sky and opening my eyes, my thoughts turning to that face again. The face smiled down on me from the sky—from the heavens.
The angel.
Even after I'd nearly slain her, she still looked at me with an open vulnerability, a fear of abandonment, her eyes full of hope and tenderness.
Hope and tenderness that I didn't deserve.
It took all of me to leave those heavenly eyes. But I did it.
I had to.
How else could I ever seek redemption for what I almost did?
She'd been at my side while I burned though my change. She'd been an angel for me during my hell, and I'd repaid her by almost ending her life. She'd carried me all the way home without so much as a thought at trying to consume my blood—an impossible feat for me, I was positive.
It wasn't until this moment that I realized fully what this twisting and flipping in my gut was.
Remorse.
I'd been careful enough in my life to live each day without any regret, and now I was drowning in it. In fact I was so deep in this remorseful ocean that I couldn't see the surface anymore. I didn't know which way to go to gasp for air again, metaphorically speaking, of course.
Unwillingly, I permitted myself another glance at the little girl. Her body lay inert, and colorless. Was this really what I wanted to do? Had this really been what I'd set out to commit to when I left the doctor's family?
Her lifeless eyes were still open—pale green, just like Betty's. My stomach did another uncomfortable flip. I turned away, shutting my own eyes from the vision of the dead green ones pointing to nowhere. It was a symbol of what I'd become, and though I'd accepted it in my other eight kills, none had effected me as this one.
Was the good doctor right?
Had I gone down the wrong path?
Could I really give up all of the luscious, savory, scarlet juice that only a human could provide?
I opened my eyes again, forcing myself to recognize the consequences of my actions. Somewhere out there, a mother and father were looking for their baby girl. Somewhere out there, people who love her were never going to hear her laugh again.
I sat up suddenly, realizing what I knew I had to do.
I had to go back.
I had to return to the good doctor's family, and learn their ways. There was another way to live this life, without any regret or remorse, like I'd always done.
But that wasn't the only reason why I wanted to return to that house.
Against my better judgment, a huge part of me wanted to see her again, though I knew nothing of why I had to. I was no good around her, and I wasn't sure I could ever be. Still, there was a longing with in me that I'd never felt before, an ache that was hardly bearable.
I let out another sigh as I banged the back of my head against the wall, hearing the bricks crack behind my skull.
Whoops.
I tried to dust away the mess of pulverized brick, shaking my head to myself. I still didn't understand my own strength.
Those green lifeless eyes of the child corpse before me clouded my mind with shame… the same shame that I felt for what I'd almost done to the angel.
And I knew at that moment that this wasn't the path for me.
I couldn't do this anymore.
I stood up and carried the body gingerly, struggling with my will not to be a nancy and cry as I thought of the poor, wasted life—her future that ended because of my callous hunger. With one gentle swipe of my fingers, I pushed her eyelids shut, ready to dispose of her corpse, and head on back to Appalachia.
As I found a spot deep in the thick of the nearby woods to bury the body, my stomach tossed in uncomfortable repentance over my murder of the poor kid. I was able to lift a shovel from an abandoned barn on the way. I shoveled the ground as fast as I could, placing little Betty's remains sorrowfully into the ditch before covering it again. I knew I couldn't do this, and I realized that the good vampire doctor and his coven weren't so misguided after all.
As I hastily threw dirt on the lifeless child's body, the angel's face plagued my mind again. Even as I fashioned a cross out of two branches to lay on the mound of dirt in respect for the little one. Even as I said a small prayer to God for her soul.
Even then, I thought of the angel.
No matter how much I denied it, the truth was there, inside of me, eating at my body—at my soul. My eyes longed to see her, my ears craved the sound of her wind chime voice, my nose desired her sweet, rosy-vanilla scent, and my heart absolutely ached to be around her again.
And before I even knew what I was doing, I was running, as fast as my vampire abilities would let me, in the direction of Appalachia, Virginia.
I pushed off the balls of my feet, pushed my legs forward for miles and miles. I ran and ran until the forest grew familiar, and I knew I was on the right path when I caught scent of the doctor and his Know-it-all kid.
I edged closer—I knew it by the scent of the coven members growing stronger with every stride in their direction. Apprehension rolled through my abdomen, like a million butterflies that would fill my stomach at the top of the first hill of a roller coaster. Their wings flapped around uneasily within me as I reached the clearing. I had no doubt the family was home, because I could hear three sets of breathing in the house as I neared its amazing structure. It was larger than I remembered. Then again, the only time I really looked at it was when I was walking away, as I was no condition to appreciate it when I arrived close to dead.
The butterflies multiplied as I paused right before the porch steps. Their wings fluttered restlessly in my chest cavity, remorse and shame causing my stomach to contort anxiously. I could hear a flood of music from inside—a piano, I think it was— and the angel's face came to mind. Something about the sweet but somber melody reminded me of her. I felt like I was going to vomit, the first I'd ever felt of nausea since my change.
Was this the right choice? I had been so sure before, but the apprehension was making me lose confidence in my decision
But I knew. I knew I had to do this. I told myself I was strong enough to face them, even in my shame. Even in my repentance.
After a small instance of hesitation, I tapped the heavy wood of the door with my knuckles.
The music stopped, and the door swung open.
The blonde doctor was at the door. His kind, yellow eyes were full of relief, concern, and welcome. "Emmett, son, please,"—he gestured inside with his hand— "come on in."
Know-it-all stood beside him, as expected. He probably heard my thoughts in my approach.
I wasn't sure how to begin. "I—," I stuttered, standing on our porch timorously. "I followed your scent here."
"That's all right, Emmett. Come inside, will you?" The doctor smiled at me, his expression warm and inviting.
"I'd like a chance to start over," I explained, unable to move from where I was. I wasn't sure I really deserved to be welcomed back into this home. I shifted my weight and shuffled my feet apprehensively.
The doctor's wife and Know-It-All now appeared just behind the physician.
"Of course you can, son," the doctor insisted.
"I'm sorry for being such an ass," I muttered, but I winced with my word choice. I wasn't sure of how to speak to him, but I had a sudden realization that I needed to give more respect. "I never meant to hurt any of you."
"We know that, and it's fine," the doctor's wife said. Her voice was smooth. Something about her reminded me of my own mother. "Please come inside, Emmett. You know you are welcome here."
I hesitated at the door, catching everyone's scent, and realizing there was one more person in the room—a distinct perfume of roses and vanilla. I took a deep breath. "I'm not sure if I can do what you guys do, but I also know I can't keep killing people," he sighed. I'd never heard my voice like this before, a mixture of confliction and defeat. I tried to sound as sincere as possible.
That's when I saw a flash of long, golden blonde hair, and the gorgeous face of the angel peering at me from behind the others.
Pain shot through me like I was being knifed through my abdomen, sharp, burning. The guilt was that strong when I looked at her. I felt my insides shred into little pieces, averting my eyes from her and looking at the others instead.
I took a few steps forward, making my way into their fancy foyer, the doctor and his wife encouraging every step with their smiles.
I couldn't help it. I guessed I must be a glutton for punishment. A masochist. I snuck a glance at the pretty angel as I passed her on the way to the staircase. It was only a small glance, but my mind analyzed the vision in a matter of microseconds. Her amber eyes were plenty darker than I'd remembered, and I had to wonder why. A timid smile grew on her heavenly face, shocking me.
All I could think about in that small moment was how I'd almost killed her.
I switched my eyes away from her, the pang of remorse setting camp within my stomach. The knife plunged in deeper. Yep. Pure masochist.
I stepped forward as the doctor guided me upstairs to a spare bedroom. He and his wife kept a large bubble of physical space—about eight to ten feet or so—between us, probably out of caution.
Smart, I thought, because even when I found them sincere, there was an edge to my thoughts that questioned their trust. I wasn't sure if that was just a vampire thing or a newborn thing, but it left a cat paranoid in the back of his head.
I'd spent the rest of the afternoon in the new bedroom. It was pale with dark furniture, fancier than I've ever used, nicer than anything my family's ever owned. I felt out of place here.
I didn't care for company, but I could hear the whispers of the family down below, their curiosity as they leaned on Know-it-all—I think his name was Edward—for an update on the week that I'd spent gorging on innocent humans. Though it bothered me that he would give away such private thoughts, I realized to live in this home; they'd have to know what I'd been doing, and what my plans were. It wasn't something I'd felt vocal about, so part of me was actually relieved that he'd done it for me.
Thanks, I said mentally, though I felt like a fool sending a thought down to the obviously telepathic man downstairs.
After a while, a soft knock at my door startled me, and I opened it slowly.
It was the doctor's wife, whom I'd now learned was named Esme.
"Hello," she said, softly, her feet planted in the hallway.
I nodded my head, taking a step back.
There was a small moment of awkward silence before she spoke. "This most likely wont fit, but I figured you'd like a change of clothes before we can get a chance to shop for you."
I looked down at my soiled outfit, the same that I'd worn since my change, since the bear had tried its hand at killing me. "Oh, thank you," I said, suddenly a little embarrassed that I had nothing else to offer her in return. "This should be good."
She began to move forward with her arms stretched, ready to hand me the pile of clothes, when I took several steps back. I took an earlier cue from the doctor, putting the same amount of space between his sweet wife and me.
"Oh." She said, stepping back. "Right." She turned to place the clothing on the credenza in the hall. "They'll be right here then."
"Thank you," I said as cleared my throat, making a pitiful attempt at a smile.
She smiled back, her fingers clasping each other as her hands came together in front of her. "I really am pleased that you decided to come back to us, Emmett."
With that statement, I was able to give her a true smile. She had such a maternal presence. Any joe would be a heartless dick not to recognize that.
She stood for only a moment before saying "We're just down the hall if you need anything." With a wave, she was gone.
The pants were short but it was better than nothing. I didn't bother looking at myself in the mirror, and I froze like a statue once more.
Something nagged at me as I stood as a sculpture, chewing over my decision to come back here. I'd apologized to the family collectively, but I felt my job was not complete. There was an apology left hanging, lingering in the air.
It was the most significant apology I'd ever have to issue in my life.
That angel—the fruit of my demise.
Her golden eyes haunted my thoughts again. To think just earlier today, her beautiful lips— rosy in color, even for a vampire—stretched in a smile in my direction that my previous behavior didn't warrant.
I needed to tell her how sorry I was. The angel didn't deserve the pain I'd caused her. I was clearly a danger to her.
That apology wasn't the only thing lingering in the air. In the time that I'd stood there, motionless, my lungs had filled with a burn, and my throat was a potbelly stove once again.
I needed to hunt.
They weren't joking about newbornsI was a slave to my blood thirst.
I remembered how the angel's brother could read my thoughts, wondering if he could help me. Maybe he had advice, both with how to approach his sister, and where to hunt the best animal blood.
I fought trying to wince at the thought. The elk, from what I remembered, was not appetizing. I was hoping that maybe they were right about carnivores. Maybe I could find a wild cat, or even a bear.
I tried to be as stealthy as possible as I opened the door and stepped out of the room, Know-it-All already in the hall.
Oh, good. You heard me.
He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He smiled a little, nodding.
I don't know how to go about doing this. Apologizing to your sister… I cant even… I don't know where to…
He motioned for me to follow him down the stairs. I walked with him, following out the door and through their lawn, to the far end of the property. Know-it-all turned to me suddenly, his voice low. "I needed you out here because she could hear us in the house."
I nodded in agreement. "Good thinking."
"It's Edward, by the way."
"Right. Got it." I nodded. "Edward."
"I've got an idea, and then afterwards we can go hunting. It'll be probably best that you come with either Carlisle or me when you hunt. We'll leave the ladies out of this for a while—to keep from a repeat of what had transpired the last time."
Shame swirled around to linger at remorse's campsite in my stomach. "Right."
It was a few moments later that I found myself staring at the house, up to the window that Edward had pointed out to me.
I couldn't put one foot in front of the other at the thought of what I was about to do. The thought of her was like a knife again, twisting and cutting at my chest in angry, shameful, violent shapes.
I looked back at Edward, shooting him a nervous glance.
He nodded at me encouragingly. He pointed to the ground at his feet, a silent gesture to let me know he was here for me.
You had to appreciate the guy. He was quite supportive.
After all the angel had done for me, I knew I owed her this much. To acknowledge my wrong. To apologize for it. To beg for her forgiveness, though I totally understood if she was never going to give it.
I coiled and sprung, jumping high to land right on the sill of her open window, and hopped down, the balls of my feet landing lightly on her floor. Her room smelled much like her, floral and sweet.
She sat on her couch, reading a textbook. Her golden mane fell forward, and in combination with the evening's shadows, hid her face from me.
She looked up when she sensed me there, which didn't take but a second. "Emmett?" her wind chimed voice breathed. She was startled, but something else lingered in the pitch of her voice. Was it excitement? My mouth pressed into a line. It was the completely wrong emotion for her to have.
She stood up, looking like she wanted to come up to me.
"Please," I breathed softly, lifting up my hands to halt her. "Stay where you are. I can't afford a chance that I'd harm you again. If I suddenly turn on you again I don't know if I can control myself."
"What… are you doing here?" Her voice was shaky.
Maybe she was scared.
Good, the forefront of my thoughts said. She should be. But there was a small part, deep within me that hurt at the thought that she could fear me.
"I wanted… I wanted t-to." I hated that I stuttered, pausing only to gather myself. Looking at her wasn't helping, so I made like a chicken and stared at my feet. I brought my hands down letting my arms fall to my sides.
I can do this, I told myself. I can talk to her.
I took another deep breath for courage before looking up and speaking again. "I wanted to apologize to you… formally." There I said it. "Ask for your forgiveness." I wasn't sure why I said my last phrase. As if I was translating the word 'apologize' to a foreigner.
Her huge ochre eyes grew wide. "Apologize? What for?"
"I never meant to hurt you. To …to turn on you like I did. I—"
"Don't apologize, Emmett, please," she interjected, stepping forward.
Damn her for wanting to stand near me. Doesn't she know I'm a danger to her?
"No, I want you to know, I would never lay a hand on a lady." I was nervous, and I felt it. I was rarely rendered nervous, chronically vomiting phrases that meant nothing. My mouth opened. "Not like that. I'm a McCarty, and we don't hit women." There it was, my nonsensical rambling—offering information that wasn't relevant to the conversation.
She took another idiotic step forward and I took a very deliberate step back.
I opened my mouth again, praying to God that I made sense this time. "Especially not you." My insides grew tight where my heart once beat. Her pretty face—God, I would never be good enough to get next to the likes of her. "You didn't deserve that," I lamented in a whisper. I shook my head. "I'm such an ass."
"Emmett, I know that wasn't you."
God that voice—it made me want to cry.
She moved in my direction. "You weren't yourself."
I shook my head in protest. "Please forgive me."
"I—" she began, but my desperation for her forgiveness must've been in my expression, because she didn't argue any further.
"I forgive you," she said in a breath, and took another step forward.
What the hell was wrong with her? "Step back," I groaned, raising my hands back up. She really needed to stop doing this to herself.
Like a light switch, I could feel the newborn side of me turn on… like warming up the engine of an automobile before you were able to take it on a ride. I could feel the red haze begin to seep in my vision.
Enemy, the voice in my head said.
Like a piece of cardboard, I felt my inner self tear in half. No. That tightening in my chest, the part that pained when it learned of the angel's fear for me, suddenly had a voice of its own.
But the angel continued to move towards me slowly anyway.
A snarl broke loose from my mouth, and I could feel my hands work to attack her. Enemy closing in! I balled my hands into fists in protest of my stubborn, volatile nature.
But before I'd let that animalistic side take over, I flung myself out the window. Landing on the grass of the lawn and jumping in such an uncalculated rush, I'd lost my footing. I tripped and fell on my side. So much for a graceful landing.
"Emmett," I heard her cry softly after me.
I was busy looking down at myself as I stood up, brushing the dead grass off of my short pants and tight shirt. When I'd looked up Edward was at her window.
"He just wanted to apologize to you in private. But now we're going hunting," he explained quietly.
"Hunting?" Her voice was full of hope that didn't make sense. "What—wait. I'll go with you," I heard the crazy young lady insist.
I shook my head, getting on my feet, positioning myself to run in the other direction. The burn in my throat flared in response of my need, providing a large distraction from the girl upstairs who had seemed to lose her sense.
"No, Rose," I heard Edward say. "You shouldn't. Not right now."
"But Edward—"
I shut my eyes at the sound of the dame's voice. This was not going to be easy, so I began a light jog towards the forest, waiting right at the beginning of the wooded area for Edward. I was waist deep in the scorching pain of my throat that hunger gave me.
"Rose, stay home. It's not the right time," Edward pleaded. He hopped out of her window to join me. He took one last look at her before running in my direction.
My air passage was up in flames, a larger part of me growing impatient. My jog became a human-paced sprint.
"Edward," I heard the angel's voice call out in the night.
Running backwards, he said, "Let him be for now, Rose. Now is not the time."
The boy was fast, I had to give him that. He made a noise as he caught up with me, his face amused. It was as if it was in response to a thought, but my nose had caught wind of something carnivorous just north of where we were running… and I could care less what he was thinking.
Thirst and blood claimed my young vampire mind and my body once again.
I turned myself over to my instincts, because it was the easier thing to do and the only thing my entire mind could handle.
A slave to my thirst, indeed.
Endnotes:
Thanks for coming by. I've got ideas for future chapters on this story, but I have to warn that since it's a companion fic to V&P, it won't have as many updates. This is, however, a way for me to let V&P live on, so I even though I don't guarantee constant updates, I will be back for Strength and Remorse.
For all of you Vanity and Patience fans, I still have an Epilogue to write. I'm about 2,000 words in, and I hope to get it up in the next month or two.
If you're a fan of my writing, I have started a short story on Rachel Black and her imprinted, Paul. The first chapter is out, with the second one coming very soon. The story is called Hungry Like The Wolf. Check it out from the link on my profile