Author's Note: Welcome back to another chapter of this insane story that will not — will not — get off my back. Lately, all I've been doing is writing, I swear. If I stop posting new chapters please know that this means I've finally got buried under all my papers, so call an ambulance for me, alright?

Anyway, thank you for all those who favorited, followed or reviewed the first chapters.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Like, nothing. Don't send me to jail.


It was torture.

Hearing her broken whimpers and choked cries were bad enough — especially when he could do nothing about it. Paul felt useless hearing his imprint trashing around in her bad, as the nightmares consumed her night away. But worse than that, what made the hours stretch impossibly long and caused his stress levels to peak, was the name crossing her lips ever so often as she cried out.

Why did she have to speak as she slept? It wasn't normal. Paul wished she did anything other than cry for the leech in her sleep while sounding afraid and needy at the same time.

He needed to leave, to vent before he broke into her house and woke her up forcefully.

Thankfully, before he could reach an unmanageable state, she woke up, jumping from her bed and moving to make breakfast. It was a blessing, for it also meant his patrol was coming to an end.

And even though his instincts craved the proximity — and leaving her meant constantly thinking about her and what she could be doing — Paul needed his fix, otherwise he would snap. He had already formed a track on the floor beneath his paws, as he paced angrily around a tree. He needed to leave.

When he heard the approaching noise of Quil's trot, Paul breathed in anticipation, already picturing his path after he left his place in front of the house of his soulmate.

He stayed only long enough to demand Quil's uttermost attention to his surroundings before he rushed towards La Push, blazing through the forest as he pushed his body as fast as it would go.

He finally saw the house — his destination. It was there — as if it was waiting for him. The back door would be unlocked, as it always was.

Carrying a key around was a hassle very few of them bothered with, and, as werewolves, they didn't exactly have nine-to-five jobs, which meant they couldn't rely on someone to open the door for them at three in the fucking morning. So they left the doors open — it was easier. It wasn't as if they were afraid of criminals, anyway.

With the anger still pulsing through his body, Paul needed some minutes to control himself enough to shift back to his human body. He breathed through his nose as he pushed his shorts up his legs, trying to calm himself enough to enter the house. It wouldn't do to break anything inside it.

He pushed the door open and ran up the stairs, entering the second room on the left. Lying diagonally on the bed was the person Paul had gone to see. Checking that there weren't any other heartbeats around the house, Paul allowed the door to slam behind him.

The person jumped out of the bed and turned to face him, still waking up and processing the scene before them.

"Wait for me outside, I need the bathroom first." The husky demand came, after a long pause.

Paul nodded in agreement, before stepping out of the room and going to the forest behind the house. He took his shorts off, tying them carefully to his leg. Too many times had he forgotten to take them off. There was only so many times a guy could go to the store to pick up piles of shorts before it became weird — and Paul had, undoubtedly, passed that point a long time ago.

When the person arrived, equally as naked, Paul felt the rush of adrenaline pumping. It was so close now; he could feel it coming.

"You're gonna have to throw the first punch today, I was having a hella good dream." The person grumbled another demand.

"That's ok," Paul admitted, too eager to pretend to be concerned about the order.

He closed his fist and punched the guy in the stomach, feeling the muscles contracting under his hand as he did so. A hiss of pain passed the guys lips, which did surprise him. Usually, his partner wasn't so quick to complain, but perhaps Paul had used more strength than normal. The force of the imprint was throwing him off his already quite shaky balance.

After that, the shift came easily to both of them. Paul bit the flesh in front of him, felling the anger burning inside as he did so.

He needed that, craved the fight as much as he did his next breath.

He knew his pack brothers waited for the day he would discover a more healthy and constructive way to channel his anger, but Paul knew better than to wish for such an illusory fix — a whole life of violence and destructive behavior wasn't going to change just because a bunch of well-meaning werewolves wished so. He just needed to channel it to the least harmful thing he could, and that's where that fight came into place. It was a remedy, a quick fix.

Paul needed it and was happy to have someone in his life who understood it.

'Getting sentimental with me, you fucker,' Jared teased, growling inside his mind as they rolled around in the grass trying to get the upper hand on each other.

'Shut up,' Paul cursed, once more wishing for that ridiculous bond to stop displaying his private thoughts to all his pack brothers. It was an annoyance to the arguably good package of being a wolf.

'Good package? Only when you're not pms'ing like this,' his brother teased again as he got a good bite on Paul's side. 'I was dreaming about Kim, you know?'

'Nice ass,' he mocked as Jared pictured the dream he had interrupted. He only said it to provoke Jared, and they both knew it.

With how much they were around each other — as human or as a wolf — Paul had seen Kim in every angle and shape known to man, and it had never done anything for him. Not only was she the opposite of his type, but she was Jared's imprint, which meant her image was always colored by a family aura that prevented any disturbing thoughts on his part.

'Thank the spirits for small mercies,' Jared said. 'If I had to suffer through your wet dreams about my girlfriend, I'd have a hard time getting it up.'

'We all know you already have that problem, man, don't kid yourself,' Paul groaned, as he shook Jared off of him. 'Don't try to pretend I'd be the issue'

He took a deep breath, feeling the anger dissipate as he did so. They were talking — that was a good sign. The words only got through him when his anger was already leaving him and Jared was well aware of that, which meant he made no further effort to get back on top of Paul when he fell on the ground beside him.

'What happened?' he asked, licking a wound in his hind leg.

Paul didn't answer but instead allowed the images and sounds from the night before to play in the front of his mind for Jared to watch. It would be better than any words Paul might have had.

'Ah, that sucks,' Jared agreed to Paul's sentiments as the last minutes passed in their mind. 'She's still stuck in the past, Paul, it's understandable seeing how the bloodsuckers can get. She's bound to have nightmares about it, especially now that she knows the red-haired bitch is after her.'

'I know. I just... The feelings are so... And the screams.'

'Yeah, man, I understand,' Jared said, as he raised his head to look at Paul.

Of course, he did. Jared always understood Paul's shit, since they had been stupid kids with no clue as to what they were doing. It was why he had gone there, why they lived together. Jared knew him better than anyone alive — and probably dead as well.

'Oh, I love it when you get sentimental on me,' he interrupted his thoughts, licking Paul's face as he did so. 'It's a shame I'm a committed man. Otherwise, I take you right here on this wet grass.'

'Get off me, you fucker. I wouldn't do you if you were the last available hole on this planet.'

'You say that now, but in that party-'

'Stop bringing that up, man, for fuck's sake. If you want to go gay, go for it, but stop bringing that fucking party up. I was shitfaced and you had a wig on.'

'Yeah, that's what he said,' Quil suddenly interrupted, amused at their bicker.

'Shut up, Quil' they said in unison, taking the opportunity to shift back.

"Man, I'm starving. I need some meat to speed up this healing," Jared complained, entering back into the house.

"Bacon?" Paul questioned, already moving to the fridge without waiting for an answer.

"I'll get the plates," Jared agreed, getting some napkins and wiping the blood off his torso. "Don't think you're getting off the hook so easily, though. You woke me up from a fucking good dream, you wash the dishes."

"Whatever," Paul grumbled, turning to the fridge to hide the smile blossoming on his face.

Yeah, it was good to be home.


The bonfire had been a terrible idea. Paul didn't want her to know any more of their stories than she already did, at least not yet. As an imprint, however, she had the right to know everything about his tribe and his pack — even if she was still completely clueless about such rights.

The elders would wait until midnight to arrive, however, so the pack was chilling on the beach — drinking and eating the piles of food Emily had prepared earlier. Someone had brought a soundbox and some stupid hippie music was playing. Bella wasn't there. He had planned to ignore her and watch for afar, trying to convince himself that it would be enough to satisfy the bond, but having her so close — being able to smell her — was making the pull in his middle impossible to ignore. Like a magnet, Paul was being drawn to her hiding place further along the beach, where she sat by herself, looking at the ocean.

His presence startled her, and she began to move to get up, but Paul signalized for her to stay put. She looked rather peaceful where she sat; it would be a shame to move her. Instead, Paul stopped at a respectable distance and sat down as well. He still could remember the last time they met vividly, and the look of fear she had on her face needed to be addressed before anything else. Maybe Paul wasn't ready for her to know of their bond straight away, but she needed to understand that he would never hurt her. He couldn't.

"I'm sorry I scared you the last time," He said, surprising himself with his own words. Paul couldn't remember the last time he had apologized to someone in his life. But something in him demanded that he made it crystal clear. She needed to know. "It wasn't my intention."

"Jake forced you to apologize?" She asked, after a long pause, looking rather sure of her assessment.

Paul couldn't hold the laughter down. "Jake? You've got to be shitting me."

The idea that Jacob could order him to do anything was so ludicrous that Paul could stop laughing, even after her expression became slightly offended. He tried — he really did — but it was impossible to stop the loud laugh bursting out of his lips.

"It cannot be that funny."

She had no clue. Nevertheless, it was better that way, at least for now. Before she could ask for the real reason he was apologizing — something he never did —, and dragged the truth out of him, Paul decided to make something up. Something more believable than Jacob's order.

"Jacob is a pup," He explained, gathering his legs closer and wrapping his arms around them. "Sam asked me to play nice for now. We want to catch the leech, Swan, and since she seems to be after you, we'll be seeing each other a lot."

There, it wasn't a complete lie. Sam had asked him to play nice before he imprinted, and they would be seeing a whole lot of each other. For the rest of their lives, if Paul had his way.

He tried to ignore the way she flinched in fear when he mentioned the leech. It triggered all sorts of possessive behavior on his wolf and he couldn't exactly act on those urges at the moment. Paul had a feeling she would protest if he were to grab her and lock her inside his house.

Easy, he reminded himself. Don't scare her once again.

"Bella," she automatically said. "Call me Bella, everybody does."

"Okay," Paul agreed, not feeling the need to add that he had already been calling her Bella in his mind. "Bella."

If he weren't staring directly at her like the creep he was slowly becoming, Paul would have missed the slight shiver that ran through her body. And while he wanted to believe that his voice had that sort of effect on her, the reality was that it had become cold on the beach. Of course, Paul couldn't really feel it, but focusing on the way her body was curling on itself, it was obvious she felt the cold.

She was only wearing a thin blouse. Where was her sense of self-preservation?

"Where's your jacket?" Paul demanded, way more sharply than the situation probably demanded. It wasn't as if he could control himself, he needed to take care of her and it would be nice if she didn't try to make his job harder than it needed to be.

She jumped a little at his bark, turning to look at the ocean in front of her. If she was trying to hide the blush crawling up her neck and face, it was useless — Paul could see it perfectly, even in the moonlight.

"I... forgot it," she stuttered, biting her bottom lip.

"You forgot? Are you kidding me? It's La Push, there's no way it wouldn't be fucking cold."

"It's fine, I'll ask Jake to borrow me one of his. He won't mind."

The fucker wouldn't, but Paul would. The wolf inside him howled at the picture of Bella wearing another wolf's clothing. She couldn't have chosen a worst way to respond — even though she had no way of knowing that. Having her smelling like Jacob — like any other person that wasn't him — would be a sure way of getting his temper to blow off.

"Come with me," he ordered, already getting up and offering his hand to help her.

"What? Where are we going?" Bella asked, grabbing his hand without hesitation.

It had been an unconscious gesture on his part, an unthoughtful act. No way would he have risked exposure otherwise. The second her hand touched his — her soft, small hand against his much bigger, rough hands — the electricity rolled up his entire arm, leaving him hyper-aware of every inch of skin they had touching. Thankfully, before Paul could do something stupid like whimper or grab her hand and not let it go, Bella ripped her hand away.

That was ridiculous. Paul did not behave like that, not even for his fucking imprint. He refused to be a ridiculous pup panting after a chick.

"Follow me," he gritted, circumventing the bonfire and the boys, not in the mood to explain himself to anybody.

The girl must really have no sense of preservation whatsoever because she fell into step with him automatically, struggling to keep up with his long strides. Paul, being the idiot he was, slowed down as soon as she panted a little, moving at the speed of a snail to allow little Bella to rest.

"Are you seriously not even going to tell me where we are going?" She asked, looking up at him. "Jake is going to worry if I'm missing."

"Jake," he hissed the word through his clenched teeth. "Will know you're with me, kid. We're wolves, they could hear the entire conversation — get used to it."

"I am," she grumbled back. "The whole no privacy thing is not just a wolf thing."

"Right, the leeches."

Was she deliberately trying to anger him? Why did she insist on bringing shit like that up?

"Do you have to call them that?"

No, he did not.

"I could call them bloodsuckers if that'll make you more comfortable."

"You're a werewolf, don't you think it's a little hypocritical to act like you're so much better than them?" She demanded, stopping in the middle of the street and glaring at him fearlessly.

Taha Aki had no respect for his nerves, that's all Paul could think about. On top of everything, he got saddled with a spitfire for a mate, great. That wouldn't end with them murdering each other in a near future — no way.

"I don't kill people to survive, Bella. My existence serves the benefit of nature — my kind was created to protect humans from something that should have never existed. I age, I change, I have a somewhat normal life — they don't."

"They don't kill anybody, though. The... The Cullens struggle against their very nature to be better than what they could be. Don't you think they deserve more than your ignorant contempt?" She stuttered their name, and looked quite pained at having to speak about them, but managed to finish the sentence without breaking down. From what Paul had seen in Jacob's memories, that was progress for her.

"No, I don't," He said, grabbing her arms and pulling her towards the house. "Now come on."

"Let go of me," She struggled, making Paul instantly stop and let go of her arm as if it burned him.

"Are you alright? Did I hurt you?" He was already pushing the sleeve of her shirt up to see her upper arm. Thankfully it didn't have a single bruise on it. He needed to be more conscious of his strength around her — Paul made a mental note, for future references.

"No... no, I'm okay," She stuttered, blushing heavily as he continued to touch her arm. "I'm not that fragile, you know?"

"Right," Paul agreed, releasing her and stepping away from her. He wouldn't bother correcting her statement — Bella was probably tired of hearing how much fragile she was in comparison to the supernatural beings she surrounded herself with. "Wait here."

"What? Whose house is this?" She asked, coming closer to his house and critically analyzing it.

"Mine," He answered, opening the door before repeating his previous statement. "Wait for me, alright? It will only be a minute."

How could he explain how much he didn't want her to step inside of his house? Worse, how could he explain how much he did want her inside it, but couldn't bear the idea of seeing her there for fear of his reaction. Having her in his private space, near his stuff, would be a dangerous situation. It was probably better if they avoided those kinds of experiments for now.

Paul ran inside, quickly going to his room and opening his drawers to grab a thick jacket from within it. It would be too big for her, but perhaps that might be a good thing. She was so thin and small — it was obvious she needed all the fabric available to keep warm.

It couldn't have taken Paul more than two minutes, but when he turned to head down the stair he heard the noise he had feared: Bella opening the front door and walking into his living room. Why couldn't the girl follow any order?