Embry's POV
Winnie's hearts reminds me of a hummingbird. From the way it's thundering in her chest, it's pounding so rapidly and unevenly the rhythm blurs against my ears, the beats turning into a fast hum.
Her heart racing is her only reaction. She saw me then didn't move. Didn't flinch, didn't do a double take, didn't even blink. She's been standing in the middle of Enola's backyard completely motionless.
I don't dare move either, too nervous any sudden moves will make her scream or run. The fear keeps me right where I am.
Then the rain starts.
The downpour gives us no warning, just plummets down with full force. The rain finally jolts Winnie out of her shock, the cold water acting like a small shake of the shoulder to snap Winnie back to attention. Staggering back, she goes to wipe the water out of her face to get a better look at me. Her clothes stick to her, her hair darkening to a jet black and now soaked through, water drips off the ends. Yet cold, wet, shivering and miserable she refuses to head inside, staring me down with a searching look.
When the rain gets heavier I know it's time to shift back. Or else Winnie may never go inside. The rain doubles down, the winds picking up to whip at us. Miles away my ears pick up the dull roar of thunder that's heading our way and fast. My hind legs bring me to my full height, which doesn't scare her but only makes her dare a step towards me.
She's not scared.
I know what fear smells like, I know the sound of it. Fear is a rancid smell. A sour and musty stench like sweat mixed with gasoline. It sounds urgent and loud, with the heart pounding irregular, beating so fast just till it almost gives out completely. Winnie's is none of those things. The look on her face is unmistakable; she's stunned but not scared.
With a silent bow of my head, I signal what I can hope is something she understands. The slow nod she gives back makes me sure of myself she isn't scared of me at all. Turning back for the woods, I keep my pace slow and steady rather than running off to ensure Winnie doesn't somehow convince herself that she made something up that just vanished.
"Wait—don't," She finally speaks. I've never heard her voice like that; choked up. My head peers over to look back at Winnie. She's moving towards me, following me up into the brush. She's not any closer, the distance between us the same but she's trying to keep me in sight. Her clothes are completely soaked through now, sticking to her like a second skin. Everything about her is trembling, but from the rain not fear. One arm is wrapped around herself, trying to hug some warmth into her, while the other is extended out, almost reaching for me.
Knowing what I have to do, I phase back.
Between the shifting I hear Winnie gasp, the sound keeping my head low, my eyes not ready to look up and face her reaction. I'm low to the ground, crouching on the balls on my feet as if I might phase back and run into the woods. Though I know I wouldn't just leave like that; not again. I hold my ground, ignoring the rain as it pelts my bare skin, steeling myself over if she screams.
I see her sneakers before her. There's the sound of a zipper, then her jacket is being draped over my shoulders. It's wet, completely soaked through and ice cold, but it's her way of telling me she's not going anywhere. She sticks out her hand, inviting me to take it and to look at her, to face her with the whole truth. It's never been so hard to pick up my head before, it feels heavy with hesitance, but I meet her eyes. The emotion in them makes everything easier and I'm on my feet. Her hand squeezes mine so tight it feels like her own arms holding me for a brief moment.
Then she starts off for her cabin, guiding me by the hand inside.
Billie was right. Winnie doesn't scare easy.
Whatever I first thought about Winnie accepting me I was wrong about.
She hasn't said a word.
She's been dripping onto her couch where she's been quiet since we first entered. I can't tell if she doesn't notice she's sobbing wet, too stunned to see how she's drenching the upholstery or too shocked to notice she's shivering. Nonetheless, the fixed look on her face doesn't budge, her eyes flickering with deep thought.
Hovering by her front door, I'm waiting for her to react, to say something—anything. All the while trying not to panic myself. Each intake of air feels sharp on its way down. Prickly yet shallow, then shaky on its way back up. Winnie's jacket is the only thing keeping me decent, now wrapped around my waist. It's as sobbing wet as the both of us, only getting her floor and my legs wetter rather than dry.
Winnie doesn't notice when I open her front door to duck outside to grab the clothes I stashed by her front stoop. Whenever we shift, we always leave spare clothes to change back into. Either at Emily's, or on some nearby log, or somewhere in our backyards. I usually keep spare clothes in my van but I didn't drive over. When I ran over I planned ahead enough to tie clothes to my leg, something Jacob does, then kicked them off by her front door just in case. They're a bit damp from the rain, but manageable. The fabric catches on my wet skin on the way down, but I change as fast I can, the gray t-shirt and jeans sticking to my skin like glue.
After a near ten minutes, I decide it'll be me to do something. Winnie doesn't notice me moving about her cabin, a light trail of water following me to her bathroom. Discarding her soaked jacket in the hamper, I trade it for the thickest towel I can find. Winnie still hasn't moved when I come back, or when I lower down next to her on the couch.
Winnie lets out a gasp of surprise when the towel engulfs her. The gasp turns into a startled noise as I pull her into my chest, her hands going to grab my arms as if I'd let her fall. When she first lands against me, my eyes shut for a moment from how much I missed her. I go to tell her how she'll catch a cold, but when my mouth opens it clamps shut because how can I talk about normal things as if I didn't just phase in front of her. Instead, I try to meet her searching eyes as I pat her dry with the towel being gentle as I can.
"You're werewolf," Winnie finally says something, her voice hollow. She shakes her head tightly, talking more to herself than to me, "Werewolves are real."
"We're real." She lets out a rush of air when I say we instead of werewolves. She blinks up at me, studying my face for something.
"We as in—"
"The pack." I fill in for her.
"You're a werewolf in a pack." Winnie repeats back before going still again. "Pack as in you and your friends. This whole time I thought you worked for Sam, but you're a pack of werewolves."
"I didn't know how to tell you." I admit lowly.
"Every time I asked you and you didn't tell me the truth that you're a werewolf. That's why you never told me what you actually do for work." Winnie says to herself, not noticing how I'm drying her off.
"I wanted to," I clear my throat. "To tell you.
"Does it hurt?" She suddenly turns to me with wide eyes full of concern. It's the first instance of something near fear I've seen from her.
"Does it hurt?" I ask back. "Shifting?" Her nod tells me that's exactly what she means.
"No, it doesn't—That's what you're worried about? If this hurts me? Aren't you scared, Winnie?" I do a double take at her.
"No, Embry," Her words loosen something tight around my chest, the knot where my heart is undoes itself with a sigh of relief. "I would be scared if I was a girl named Jenny in the Wolfman. But you're not some horror movie monster," I flinch at the word monster. Her hands goes to cup the side of my face, urging me to look at her. "Embry I couldn't ever be afraid of you. You're the story that my parents use to tell me before I was tucked into bed, you're the legends we grew up with, you're the faith of the tribe; you're a protector."
Billie was right again. I wouldn't have imprinted on a girl who'll ever see me any different, because I wasn't meant to be with a person who would be.
"The legends are real." Winnie breathes out, clasping her hands together tightly.
"I thought you accepted that part already."
"I said I wasn't afraid, but I'm still getting use to the idea. Going nineteen years knowing the Easter Bunny is only a costume, that Santa and the Toothfairy are just your parents, that mermaids and fairies are only real in movies, then one day werewolves are real."
Keeping the straight look on my face is a struggle. The word vampires is on the tip of my tongue, along with a bitter taste dripping down my throat like acid till it makes my stomach threatens to go sick. For now I won't tell Winnie just yet about vampires, just to protect her a bit longer from the truth. At least for one day she'll get to keep the way she sees the legends the same as when she did growing up; that the wolves are the protectors of the tribe. Telling her what we're protecting her from is too much for now.
"So you believe me?"
"Of course I believe you, I'm just not sure I believe myself yet." She's still stunned, it's clear by how she still doesn't seem to notice how's she dripping wet. I should have brought her tea, or make her soup or gotten her out of those wet clothes by now.
"Huh?"
"It's like I'm not sure I believe my own eyes. I know for fact that I believe Billy Black and Old Quil, I believe Enola too, and of course I believe you. Maybe it's because I saw you with my own eyes, but do I believe my own eyes?" She tries for a light laugh but all that comes out is a weak, small sounding huff of air that resembles a rasp. "I can't explain it, when it comes to you there's no doubts. I believe you. You have my trust, you have my faith in you."
My throat lurches with the truth pressing up against my jugular, trying to force the words out like vomit from the need to tell Winnie what she's describing is the imprint pull.
Another truth I'll keep to myself a bit longer. Werewolves, vampires, imprints; that's too much to unload on someone all at once.
"You have all of me, Winnie." Pressing her hand against my heart, with my own hand engulfing her small one, I want to know she really does have all of me. Winnie always had me, but now after finding out the truth she truly does have all of me. The burning look in my eyes give her a searing but silent 'I love you.' Another thing I won't tell her, and it's one of the hardest decisions I've had to make.
"Embry, show me again." Winnie suddenly insists, her brown eyes ablaze with focus.
"Show you? You want me to shift again?" I bulk.
"That's what you call it. Not transforming but shifting." Winnie nods along as if is this some lore to Dungeons and Dragons or something. "Yes, I need to see it again."
"Now?"
"Now, or else I'm going to convince myself I'm dreaming or having a psychotic break. Please Embry, I need to see this one more time with my own eyes"
"Winnie, there's a thunder storm outside."
"I'm already soaked, Embry. What, I'll get wetter?" Now she realizes she's drenched.
"Winnie, I promise this can wait. You'll catch your death out there. Lets just wait out the storm, please."
"This is La Push Embry, it's always raining here." I've never seen Winnie like this. Winnie, whose always been cautious, composed and level headed is now suddenly impromptu. That's how I know this is important to her. That even with all the rain and thunder, this is something that can't wait for her. And whatever is important to Winnie is important to me.
"I'll do it if you promise to stay inside where it's dry." I give in, already heading for the door. I point to the exact spot where the front steps meet the doorway, making sure she sees the mark. "Right here."
Winnie rushes over, almost falling because she doesn't realize she's still dripping wet. With a mumbled 'careful, careful,' I steady her by her shoulders, I help her the rest of the way over. She stares up at me with big eyes, following my every move as if I'm going to shift at any given moment.
"I'm going to have to get naked." I tell her, watching her go still.
"Why?" The buzz of her voice finally dies off, her voice dropping along with the curious look on her face.
"Because our clothes rip to shreds from how gargantuan we are. And I'll need something to change back into. Here, hold this for me." I explain, pulling my shirt off by the collar and handing it to her. By the time my shirt is over my head Winnie's pink in the face.
"You didn't ask to have to watch this part." I remind her while I undo my jeans, my smirk warning her or maybe daring her to look away. When her face only goes redder, I turn around so she doesn't have to see everything. Kicking my pants off, I march off down the front steps, glancing over my shoulder to see Winnie determinedly keeping her eyes above my head.
"Ready?" I call over the rain, the rain pouring down on me. I'm stark naked in the middle of a thunderstorm. I'm not even annoyed about it because there's nothing I wouldn't do for her.
"Ready!"