Chapter 4 – Two Halves (and a Complete Hole)

They heard the argument long before they reached the house, long before they'd even breached the tree line or stealthily climbed the small rickety porch: Ariel lambasted her mother with the verbal lashing of a lifetime while Lina wailed about not being forgiven (despite the fact that apparently no actual apology had been offered for whatever transgressions she'd committed against her daughter).

To be completely honest, Embry had no desire to insert himself in the battle; he avoided confrontation when he could, and although he admitted that Paul's cousin was (as Seth put it) "really pretty," few things in life scared him more than a pretty girl who might have cause to aim her sharp mind and vicious tongue at his collective faults.

Mythological spirit warrior or otherwise, he didn't think he was alone in that sentiment.

As the two shifters loitered outside for a few minutes in the very last trickles of the day's sparse sunshine, Embry saw that Paul was growing more and more concerned as the fight escalated; the taller teen might've had a reputation for anger and lechery and general obnoxiousness, but no one could say that he didn't love his small family—rather dysfunctional as it usually seemed. He didn't last long before letting himself into the house to more closely observe Ari's icy rant and interrogate her about a reported stay in the ICU.

In a futile effort to ignore what was clearly private family business (and to stay out of it hopefully long enough to avoid becoming collateral damage), Embry lingered outside and decided to make himself useful by gathering up the impressive array of pet-care supplies that had been piled in one of the few dry spots beneath the patched awning; his own mom had drilled such gentlemanly behavior into him from a young age, and the increased strength and reach he'd recently gained might as well get put to good use.

"-is Iwalo? Sandcastle? Seriously?" Although Paul was obviously doing his best to lighten the mood by mocking his cousin's unusual Quileute middle name, Embry thought the moniker was cute. But maybe he was biased because building epic sandcastles had been a favored pastime in his younger years.

"-glorified heaps of dirt unlikely to stick around for longer than a single tide cycle, just like the moron who named me."

Ouch. Really? Who hates on sandcastles? Who actually pulls off using sandcastles to insult someone? I don't know if that's impressive or just… sad…

"And who's we?"

"Oh," said Paul, moving aside to let a long beam of light spill out of the doorway and stretch across the dim yard, "Right. This is my friend Embry. You kinda… broke Seth, so I figured I'd introduce you to a heartier specimen who's less likely to be scared off by silly things like attempted murder."

"Instant karma. I was merely the vessel through which the universe exacted her justice."

Laughing softly at the remark and taking the cue for what it was, Embry snatched up the last small package and stepped forward into the home's warm interior. He blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to the brightness, and although he didn't entirely believe Paul's stupid "packcestuous" imprint theory, the teen felt surprisingly nervous about the slim chance of being on the verge of meeting the girl he was destined to love.

Suddenly, his armload of squeak toys and poop bags didn't seem at all appropriate for such a potentially significant moment.

It was something he really should have considered before passing the point of no return, which was, in the many ways that mattered, when his eyes met hers and the rest of the world ceased to matter. Hell, the rest of the known universe, twisted sense of justice and all, might've very well ceased to exist as far as Embry was concerned because… wow.

Ariel Iwalo Zielinski: just knowing her full name felt so… vital. Like he'd blundered across an essential part of his own being and couldn't fathom how he'd lived so long without it. Without her.

She was… dainty was the best word he could think of, tiny and fragile and adorable. In that instant, all he wanted was to scoop her up and shield her from anyone and anything that might bring her harm: from her mother, who'd mistreated her; from her father, who'd sent leeches after her; from the leeches, who should never have been allowed near her; from Paul, who'd been making fun of her; from Seth, who… Fuck, Seth needed his eyes checked. She wasn't "really pretty." She was the most dazzling, elegant, beautiful girl Embry had ever seen!

From her mane of dark swirling curls to her plush pink lips to her incandescent sapphire eyes, Ariel had the face of an angel. The fact that her slender tan arms were full of a fluffy gray puppy certainly didn't hurt—unsurprisingly, Embry had always been a dog person. Thinking back over the memory he'd been shown of the afternoon's incident, the shifter felt his inner wolf preen with pleasure at the fact that their fierce little female had displayed a bit of her own warrior spirit.

"Hi," said Embry, not at all surprised to find himself grinning like an idiot.

"Hi," Ariel breathed in reply, normally aloof gaze exposing open appreciation as she performed her own unhurried perusal of his person. But the display didn't last; Ari seemed to shake herself as if coming out of a trance, and those pouty lips Embry'd been admiring curled into a frown.

She was frowning. At him. That… wasn't good. What could he have possibly done to make her frown at him? Did she not like the way he looked? She'd seemed to… Hell, she smelled like she liked him, the juicy salty-sweet warmth of unmistakable arousal intensifying her natural scent of orange blossoms and fresh snow. (Embry's mouth watered, and his restraint was leashed by a strand of spider silk.) Maybe she didn't like his staring? Or was mad that he'd touched her bags? He kicked himself for screwing up so quickly. He had to be the worst imprinter in history…

Say something, moron.

"Wh-" Embry began, his clumsy tongue outpacing his stalled brain. He gulped thickly before trying again with, "Nice to- Where do you want- Hope you don't mind I- Um-" Ladies and gentlemen: Embry Call, king of the morons, he scolded himself, fidgeting anxiously and feeling his entire head light up in a dopey blush.

While the pair continued to stare at each other, Embry was no longer enjoying himself, convinced that the girl of his dreams had gone from ogling his body to gawking at a babbling sideshow freak. Not that he could really blame her…

Paul, with his typical degree of tact and helpfulness, somewhat diffused the mounting tension by bursting into annoying laughter, pumping his fist in the air, and crowing, "Fuck yes! In your face, Jared!"

Embry groaned, resigned to the knowledge that his jerkwad brother was about to heap yet more humiliation on top of his already quite thorough embarrassment.

"Should've known it'd be you. Makes perfect sense," Paul declared. In a sappy singsong, he added, "Two halves make a whole."

The shot at his and Ariel's not purely Quileute heritage made Embry bristle and fire back, "You're a hole. Of the complete ass variety."

A quiet snort drew his attention right back to Ariel, who, though not exactly smiling, looked amused. Before he could start wondering about whether she ever smiled at all—swearing solemnly that he would do his best to be the one to coax such expressions of joy onto her lovely face—the girl drawled, "Steve, this isn't some weird tribal matchmaking tradition, is it? Because although I can't fault your taste in dudes, I'm not in the market for a pimp or a husband."

Embry had to hold his breath briefly to keep from dissolving into giggles. She was quite the comedian.

Huffing and rolling his eyes, her cousin complained, "No, smartass. Jeez, that's the last time I try to do anything nice for you." Of course, he would choose to ignore the fact that his good deed was really more a way of proving himself right and winning a bet. Typical. "Now put poor Embers out of his misery and show him your room. I'm gonna have a talk with Aunt Lina."

Having genuinely forgotten that the woman was even present, Embry had to stop himself from as much as glancing at her just in case the knowledge that she'd done something to put Ariel in the ICU caused him to attack.

With a flippant shrug, his dainty imprint spun and called, "Right this way. Oh, and thanks for doing the schlepping. It's much appreciated."

Embry only barely kept his chest from puffing up with absurd pride as he followed her from the cluttered little living room to a short back hallway and through the door on the left side to reveal the bedroom tucked behind the kitchen and guest bathroom.

The small space wasn't much: bare wooden walls, shabby brown carpet (that might've at some point been beige or even white), and (he struggled to keep his stomach contents down) a sagging twin mattress that reeked of Lina's last hundred or so sexual conquests.

How in the hell was he going to avoid coming off like a total creep when he explained to his imprint that she absolutely could not sleep on that festering mass of bodily fluids?

xxXxx

"Anywhere is fine," Ari stated, stepping sideways to lean against the flimsy particle board doors of her tiny closet.

Embry didn't immediately react to the instruction because he was paused in the entrance and gaping in horror at the grotesque bed.

With a snort, she murmured, "I know, right? That braindead cunt I crawled out of can't even manage the basics. Hopefully, I'll have something new by tomorrow. Either get Steve to take me or hire a truck? I don't know, but one more night in a sleeping bag won't kill me."

His massive shoulders seemed to sag with relief, and only two more huge strides took him clear to the other side of the room to dump the mountain of pet paraphernalia beneath the farther of the two small dingy windows.

(Ari might have used the opportunity to not-so-discreetly admire his sinuous bare back, watching his sculpted muscles bunch and stretch beneath that oh-so-lickable russet skin. And of course, she ogled his tight ass a bit, too, giving thanks to whichever deity reigned over formfitting denim.)

"Um, so…" Embry coughed, breaking the girl out of her objectification and giving her just enough time to direct her gaze elsewhere (which ended up being a cobweb stuck to the baseboard). Thankfully, that meant she wasn't caught staring, but Embry still looked quite uncomfortable; he not only was too physically massive for the cramped room (the top of his head nearly brushing the ceiling) but also seemed at a loss for what to say. Finally, the triumphant smile that spread on his handsome face gave away his success at solving the latter issue. "What'd you end up calling the little guy?" he asked, gesturing to the contented bundle of fluff snuggled in her arms.

Absently digging her fingers into the soft fur, Ariel replied, "Horatio."

Embry's smile morphed into a smirk, like he wanted to laugh but wasn't sure if he should. "That's…" he muttered, a huge hand reaching up to knead nervously at the back of his neck, "Uh… unique. Hamlet, right? Doesn't he have a friend named Horatio?"

Ariel nodded, for some reason inordinately pleased that the man wasn't such a meathead that he didn't recognize well-known literary allusions when they slapped him in his far too handsome face.

"Yeah, thought so," Embry continued. He shuffled his huge feet against the grungy carpet, and his blush returned with a vengeance. "I read that one for English class not too long ago. It was pretty good, but I like the comedies better."

Ariel nodded again then let the silence between them stretch slightly longer than was polite before giving in to ask, "Where are you taking classes? The nearest campus is Port Angeles, right? Or are you doing the online thing?"

After a brief moment of confusion, Embry grinned and chuckled, "You think I'm… Wow, this keeps happening… I'm sixteen. I go to high school on the rez."

"Shut up," Ari ordered. "If you're sixteen, then let's see some ID." She valiantly ignored the small giddy part of herself that had burst into pep-squad-on-uppers cheering at the thought that they were the same age, that wanting to date him (i.e., jump his big beautiful bones) didn't mean that her daddy issues were evolving into Daddy Issues. It was also nice to know that Embry's apparent interest in her (which was how she was choosing to interpret the blushing and stammering and staring) was in no way illegal or inappropriate.

Obligingly, smile and laughter still on full blast, Embry reached for his worn, likely handmade leather wallet and opened it to display an only months-old driver's license that indeed claimed his year of birth as 1990; his hair was longer in the picture, his frame less muscular and his face more boyish, but the person displayed was undoubtedly Embry. The far from accurate height and weight stats suggested that he'd gained most of his stature and bulk just in the time since the card had been issued. Poor boy must've been through one hell of a growth spurt. "This is not how I imagined being carded for the first time," he joked. He'd come close enough to Ari that she could feel feverish heat rolling off him, could breathe in his musky evergreen-and-cookie-dough scent (which was a strange combination but caused her a delightful shiver). "What's the etiquette in this situation? Do I get to demand to see your ID, too?"

With an amused eye roll, the girl answered, "I don't have the actual card yet. I just passed the test yesterday. Demetri and Felix, the guys my father sent to get me from Rome, were nice enough to let me make a pit stop at home, and Demetri impersonated my guardian for the DMV. My license will get mailed to my father's address, and then one of his assistants will forward it to me."

The more Ari talked, the more Embry's good humor evaporated until he actually seemed to be physically holding himself in check, clenched fists shaking slightly as a large vein throbbed in his neck. "They-" he choked out between gritted teeth, "The… The guys your dad sent after you took you for your driver's test?"

Ariel blinked, confused about what his problem with that might be. "Yes," she stated. "They did me a big favor. I probably would've had to wait to requalify and resubmit all the paperwork in this state otherwise. Well, I'll have to do it eventually anyways if I stay, but they saved me some hassle for now."

Embry closed his eyes and seemed to be doing some deep-breathing exercises. Eventually, he growled, "I have to go," and stormed out without further explanation.

Weirdo.

xxXxx

In the ten minutes Ariel and Embry spent alone together in her room, Paul didn't manage to get anything out of Aunt Lina except for blubbering about being a terrible mother and hated by everyone. He couldn't disagree, exactly, but the teen shifter tried to comfort her anyway (if only to keep his dad off his back when the man inevitably heard of it) and ended up covered in snot for his trouble.

What a day.

Then, dumbass Call came crashing through the living room looking about five seconds from phasing. The audible tearing of his shorts proved that he barely made it to cover before releasing the beast.

Ha. I'm hilarious.

With a heavy sigh, Paul untangled himself from his aunt and left her wailing on the ugly plaid sofa in favor of checking on his new little cousin, who was sitting crisscross on the floor of her room (thankfully with an old blanket protecting her from the likely infectious carpet); she was facing the door, petting that fuzzy mutt of hers with one hand, and with the other, she was repeatedly flipping a familiar leather wallet open and closed as though flashing a badge.

"Holy shit," Paul guffawed in incredulous amusement. "Did you mug the kid?! Will your crime spree never end?!"

With a vaguely playful eye roll, Ariel replied, "I made him show me his ID to prove how old he was. But then he got mad for no reason and dropped it and stomped off." She offered the wallet and added, "You can return it to him, I guess."

She carded him?! That's almost funnier than a mugging… "No no no no no," Paul chortled. "You keep that, sunshine. I'm very interested to see what happens when he comes to get it back." Their imprinting story is gonna be sooo much more entertaining than the Sam–Emily–Leah drama, the Jared–Kim love-in, and the Quil–Claire chastity-and-fingerpaint tragedy put together. "By the way, I'm seventeen."

"Shut up," she huffed. "This is so unfair! How did I end up with exactly none of these freakishly tall Quileute genes? I still routinely get offered crayons in restaurants!"

Paul tossed his head back and laughed again, liking his cousin more by the minute. Even if she was a spooky little robot. "Aw," he taunted, flopping down across from her and mirroring her position on the floor, helping himself to the happy, squirmy puppy, "That's just cuz you're so tiny and cute. Kinda like this guy, huh? What's his name?"

"Horatio."

He gaped at her briefly, and the pup took the opportunity to lick the inside of his mouth. "Blech!" Paul gagged. "Nasty. Learn some manners, runt." Satisfied at receiving a small whimper of apology, the shifter told his cousin, "And you cannot call him Horatio. That is so friggin lame. All the other dogs are gonna give him so much shit."

Arching a slender brow, Ariel quipped, "Steve, he's going to grow up big enough to eat any dog that dares. I think he'll be fine."

Paul grumbled but didn't disagree. He did, however, complain, "That's another thing. Why am I Steve when he gets to be Horatio? I feel like there's an insult in there somewhere."

Ari made a sound similar to laughter—but not quite—tucking a few errant curls behind her ear as she teased, "Of course not. You look like a Steve, and he looks like a Horatio. Nothing more complicated than that."

"Uh huh," he muttered skeptically, deciding to abandon the subject with a grudging pout. Instead, he suggested, "You need a new mattress. I wouldn't even let the dog sleep on that jizz sponge."

Snorting, Ari drawled, "Colorful, but I agree. Can you drive me somewhere with decent shopping tomorrow? Or do you know someone with a truck who'd be willing? I'll spring for gas and lunch."

"You had me at lunch," said Paul. He failed to mention that taking his cousin to the nearest shopping center would mean canceling a date, but family trumped nymphomaniac yoga instructors.

Unfortunately.

"Great," Ariel agreed, taking her puppy back and cuddling him shamelessly against her modest chest. "The mattress and bedframe are the main things. Hopefully, I can find one with some storage underneath. If I'm really lucky, a set with a nightstand and dresser, and maybe a desk if there's still space in here. Towels and sheets and a rug would be nice, but I can get everything else online if I have to. I guess I should measure the room and make a list and fire up my laptop. Please tell me that Lina has become at least civilized enough for Wi-Fi?"

Paul shook his head. "My place is hooked up," he offered, "And you can take my dad's bed for the night. I know he just changed his sheets and hasn't gotten laid in months anyway, so no funky smells or disgusting stains."

Appearing genuinely surprised by the offer, Ariel asked, "Your dad… My uncle, I suppose… He's not using the bed?"

"He's a trucker," the shifter explained. "He's usually gone at least three or four days a week, and he's not due back 'til the day after tomorrow. And he definitely won't mind. He's super psyched to meet you and told me to help you out with whatever. Right now, I think that means getting you and Lina away from each other before the happy reunion ends with her dead and you in prison."

"Psh," Ari murmured around a delicate yawn, "To end up in prison, I'd have to get caught, which is extremely unlikely. On the very slim chance I did get caught, my father is a shark lawyer and knows lots of other shark lawyers. I probably wouldn't ever see the inside of a court room, let alone a cell."

Paul laughed. "Well, I guess you'd have to have that kinda backup in place," he stated, "What with the homicidal urges and all. On that subject, I was told to tell you, sternly, something along the lines of That's not nice. Please don't kill wannabe puppy killers on rez property." Orders were orders, but Paul enjoyed taking creative liberties when possible.

Amusement sparkled once more in her pale blue eyes as the girl answered, "Consider me thoroughly chastised. I'll just have to drag my victims onto the White man's land from now on. At least then baby-faced giants won't foil my plots." She paused and sighed, "I know I'm going to regret asking, but how old is Seth? Like, twenty-five, right?"

"Try fourteen."

"Shut up."

xxXxx

Seriously. You have to calm down.

How can I- You heard what she- Grrr-

Embry had no idea why he'd reacted so strongly, but something about the idea of leeches taking his imprint for her driving test just drove him up the fucking wall. Normally, he was known as one of the calmer, if not calmest, of the wolves, but at the moment… argh! He felt like he needed to singlehandedly massacre the whole damn vampire species!

That's because of the imprint, Sam sighed, trudging along a small stream in the northeastern part of their territory. Even nowhere near any of the other wolves, his authority weighed on them like a heavy parka—protective but a bit cumbersome, too.

Of course it's because of the imprint! Embry fired back. He'd been sprinting like a maniac for at least an hour, doing nearly two full circuits of the border in his desperate hunt for something to kill. It's because my imprint walked around with fucking leeches for who the hell knows how long! They could've attacked at any moment! They could've- She could've- He failed to put into words the intense fear he experienced at just the thought that Ariel might've died before he even met her, but the pack mind communicated the sensation intensely enough to make his fellow wolves shudder.

You can't drive yourself crazy obsessing about things that might've happened, Sam declared, his deep voice holding the slightest reverberation that they'd all come to associate with alpha orders (a clear threat that he wasn't far from being pushed to start making demands). She was put in a bad situation, but she wasn't hurt and is fine now. Thank the spirits and focus on making sure it never happens again.

Embry heaved a series of rapid breaths in and out of his massive canine chest, doing his best to dispel the anxious energy that kept his long legs pumping and devouring miles; he knew that Sam was right. Ariel, his beautiful Ariel, was safe, not a scratch on her, not a drop of blood missing to show that she'd encountered leeches at all. Of course he was thankful, but… his skin crawled just thinking of how easily the opposite could've become reality, how he might've never found her, never gotten to know her, hold her, love her… how she might've died, terrified and alone and in agony…

No. He… He needed to guard their land and keep those vicious parasites away.

Hey, if Call wants to be a neurotic freak all night, I'll happily give him my shift.

Leah, Sam sighed, You're here because Embry took your last shift. I was kinda hoping to convince him to go home at some point so that he doesn't end up patrolling for forty-eight hours straight.

Psh, yeah, talking him out of his sissy little my-precious-imprint spaz attack seems super likely.

Growling deep in his chest, Embry lashed out with one massive paw and decimated the next pine he passed. Do not fucking mess with me right now, Clearwater, he snarled. Usually, he tried his best to be nice to Leah. Even on her bitchiest days—which varied little from her somewhat less bitchy days—he thought she deserved compassion from the boys who were supposed to be as good as brothers to her. Her actual brother was the only other pack member who could consistently tolerate her relentless attitude of belligerent self-pity, her apparent mission of making everyone around her just as miserable as she was; even then, Embry tried his best to reach out and show understanding in the hope that one day, she'd reach back and learn to be happy again.

However, at that moment, there was no Embry Call, really nice guy; there was only Embry Call, furious spirit warrior who really feels like tearing out throats.

Despite a brief flicker of shock and hurt, Leah refused to heed the blatant warning; instead, she taunted, I know imprinting generally turns you guys into pussy-whipped stalkers, but, jeez, Em, did it actually turn you just as insane as that creepy girl? You and your divine broodmare are gonna squeeze out some seriously fucked-up puppies-

Embry's roar filled and shook the entirety of the forest, red-hot wrath staining his vision as the tether between man and beast snapped with tremendous force that was felt throughout the pack link—recoil causing the equivalent of a psychic welt and briefly staggering all those affected. As quickly as their fellow wolf charged toward Leah (uncaring of the miles of obstacles being bulldozed by his hurtling bulk), Sam and Jacob sprinted to intercept, both shouting out orders in alpha voice that didn't take any effect because they fell on mostly deaf ears.

Embry hardly heard anything other than Leah's crass comment on repeat, and he was going to take every one of those offensive words against his imprint and future children out of her hide.

Em, stop-

Calm-

What's happen-

Run, Lee-

Gonna kill-

He felt more wolves phasing in, felt them trying to figure out what was going on and then trying to stop him once they did. He didn't care. He was going to kick Leah's hairy ass up and down the rez and see if that finally succeeded in knocking some damn manners into her dense skull.

Not ending up with her pick of soulmates didn't entitle her to act like a complete cunt to absolutely everyone. What the hell did she have to complain about anyway? So her high-school romance fell apart. Boo-fucking-hoo. The majority of them don't last, and she didn't end up a single mom or divorcée in the process of figuring that out so was actually luckier than most. An idyllic childhood with two parents and a sibling who loved her had obviously given Leah the mistaken impression that life was all about getting everything she wanted all the time and everything always going her way. The fact that she broke down into a wretched two-year public tantrum at her first taste of rejection and denial was just pathetic. Was she purposely milking the situation for attention? Was she even conscious of the fact that even before she became a werewolf, public opinion had long since shifted from "poor heartbroken Leah, screwed over by her own cousin" to "that psycho Clearwater chick, glad she showed her true colors before anyone else could make the mistake of dating such an obsessive bitch"? Didn't basically killing her own father with stubborn, hateful, self-absorbed misery teach her anything?

Embry, shut-

He's not listen-

Get her out of-

Hey, what's… Oh.

Paul's arrival to the mental chatroom brought fresh images of Ariel; after Embry's abrupt exit, the hotheaded shifter and his cousin had gone back to Paul's dad's place and eaten a late meal of breakfast for dinner (enough eggs and bacon to, as Ari put it, "cater Godzilla's birthday brunch"). She'd even taught Paul how to cook said perfectly crispy bacon in the oven, in far more massive quantities than could be handled by frying pans alone, which was far easier and faster and cleaner, not to mention the fact that the method nearly eliminated the risk of grease-splatter burns; Paul's mind had been blown and his life vastly improved by the revelation, which he worshipfully termed "a total game-changer." They then took Horatio on a meandering walk before returning to sprawl in the cozy living room and watch reruns of The Simpsons. Well, Paul watched them while Ariel lazed beside him on the brown leather couch, typing at an impressive speed on her shiny laptop while absentmindedly mouthing the dialogue from memory.

Embry slowed, distracted from thoughts of killing Leah by thoughts of just how adorable his imprint looked in her snug Bioparco di Roma tank top and faded flannel pants. She had wrestled her silky curls into a haphazard braid and wore square, thin-rimmed glasses perched on her button nose; she wore contacts during the day, apparently, but had swapped them for the glasses when she changed. Paul teased her about looking like a nerd, but personally, Embry got more of a sexy-librarian vibe. Mmm…

As though sensing that his cousin alone had the power to drag Embry out of feral rage, Paul supplied more memories: Ariel repeatedly trying and failing to keep from nodding off, her head dipping slowly and then bobbing back up as she snorted herself awake with heavy owlish blinks of her vastly magnified blue eyes; Ariel finally losing the battle and gradually coming to slump against Paul's shoulder, blindly snuggling into his warmth. (The nature of their shared minds being what it was, Embry felt an echo of her snuggling into his own shoulder, and he ached for the real thing.) Paul had just scoffed and thrown an arm around her, letting her remain there while he finished the episode before easily picking her up (fuck, she was tiny; did she eat enough?) and tucking her and the puppy into his dad's bed with a big mound of blankets and pillows. Ari mumbled something about "not that kinda cousins, Steve," but otherwise just scrunched herself into a tight ball and drifted fully off to slumber. Embry's blistering roar caused her to stir a little (and Horatio to jolt and whimper), but Paul paused only long enough to leave a note that he would be back in the morning before running off to investigate.

At some point during the visions of his gorgeous girl, Embry's pace had gone from vengeful cannonball to punch-drunk stagger to an adrenaline crash that took his legs out like a tripwire. He laid limp in the dirt and debris, huge furred body panting, struggling to find a normal breathing rhythm, struggling to keep a desperate grip on his humanity and horrified at his utter loss of control.

His brothers were silent.

Until…

And that, Sam drawled, somehow both sarcastic and deadly serious, Is why we do not badmouth the imprints.

xxxxxxxxxx

It's still an imprinting story, so crazy possessiveness and irrational rage remain in the mix. Sorry to hate on Leah, but someone had to poke the wolf. I'll be nicer to her eventually. Probably.