JACOB
Jacob Black hated patrol duty. Especially the early evening shift that cut right through dinner time, leaving him to watch Sam and Emily make googly eyes at each other over her famous meatloaf while his own stomach growled in protest.
But tonight's patrol had gotten interesting fast.
You smell that? Jacob projected to Embry, who was running the perimeter with him.
Yeah. Weird. Not vampire, but definitely not normal human either, Embry's thoughts came back with curiosity.
They were circling near the eastern boundary of their territory, close to where the reservation met the dense forests surrounding Forks. The scent was faint but distinctive—something floral and foreign, underlaid with an electric quality that made Jacob's fur stand on end.
Let's check it out. Quietly, Jacob suggested, veering toward the source.
As they moved closer, the scent grew stronger, separated into two distinct signatures. Two females, Jacob realized. Both with that same strange electric undertone, but otherwise completely different—one sharp and intense like expensive perfume, the other cool and clean like fresh linen.
Through the trees, they caught glimpses of a small cottage that hadn't been occupied in years. Smoke curled from the chimney, and the windows glowed with warm light. New residents, apparently. Interesting timing, with the recent increase in bloodsucker activity.
Movement near one of the windows caught his attention. A slender figure with dark hair moved past, visible for just a moment before disappearing deeper into the cottage. Something about her—just that brief glimpse—made Jacob's heart rate accelerate.
We should get closer, Jacob thought, surprising himself with the sudden urgency he felt.
Are you crazy? Embry responded. We should tell Sam first.
Just a little closer. To make sure they're not a threat, Jacob justified, already moving forward through the underbrush with a stealth that belied his massive wolf form.
They crept closer until they were at the edge of the clearing surrounding the cottage. Through another window, Jacob could see into what appeared to be a kitchen area. The dark-haired woman was there, gesturing emphatically while speaking to someone out of view, her profile sharp and aristocratic in the warm light.
Jacob found himself oddly transfixed, unable to look away. Even from this distance, something about her pulled at him, an inexplicable draw he'd never felt before. He needed to see her face fully, needed to—
The woman turned suddenly toward the window, as if sensing she was being watched. For one heart-stopping moment, their eyes seemed to meet across the distance—deep blue connecting with his wolf's amber gaze.
The world stopped.
Everything—the forest, Embry's concerned thoughts, the mission, his own identity—fell away in an instant. Gravity shifted, no longer holding him to the earth but tethering him to her. Every cell in his body realigned, every priority reordered, every thought recalibrated to orbit around this single, perfect point in the universe.
Jacob! Embry's alarmed voice cut through the roaring in his ears. What the hell? Your thoughts just went... weird.
Jacob couldn't respond. His wolf was howling inside—not in alarm but in recognition, in claiming, in a primal celebration that shook him to his core.
Mine, his wolf's instinct thundered. MINE.
Shit. Did you just— Embry's thoughts turned incredulous. From THIS distance? Through a WINDOW?
Jacob backed away slowly, his legs moving mechanically while his mind remained locked on the woman who had, in the space of a heartbeat, become the center of his universe.
We need to tell Sam, he finally managed to think coherently. Now.
They ran back, Jacob's mind is in chaos of new instincts and emotions that bled into the pack mind despite his attempts to contain them. Embry kept shooting him concerned glances, his thoughts a jumble of confusion and fascination.
Dude, wait until the guys hear about this. An IMPRINT. On a stranger. From FIFTY FEET AWAY.
Shut up, Jacob growled, but there was no real heat behind it. He was too overwhelmed by the new reality crashing through him.
Twenty minutes later, human again and dressed in cutoffs and a worn t-shirt, Jacob paced Sam and Emily's living room, unable to stand still. His skin felt too tight, his body humming with the need to return to the cottage, to see her properly, to introduce himself, to protect, to claim, to—
"Jacob," Sam's firm voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. "Focus. Tell me exactly what happened."
"New people at the old Forrester cottage," he began, forcing himself to deliver the information coherently despite the wolf clawing at his insides. "Two women, from the scents. Something off about them—not in a bloodsucker way, but not normal either."
"And?" Sam prompted, clearly noting Jacob's agitation.
Jacob took a deep breath. "I imprinted. On one of them. The dark-haired one."
The room went silent. Quil and Embry exchanged wide-eyed glances. Paul, lounging in the doorway, straightened with a scowl.
"You what?" Paul demanded. "Through a fucking window?"
"You sure it was an imprint?" Sam asked more carefully, studying Jacob's face. "You didn't even properly see her."
"I'm sure," Jacob said, an unfamiliar edge of steel in his voice. The wolf in him bristled at the implied doubt. "It was... unmistakable."
Sam sighed, running a hand over his face. "This complicates things."
"Charlie mentioned something about foreign researchers," Emily chimed in, setting a plate of muffins on the coffee table. Jacob couldn't even think about food; his stomach was too twisted with new urgency. "He stopped by the station today to tell Sue about them. British women studying the forests, he said."
"British, huh?" Quil smirked, reaching for a muffin. "Fancy accents and all that? Jake's got exotic taste."
"Focus," Sam cut in. "We've had three unknown vampires in our territory in the past week. New strangers arriving now isn't a coincidence, imprint or not."
"Could be vampire groupies," Paul suggested, his usual scowl deepening. "Like Bella was. Humans who know about the cold ones and get off on the danger."
Jacob growled, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest before he could stop it. Everyone stared at him in surprise. Bella's name had bothered him for a year, but now—it seemed almost irrelevant, a distant memory compared to the new gravity center of his existence.
"Sorry," he muttered, forcing his wolf back down. "I just—I need to meet her. Properly."
Sam studied him for a long moment. "This changes the approach, but not the mission. We still need to know who these women are and what they're doing here." He paused, considering. "Jacob, you and Paul check out the town tomorrow. See if you can spot these newcomers. Given the imprint, I'm authorizing contact if the opportunity presents itself naturally."
"I'm going," Jacob said immediately, his voice brooking no argument.
"Why me?" Paul demanded, predictably hostile.
"Because you need something to do besides moping around terrorizing the younger pack members," Sam replied evenly. "And Jacob needs someone level-headed with him who won't let the imprint cloud his judgment."
Jacob wanted to protest that his judgment was perfectly clear—clearer than it had ever been—but he recognized the wisdom in Sam's decision. The imprint was new, overwhelming. Having Paul's cynical presence might actually help keep him grounded.
"Fine," Paul muttered. "But I'm not playing matchmaker for Jake's magical love-at-first-glance bullshit."
The meeting continued, but Jacob barely heard the updates about the Cullens or the patrol schedules. His mind was filled with deep blue eyes, dark hair, and the inexplicable certainty that tomorrow couldn't come fast enough.
After the meeting broke up, Jacob headed for his motorcycle, his movements jerky with restless energy.
"Dude," Embry jogged up beside him, voice lowered. "An imprint? For real? After all that time pining over Bella?"
"I wasn't pining," Jacob said automatically, then shook his head. "And yeah. For real. It was..." He trailed off, unable to find words adequate to describe the seismic shift in his universe.
"Wow," Embry whistled, eyes wide. "Talk about universe giving you a kick in the ass. You spend a year moaning about true love being bullshit after the Bella thing, and then bam! Magical wolf soulmate."
Jacob ran a hand through his hair, a half-smile tugging at his lips despite his inner turmoil. "Yeah. Universe has a sick sense of humor."
"So what are you going to do? Just walk up to her tomorrow like 'Hey, I'm Jacob, and by the way, I'm magically bound to you for life'?"
"I have no idea," Jacob admitted, kicking his bike to life. "But I'll figure it out."
As he roared down the reservation roads toward home, Jacob's mind raced with possibilities. The imprint hummed in his chest like a physical presence, a new gravitational force pulling him toward the cottage, toward her. It took every ounce of self-control not to turn around and go back right now.
Tomorrow. He'd meet her tomorrow, learn her name, hear her voice properly. The certainty of it calmed the frantic energy in his veins slightly. His wolf, always a separate presence in his consciousness but now suddenly much more vocal, seemed to settle at the promise of soon.
For the first time since Bella had chosen Edward, since he'd watched her walk away and felt like his future had gone with her, Jacob felt something like hope unfurling in his chest. Not the desperate, clinging hope he'd harbored during those dark months, but something stronger, more certain.
Fate had plans for him after all. And they had deep blue eyes and a sharp profile that he couldn't wait to see clearly in the light of day.
********
PAUL
Paul Lahote was in a foul mood. This wasn't particularly noteworthy—Paul existed in a perpetual state somewhere between irritated and furious—but today he had specific reasons beyond his usual generalized contempt for the world.
First, Sam had him pulling double shifts at the garage to cover for Jared, who was too busy making puppy eyes at Kim to honor his work commitments. Second, his house was still half-renovated, leaving him sleeping on Sam and Emily's couch for the third straight week. And now, to cap it all off, he had to play detective with Jacob tomorrow, tracking down some strange British women who probably weren't even a threat.
Just fucking perfect.
Paul slammed the hood of the Chevy he'd been working on, ignoring the wince from the teenage apprentice in the corner. Let the kid be afraid. Fear was more useful than the alternative—the pity he sometimes caught in the eyes of the pack when they thought he wasn't looking. Poor angry Paul, always alone, always the hothead, the liability, the one no one wanted to patrol with.
He wiped his grease-stained hands on a rag and checked the time. Still an hour before he needed to relieve Jared on patrol. Just enough time to shower and change at Sam's place.
The walk from the garage to the Uley house gave Paul too much time with his own thoughts, something he actively tried to avoid when possible. The forest surrounded him, a constant reminder of his tied fate—to the pack, to the reservation, to a life he'd never asked for and couldn't escape.
Phasing had been the worst thing that ever happened to him. One moment he'd been planning his escape from La Push, scholarship to Washington State in hand, future wide open. The next, he was bound by ancient magic to protect a place he'd spent his entire life trying to leave.
The bitter irony wasn't lost on him. Paul had grown up fighting—fighting his deadbeat father's legacy, fighting the reservation's limited opportunities, fighting the assumption that he'd amount to nothing. He'd clawed his way to that scholarship through sheer force of will and determination.
And then the fever had hit, the transformation had come, and his hard-won future had evaporated like morning mist under the harsh light of tribal destiny.
Five years later, he was still here. Still angry. Still alone.
He shoved open the door to Sam's house without knocking, ignoring Emily's greeting from the kitchen and heading straight for the shower. The hot water sluiced away the garage grime but did nothing for his darkening mood.
"There's dinner in the oven if you're hungry before patrol," Emily called as he emerged, dressed in the cutoff shorts that had become the pack uniform.
"Not hungry," he muttered, though it was a lie. He was always hungry these days, the wolf metabolism burning through calories faster than he could consume them. But he'd rather starve than sit through another meal watching Sam and Emily's domestic bliss—their touches, their private smiles, the perfect understanding between them.
It made him want to put his fist through a wall.
"Suit yourself," Emily replied, unfazed by his curtness. She'd long ago stopped taking his moods personally, which only irritated Paul more. He almost preferred when people reacted to his anger—at least then he was having some impact, creating some ripple in the world around him instead of being tolerated like a bad weather pattern that would eventually pass.
Outside again, Paul headed for the forest edge to begin his patrol. He stripped mechanically, tied his shorts to his ankle with the leather cord, and let the familiar burn of transformation take him.
The rush of phasing—the explosion of heat down his spine, the violent reorganization of bone and muscle, the surge of primal strength—was the only thing about being a wolf that Paul genuinely enjoyed. For those few seconds of metamorphosis, his mind went blank, consumed by pure physical sensation. No past, no future, no regrets or responsibilities. Just fire and power and release.
Then reality would crash back in, usually accompanied by the unwelcome voices of his packmates in his head.
Tonight, it was just Jared, whose thoughts were annoyingly dominated by memories of his afternoon with Kim.
If I have to see you two making out one more time, I'm going to puke in your head, Paul projected viciously.
Someone's extra charming tonight, Jared replied, unruffled. Perimeter's clear. Those strange scents Jacob reported are strongest near the east boundary, but they haven't crossed into our territory.
I'll check it out, Paul responded, eager for something to focus on besides Jared's love life.
He loped through the forest, powerful muscles working smoothly as he covered ground with practiced efficiency. The wolf form, at least, was physically satisfying—the speed, the strength, the heightened senses that made the world almost painfully vivid.
Near the eastern boundary, he caught the scents Jacob had reported. Two females, definitely not vampires, but with an unusual electric quality that made his hackles rise instinctively.
Paul slowed, moving silently through the underbrush as he approached the small cottage. Lights glowed from within, and through a window, he caught a glimpse of movement—a slender figure with long dark hair moving past, too quick to see clearly.
He crept closer, curiosity temporarily overriding caution. The second scent was stronger here—cool, clean, with notes of vanilla and old paper and that same strange electric undercurrent. Something about it tugged at him, drew him forward another few steps with an urgency he didn't understand.
Through another window, he saw her—blonde hair caught in the lamplight, pale profile turned away as she bent over what looked like maps spread across a table. Her movements were precise, controlled, nothing wasted. Something about her made his heart slam against his ribs, his wolf suddenly alert and straining forward.
Paul found himself edging closer, despite all training and common sense telling him to maintain distance. The pull was undeniable, almost physical—a tether drawing him toward the window, toward her.
A twig snapped under his paw, and instantly the blonde woman straightened, head turning toward the window. For a split second, their eyes met—cool green connecting with his wolf's dark gaze across the distance.
The world imploded.
Every sense, every thought, every fiber of his being converged on a single point—her. The forest, the pack, his anger, his past, his sense of self—all of it stripped away in an instant, replaced by a bone-deep certainty that shook him to his core.
Mine.
The word wasn't a thought but an instinct, a truth written into his DNA that had suddenly, violently activated. His wolf surged forward in his consciousness, no longer a separate entity but fully aligned with a single, overwhelming purpose.
Protect. Claim. Cherish. MINE.
Paul staggered backward, a strangled sound escaping his throat as the imprint slammed through him like a physical blow. The intensity of it was staggering, terrifying in its totality.
No. No fucking way. Not him. Not now. Not with a stranger whose face he'd barely seen.
He backed away, panic mixing with the imprint's gravitational pull, creating a nauseating whirlwind of conflicting imperatives. Stay. Go. Claim. Run.
Paul? What the hell just happened? Jared's alarmed voice cut through the chaos in his mind. Your thoughts just went nuclear. Are you under attack?
Paul couldn't form coherent thoughts, his mind a storm of denial and primal claiming instinct. The imprint roared through him, demanding he return to the window, reveal himself, touch her, protect her, never leave her side—
Paul! Jared's mental voice was sharp with concern. Sam's on his way. Stay where you are.
With a violent wrench of will, Paul turned and ran, pushing his wolf body to its limits, trying to outrun the new reality that had just crashed down on him. But the tether was already formed, already pulling at him, a physical ache building with each step that took him away from her.
By the time Sam found him, Paul was pacing in a clearing a mile away, his thoughts was a thunderstorm of rage, panic, and the imprint's insistent pull.
Imprinted, he managed to project when Sam's concerned presence entered his mind. The blonde one. At the cottage. Fuck. FUCK.
Sam's mental presence stayed calm, steadying. The same as Jacob? You're sure?
Paul snarled, the sound ripping through the quiet forest. Of course I'm fucking sure!
Alright, Sam's tone remained level, though Paul could sense his surprise. Phase back. We'll talk at my place.
Twenty minutes later, human again and vibrating with restless energy, Paul paced Sam's living room like a caged animal. His skin felt too tight, his body humming with the need to return to the cottage, to see her properly, to claim what the universe had inexplicably decided was his.
"An imprint." Sam's voice was quiet but carried the weight of Alpha authority with declaration.
"Yes," Paul spat, running both hands through his hair, tugging at the roots as if physical pain might ground him. "It was like... like being fucking hit by a truck. Everything just—" He made a violent gesture, unable to articulate the seismic shift that had occurred.
Sam nodded, understanding in his eyes. He'd been the first to experience imprinting, after all. He knew.
"This changes things," he said after a moment.
"No shit," Paul growled, still pacing. "I don't want this. I didn't ask for this. Another fucking chain tying me here, and now to some random—" He cut himself off, the imprint bristling at even this mild criticism of its object. His wolf was already fiercely protective, violently opposed to any negative thought directed at her.
"The imprint isn't a choice," Sam said quietly. "You know that."
Paul slammed his fist into the wall, denting the plaster. The brief flare of pain did nothing to calm the storm inside him.
"We'll adjust the plan," Sam continued, ignoring the outburst. "You and Jacob will still go into town tomorrow. If you see her—"
"I'm not going," Paul cut in, the words escaping before he'd consciously decided. "Send someone else."
Sam's eyebrows rose. "You don't want to see her again?"
The question made Paul's chest tighten painfully. Want didn't begin to cover it.
At that moment, the door opened, and Jacob walked in, followed by Embry and Quil. Paul tensed immediately, his already frayed nerves incapable of handling more company.
"Is it true?" Jacob asked, eyes widening as he took in Paul's agitated state. "You imprinted too?"
The question was answered with Paul's glare. If a look could kill, they'd be all dead ten times over.
The room went silent as the implications sank in. Two imprints, on two strangers, at essentially the same moment. It was unprecedented.
"Well, this is awkward," Quil finally said. "You two are basically imprint brothers now."
"Shut the fuck up," Paul snarled, but the usual heat was missing from his voice. He was too overwhelmed to summon proper rage.
"It's actually perfect," Jacob said, a strange calm confidence in his voice that Paul had never heard before. "We'll approach them together tomorrow. Safety in numbers. For them and for us."
Paul wanted to argue on principle—he always did—but he found himself nodding reluctantly. The idea of seeing her again, properly this time, human to human, made his heart rate spike.
"This is still a mission," Sam reminded them both, his Alpha tone bringing focus to the room. "Imprints or not, we need to know who these women are and what they're doing here. The timing with the bloodsucker activity isn't coincidental."
"We'll find out," Jacob assured him, with that same strange confidence. "But we'll be careful."
"Paul?" Sam's gaze fixed on him. "Can you control yourself tomorrow?"
The question stung his pride, but Paul forced himself to consider it honestly. The imprint was a hurricane inside him, chaotic and all-consuming. But the wolf in him, while desperate to claim and protect, also recognized the need for caution. She had looked right at him in wolf form. If she'd seen him clearly...
"I'll keep it together," he promised gruffly. "But I'm not going to pretend I'm not what I am. If she's my imprint, she deserves the truth."
"After we know more about them," Sam cautioned. "The tribe's secrets come first, imprint or not."
Paul wanted to argue—his wolf wanted to argue—but he clenched his jaw and nodded sharply. One day. He could maintain control for one day.
"Get some rest, both of you," Sam advised, looking between Jacob and Paul with something like sympathy. "You'll need clear heads tomorrow."
Fat chance of that, Paul thought as he stalked out of the house, ignoring Emily's concerned look. His head hadn't been clear since the moment green eyes had met his through that window.
Outside, he was surprised when Jacob fell into step beside him, heading toward the rebuilt garage where Paul's truck was parked.
"So," Jacob said after a moment of tense silence. "That was intense."
Paul snorted. Understatement of the century.
"You feel it too, right?" Jacob continued, his voice dropping. "Like your entire world just... shifted."
Despite himself, Paul nodded.
Jacob's expression was thoughtful, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by something more centered, more focused. "I always thought the others were exaggerating. Sam, Jared, Quil. But it's... more than they said."
"It's fucking terrifying is what it is," Paul muttered.
Jacob glanced at him, something like understanding in his eyes. "You going to be okay tonight? That pull's pretty strong."
Paul clenched his jaw. The tether in his chest was still tugging insistently toward the cottage, the urge to return nearly overwhelming. But he'd be damned if he admitted weakness, even to a fellow imprinter.
"I'll manage," he said shortly.
Jacob nodded, seemingly satisfied. "I'll pick you up at nine tomorrow. We'll check the town center first, then the hiking trails if we don't find them."
"Fine." Paul climbed into his truck, eager to escape conversation, to be alone with the storm inside him.
"Hey," Jacob called as Paul started the engine. "For what it's worth... maybe this isn't the worst thing that could have happened to us."
Paul didn't respond, just drove away, the roar of the engine drowning out any further philosophical observations Jacob might have offered.
Back at his half-renovated house, Paul found the roof had indeed been fixed. Small mercies. At least he'd have privacy tonight to deal with whatever the hell was happening to him.
Inside, he paced the perimeter of his small living room, too wired to consider sleep despite his physical exhaustion. The imprint bond pulsed in his chest like a second heartbeat, calling him back to the cottage, to her.
His imprint. His mate.
No. Paul slammed his fist into the wall, welcoming the sharp pain that briefly cut through the imprint's haze. He wasn't going to surrender to this. Not completely. Not yet.
He'd spent his entire life fighting fate, fighting expectations, fighting the hand he'd been dealt. This was just another battle in the endless war for his own autonomy.
But as he finally collapsed onto his bed, muscles trembling with exhaustion and restrained need, Paul knew this was a battle he was already losing. The imprint had reshaped his very existence, realigning his priorities, his needs, his future around a woman he'd barely glimpsed.
And the terrifying truth, the one he couldn't even admit to himself fully, was that part of him—a growing part—didn't want to fight it at all.