JACOB
"You look like shit," Jacob observed cheerfully as Paul slammed the passenger door of his Rabbit.
"Fuck off," Paul muttered, slumping against the window with dark circles under his eyes.
Jacob grinned, pulling away from Sam and Emily's house. "Not a morning person? I'm shocked."
The truth was, Paul looked worse than usual—like he hadn't slept at all. Not surprising, considering Jacob hadn't managed more than an hour of restless sleep himself. The imprint bond had hummed in his chest all night, a constant pull toward the cottage, towards the dark-haired woman who had, in the span of a single glance, become the center of his universe.
"Just drive, Black. Let's get this surveillance bullshit over with."
Jacob steered toward Forks, surprised by his own calm focus. Last night, after the initial shock had worn off, the imprint had settled into something steadier—a certainty, a purpose that had been missing from his life for too long. Unlike Paul, who seemed to be fighting the bond tooth and nail, Jacob had surrendered to it almost immediately.
After Bella, after the pain of loving someone who would never choose him, there was something profoundly healing about the absolute certainty of the imprint. This was meant to be. She was meant to be his. The universe had finally dealt him a winning hand.
"So what's the plan?" he asked, turning onto the main road. "Split up? You take the diner, I'll check the grocery store?"
Paul grunted in what Jacob assumed was agreement, then glanced at him with narrowed eyes. "You're taking this whole thing pretty fucking well."
Jacob shrugged, unable to suppress the small smile that tugged at his lips. "What's the point in fighting it? We both know the legends. The imprint is always right."
"Easy for you to say," Paul muttered, turning back to the window. "You were looking for somebody to replace Swan anyway."
The barb, meant to sting, barely registered. Bella seemed like a distant memory now, a chapter closed so completely it was as if the pages had been ripped out and burned.
"It's not like that," Jacob said simply. "She's not a replacement. She's... the one I was supposed to find all along."
Paul made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. "Save the soulmate bullshit for someone who gives a damn."
They lapsed into silence as Jacob pulled into a parking spot near Forks' modest downtown strip. "Remember—friendly, casual, non-threatening. They don't know what we are, and Sam wants to keep it that way until we know more about them."
"I know how to act normal," Paul snapped, getting out of the car with unnecessary force.
Jacob bit back a laugh. "Sure you do, buddy. Just try not to phase if someone looks at your imprint the wrong way."
Paul's glare promised violence, but Jacob just grinned, unaffected. Nothing could dampen his mood today—not Paul's surly attitude, not the drizzling rain starting to fall, not even the looming vampire threats that had brought them to town in the first place.
They split up as planned—Paul heading for the diner while Jacob took the more crowded grocery store. Morning was the best time to spot newcomers in Forks; the town operated on predictable rhythms, and tourists stood out immediately.
Inside the small supermarket, Jacob made a show of browsing cereal while actually scanning for anyone who matched the profile—female, foreign, and out of place. Every cell in his body was tuned to the possibility of seeing her, the imprint bond was a constant awareness in his chest, like a compass needle seeking north.
His patience was rewarded when he spotted a dark-haired woman near the produce section. Even from behind, he knew immediately it was her—the sharp electric scent that had first caught his attention in the forest now unmistakable. She was examining apples with a suspicious expression, dressed impractically in designer jeans, a silky emerald blouse, and what looked like exotic leather boots.
The imprint bond flared to life, surging through him with such intensity that his hands trembled slightly. Mine, his wolf proclaimed with absolute certainty. MINE.
Ours.
Jacob took a deep breath, centering himself. He'd watched Sam, Jared, and Quil navigate their imprints with varying degrees of grace. He knew better than to rush in, to overwhelm her with the sudden intensity of his connection. This woman didn't know him, didn't know about wolves or imprinting or the life-altering bond that had just been forged. He would need to be patient, strategic.
With deliberate calm, he grabbed a box of Cheerios and casually made his way toward the produce section, adopting his most charming, harmless demeanor.
"The local apples are actually pretty good," he offered as he reached for a bag of grapes near her. "The McIntosh especially."
The woman turned, and for the first time, Jacob saw her face clearly in the daylight. The imprint bond, already powerful from that brief glimpse through the window, detonated with new intensity. Deep blue eyes, sharp aristocratic features, full lips currently pressed into a skeptical line—she was stunning in a haughty, imperious way that made his wolf practically preen. Of course his mate would be this magnificent.
"Is that so?" she replied, her British accent crisp and cultured. "And do you make a habit of offering fruit advice to strangers, or am I specially privileged today?"
Her tone was cutting, but Jacob caught a flicker of something else in her expression—assessment, maybe even a hint of interest. He grinned, feeling the pull of the imprint like a physical force drawing him closer to her. Every word, every gesture, every micro-expression on her face was suddenly the most fascinating thing he'd ever encountered.
"Small town hospitality. I'm Jacob Black." He extended a hand, noting how she hesitated fractionally before taking it.
The moment their skin touched, electricity shot up his arm—not metaphorical but actual physical sensation, like static discharge but warmer, more vital. From her slightly widened eyes, she felt it too, quickly withdrawing her hand.
"Pansy Parkinson," she replied, studying him with new wariness. "I suppose you're the welcoming committee?"
Pansy. The name settled into his consciousness, precious and perfect. His wolf rumbled with satisfaction at finally having a name to attach to his mate.
"Nah, that's usually Mrs. Peterson at the diner with her blueberry muffins," Jacob replied easily, fighting the urge to move closer to her. His body hummed with the need to eliminate the distance between them, to breathe in more of her intoxicating scent, to touch her again. "I'm just a local who noticed someone new. We don't get many visitors, especially not international ones."
Her eyebrow arched slightly. "Word travels fast."
"Like I said, small town." He shrugged, selecting a few grapes and popping one in his mouth, trying to appear casual while his every sense was hyper-focused on her. "Research project, right? Something about the forests?"
Pansy's eyes narrowed slightly. "My, aren't you well-informed."
"Chief Swan mentioned it to my dad," Jacob lied smoothly. "They're old friends."
"How delightful for them," she replied dryly, placing a few apples in her basket with deliberate care. "Yes, my colleague and I are conducting comparative ecosystem analysis. Frightfully dull stuff, I assure you."
Jacob noticed how her pulse quickened slightly when she mentioned her work—a tell that his heightened wolf senses picked up immediately. She was hiding something. The knowledge should have made him suspicious, but all he felt was fascination and a desire to know everything about her, to unravel her secrets one by one.
"I don't know, the forests around here are pretty interesting," Jacob countered, leaning casually against the produce display, fighting the urge to reach out and touch her again. "Lots of wildlife, unique plant species. I grew up exploring them."
"Is that your professional assessment, Mr. Black?" The corner of her mouth quirked slightly.
"Jake," he corrected, loving the way his name sounded in her accented voice. "And no, just personal experience. I live on the Quileute reservation at La Push—we're pretty connected to the land around here."
A flicker of something—recognition, interest?—crossed her face. "La Push? That's actually on our research route. The coastal forest transition zones are particularly relevant to our study."
Jacob saw his opening and took it, his wolf practically howling with approval at the prospect of showing her his territory. "I could show you around sometime. There are some trails tourists don't know about, perfect for research."
Pansy seemed to consider this, her gaze assessing him with new interest. "That's...not actually a terrible offer. My colleague would probably be interested as well."
"Bring her along," Jacob said, thinking of Paul with amusement and sympathy. His packmate was clearly struggling with the imprint, but seeing her again might help stabilize him. "I can give you both the locals' tour."
"How generous," Pansy replied, her tone suggesting she found his motives transparent. "I'll discuss it with Daphne and perhaps we'll take you up on that."
Daphne. Paul's imprint. Jacob filed the name away.
"Great," he said, taking out his phone. "Can I get your number? To arrange the tour," he added when she gave him a sardonic look.
To his mild surprise, she recited a number which he quickly saved, his wolf rumbling with satisfaction at this small victory—a connection established, a way to reach her.
"I should warn you," she added, "if this is some provincial attempt at flirtation, you're wasting your time. I'm here strictly for professional purposes."
Jacob laughed, genuinely amused by her directness even as his wolf bristled at the rejection. She didn't understand yet what they were to each other, couldn't possibly know the bond that had already formed. "Noted. Just being neighborly, I promise."
It wasn't entirely a lie. The imprint made him whatever she needed—if she needed a guide and neighbor right now, that's what he would be. For now.
"Hmm," she hummed skeptically, but there was the faintest hint of a smile playing at her lips. "Well, I should continue my shopping. Apparently, we need 'groceries' for this cottage living experiment."
"Try the fresh salmon," Jacob suggested, memorizing every detail of her face, the way she held herself, the precise shade of blue in her eyes. "Local specialty."
"I'll take that under advisement," Pansy replied, turning away with a dismissive flick of her wrist that somehow managed to be both rude and elegant.
Jacob watched her move toward the dairy section, his wolf already chafing at the separation. Every instinct urged him to follow her, to stay close, to never let her out of his sight again. With considerable effort, he resisted, heading for the exit instead. Too much too soon would only drive her away.
Outside, he texted Paul to meet him at the car, unable to keep the smile from his face. He'd found her. Spoken to her. Obtained her number. The beginnings of a connection forged. His wolf, for the first time since the imprint had struck, was relatively content.
As he waited by the Rabbit, Jacob realized a profound change had settled over him. The restlessness that had plagued him since Bella's choice, the sense of being adrift without purpose or direction—it was gone, replaced by absolute clarity. Every doubt, every question about his future had been answered in the moment those blue eyes had met his.
Pansy Parkinson was his imprint, his mate, his future. She didn't know it yet, but Jacob was a patient man when the goal was important enough.
And nothing had ever been more important than this.
********
PANSY
The nerve of some people, Pansy fumed as she examined the pathetically limited selection of cheeses in the refrigerated section. First that muggle police chief dropping by unannounced, and now this absurdly tall local offering unsolicited produce advice and tour guide services.
Americans. No sense of propriety whatsoever.
Still, she had to admit the interaction had been... not entirely unpleasant. There was something refreshingly direct about Jacob Black, with his easy smile and obvious confidence. And she wasn't blind—the man was physically impressive, handsome, all broad shoulders and defined muscles beneath that simple t-shirt.
Not that she was interested. Certainly not. She had priorities, and muscular muggles with charming grins were definitely not among them.
Pansy added a block of cheddar to her basket, grimacing at the brand. She'd have to send an owl to Daphne's mother requesting a proper care package from Fortnum & Mason if they were stuck here for more than a week.
As she moved toward the checkout, Pansy mentally reviewed the interaction. Jacob Black from La Push. The reservation was on their surveillance list—their vampire target had been spotted in that area twice. And there had been something oddly familiar about him—a quality to his movements, a watchfulness behind the casual demeanor that reminded her of... Aurors, actually.
Interesting. Perhaps not just a random local after all.
Outside, Pansy spotted him leaning against a shabby red car, talking to another man. This second one was slightly shorter but more broadly built, with the same coppery skin and black hair, though his was cropped shorter. Unlike Jacob's open expression, this one looked like he was perpetually sucking on a lemon—scowling as Jacob spoke, arms crossed defensively.
When Jacob noticed her exiting the store, he waved. The other man turned to look, and Pansy felt an odd jolt as their eyes met briefly across the parking lot. His scowl deepened, and he quickly looked away.
Well, that was rude.
Pansy lifted her chin and deliberately walked in the opposite direction, toward the cottage. Daphne had taken their transfigured Ministry car to scout the forest trails, leaving Pansy to handle the "assimilation" tasks in town. The indignity of it all.
The walk back to the cottage gave her time to organize her thoughts. Jacob Black had known about them already, which meant people were talking. Not ideal for undercover work, but perhaps unavoidable in a town this small. His offer to show them La Push could be useful—get close to the locals, gather information about any unusual sightings or behaviors that might lead to their vampire target.
And if his surly friend was any indication of the local attitude, they might need an ally. Jacob seemed amenable to that role.
When she reached the cottage, Pansy found Daphne already back, bent over her tracking map with focused intensity.
"Our cover is already compromised," Pansy announced, dropping her shopping bags on the counter with perhaps more force than necessary. "The entire town knows we're here, including some very nosy locals from the reservation."
Daphne looked up, one elegant eyebrow raised. "Explain."
Pansy recounted her encounter with Jacob, describing his too-convenient appearance and prior knowledge of their presence.
"Did he seem suspicious of our cover story?" Daphne asked, ever practical.
"Not overtly," Pansy admitted. "But there was something... watchful about him. And his friend looked at me like I'd personally offended his ancestors."
"You often have that effect on people," Daphne observed mildly.
"Very funny," Pansy sniffed. "The point is, they're paying attention to us. We should either avoid them entirely or use this to our advantage."
Daphne considered this, her expression thoughtful. "The reservation is a key area in our investigation. Having a local guide could provide useful access and information."
"Exactly," Pansy agreed, pleased that Daphne was following her reasoning. "I got his number. We could arrange a tour, scout the area with someone who knows it well."
"While assessing whether they have any connection to our target," Daphne nodded. "Good strategy."
"I do occasionally have them," Pansy said dryly, unpacking the groceries with flicks of her wand now that they were safely inside. "How was your reconnaissance?"
"Informative," Daphne replied, returning to her map. "I've identified several locations with strong magical residue consistent with our target's signature. Primarily concentrated near the boundary between Forks and the reservation."
"Near where our helpful local lives," Pansy noted. "Coincidence?"
"Unlikely," Daphne agreed. "The La Push area seems central to whatever's happening here."
Pansy came to look over Daphne's shoulder at the map, where several glowing points indicated magical activity. "We should accept his offer then. Get out there, see what's happening firsthand."
"I agree. But cautiously," Daphne emphasized. "No magic unless absolutely necessary. We don't know who or what we're dealing with yet."
"Fine, but I draw the line at hiking boots with these jeans," Pansy declared, examining her reflection in a nearby mirror and adjusting her hair. "Some standards must be maintained, even in wilderness exile."
A faint smile touched Daphne's lips. "Heaven forbid fashion be sacrificed for practicality."
"Now you're getting it," Pansy said with mock seriousness.
As she finally unpacked her groceries properly, Pansy found herself oddly looking forward to the potential excursion. Jacob Black was certainly easy on the eyes, and there was something intriguing about him and his scowling friend. They didn't move like ordinary muggles—there was a fluid grace, a physical awareness that reminded her of magical training.
Perhaps there was more to sleepy Forks than met the eye. And if there was one thing Pansy Parkinson excelled at, it was uncovering secrets.