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I'll Teach You How To Love (Me)

Summary:
One of the werewolves imprints on a mysterious woman. He travels to the ends of the earth to find her, and then discovers he has an impossible task. He doesn't just have to convince her to love him. He has to convince her love exists at all.


Notes:
Right- this is a multi-chapter fic. I own nothing. It's in second person, so you can really pick a werewolf besides Jake, Quil, Sam, and Jared. In my mind, it's Embry, and that may be established later. Each chapter has a song which inspired it. I will provide links to the songs. You need to listen to them to get the right mood. I own nothing. REVIEW.


6. Always A Woman

Rating 0/5   Word Count 693   Review this Chapter

“I… what?” It’s the most coherent thing you can think of. In fact, you’re quite proud of your eloquence, given the circumstances.

“Not what I was expecting. Ain’t you going to call my career choices into question?” Teasing you. She’s teasing you, and you’ve just told her… she knows what you are, and she’s laughing about it, such a beautiful laugh (gold, like wheat blowing in the field) and so loud and clear.

“No, actually… how can you just… believe me, like that?” It’s suddenly more urgent to you than any questions about her. If she trusts you with this unlikely revelation, maybe she can believe the other. You can tell her the rest of the story, the last big secret, and know that she will accept it.

You hold in your breath, and, to no one’ surprise, she disappoints you again. “I don’t. I’m suspendin’ disbelief for the remainder of this… evening, until I come up with a decent alternate theory and some good questions to throw at you. Got any proof for the werewolf thing?”

The ups and downs of this woman- she keeps totally shocking you. You can’t get a handle on what she’ll do next. She’s a mystery.

And you feel like she shouldn’t be. Sam knows Emily’s thoughts as intimately as he knows yours. Quil has taken to spending whole days outside the La Push elementary school, because he senses when she’ll come out of the double green doors crying and needing him. Jared anticipates Kim’s “fat days” and is there with a bundle of flowers or chocolates and tells her again how beautiful she is.

But for you… the center of your universe is sitting right in front of you, and you can’t even figure out how to answer her questions. “Yes. I do. Touch my hand,” you say, and anticipate the touch with closed eyes. There are other ways to prove it, you know, but this is definitely the most preferable.

Her hand brushes gently across yours, and you grit your teeth at the now-expected surge of electricity and power, radiating inward from the place where she touches you to the center of your being.

You clench the fist she isn’t touching- you would never perform such a violent motion while she was nearby. It would be far too easy to hurt her like that. She’s so delicate compared to you.

Damn. I didn’t notice before- you gotta fever, or something?”

You shake your head. “No- or rather, all the time. I’m always like this. All of us are. It’s probably because of the metabolism. My body works real hard so I can keep running, keep phasing, when I have to. And I digest food way faster. It’s hard to keep a werewolf full.”

“That’s so not sufficient proof, you know,” she says, shaking her head.

You sigh. “Yeah. Want to see a werewolf?” You’ll have to be very careful. You’d die before you’d hurt her.

“Sure!” You risk a glance at her captivating eyes- they are gleaming with excitement.

“Be careful. If you want to watch, go over there. In the kitchen. I don’t have it in my blood like some of the others, not as strongly- I’ll explain later- and my control isn’t naturally as good. I could hurt you.”

She nods and, for the first time you’ve seen, does something you asked her to.

You unleash the rage. It’s not hard- it never is- but this time, it’s especially simple to find the place, usually deep in your stomach but currently just beneath the surface of your skin, where the wolf is.

All the others- you probably couldn’t even count them. All the others who have done… things… with her. With your imprint. With the center of your life. With the one you love.

Yours.

Yours.

She is yours, and they have no right to- there. Your back ripples, your shape changes, explodes outward, the fur springing from your smooth skin as your bones twist and your form expands.

She gasps.