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Finding out about other shapeshifters had been life-changing for you. You'd left the life you'd been trying to build where you were and came running to La Push, hoping to finally find the family and camaraderie you'd missed since discovering you weren't exactly human. Things hadn't gone exactly as you'd hoped, but it's still good—better than you'd had in a long time.
Of course, you're the butt of every joke: a werecat joining a pack of wolves. Well, it isn't your fault you aren't descended from wolf warriors. Thankfully, your cat form—rather tiger-like, more specifically—is just as large and fierce as their wolves, and no one questions your fighting skill.
Part of you is also thankful that you aren't fully integrated into the pack yet. You'd never had a pack before, and you aren't looking forward to this whole telepathic connection thing they have going on in wolf form.
Everything else about being a shapeshifter, you love. Turning into a tiger, running wild and free in nature, the instincts, the power, the perpetual immortality that comes with refusing to give up your cat form. You thrive. You even spend more time than the wolves think is healthy with fur and claws instead of feet and hands.
That only changes when the worrying little catch to being a shapeshifter becomes an issue.
And by an issue, you mean changes your entire life completely. Literally.
Imprinting shifts everything in your existence into orbit around one single person. It's instant, startling, and glorious. You'd been worried, before, about the possibility of imprinting, of having no control over who you loved, but the way you feel now was so complete, so amazing, you don't care anymore. You love it. You love being in love.
Of course, there are a few more issues that occur to you as you settle into the happy, warm feeling that is coursing through your body while you watch him. Yes, him. The wolves are all around you, chatting away idly with the vampires about things you could care less about now. There's a new vampire in town, visiting the Cullens, and it had been a cause for concern, you remember. It isn't a concern now. Now, it's the best thing that's ever happened to you.
Because he's one of them. A vampire.
It's rather ironic that you, a creature born specifically to fight these blood sucking monsters, would imprint on one. It has to be a sign—this one is good. Red eyes or not, he is good.
No one has noticed the change in you, it happened so quickly. The blessing of having no one in your head yet. Except, of course, the one who is in everyone's head.
You shoot Edward a look filled with the wonder you feel, and he stares curiously right back, shocked and awed but not upset. You don't know what to do about this. Will the wolves understand? They've all experienced the imprint, whether personally or through their bond, so they can't be opposed to it, right? They have to know you can't help it.
You don't even want to help it. He's beautiful in a way you've never thought vampires were beautiful. He looks young, childish and energetic, with a strong jaw and a sweet air about him, bright eyes and short hair, darker skin and a crooked smile. You don't even know his name.
"Benjamin." Edward calls out, and the young vampire turns to him in answer. Edward asks him something, but you hardly care what he's saying.
So his name is Benjamin. You find yourself smiling. You're going to thank Edward later.
They explain, with a bit of trepidation and obvious sympathy for the new arrival, that Benjamin has come after breaking with his old coven and the vampire who had created him. This Amun character apparently has enemies, and had hoped to shape Benjamin and his gifts into a weapon. Benjamin had refused for the most part, but wouldn't leave his new family—until he'd lost all trust in the people he loved most.
His mate, Tia, had betrayed him. As much as he had cared for her, had loved her, she had only been with him to keep him with Amun, and when a passing nomadic vampire had entered their territory and come to stay with them a short time, it had become obvious she had found her true mate and couldn't keep up the pretext of returning Benjamin's affections.
His grief, during the clipped summation of the tragedy, is so palpable the literal elements shake around him. The wind whistles and beats against the trees, the earth rumbles and cracks, the creek nearby roars in waves, and the very air seems to heat, flickering with sparks. You've never seen a vampire cry—they physically can't, after all—but there is no other way to describe the anguish in Benjamin's face.
It causes you physical pain to see him like this. The empathy with him so sudden, so strong, that it sends spasms of heat through your body, triggering the change within you as though you need to defend yourself from the hurt. With a keening cry, you disappear into the woods, leaving the wolves and vampires, shocked, behind you.
It is Embry who finds, miles away, taking out your suffering on the surrounding forest. Gouges from your claws mark up the fallen tree trunks, and only rootless clumps are left of the grass and bushes, dirt kicked up savagely in every direction. You huge frame heaves with your gasping breathes as you try to regain some composure. Your whimpering "meors" are so pathetic that Embry overcomes the pack's general, wolfish dislike of your feline form and comes to nuzzle you softly. You press your head into his shoulder as thanks.
Once you've gained a semblance of control, you head back to the Cullen's. Your departure had probably seemed rather rude to everyone but Edward. You wonder how he'd explained it, as Embry hadn't been angry with you at all—only sympathetic.
It's well into the night when you arrive, but that hardly matters for vampires, so you head up the front steps and wait without bothering to shift back or attempt to knock, trying not to be bothered by the fact that they most certainly already know you're here and why (or, at least, Edward does; don't be upset with him and his power, you tell yourself. You owe him now—so long as he hasn't told anyone, that is).
It's Carlisle who answers the door, smiling softly. He holds out fresh clothes about your size, and you pick them up delicately in your mouth, rubbing your cheek against his hand as you turn to convey your thanks. He chuckles as you saunter away back to the woods.
You shift back, put on the borrowed clothes, and head right back up to find the door propped open, inviting you in. A quick scan of the room shows Edward isn't even home, to your relief—your head is a safe place to think again. Bella, of course, is wherever Edward is, along with Nessie; probably out at their cabin. You don't pay much mind to anyone else, though.
Just Benjamin. He's standing over by the glass wall, like he'd been watching out it, but he's turned to you now. With a sheepish look, you head his way.
"Hey." You greet him, unsure where the casualness has come from.
He smiles, though, and butterflies flutter in your gut.
"Hello. You are Y/N, correct?"
"The one who took off screaming earlier, yeah." You grin, shifting your weight nervously from one foot to the other. "I'm sorry about that. I wanted to apologize."
He shakes his head. "There's no need. Edward said that my . . . my story resonated strongly with you. I'm sorry if what was said bothered you in any way."
"Nah, it's fine. It isn't your fault. I just—well, I'm . . . I'm sorry. For you. That just sounded . . . too painful."
His smile grows crookedly, expression curious. "All that before—becoming so emotional you shifted—that was just for me? For my pain?"
The room is quiet except the dull hum of the TV, and you're suddenly aware that the two of you haven't been alone. The others are listening, and it makes you self conscious, but you nod.
"You were hurting. Isn't that enough?"
His smile is so sweet, full of wonder, that your heart skips a beat and you know everyone in the room can hear it. Ulg, you hate vampires.
"You need anything," you tell him, taking a small step back towards the door, "you let me know, alright?"
The wonder is still there. A few more sets of eyes are on you, even, curious. You ignore them still, nod Benjamin's way, and head back out.
Imprinting sucks when you can't be near the object of your affections at all times, you discover quickly. Your sure the wolves all know this by now, pack minds and all, but you've never had a pack, never shared your mind with anyone who understood this feeling, and it's all you can do not to curl up into a ball and growl constantly. It doesn't help that in human form, you can't whip your tail around; that usually always makes you feel better.
The wolves don't understand your suddenly foul mood, and you certainly aren't about to explain. After hearing the rumors of the pack and showing up out of nowhere, hoping to be accepted by your own kind, having not even known they existed before now, you aren't about to give them a reason to kick you to the curve. It doesn't matter if Jacob is imprinted on the half-vampire girl—she's half human, too, and doesn't eat people. Benjamin's the only vampire around that does, and you're certain that isn't going to endear you to anyone.
You aren't part of the pack, not yet. They don't have to accept your imprinting, as far as you know. They probably would . . . but you can deal with them after.
First priority: will Benjamin accept your imprinting?
Just had to imprint on a vampire, you whine to yourself, already almost to the Cullens' again. You've been by almost every day, trying to play it casual, but you don't think there's a vampire in the place that doesn't know you're here for Benjamin, including Benjamin himself. He doesn't seem to mind it so far, though. He's taken to heading out in the woods with you, having mock-fights with your tiger form and even giving hunting animals a try. He doesn't much like it, but he's willing to give the diet a shot for as long as the Cullens allow him to stay.
He figures he's got until Amun decides to come and try to talk him into going back home. He admits he misses it, misses them. He even tells you, alone one evening, out in the forest and watching the stars, that maybe he judged Tia too harshly. Maybe there was no plot against him by Amun and Tia to play on his feelings for her. Maybe she really thought she loved him . . . until she found her true love.
You sit beside him silently as he talks through his feelings. You know he can tell you're crying, but he doesn't say anything about it for a long time. Then he gently reaches out, wipes away your tears, and simply says, "Thank you."
He knows those tears are for him. Ignoring the sickly vampire smell, you bury your face in his shoulder, and the two of you stay like that for quite a while. And even though you know you stink to him just as much, he doesn't say anything about it.
You know what they say about vampires. Life events either don't phase them, or they change them completely and irreparably. It scares you, to think about what this is doing—has done, could still do—to Benjamin. So you do whatever you can to distract him, to take his mind off it when he needs that, to listen when that's what the moment calls for, and most importantly, whatever it takes to make him smile.
He's got the greatest smile. Crooked, childish, straight to his bright, wide eyes, full of youth and joy and hope and mischief. And, thankfully, you have the absolute best tool to bring that smile out—the innate sense of what he needs at any moment that comes with the imprint. Every day, you love that thing even more; if it keeps helping Benjamin, you don't even care that you didn't have a choice at first. You'd go back and choose it yourself now if you could.
It's another day of wrestling on the agenda today. You're trying to see how you fair—or, in Benjamin's words, how long you'll last—in human form this time, and the Cullen's, for the most part, roll their eyes affectionately and tell you not to demolish the forest. That's all the permission the two of you need before you're out in the yard in a flash, a wide, circling prowl having you at opposite ends of the yard from each other, grinning expectantly.
He's lightning fast—but you're built for this. A normal vampire wouldn't stand a chance; Benjamin should no better than to come at you without his elemental advantage by now. But maybe he figures, since you're in human form, you're not as much of a threat.
He might be right about that, but that doesn't mean he still isn't underestimating you.
You're across the field just as quickly to meet him. Just the impact of your bodies sounds like thunder, and you feel a few ribs crack.
Minor fractures. They'll heal before the fight's over. You don't let up.
The two of you are locked in a tussle, arms around each others' shoulders, feet digging into the earth below as you shuffle, each trying to throw the other.
"No elements?" You gasp, not letting up.
His answering chuckle is cut off quickly before he forces out an answer. "No tiger, no elements."
"Your funeral."
You let your knees buckle. Benjamin almost catches himself, but all the force that had been against him is now moving with you, and you give him a good toss over your shoulders. You have to throw your upper body back forward after he goes flying, and whirl around just in time to see him land, scraping across the ground before sliding to a stop.
Even across the expanse, you can see the wide shine of his now coppery eyes, the thrill of the game. You launch yourself after him, not even waiting.
If Benjamin needs a friend, you are a friend. If Benjamin needs a sparring partner, suddenly the fight if your focus. That, you are getting used to. So when he flits away from you playfully when you're almost on him, goes around your side so that you are shoving him back further into the trees with your shoulder, and a new, sudden sensation rushes through you—you falter.
It's a thrill, certainly. A thrumming in your veins, a skipped beat in your heart. It's wonderful, exhilarating, and has you redoubling your efforts as you give chase.
But it isn't the fight. What is it? There shouldn't be any distractions. If you're feeling it, it must be something Benjamin needs from you.
Whatever it is, it will come to you. Naturally. That's what the imprint is. You stop worrying about it, spotting the streak of his movement between the trees. He's trying to be sneaky now, to use speed and stealth against you instead of power. A crack in one of your ankles is knitting from where you'd pivoted wrong while tossing him earlier. You don't even feel it.
Everything is Benjamin. It's intoxicating.
He's moving behind you, and you spin just in time to rush him, catching him mid stride and knocking him back into a tree, where you pin him with your body flush against his.
His face lights up with a grin. You're chest is heaving against his, adrenaline pumping through you, and you feel so happy, so elated, you can barely see straight. Everything is perfect, couldn't be more perfect—the thrumming is still there, the feeling, almost like the fight but more more more!
You charge forward, pressing your mouth to his, devouring him. You don't care that he smells bad, that he tastes bad, that he's cold and not breathing and wrong in so many ways; he's moving beneath you, with you, kissing back, hands around your neck, fingers digging into your skin.
Oh. So this is what that new feeling is; this is what Benjamin needs. Well, you can accommodate.
You slam him harder against the tree, leaving literally no space between you, him, and the bark. There's a crack, and the tree groans. Benjamin laughs, short and loud and then your mouths are back together and it dissolves into a moan and you nip at his bottom lip, trying to wrap your head around kissing and breathing simultaneously. Vampires don't have that problem, and he locks an ankle around yours to rub your legs closer and your hands go to his side to hold him flush, his sweater smooth and soft beneath your fingers, sliding across his marble skin like water.
It's about the time the arousal hits like an explosion in your gut that your brain catches up. And then your slamming yourself back, slipping in the fallen leaves as you put distance between the two of you, still gasping, out of breath and with the taste of him in your mouth.
You stop a few feet away, and the only sound is your labored breathing as you stare at Benjamin. He stares back, and emotions flicker across his face so quickly they're hard to catch—hurt, confusion, chagrin, pain, nervousness, sorrow.
"I'm sorry." You blurt.
It takes a few seconds before Benjamin asks, sounding bewildered, "For what?"
You swallow. "I didn't ask."
"Didn't . . . ask?" Benjamin cocks a brow, looking both amused and confused. "Did you hear me protesting?"
"Doesn't matter." You insist. "Shouldn't have just assumed—just because the imprint made me think it was okay—"
He cuts you off sharply. "Imprint?"
Cringing, you nod. "Yeah. The first time I saw you. Edward's the only one that knows. He thought it was weird, at first, but he figures if a shapeshifter can imprint on a half-vampire, why not a full one?"
He looks totally confused and rather lost now. "But I thought imprinting was like a mating thing? To pass on the best genes or something?"
"That was one theory. Honestly, none of us really know." It's getting easier to breathe. You feel nervous but not . . . well, anything else. The imprint isn't giving you anything to go on, so you hope that's a good sign. "I was worried about saying anything, I mean, so soon after your . . . er, breakup. I just wanted to help you heal. To make you happy."
He smiles slowly. "You did that. Thank you."
Relieved, you smile back.
"And what now?" He asks.
"Whatever you want." You answer immediately, not really understanding the question and letting instinct answer.
"Well, according to your imprint—" His smile is mischievous now. "I want to be pinned against this tree."
You growl. It's out before you can stop it, and Benjamin looks absolutely tickled.
"What do you want, Y/N?"
"Right now, I think we are very much on the same page."
"Then why are you standing all the way over there?"
You have to take a steady breath not to be on him at those words.
"You're okay with this?"
"If you are." He turns serious for a moment, staring you straight in the eyes. "Only if you are. I don't know much about how this imprinting thing works, but if you don't want to or if you are feeling somehow compelled to—"
"No." You shake your head, and you can't help that step closer you take. "I am more than okay with this if you are. I mean it."
His answering smile is quick, faster than any move he's made all day. "Thank goodness. I was really worried I was going to make a fool of myself with the werecat—that you'd be disgusted I was even interested. But through this, through everything, you've been—and I just—"
He's run out of words, but he's said enough. You stop fighting the imprint and close the distance between you again. This time, the kiss is soft, unrushed, gentle, with featherlight touches as your hands find their places against each others bodies once more.
You part the kiss just enough to whisper, "By the time we're through here, no one will be able to smell anything on either of us but the other."
Benjamin practically shudders against you. You stop talking.