Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or my own thoughts which are controlled by my evil twin; Tabatha.

Take a deep breath and just knock on the door.

I was standing out the Lahote household, trying to gather the courage to do what felt like the impossible. The house was cute and I could tell that it was well taken care of. It was surprisingly colorful, too.

I took another deep breath and knocked, cringing back when it sounded more like a death punch than the dainty rap I was going for. I fiddled around with my mother's car keys as I waited for my doom. What if he doesn't take me back? I thought.

I tried to steer my thoughts away from those nightmares; they were along the lines of the other thoughts that I had all morning. What if he didn't really imprint on me?

There were far too many questions that made me want to beat my head hard against the door in frustration. If he did take me back, then there was no way I was bringing up the werewolf thing... It would be more than embarrassing if he told me he didn't imprint on me after asking. It was just better to play dumb, I'd concluded.

I shuffled a bit more as I heard some banging and curses that came from within the house. It was definitely Paul. His father, Mr. Lahote, had seemed much more like a gazelle in a field rather than a werewolf in a china shop. I was wrong.

Mr. Lahote opened the front door looking just as handsome as his son, and I was more than surprised at his eye color. It was a grassy green that I was honestly jealous of.

"Hi..." I faltered. I shifted around a bit in uncertainty. "Is Paul here?"

As I saw Mr. Lahote shift his paper under his left arm to his right, straightening out in a cat-like way, I knew that this was a bad idea. He was undeniably scary, and he didn't have to be a spirit warrior to do so.

Mr. Lahote was considered a bastard in our small community, never giving anyone the time. The woman in my father's gossip group concluded that he had hit his wife and Paul. That was why she'd packed up her bags and left. I didn't know what I was thinking when I started dating Paul. How I could avoid his ass of a father forever?

Then he smiled, and I nearly fell in love with him. It was Paul's smile and it took my breath away; the laughter in his eyes seemed like grass blowing in the wind.

"Holly," he said delightedly. He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me into a hug. "It's so nice to finally meet you."

My eyes where wide as saucers, I was sure of it. Where was the mean man everyone was always talking about? "Uh…"

"Come in, come in." He grabbed my hand and pulled me inside quickly, planting me on the couch. "What would you like to drink? We have coffee, orange juice, nearly every soda I can think of… Darling?"

I could only splutter to myself, utterly confused. I probably looked like a Venus flytrap as I tried to get something to come out... I was in a nice little state of shock, and I couldn't get my brain to catch up to anything in the present.

He flew back into the kitchen and carried out two cans of soda. "Paul told me that your favorite drink was Root-beer," he started, "and I began stocking it up in the house in case you decided to finally come over."

"Thank you," I managed to say, and my face immediately burned at how meek it sounded. I was such a girl sometimes.

"You're welcome, princess." I felt myself blush even more when he started staring almost as if he was giving me an assessment. "Paul wasn't lying about your beauty," he went on, "though I'm not one to judge, considering I like dicks."

I chocked on a sip of God's gift to man. "Excuse me?"

He blinked at me a few times before giving me a coy grin. "He didn't tell you." It wasn't a question, and I felt myself blink several times trying to clear the fog that had started to fill my brain at the sight of his eyes sparkling with glee. "I'm more into the men department, princess," he clarified.

"That explains a lot." It slipped out before I could catch it and I quickly slapped my mouth my hand. He just laughed it off, apparently finding my foot-in-the-mouth syndrome endearing.

"It does, doesn't it?" He smiled at his bright living room and I looked in envy at the neat household; I was a messy person and I only cleaned when I was forced to. "Paul always said that even though he lost his mother, he got a mother and father in her place."

I smiled at him and gently turned my can around in my hand. "You did a very good job playing the roles," I agreed. How could I have ever believed that he was a hard-ass? I really needed to stop listening to the gossip mill.

"Paul says so, too," he replied, "but it's not the same as having a real mother there for him." His eyes never wavered from mine. "It was my fault that his mother left; me not being attracted to her really put a damper onto the relationship."

I took another sip, not really knowing what to say, but remembering the other night when Paul said it was his fault rang clear within my mind. "Your loss," I spoke softly as I gazed at the man in front of me.

"Yeah." He reached out and gripped my hand. "She never got to see her son grow into a man, and she will never get the joys of seeing his children." He began bouncing in his seat. "So when will that be?"

Mr. Lahote and I sat and talked about Paul's childhood before I remembered the reason I was there for. "Where is Paul?" I asked.

"My God!" He quickly stood up and began dragging me towards a hallway. "I completely forgot why you were here!" He stopped at the third door to the left, flinging it open before I could protest him pushing me in and closing the door.

I nearly reached back and wretched it back open, but instead, I stilled myself and slowly turned around to face the spacious room. Paul was asleep in his king-sized bed, hugging a ragged teddy bear to his chest. I smiled at him. An angel in disguise. I slowly made my way to his bed.

He tightened his teddy to his chest every few seconds, and his lips were moving. He didn't utter a sound. I slowly lowered to the bed and shook his shoulder. "Paul." I shook him slightly harder, and he woke from his sleep. I had a slight suspicion that it wasn't my shaking that did it.

"Holly?" He made his way to sit up, but I automatically put my hand on his chest, gesturing for him to lie back down. He complied.

"No talking," I told him. Then I took a deep breath, remembering the speech I had prepared all morning. "Paul, I am so, so, so, so sorry. I was a stupid little girl who didn't know what she was saying last night. I was afraid of what we were, and I tried to use an excuse to run away from it. I would spend every day for the rest of my life trying to win you back." I sent a quick prayer to God for allowing me to get that all out like I wanted to.

He didn't blink at all for a good minute as we sat there looking at each other. "Give me a second chance, Paul," I said. I gripped his hand into two of my own. "Just one more chance."

I couldn't stop him the second time he tried to rise up, catching me by surprise when his arms circled themselves into me in a bone-crushing hug. "You never lost the first chance," he assured me. The warmth of him seemed to enfold me and melt me into oblivion.

He pulled back too soon, and quickly set me as far as he could away from him as possible. The panic seemed to set me in a vice grip as I searched my mind for what I could have done so quickly.

"Before you agree to be with me in any shape or form, I need to tell you something important," he began, taking a shuddering breath. I reached out my hand towards him, and he jerked back before I could touch him. "No touching me until I'm finished," he said.

I blinked back the rejected tears before they had the chance to fall. "Okay."

"I am a… I'm a…"

I smiled at his nervousness as I launched across the bed into his tense body. "You're a spirit warrior," I finished for him as I curled myself into his lap. His mouth hung open and I gently closed it. "You're going to catch flies if you keep it hanging open like that," I told him easily.

"Who told you?" he demanded. I felt the growl more than I heard it, and from the vibrations, I knew it was time for me to get away from him. He seemed to have the same idea because I was thrown from his lap and onto the other side of the floor while he stood by the door.

"No one told me, Paul." It came out as more of a gasp of air, and the telltale sign of a blush framed my cheeks. "I figured it out; you guys aren't as suave as you think you are."

I reached my hand out towards him again, and this time he gently took it into his own, looking me in the eyes as he lowered himself back onto the bed. "So, you are fine with it?" he asked quietly.

"Would I be here if I wasn't?" I questioned. He gave me a soft smile in return, and somewhere in my mind I knew it was reserved just for me.

"No," he replied, glancing back up at me. "So why did you say you didn't want to see me anymore the night before?"

Here comes the hard part… "Imprinting." I sighed as it was the only word I could think of, and I felt the wall of defense building up around me at the thought of rejection. I glanced towards the gun on the wall before blinking away quickly. I definitely did not need to be rejected while that was in the room with us.

"I'm sorry—" he began… but I hit him with the table lamp before I could even process the words or for him to get them all out. I winced at the sharp crack it made into the beautiful lamp. He blinked at me once or twice before continuing on like I hadn't even hit him with the heavy weapon. "—that you feel forced to love me because I imprinted on you."

I stared at him much longer than I meant to before settling the lamp on the bedside table sheepishly. "It's not because you imprinted on me or that I feel forced to love you, Paul." I picked at a ball of lint on his sheets. "It's because of what I thought Sam did to Leah."

He began but I cut him off. "Sam didn't mean to break Leah's heart—"

"I know that now," I said as I glanced up from my hands and into his dark brown eyes. He'd gotten those from his mother. "I thought I was betraying her when I agreed to date you," I said, trying to explain to him my stupidity as best as I could. I grimaced when it still didn't make much sense in the air as it did in my mind.

"But you weren't," he disagreed. "Leah will get over it in time." He sighed as he drew me closer. "Leah has come a long way since our pack split in two."

"Two?" I repeated as I moved on to playing with his fingers.

"That's a story for another day," he told me, gently pressing me into his warm body. "Do you understand imprinting completely?"

I shook my head no I tried to tighten myself into the never-ending source of heat. He pulled me away from him so he could look down at me. "Sam and Jake both say that it's like the Earth no longer holds you to the ground; the imprint does. And without her, it would be like gravity never existed." He chuckled down at me. "I say that it's like my heart stopped beating for me and started beating for you."

I blushed as I gazed down at my hands that he was rubbing between his own. "I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy, whether if it means mentally or physically happy."

"So let me get this straight," I said as I gazed into his eyes. "Me accepting the imprint would be like unleashing the wolf from his cage?"

My body quivered from the single finger tracing my nose, and his face stretched into a lazy grin as he tweaked the end of it. "Exactly."

I smiled at him as he leaned down and kissed me, and just like the first time, he kept it short and sweet. I was still as breathless as I had been in the car, and I felt myself melting into the bed.

"Holly?"

I closed my eyes at his voice saying my name. "Yes?"

"What changed your mind about us?" He caressed my cheek and I hummed in content.

"Leah went into some deep meaning shit about how Sam and Emily where meant for each other," I moaned as he gently rubbed my neck and I felt him twitch under me. "Then she imprinted on Taylor."

He stopped his movements and I groaned in protest. "Leah imprinted on your brother?" he asked, bewildered.

Leah's voice filtered into my mind. "Don't mention Taylor to any of the guys; they're a little protective and I want to get to know him well before they tear into him." I snapped my eyes open, noticing my mistake as Paul's shaking filled the room.

Shit.

AN: Chapter 10! How do you like Paul's dad? Anything that you noticed that you would have done different? I reached more than 50 reviews, you guys are without a doubt the best little readers out there! There is a new poll on my profile concerning a story I have thought of writing and I would appreciate it if you could give me your own thoughts. Also the playlist is in works and if you have any suggestions for the blanks, I would be more than happy to take them with open arms.

With Love,

Lucaduca