Lex and Embry exist in a strange liminal state - not quite lovers, not quite friends - for exactly eight days. On the ninth day, the envelope arrives, slipped through the flap in the badly scratched door to her apartment. There's no postmark, no address, just a simple Lex scrawled in chicken-scratch handwriting. Lex turns the envelope over and over in her palms, perplexed by the creamy smoothness of the envelope. Mail is rare, but personal mail? Totally unfamiliar.

Eventually, spurred on by Liz's impatience - open it, nitwit, I have things to do - she peels back the sealed flap, sliding the folded card out onto the kitchen table. Her eyes quickly skim over the words embossed onto the page, an entirely unexpected combination of phrases that don't quite make sense to her.

With great pleasure, Samuel Uley & Emily Young invite you to join them at the celebration of their marriage...

With shaky fingers, Lex picks up her phone to dial the one number that's burned into her brain. He answers on the third ring.

"Hey," he says, sounding slightly breathless. "What's up? Is everything okay? Do you need a ride -"

He's babbling, and she's impatient. She cuts him off. "I got an invite to the wedding."

He pauses for a moment. "Uh, yeah, you did. Emily dropped it off earlier."

"Why?"

"Why waste money on postage? It's not like I don't know where you live."

Lex huffs out a breath, turning the card back over in her hands. "Not that part. Why are they inviting me? I barely know them."

He's quiet, but the call stretches on, soft breathing over the line. "Well, I thought it would be nice if you came with me. If you want to, of course. I can tell them you're not coming if you don't want to go."

She chews her thumbnail right down to the nub before she replies. Phone conversations really aren't made for the overthinkers, she muses, wondering how best to burst the bubble of hope that seems to be growing between them.

"What are we doing, Em?" she says finally, letting the words tumble out. "I see you every day, we talk every night, and now you want me to go to a wedding with you? I just...I don't think I can...I don't know. I don't know what I want, I don't know how to even talk about this, and -"

Her voice cuts off suddenly, her sudden rambling punctuated by the torturous silence that stretches between them. He wants to run to her, to reassure her in whatever way he knows how - and shit, he barely understands what's going on in her head - but her sudden confession of uncertainty has him wavering.

"What do you want, Lex?" he says, his voice barely above a whisper. Her prior words stung, but an outright rejection would surely wound him further.

She sighs. "I don't know, Em. I just don't. I need space."

"Okay."

"Okay."

He can give her space.

Embry had thought that Tuesday couldn't possibly drag on any longer after her clipped phone call. To his dismay, Quil had overheard the entire thing, down to the last of Lex's sniffles, and had attempted to stage a cheer-Embry-up extravaganza. And so he had ended up sandwiched between Seth and Leah on the floor of Sam's den, watching his pack brothers tussle for control of the Playstation. Normally he'd be well into the fray, content to jostle with the rowdier boys for dominance. Brady, in particular, had a special way of irking him, taunting him just enough to trigger a round of sparring. His usual attempts were all for naught tonight though, with the older boy choosing instead to work his way to the bottom of a bottle of Old Quil's moonshine. He didn't get drunk often, typically burning off the alcohol far faster than it could intoxicate him, but the bathtub hooch was a special kind of potent that'd probably kill a better man.

Embry would come to realise the morning after that he'd sent a pathetic string of messages to Lex, woefully desperate and pleading, and - even worse - all ignored. The hangover hurt, but the silence stung more; the silence that stretches across the distance between them, that extends into minutes and hours and days of absolutely zero contact. He texts her a few times, sober now, growing increasingly desperate as time creeps onward. Eventually, she replies with painful brevity - I need space. Don't worry about driving me around. Thank you. - and it's almost as if he can feel his heart shattering into pieces. It's not as if Lex holding him at arm's length is new or unexpected, but he keeps coming back to the rushed way she'd spoken, how she sounded on the verge of tears as she ended the call. The wedding was supposed to be a good thing; he'd thought she'd love spending more time with his friends. And yet, something about the formality of the occasion had sent her into a tailspin more severe than any he'd witnessed prior.

Sam allows Embry a couple days of moping before he's dragged back out to patrol. The usual requesting and eventual pleading hadn't worked, so with one swift Alpha order, Embry was back pacing the rez, only slightly more mechanical than before. It was times like this that he really missed Jake. Jake could be a hard ass, but he'd never use the command if it wasn't life or death. Sam, on the other hand…

Okay, okay, chill with the dramatics. It's one single shift. Then you can go back to rotting away in that festy house of yours, Leah quips, recalling the last time she'd visited the bachelor pad. It wasn't pretty - it never normally was - but it wasn't that bad.

He tucks his tail between his legs, ashamed. Leah, can you please just let me mope in peace.

Let's keep it real here. Heartbreak's kind of unavoidable, especially when you bring all this fucked-up wolf shit into the mix. Pushing the imprint on her is only going to make it worse.

And who said I was planning on doing that? She told me to stay away, so I am. Even if it makes me want to take a dive off the cliffs. His thoughts briefly stray to the outcrops that were a short dash from his current location on the perimeter. The jump wouldn't kill him, that was for sure, but the theatrics were definitely appealing.

Jesus, do we need to get you on suicide watch? Let's file this conversation under "why imprinting is royally messed up". If Leah was human, she'd probably be rolling her eyes, though in her shifted form he could sense an undercurrent of concern lurking beneath her snark.

Aww, you do care about me! Maybe that's enough to keep me off the brink, he teases, enjoying the way she bristles at the comment.

Embry, I tolerate you. Caring is a stretch.

Yeah, yeah. I know what I felt just now, he thinks, digging into her memories the best he can. He doesn't usually poke around in people's brains - after all, it's pretty rude - but getting under Leah's skin is well worth it. She's a touch too slow to shield her thoughts, and he manages to extract a brief flash of when he'd first phased in that evening, how she'd felt a surge of relief at his presence.

Call, get out of my head before I rip off yours. I mean it, asshole, she snarls, irritation dripping from every word. He couldn't get into her head now if he tried, anyway - she's back to her usual steel-trap mind, only letting occasional glimpses of her surroundings peek through.

Okay, Clearwater, keep your secrets. I tolerate you, too, you know, he thinks, trying to lighten the mood.

Leah's silent for the rest of their patrol, only reaching out to him when she crosses a faint trail by the northern perimeter. The pair follow it for awhile, testing the waters before they even think about raising the alarm, but it fades within a few hundred yards. Scouring the thick brush around the offending scent provides no clues, either, only the lightest notes of bleach that have his skin prickling in disgust. The next pair to phase in continue searching the area, but Embry's mind is already elsewhere. Potential vampire ambushes are surprisingly low on his list of priorities, bumped right down beneath literally everything that can and will go wrong with Lex, as well as the possibility (probability?) of flunking out of college. Quite frankly, a vampire could be waiting in his bed for him after his patrol and he'd hardly bat an eyelash.

Mercifully, there's no bloodsucker in his house, nor are there any other inhabitants. He's plenty pleased though to find an entire untouched pizza on the kitchen bench, adorned with a small yellow post-it note. He peels it off, smiling a little at the - Enjoy! -K - scrawled in neat handwriting. Kim's basically the glue holding his sanity together at this point; he truly has no idea how she manages to put up with both him and Jared on a regular basis. He scarfs the pizza down in record time as he works through his newfound post-patrol routine: pace the house, shower, pace some more, check his phone for potential imprint reconciliation, attempt to sleep without kicking a hole in the drywall. He actually manages the latter - god bless self-control - drifting off into dreamless sleep with unexpected ease.

His peace is mournfully short-lived, though; he's roused with a sharp pain to the chest so strong that it has him keeled over the edge of the bed in seconds. Embry's not sure if he's about to barf or if he's going into cardiac arrest; all he knows is that his entire body is quaking from the radiating ache in his chest. It feels as if his heart is being gripped in an iron fist, twisting and squeezing with every beat. He's kneeled low on the carpet, panting heavily, when Quil bursts through the bedroom door, alarmed by the sudden thuds.

"What the hell? Em, are you okay?" he asks, crouching low to get a better look at him.

Embry looks up at his friend through pained eyes, struggling to keep his head up. "It hurts so fucking bad, man, I think I'm having a heart attack," he pants, feeling the pangs intensify with every word.

Quil's eyes widen. "You need to call Lex. Call her, right now," he barks out, ripping Embry's phone from the charger so roughly the socket loosens from the wall.

Quil unlocks the phone with shaking hands, dialling her number before Embry can even think about protesting. The call rings and rings, and with every passing second Embry's quaking strengthens. Quil's about to peg the phone right through the drywall when the call is picked up, immediately blasting a chaotic burst of noise.

"Em? Oh god, oh fuck, you need to come here. Please, you need to help me, I need -"

Her panicked cries are interrupted by a series of deafening thuds alarmingly close to the phone, followed by a high-pitched shriek that almost triggers Embry to phase.

"Where are you?" Quil demands, his body trembling in anticipation.

"I'm at work, I'm at work, please, I need you to come, he's trying to get inside," she whimpers.

With that, Embry launches himself out of the bedroom window, phasing before his feet hit the ground. His focus is singular: protect her, whatever it takes. He's vaguely aware of others that are shifted, but the red mist is far too strong for his human sensibilities to take precedence. Instead, he lets his wolf take the reins, surging towards her as if his life depends on it. He's always been one of the faster wolves, more agile, but the way that his paws are propelling him across the reservation is unlike any hunt he's ever taken part in. His wolf is controlling every nerve in his body, dominating all of his senses, and it will not rest until she is safe beneath him.

Embry, I'm coming, Quil calls, pushing his body forward to catch up. You protect her, I deal with the threat.

Are we raising the alarm? Paul asks, diverting his route to head towards Forks.

Quil hesitates for a moment, waiting for some sort of coherent thought from Embry. He has nothing rational to offer; his humanity is long gone, buried the second he heard her cries.

Yes, call for help. Fuck knows what we're about to see, Quil decides finally, his thoughts coloured with an increasing sense of concern at Embry's feralness.

Paul's howl rises loud and clear in the night air, sounding the alarm for the off-duty protectors. Embry and Quil are crossing the border by the time most of the pack have phased in, all in various states of concern and distress.

What's happening? Is there a leech? Brady asks, sprinting to reach Paul.

Is everyone okay? Shit, it's late, Seth thinks, shaking the sleep from his eyes.

Lex is in danger. Head towards Forks, NOW, Paul commands, his inner voice dripping with authority. In Sam and Jacob's absences, Paul's word is gospel, and the younger wolves immediately spring into action.

Quil, I want one of you to stay shifted until we arrive. I want to see everything, Sam orders, finally shifted. He's the last to arrive, but his impressive speed compensates for his tardiness, propelling him to the front of the pack.

Got it. Em, you okay? Quil prods, hustling to keep pace with him.

Embry can only growl in response, his anger intensifying as they cross the final block standing between them and Lex. Within seconds, he can hear everything: her heart, beating at a frantic pace; her muffled cries, her rapid breathing. The yelling. The pounding on the fragile glass of the building. He wants to rip and tear and kill anything that threatens her, to destroy whatever is hurting her so immensely.

Embry, absolutely no killing. Jesus Christ. Protect your imprint, Sam orders, increasingly alarmed. Quil, phase and deal with the threat. We're almost there.

Yes, Sam, Quil replies, shifting without hesitation.

He pulls his cut-offs on as he runs barefoot across the parking lot, feeling glass and debris embedding into his flesh. None of that matters though, not when there's a hulking man throwing himself against the flimsy sliding doors of the building, screaming and cursing up a storm. Embry phases to follow suit, feeling the tremors rack his body with alarming intensity.

"Hey, motherfucker!" Quil bellows, charging at the figure.

The man turns, but it's far too late; Quil descends upon him in an instant, driving his fists into his soft flesh again and again. The stranger struggles beneath him, attempting to wiggle loose to fight back, but it's all for naught - there's no comparison between Quil's inhuman strength and that of a mortal. The screams emanating from the brawl will haunt him for weeks on end, awful squeals that drill down into his psyche to brand his brain with monster monster monster.

Embry darts around the skirmish, making a beeline for the back entryway he's seen Lex use a few times. He pounds on the door, pleading for her to open up. He needs to see her, to hold her tight, to make sure she's safe. His need for closeness is the only thing keeping him in his human form, and that's a tenuous state at best. She swings the door open in seconds, launching herself into his waiting arms. Some human part of his brain is distantly aware that he's holding her too tight, that he might be hurting her more, but he can't restrain himself. He's squeezing her, gripping her as if the pressure's supposed to fuse her back together, as if it will heal them. He needs this, he needs her; the contact is making them whole again. He relaxes only at the sound of her muffled sob, releasing his iron grip so he can lower his face to her level.

"Fuck, Lex, it's okay. You're okay. I'm here now, I'm not going to let anyone hurt you. I promise," he swears, holding her face in his palms.

He straightens up only when she nods slightly, acknowledging his words. His eyes skim over her, visually assessing her to ascertain her safety. Her face is damp and streaked with tears, but she's otherwise unharmed, safe with him. Embry wraps his arms back around her, lifting her up to be cradled against his chest. He's strongly considering running her back to his house when he hears footsteps approaching. Embry lets out a long, low growl, possessively gripping Lex tighter.

"Hey, hey, it's just me," Jared calls, rounding the corner of the building. "Cops are on their way. Collin's bringing your truck," he says, casting Embry a meaningful look.

Lex whimpers softly, turning her face inward to press against Embry's chest. He tears his eyes away from Jared to study her face.

"It's okay, Lex. We'll be home soon," he soothes, running his hand over her tangled hair. She doesn't reply, but there's no more whimpering, and so he takes that as a positive sign.

Jared shoots him a sympathetic look. "Wait inside. I'll come get you when they arrive." With a brisk nod, he disappears back into the darkness, returning to the detainee.

Embry carries her inside, kicking the door closed with a firm click. He lowers her to the first comfortable surface he finds, gently resting her on the counter so she can be eye-level with him. Even though his body is screaming in protest, he's ready to release her from his grasp, give her some necessary space, but her fingers grasp even tighter at his arms.

"Please, don't leave," she whispers, not daring to look up at him.

All thoughts of distancing himself dissolve at her protests. To know that she needs him as much as he needs her is the sweetest relief in an otherwise horrendous situation; he wants nothing more than to scoop her up and whisk her away, to cleanse her of all her fears. He settles instead for burying his face into her hair, peppering the top of her head with soft kisses and whispered strings of comforting words. The wolf within him aches to curl around her, to immerse himself entirely in giving in to her every need and desire, to protect her against all adversaries. That will have to come later, he reasons, all too aware of the ongoing chaos in the inky blackness outside.

Sam handles the police with unquestionable confidence that Embry can only envy. With the promise of CCTV and a later statement from Lex, the offender is whisked off into the night, removed from sight and from the streets. Embry coaxes her from the building a short while later, placated only by the promise of continual company at his home. Inwardly, he's pleased that she's so insistent on returning to his home - there's no real woodland around her house, meaning that he has no way to keep a close watch on her there in his shifted form.

When he tucks her into the soft blankets adorning his bed, he's wholly expecting her to finally relinquish her grip on his biceps. Her fingertips are moulded into his flesh like Bernini's Prosperina, her hold as tight as a vice. She turns her gaze on him, fixing him with a pleading expression that nearly brings him to his knees.

"Can I ask you to stay?" she murmurs, keeping her misty eyes steady on his.

He nods wordlessly, his mouth as dry as the desert. Protecting her is his wolf's priority, but comforting her appeals to the deeper undercurrent of commitment that his human side governs. He allows himself to sink into the mattress, stretching out next to her on top of the thick blankets. Slowly, she turns to curl up against his side, resting her cheek against his chest. The rhythmic beats are like a lullaby, soothing her towards sleep in a way that words cannot. By the time Quil returns to check on the pair, they're sound asleep, bodies twisted together like a cozy litter of puppies. For the first night in weeks, neither dreams of the other, satisfied entirely by the skin-on-skin contact.

Lex wakes early the next morning, roused after only a few hours of rest. Embry's stretched out across the too-small bed, his arm flung across her body like a makeshift blanket. She briefly contemplates wiggling out of his grasp, slipping away into the depths of the house, but there's something about the softness of his face in his sleep that keeps her in place. In sleep, Embry is peaceful and serene; his brow is smoothed, his frown eased. In sleep, he looks almost boyish, much younger than his hulking appearance would otherwise suggest. In sleep, Embry looks like a man she could trust.

Sleeping beside another person is entirely foreign to her, a long-forgotten relic from the occasional sleepovers of her childhood. She'd expected to feel uncomfortable, anxious, even, but his presence is deeply comforting in a way that she can't quite put her finger on. There's something peculiar about his touch; any kind of contact with him is both exhilarating and relaxing, a curious contrast that draws her back to him each and every time she thinks of running. She doesn't quite understand it, but there's plenty of things about him that are a total mystery, like why he's so damn interested in spending time with her, or where his unending patience comes from.

Of course, there's a magnitude of things she doesn't understand about herself, and about relationships in general, that occupy her mind far more than her worries about him. Temptation (and torment) number one is the issue of physical affection: she wants him, but she's terrified of what comes next, what he'll expect from her, and that's a terror in itself. Still, as she lies on her side, letting her eyes greedily roam his sleeping form, it becomes harder and harder to fight the urge to touch him. His warmth, the way his skin's illuminated in the morning sunlight, beckon her fingers like a beacon for affection. Her movements are slow, hesitant, but she indulges in the luxury of touching him, lazily rolling on her side to face him as she comes to rest her palm on his ribs. His shirt's ridden up a little, revealing a tempting strip of copper skin that feels like silk under her fingertips. It's an unexpected discovery for her; Embry is inscrutable at times, perpetually stoic, and she'd imagined that his body would match that tough persona. No, he's mellow and mild in the warm rays of sunlight, his face an angelic vision of gentleness that could melt even her most obstinate of moods.

She traces swirling patterns across his skin in time with the pattering of rain on the tin roof. This morning, this moment, belongs to them alone, two bodies cocooned in the solace of his bedroom. Eventually, Lex closes her eyes, losing herself in a quiet appreciation of the moment. She's not sure how long she lays there, letting her fingers explore the expanses of his skin, but the sudden shifting of his body alerts her to his awakening. He's already looking at her when she opens her eyes, his dark eyes capturing hers in an instant. It feels as if all the blood in her body has taken up residence in her face; to get caught, touching him so intimately, feels like being exposed.

"Good morning," he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.

"Hi," she whispers. She doesn't trust her voice to not betray her mortification - any extra words would surely end with a squeak.

"I like this," he says, humming in satisfaction as she resumes the movement of her hand. Every little noise he makes, irresistibly deep and resonant, has her nerves buzzing like an electric current.

When her fingers come to pass on that small patch of exposed skin at his waist, he lets out a little growl, sending her into a fit of giggles. She'd heard him growl very occasionally - Kim had said it was just some odd quirk he had - but hearing it up close, feeling the rumble in his chest, makes it impossible to take him seriously.

"Oh, you think that's funny, do you?" he asks, twisting his face into an expression of mock seriousness.

At her responding nod, he lets out another dramatic growl, pulling her close to tickle her sensitive sides. It's a delightful agony; he's impossibly strong, and there's absolutely no way she can wiggle free, but there's a large part of her that revels in tussling with him. After much squealing, he yields to her pleas, his hands stilling against her body. The game's over, but he's still tangled up with her, half-leaning over her body in a playful attempt at domination. She should want him to go. She should want him to move away, to release her from his clutches. She knows that, but she also knows that she's growing to enjoy the newly established proximity.

A moment passes, a short juncture where Lex is acutely aware that the morning could go two ways. The first - the version where she acquiesces, where she allows him to show her what she's been missing - is growing increasingly tempting, especially when her attention is directed towards those irresistibly full lips. The second version - the one where things remain as they are, two friends in a comfortable embrace - is safe, tenable, and not at all the option she desires. Embry is motionless above her, seemingly waiting for a cue, and the decision is near-paralysing.

Lex opts for the in-between, raising her head slightly to bring herself closer to him. She can hear his breath hitch in his chest as she moves towards him, more than a little startled at her decisiveness. She gingerly presses a kiss to his stubbly cheek, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of his woody musk. Embry is both comfort and fear, familiar and strange, and the unusual display of affection feels just right. He feels just right.

"Come on," she murmurs, squeezing out from under him. "Let's eat and talk about last night."

Lex looks over her shoulder as she pads towards the door, expecting him to be behind her in his usual speedy manner. Instead, he's frozen in place on the bed, his fingers lightly touching the place she'd kissed him.

She laughs, pulling him from his moment of reverie, but she'd be amiss if she didn't admit how touching the gesture was. Embry's simple appreciation of her, his patience and delight at her ever so gradual improvement, stirred something deep within her. For all of his peculiarities, Embry was genuine to a fault, loyal beyond compare, and it was becoming harder to keep her distance with every passing day. When he rests his broad palm against the small of her back, she leans into the gesture, savouring the heat of his touch.

"Coffee and waffles?" he asks, ruffling her hair.

"Coffee and waffles."