foreign hands. sam uley ✓

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

Resentment coils in his bones as he seeks her out later, a physical pain residing in his breastbone from not seeing her. The pack is just as distressed, questioning the very reasoning to their search.

I just don't understand, Jared bemoans as he prances alongside Sam. If you want to reject the imprint so badly, why not just leave the vampire be?

Paul finds it very amusing. After they had returned from their patrol, he had laughed loud enough to shake the birds from their trees upon shifting.

"Really?" he asked, clutching at his stomach as though Sam's pain brought him happiness. "You really imprinted on someone who tried to kill us? And here I thought Alpha's would have the best candidates for that shit."

But Sam was never supposed to be an Alpha. He had long since come to terms with the fact that his calling was not Alpha. Rather, it was a position that was forced upon him when Jacob denied it. He just happened to draw the short straw.

Now, they are running four hours away from Forks in the direction that the vampire went in. Her scent is leading them to a forest deep in the bordering state, and Sam quietly squashes on the part of him that feels hopeful for this meeting.

No, he thinks, shaking his head to regain clarity. No, I will refuse this bond. I will.

To the left of him, Paul snorts. Sam grunts and shoves him into the ground before running to a spot where the scent stops. He shoves his snout into the ground, snuffling at the moist leaves, trying to catch a glimpse as to where she could have gone. After all, her trail had been faint when they left Forks, and it seems as though it has been raining quite a lot where the scent fades off.

What now? Paul asks, pressing a paw deep into the earth before sniffing around. Sam is glad that even now, despite being a bit difficult, Paul listens to his silent commands. She's gone. Scent's disappeared.

Inside, something swirls inside of Sam's ribcage, violent and deadly as he paces around the forest's floors. There's not a chance-she couldn't have. . . Was she. . .?

Sam shakes his head away from the daunting thoughts, controlling his heart rate until it feels like he can breathe again. He picks his head up in every direction, even though part of him is confused as to why he brought both his and Jacob's packs-save for Seth and Leah-out here for a hunt that seemed useless. He didn't want to come himself; it was the other part of him-the one that he couldn't control-that wanted to see the vampire again. The sick part of him that hates who Sam is and believes that he needs to suffer for breathing.

Then miraculously, minutes later, when the trees are trickling with new raindrops, Quil howls from a cavern to the east of Sam. Jacob's thoughts towards Sam assure him that, yes, it's the vampire, Quil is with it right now, and Sam gives himself a moment to relish in the fact that he can still feel the other howls-can still remember who they are-and then he runs in the direction of the cave, paws scratching through the muddy grounds in a haste to reach her.

She's holed herself in the back, Jacob mutters in his head as Sam nears, heart racing in his chest. In the darkness, where you can barely see. Quil says he's never seen anything like it.

Quil is correct; they had never seen anything like it. Edward told them a bit of her powers, how the leech could siphon physical powers from vampires. Carlisle said she could control darkness even when he visited the Volturi, a gift he had never seen anyone obtain. Sam thinks it's fitting; a monstrous gift for a monstrous creature.

He stalks up to the casing that she's put herself, the cocoon of sorts that tints her skin and makes it even harder to see her in the horrible lighting. Sam stares at her, two halves of his whole contesting on what to do. Does he submit himself to her? Does he run? Sam kind of wants to run, kind of wants to put distance between the two of them because it might make the pinch in his chest disappear as well.

Perhaps he could try to break the shell around her. If he breaks the hardening cocoon then perhaps, he could get her to talk, and maybe then she will tell him how she has coerced his ancestors into believing that she is his imprint.

After he tells his pack to leave along with Jacob's, he stands there, mulling his options. He glares directly into the red irises, feeling something sick curl inside of him.

She remains sitting, her own stare relentless and even as it bores into Sam's gaze. If Sam didn't know any better, he'd say that she looks defeated. Her eyebrows draw down on her face, her hands wrapped around her knees that she pulled up to her chest. She stares at him, but it is passive, unaggressive-so unlike the wrath that Sam has forced into his own glare.

And that sucks. Not only did he have to have a vampire for an imprint-an imprint that he still doesn't want-but he had to have a vampire that is utterly defeated. Utterly worn out. Exhausted almost. Before he can stop himself, he wonders what had hurt her, what had worn her past her limits until she was reduced to this-a beaten shell with nowhere to go.

Sam whines before he can halt himself, the action almost rehearsed, as if he were meant to do it. As if he were mourning for the life that she lived before this. As if he felt sorry for her.

But that is wrong. Sam feels nothing but contempt for the fragile girl in front of him, and he will prove that. He will. The only reason he stays is because he doesn't want to lose her trail again; it's better if he remains close for the imprint. That way, he will not feel the phantom pain of her absence and she will be able to-well, Sam doesn't know what she's going to be able to do, but he hopes this can sate his imprint until he can talk to the council about denying it.

For now, he snorts out a breath, paws grazing the cool shell, and rolls onto his stomach, snuffling at her. A sign of peace. For now.

The smile he receives in return does nothing to stop the contempt from boiling in his stomach, nor does it make him forget the color of her eyes, a reminder of the monstrosity she is.

But he does feel lighter when he doses off, but he chalks that up to Jacob's pack joining him on his hunt. There's no way it was the vampire. Not a chance.

Never.