Must have 10 comments and 20 votes for another update. A/N: "Kwop kilawtley," means "Stay with me forever" in Quileute. Art by Ai Bing. Warning: Small mention of rape.
Leah's eyes snapped open; her bedroom bathed in the soft morning glow. The cotton sheets clung to her skin, a familiar cocoon of warmth. But how had she ended up here? The memories of the night before surged, a torrent of fragmented images: blood, raged growls, and the sting of betrayal. Koda. The name echoed in her mind. 'Where was her imprint?' she thought. Leah's gaze darted around the room, searching for any sign of her enigmatic companion. But Koda was nowhere to be seen. Had it all been a dream? A figment of her sleep-addled imagination? The pain that shoots through the side of her face when she moves her jaw answers that question. The air smelled of rain and pine, a heady mix that tugged at her senses. Leah swung her legs over the edge of the bed, the cool wooden floor sending a shiver up her spine. She needed answers. Leah needed to find Koda. She padded across the room, her bare feet whispering against the floorboards.
The living room beckoned, its windows framing a world washed in gray. Raindrops tapped a soothing rhythm on the cabin's metal roof, a lullaby for lost souls. And there, in front of the kitchen stove, stood Koda. Her back was a study in contradictions—muscular and delicate, strong yet vulnerable. The sports bra clung to her skin, revealing the curve of her spine. Baggy sweats hung low on her hips, similar to the somber look etched on her face. Koda's hands moved with precision, deftly flipping bacon in the skillet. The sizzle and pop filled the room, drowning out the rain. She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes meeting Leah's. There was a sadness there, a weight that stretched beyond the confines of their shared space. Leah's heart stuttered. She took a step closer, drawn to the woman who held the answers to her questions. The scent of crispy pork hung in the air, mingling with the promise of secrets yet unspoken. "Koda," Leah whispered, her voice lost in the symphony of raindrops. "About last night—," she says but hesitates.
Koda's lips curved into a frown. "You should eat first," she said, her fingers brushing against the plate of bacon. "I promise to answer all your questions after," Koda says as the air in the cabin grows heavy, laden with secrets and sorrow. Koda's eyes bore into Leah's, a silent plea for understanding. She guided Leah to the worn wooden table, urging her to sit. The chair creaked under Leah's weight, but her mind was racing, fueled by a mix of curiosity and dread. Koda moved with a quiet grace, fetching plates and utensils. The smell of breakfast—bacon, eggs, and hash browns—lingered in the air, a stark contrast to the weight of the impending revelation. She placed a plate before Leah, the crispy bacon arranged like shards of broken promises. Leah's fingers trembled as she picked up her fork. She had sensed Koda's pain, the haunted look in her eyes.
"Koda," Leah whispered, her voice barely audible above the rain's steady rhythm. "Tell me," she pleaded softly. Koda hesitated, her gaze flickering toward the window. Raindrops raced down the glass.
"His name is Ku," she began, her voice raw. "A male werewolf—a monster who believes he has a claim on me," Koda admitted.
Leah's breath caught in her throat. "Claim? But—," she says, but Koda interrupts her.
"Before I was even born," she says but hesitates, her knuckles white against the edge of the table. "He forced my parents to agree to an arranged marriage. To him, I'm nothing more than a pawn, a vessel for his ambitions," Koda revealed as she traced the rim of her coffee cup, her eyes distant. "Ku...Kidnapped me....And in that dark place, he violated me," she admitted with tears in her eyes. The words hung heavy, like stones sinking into her soul.
Leah's heart clenched. She reached across the table, her fingers brushing Koda's. "But You escaped," she whispered.
Koda nodded, her jaw tight. "I fought back and clawed my way out. But another werewolf attacked me—The Cullens intervened and killed the attacker. But I was broken, bleeding. Dying," she replied, then her gaze locked with Leah's. "...They saved me," Koda says. Leah's mind reels at the thought of the transformation—the agony, the loss. Koda's eyes filled with tears. "I should have felt relief, but his touch still haunts me," she admitted as her voice quivered, each word a fragile whisper trembling with the weight of unspoken grief as if sadness had stolen the strength from her voice. Leah's chest tightened. The rain outside beat a mournful cadence, echoing the ache in her heart. She squeezed Koda's hand, their souls entwined in a battle against tragedy. Leah wondered if love alone could protect them from the shadows that threatened to consume them both.
"Ku," Leah whispered, testing the name on her tongue. A phantom rage simmered within her. "He won't take you. Not again," she proclaimed confidently. Koda opens her mouth to speak, but Leah interrupts her by leaning towards the hybrid, her breath mingling with Koda's. "I won't let him touch you... you're mine," she whispered, but the primal look in Leah's eyes told Koda it was the wolf speaking. The room pulsed with the primal energy, a symphony of longing and fear. Leah's wolf prowled within her, restless and wild. Since her first shift and Koda leaving Forks, it had been a silent companion lurking beneath her skin. But now it surged forth, demanding recognition. Koda sat before her—an enigma, her imprint. They hybrids eyes held galaxies, secrets etched into their depths. Leah's wolf recognized her as both prey and salvation. The room seemed to close in on her, the walls pressing against her chest, urging Leah to surrender. Koda's lips were like a fragilely sweet invitation. Her past was etched in scars, a tapestry of pain that Leah could only glimpse. But now, in this charged moment, Koda was more than a survivor. She was a beacon—a lifeline that Leah's wolf yearned to claim.
The imprint bond pulsed between them, a tether that defied logic. Leah's wolf howled, urging her to taste Koda's lips, to claim her as a mate. But love held her back—the fragile human part that whispered of vulnerability and tenderness. "Koda," Leah whispered as her wolf snarled, wanting to mark its imprint and brand her as their mate. She traced the curve of Koda's jaw, her touch gentle yet insistent. The gentle gesture takes Koda by surprise, but she can't help but lean into the warm touch. "....Kwop kilawtley," Leah whispered in her native tongue. Then, what was left of her self-control broke, and she lunged forward, closing the gap between them. Their kiss was a revelation—a collision of pain, yearning, and healing. Koda's mouth yielded a silent surrender. The she-wolf pressed closer, seeking solace in the warmth of Koda's lips. The room faded away, leaving only the two of them—a broken warrior and a fierce protector. Leah's fingers tangled in Koda's hair, pulling her impossibly closer. Koda's hands found their way to Leah's waist, pulling the she-wolf into her lap and flush against her body. The ache of their shared history fueled the kiss. Leah's heart swelled, aching with the weight of love and fear. Koda tasted salvation on Leah's lips, a fragile hope that defied the pain within. When they finally broke apart, gasping for air, Leah rested her forehead against Koda's.
"Leah," Koda murmured, her voice raw. "I've never wanted anything more than this," she whispered, and then her lips brushed Leah's once more. In that single moment within Koda's arms, the she-wolf found her sanctuary, her haven against the raging world. 'Why did I fight this for so long?' Leah thought, wishing she had given in the moment her eyes had met Koda's.
After breakfast, Koda tended to Leah's wounds with a gentle precision. The five deep cuts across Leah's cheek, remnants of last night's battle, throbbed in rhythm with her heartbeat. At that moment, she remembers something Ku had said that made no sense to her. "Tiny," she addressed Koda by her affectionate nickname. "What did Ku mean? What history are we missing?" Leah asked as Koda's fingers moved deftly, wiping away the dried blood from her cheek. The scent of wet pine needles and earth hung in the air as she worked.
Koda sighed, "I was hoping you wouldn't remember that," she said, her voice a low murmur, "The stories passed down through generations—the tales of spirit warriors and their connection to the wolves—they're only fragments of the truth."
Leah leaned closer, her cheek stinging as Koda applied a healing salve. "What truth?" she pressed.
"While your people are descended from spirit warriors, things changed for your tribe when a woman of Kaheleha bloodline laid with a werewolf and gave birth to Taha Aki—," Koda explained, but Leah interrupted her.
She frowned, "But we're shapeshifters. Our abilities—" Leah says, but Koda stops her.
"—are not what you think. True shapeshifters were originally animals given human form by Gaia to defend nature against humanity's destructive tendencies. The magic that flowed in the woman of Kaheleha's bloodline mingled with the chaos magic inherent in the werewolf blood. It didn't consume Taha Aki; it transformed him," she explained.
Leah's mind raced. "So, our anger—the primal rage we feel—it's because of this fusion?" she asked.
Koda nodded. "Yes. The Quileute bloodline carries both the wild magic of the earth and the untamed fury of the werewolves. It's the genetics from your werewolf ancestor that causes Vampirism to be a trigger. When your kind is near vampires, your instincts flare, and your powers surge. It's a defense mechanism that werewolf DNA evolved to after years of being hunted down by the Volturi until they were on the brink of extinction," she replied.
"The Volturi?" Leah asked, her voice holding a mix of confusion and skepticism. She leaned against the rough-hewn wooden table, her gaze fixed on Koda.
"They are the foundation of peace and civilization for vampires," she began, her tone measured. "At this moment, they stand as the largest and most powerful coven in existence. Their reach extends far beyond mere territorial boundaries." Leah's eyebrow arched, a silent invitation for Koda to continue. "They enforce the laws of the vampire world. Laws that govern their existence, their interactions with humans, and their very survival, and these laws are not mere guidelines; they are ironclad decrees," Koda explained.
"Vampires have laws?" Leah's voice dripped with incredulity, "I thought they were just bloodsucking predators."
Koda's lips curved into a wry smile. "All supernatural beings have their own set of rules," she clarified. "Especially when it comes to secrecy among humans. But the Volturi..." Koda says as her gaze turns distant, "They are different. Ruthless. Consider them the unofficial royalty of the vampire world."
"Royalty?" Leah scoffed, "What makes them so special?"
"They operate from the ancient city of Volterra, Italy," Koda continued, "They've existed for centuries—three hundred years, at least. Their power is unmatched. And they deal swiftly and decisively with anything they perceive as a threat. They destroy anyone who dares to challenge their authority. Vampires, humans, were-creatures... anyone."
Leah's worry was palpable. "After what happened at the hospital, won't they come to Forks?" she asked.
Koda's gaze held hers. "They might," she said softly. "So far, Forks believes that there was a boiler explosion that took down the entire building, killing anyone inside. Alice is keeping an eye out for any signs of the Volturi deciding to visit. But just in case," Koda continued, her gaze unwavering. "I'll remain hidden on Quileute land. The pack can't patrol or shift. If the Volturi see any of you shift, they won't hesitate to wipe out every last tribe member," she explained.
"We've held our ground so far. This won't be any different," Leah proclaimed, defiant and overconfident.
"There is a stark contrast between inexperienced vampires and the Volturi guard," Koda countered, her voice steady. "Most of them possess unique abilities, and even the rare few without such gifts are formidable in combat. If they were to descend upon the pack, it would be a massacre—a swift and brutal end.... This is why I pleaded with the elders to allow me to prove the stories of shifting long before this," she replied, her tone edged with frustration. "You and the rest of the pack are uneducated and overly confident," Koda pointed out.
Leah's expression changed to a mix of curiosity and skepticism. "Abilities? What do you mean?" she asked. The elders never mentioned anything beyond speed and strength to the pack.
Koda's fingers carefully placed a bandage over her mate's cheek. "Certain vampires possess unique abilities—gifts gained or enhanced during their transformation. These abilities go beyond mere physical enhancements. No talent ever manifests the same way because no one thinks in precisely the same way. My ability....is the power to neutralize supernaturals through touch. When I was turned into a hybrid, my strongest trait—empathy—became my gift. I can turn supernaturals into humans temporarily," she explained.
Leah's eyes widened. "And these traits... they intensify after transformation?" she asked.
"Exactly," Koda confirmed. "The more pronounced it was as a human, the stronger it becomes as a vampire. Each vampire's gift is unique, shaped by their individual traits, but some can come from a similar one. Take Jasper, for instance. His empathic trait allows him to feel and manipulate emotions. Unlike me, he doesn't need physical contact," she explained. Her words hung in the air, revealing a hidden world of supernatural intricacies.
That evening, Leah stood at the head of the worn wooden table. Sam, Paul, and Jared flanked her, their expressions a mix of curiosity and wariness. As Leah relayed Koda's information, the air inside the small cabin grew heavy with tension. Sam's jaw clenched, now harboring resentment toward Koda, blaming her for Emily's tragic death. He bore the weight of his imprint's death like a scar etched into his very being. The imprint bond, that unbreakable connection forged by fate, had bound him to Emily—forever. But that bond was now shattered. His vibrant eyes, which were once warm brown, had dulled like autumn leaves fading into winter. Sam's skin had lost its golden hue. The coppery warmth had paled, mirroring the sunless void within. His once-glossy black hair now hung in disarray. It wasn't surprising that his health was slowly declining.
That was the downside of imprinting. When a shapeshifter imprinted, all the ties that held them to their life were sliced apart in swift cuts, like clipping the strings of a bunch of balloons. Everything that made them who they were - their loyalty to the pack, the love for their other brothers, their hatred for the pack's enemies, their home, their name, every ounce of self - disconnected from them in that second - snip, snip, snip - and floats up into space. Then, in an instant, a new string holds them to the earth. No, not a string, but more like a million steel cables all tying them to one thing....their imprint. The very center of their universe. But when fate's cold touch cuts those cables, a shifter is like a lost moon―their planet destroyed in some cataclysmic, disaster-movie scenario of desolation―that continued, nevertheless, to circle in a tight little orbit around the empty space left behind, ignoring the laws of gravity. Paul and Jared shift in their seats, eyes moving between their alpha and her Beta. They could feel the emotions of betrayal and anger that Sam and Leah radiated towards one another. The imprint bond between Leah and Koda was supposed to bring clarity to the pack, but in this case, it only fueled resentment. Leah glanced toward the cabin's entrance, where Koda sat on the porch steps, her silhouette framed by the dusking sun's rays.
"Why should we trust her?" Sam spat as his gaze bore into Leah's. The wolf within Leah snarled, not liking her Beta's tone towards her mate, but Leah hesitated, calculating her next words.
"Because she's our best chance. If anyone can help us navigate this, it's her," she replied honestly. The pack meeting had begun innocuously enough, but now it teetered on the edge of chaos.
Sam's rage simmered just beneath the surface. "Leah," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You've lost sight of what matters. Koda is a liability. She's not one of us," Sam said.
Leah's eyes narrowed. "She's my imprint," she shot back.
"An imprint that you rejected till now! She's the reason your father and cousin are dead!" Sam pointed out while his voice ascended into a murderous falsetto as his nostrils flared.
Koda's voice cut through the tension. "Everything I have ever done has been to keep the tribe and my loved ones safe. Emily's death was not my fault," she proclaimed. Sam's gaze shifted to Koda, who stood stoically in the doorway. His eyes bore into hers, accusing and venomous. In an instance, Sam lunged, his wolf instincts overriding reason. He tackled Koda, their bodies crashing through the front doorframe.
Outside the cabins, their entangled bodies collide with the porch, causing the wood to splinter as they tumble into the dirt. Koda fought back, her hybrid strength sending Sam flying backward into the air. His body exploded in mid-air, releasing the wolf within. The wolf lands on all fours and snarls, baring its canines towards Koda. Its once beautiful black fur had lost its sheen and now held streaks of gray, like storm clouds gathering. Proof that a shifters wolf form was the embodiment of their inner soul. Koda's eyes start to glow as a warning. She wouldn't shift, not wanting to harm Sam, but she refused to be pushed around by him.
Leah and the rest of the pack rush out of the cabin. "Enough!" she commanded. Her voice echoed through the clearing, and the earth seemed to shudder in response. "Sam, your grief is blinding you. We're stronger together!" Leah says, trying to talk sense into him before he breaks the tribe's one absolute law. Sam lunged once more toward Koda, but Leah's sleek, light, gray wolf form sidelined him. Her lean and powerful frame moves with grace, each step purposeful as she dodges Sam's snapping teeth. Leah's muscles ripple beneath her fur as they collide once more. Fangs clashed, claws tore at the skin, and the forest watched, a silent witness to their clash. Koda's nature screamed for her to protect Leah, but the moment her mate attacked Sam. It became a pack matter, leaving the hybrid unable to aid Leah. If she did, the she-wolf would look weak and unworthy of leading the pack. Leah met Sam's charge with a primal roar, and the forest trembled. The Quileute pack watched, torn between loyalty to their alpha and traditional views.
Leah's blood pulsed with adrenaline, her senses attuned to every rustle of leaves, every heartbeat as she and Sam grappled, their snarls echoing through the trees. Sam's claws, like obsidian daggers, pierce Leah's flank, but she retaliated, her teeth sinking into his shoulder. He slams her body into the ground, trying to break free, but her grip tightens. Sam releases a snarl as he slams into a tree at full force, causing it to topple, dislodging Leah from his shoulder as a few of her bones break. A brief whine escapes from her snout as Leah's bones snap back into place. Blood spilled from Sam's shoulder, mixing with his fur as his eyes were wild, anger consuming him. Leah forced herself back up even though every fiber of her body ached. She pants, her gaze never leaving Sam's. Both wolves stood—bloodied and out of breath. An eerie silence filled the air as if the earth itself was holding its breath.
Sam began to circle Leah, eyes narrowed, and then he lunged for her throat. She twisted, avoiding the fatal bite, and sank her teeth into his hind leg. Sam lets out a painful yelp. Leah's heart pounded, and she tasted the metallic tang of blood. Sam's massive paw strikes Leah's snout, sending her sprawling. Pain flared, but she rolled, sinewy grace propelling her back into the fray. Blood dripped from her already wounded muzzle, mixing with the earth. Once more, they lunged towards one another. Their collision was thunderous—a symphony of snarls and snapping jaws. Once more, Sam's jaws aimed for her jugular, but she sidesteps him, causing his teeth to barely graze Leah's throat. Her own fangs found perches into the side of his neck. Blood sprayed, painting the ground crimson. Time seems to stand still as Sam's eyes bore into hers—a mix of pain, regret, and a plea for death. This is what Sam truly wanted all along. He wanted to join his imprint in Mother Nature's warm embrace. Leah's grip tightened, and Sam's body went limp in her hold, life draining from him. The pack remained frozen. Leah gently laid Sam's lifeless body into the dirt, her heart heavy. As stars painted the sky, Leah looked to the moon and howled—a mournful cry that echoed through the forest.
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