Chapter 2

Arya

I had to run across campus to make it to Shifter Biology in time, barely making it through the classroom door as the final bell rang. Of course, all the other students were already seated and had their full attention on me. Panting and mouth dry, I did my best to compose myself and act like I hadn't just sprinted the length of two football fields as I walked to my desk.

As I crossed the room, I forced my glance not to stray in Adina's direction in the back row, but I could feel her heated gaze on me like the laser target of a sniper's rifle. I kept an airy, devil-may-care expression on my face, reminding myself with each step that she hadn't defeated me, and that she was never going to.

So far, she and her horrible friends had treated me like garbage unworthy of them. Well, I was going to do the same to them, but instead of giving them negative attention, I wouldn't give them any at all. From this point on, they'd be invisible to me, and I wouldn't so much as acknowledge any of them even if they were on fire.

I settled into my desk, and Mrs. Sharp started her lecture. She gave a few examples of known couples that had an imprint between them, displaying outward signs and behaviors of the imprinted shifter.

"The most widely agreed-upon behavior present in an imprint is overprotectiveness on the part of the imprinted," Mrs. Sharp said. "The imprinted partner will have a heightened sensitivity to their mate's safety and well-being and tend to put their own safety at risk to ensure the safety of their mate. There have even been cases of ESP, where the imprinted partner senses their mate is in danger when the two are apart and feels compelled to come to their aid."

She tapped a button on her keyboard, and the slideshow flipped to the next PowerPoint page, which was a black and white photograph of a half-naked man in shredded clothing pulling a woman up over the edge of a cliff.

" Wyatt and Esther Young are the most notable example of this," she continued. "In 1943, the two were hiking the Appalachian Mountains in search of weres who might be in hiding so that they could help them transition back to life among humans.

"It is reported that they got separated, both tailing different trails, when Esther slipped and nearly fell off a cliffside. Wyatt was on the other side of the mountain and couldn't possibly have heard her cry for help. And yet, not only did he immediately sense that his mate was in danger, he instinctively knew where to find her and how to get to her."

I was so engaged in the lecture that I barely registered a hand shooting up to my right in my peripheral vision.

"Yes, Amelia?" Mrs. Sharp asked.

"So, how does that work?" Amelia asked. "Is that sense sort of like visions for mer seers? Do they see what's happening to their mate?

Mrs. Sharp pursed her lips, shook her head, and stepped out from behind her desk. "No, it sounds like it's less a mystical experience and more of a chemical experience. When a shifter imprints on someone, they become so finely tuned to their mate's pheromone signature that they can sense it even over great distances. Wyatt could sense the fear that Esther was excreting, and his instincts followed her scent to her location."

"Does that mean he could smell her?" Amelia prompted.

"Yes and no," Mrs. Sharp replied, seeming so invested in the topic that she didn't notice Jackson passing notes with another were.

I wanted to wad up a sheet of paper and throw it at his head. How could anyone not find this information fascinating? But I didn't need any more of a reputation than I already had, and it wasn't like I had any paper, anyway.

"From what we've studied, the imprinted shifter isn't aware of an actual odor," Mrs. Sharp continued. "Many shifter species have experienced smelling fear, and it does have a distinct scent to it—just like lust.

"But in a situation like this, the fear in the pheromone signature bypasses the olfactory center of the brain and is detected directly by the amygdala—the part of the brain related to primitive instincts, such as fight-or-flight.

"Oftentimes, the imprinted partner isn't aware of the trigger for what it is—a sign that their mate is in danger. They simply experience severe anxiety and an impulse to follow the signature, only recognizing the danger when they find their mate."

"Sounds like it sucks to imprint on someone," Jackson snickered under his breath, and I rolled my eyes in irritation.

"Thank you for your opinion, Mr. Hughes," Mrs. Sharp said pointedly at him. "You and Mr. Black have just earned yourselves weekend detention."

Jackson and the boy next to him groaned and folded their arms indignantly as snickers rose from the rest of the class. I smirked, spitefully pleased that Mrs. Sharp wasn't as oblivious to their antics as she appeared to be. She was proving to be just as sharp as her last name implied.

The bell rang, announcing the end of the period, and I took my time gathering my things to let the other students file out so that I could have a moment alone with our teacher.

While I waited, I recognized Adina's form walking slowly past me out of the corner of my eye—she intentionally went out of her way to go up my aisle—but I just kept my gaze forward at the whiteboard, forcing a smug smirk across my lips.

You're not going to rile me, bitch. You don't exist to me.

Maybe if I told myself that enough times, it would become reality. Or, at the very least, her and her friends' presence wouldn't phase me anymore.

When the last student exited the room, I shouldered my laptop bag and strode up to Mrs. Sharp.

"Mrs. Sharp?" I asked in my sweetest, most authority-placating tone. "I have a question about the imprint assignment."

She looked up from her desk and smiled at me. "Yes? What do you need help with, dear?"

I cleared my throat softly to gather my courage. "Actually, I was hoping I might be able to write my paper on you and Mr. Sharp."

Pink bloomed on her cheeks, and she nervously tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she looked away. "Oh, I'm flattered, but the assignment is to identify a famous imprinted shifter in history. And, well, I'm not famous."

"I don't know about that," I hedged, batting my lashes. "You're the first non-shifter to teach at a shifter school. You're at least well-known in the shifter community, and if you're not a famous historical figure presently, you certainly will be in the future."

She blushed even brighter, blinking several times more than necessary. "Who's to say?"

I could feel I was close to getting a yes, so I laid the flattery on thicker. "Also, I find this topic really fascinating, and I would very much enjoy learning directly from you what it's like to be in this kind of bond. I'd be honored if you'd let me interview you."

She giggled then, and I knew I'd won her over. "Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt. But I'll expect your paper to be excellent."

"Of course!" I gushed, sincerely promising to do my best on this assignment—to her and to myself.

"Alright, then," she said, attempting to school her humility that was bordering on embarrassment. "Come by my office after classes today, and I'll be happy to answer any questions you have."

I clapped excitedly. "Yay! Thank you so much! I'll come back right after my last class!"

* ? * ? *

The rest of my classes had gone about as expected. I'd been quite anxious in Transformation, doing my best to ignore Adina, Cora, and Letti. It was hard at first. Kind of like when you pass a gruesome accident on the road. You don't actually want to look, and you try not to, but morbid curiosity tempts you to look.

It was like that for most of the period, but finally by the end of it, I truly felt content to mind my own business and stop caring if they were looking at me or what they were doing, at all.

Stupid teen angst.

In Defense class, it was easier to forget about Adina. There, I had my real friends to distract me, as well as a drive to gain more fighting skills.

It wasn't so easy for Tobias, however—I kept catching him glaring in her direction. A few times, I thought he might approach her, and part of me was tempted not to intervene if he did. I would've loved to have seen him unleash his dragon on her, if he could do it without getting in trouble. But he did a good job of keeping his emotions in check. Of course, he did. He was Tobias.

I avidly avoided the Simulation Room. I couldn't even make myself look that way, and there was absolutely no temptation to do so. The nightmare of what happened was still too fresh, too raw. I knew that, someday, I'd have to train in there for real. But I wouldn't go until I was absolutely certain that I could win.

When the final bell rang for the day, I couldn't get out of the gym quickly enough. I was eager to get away from those traumatic memories and to have my interview with Mrs. Sharp.

And I still had to get ready for my date with Tobias!

Nope, couldn't think about that right now. Focus on your interview questions!

As I rushed across the lawn toward the pie-slice-shaped building, I studied the list of questions I'd made throughout the day on the Notes app of my tablet. I chewed my lip, hoping what I'd come up with would be enough to cover all the information I needed.

Was there anything important I was forgetting? Hopefully, Mrs. Sharp wouldn't mind a second session if I thought of more questions.

When I entered her classroom, she was sitting at her desk, tapping away at her tablet. Setting up next week's PowerPoint, perhaps?

"Hi, Mrs. Sharp," I hedged softly, announcing my presence.

"Oh, Arya. There you are. Please, have a seat." Smiling that same motherly smile that always comforted me, she gestured toward the rows of empty desks.

I picked the closest one to hers and sat down, setting my tablet on the surface in preparation to add her responses under each question.

She rose from her rolling office chair and perched on the edge of her desk, folding her hands on her lap. Her posture looked stiff, her expression open but uncertain. Though she was a teacher, she clearly wasn't the type to like being in the spotlight, and this scenario obviously made her uncomfortable. I hoped that once I got her talking, she would relax.

I looked down at my screen and scanned for my first question.

"So, um, I guess my first question is, how did you and Mr. Sharp meet?"

She looked down at her lap, where her fingers were fidgeting with each other. "Well, let's see, it was thirteen years ago. At the time, I was doing a rotation in a veterinary clinic as part of my graduate program—I was working toward a Master's degree in Biology.

"One night, I was assigned to stay late and close the office, and right after I locked the lobby door, there were several bangs on the door from outside. I was instantly startled. Our clinic had experienced theft before, addicts raiding our medical supplies, so I was afraid that was what was happening. I scrambled to get my phone, but before I could dial the police, a man's voice called from outside, saying he needed help."

She paused momentarily, her right hand reaching up to stroke a charm hanging from a delicate chain around her neck. Though her lips didn't curve, there was a sad smile in her brown eyes, her gaze distant as if lost in the memory.

"His voice sounded so hoarse, so pleading," she continued softly. "I felt compelled to help him. So, I opened the door, and as he'd been leaning his weight against it, he fell into the clinic. I hefted him to his feet, and when I noticed that his shirt was soaked with blood and that he was favoring his left side, I rushed him to an operating table in the back.

"He told me he'd been shot and that he couldn't go to a hospital. He begged me to help him, but I'd already decided that I would. No matter their circumstances, I couldn't turn away anyone in such dire medical need. But, I realize now that I felt especially compelled to help him ."

I quickly typed down everything she was saying, not knowing which bits would prove important later, and it was hard to keep up with her.

"It took some doing, but I managed to remove the bullet. The flesh of the wound was odd, like nothing I'd seen up to that point. It was like it was simultaneously festering and burning, with fine lines of blue webbing out from it."

She shook her head, her brow creased, and I noticed my expression was mimicking hers. What kind of bullet would do that?

"The whole time I worked on him, he stared at my face. I kept thinking that I should feel awkward, but I didn't. His stare felt comforting, meaningful in a strange way. Safe…

"When I had finished stitching the wound, he told me everything. He said that he was a bear shifter, that he had been shot by hunters who had tracked him down, and that the bullet I'd dug out was silver. He explained that silver was poisonous to his kind. That was why he couldn't go to the hospital. Not only would they ask too many questions, but the hunters would find him.

"Again, I knew I should think his story was made up, that he was crazy. But I didn't. I believed him. I could feel in my soul that he was telling the truth. So, I offered for him to stay in my apartment with me until he healed. I told myself that it was just so I could make sure he got the proper care, but I know now that wasn't it. It was because I was just as drawn to him as he was to me."

She gave me a few seconds to finish typing. I looked over the words I'd typed to make sure I didn't leave anything out and then looked back up at her.

"So, you said you felt just as drawn to him," I said. "Does that mean you imprinted on him, too?"

She shook her head. "No, humans don't have that mechanism. Well, not really. Humans can form a type of pheromone bond, but it's nowhere near as strong as an imprint. I do believe that I formed a pheromone bond with him."

I recorded her answer and moved on to my next follow-up question. "Is that the way it works with imprints? Does the target of the imprint tend to feel the same attraction to the other?"

"Usually, yes," she replied, crossing one leg over the other. "I don't think I've ever heard of a case where the target of the imprint had no interest in the imprinted. There always seems to be an attraction on the part of the target. And I use the word ‘attraction' loosely. At least in my case, it's far more than just being physically attracted to someone; that can and often does happen without pheromones. It's—well, for lack of a scientific word—love."

She shrugged and smiled, the romantic in her shining beneath the scientist persona. "It's that intangible, irrational impulse that makes us do stupid things for that special person, that makes us take risks against our own well-being, or become violent against those who threaten those we care for."

I smiled, too, touched by her words. I thought about the way Tobias had looked at me last night when he was holding me so tightly after he'd stopped the sim. But then I dismissed the thought. Hoping for such a thing would be setting myself up for disappointment.

I cleared my throat and moved on to my next question. "How long was it before Mr. Sharp realized he had imprinted on you?"

Her smile widened. "Instantly. The imprint trigger happens the first time a shifter meets their mate. It's a shock to the system. Some shifters have described it as being struck by lightning or feeling like the world fell out from under them. It's such a jarring experience that, paired with the strong need and protectiveness they feel for their target, there's no other explanation."

I frowned in curiosity. "So, an imprint can't happen suddenly after days, months, or years of interaction?"

She shook her head. "If an imprint is going to happen, it happens upon that first exposure to the pheromone signature."

I copied this down into my notes and then looked at my last question. "As the target of an imprint, what does it feel like to you, knowing that your mate imprinted on you?"

Her eyes misted, and vulnerability softened her features. Her lips trembled slightly as she answered. "It feels incredible. Knowing that such a wonderful man loves me so deeply, so powerfully, and so irrevocably… It's the most amazing feeling I could ever imagine. I feel like the safest woman on the planet because I know that if I ever need him, no army on earth would stop him from getting to me.

"But it's also terrifying sometimes. Because he loves me so much, he could die trying to protect me. And in this world, that's a very real possibility. That fear keeps me awake at night sometimes. Because I couldn't go on knowing he died for me."

That very fear was shining in her eyes, and I felt it in my bones. How awful it must be to live with that hanging over your head.

I turned off the screen of my tablet and shoved it back into my bag. "Well, I think that's all the questions I have for now. Do you think your husband—er, Mr. Sharp—would be willing to answer some questions sometime? I'd love to get his perspective, as well."

"Sure, I'll ask him." She slid off her desk and approached me as I stood. "And, Arya, thank you for talking with me. I enjoy sharing my experience every year with the right student. Tell Niko he picked well." She winked at me before going back behind her desk.

I just stood there blinking for several seconds. This woman was full of surprises. Sharp, indeed.

With a smirk of appreciation, I headed out the door and toward my room to get ready, trying to feel excited for the date rather than nervous.

I had come into this assignment with very romantic notions of imprinting. Foolish notions. That kind of love sounded destructive, and maybe I was glad I hadn't imprinted on anyone and that no one had imprinted on me. I hoped that neither would ever happen.