CHAPTER THREE

Quil couldn't quite understand why he had volunteered to watch over the mysterious woman while the others went on patrol.

The others were cautious and wary of her strange nature, but Quil had felt something different from the beginning. Despite the supernatural aura that surrounded her, he didn't feel that same hesitation. Most of the pack members were on edge about being in the same room with her, but Quil just couldn't bring himself to be fearful.

Maybe it was because she was unconscious, or perhaps it was just the strange, magnetic pull he felt when near her, but Quil felt drawn to her in a way he couldn't explain.

It had already been a week since they had found her on the beach, and she hadn't woken up. The pack was growing increasingly worried. Her condition was a mystery. She was unlike any human they'd encountered, and the water had burned her skin. Even Jacob had jokingly suggested throwing her into the water again to see if it would trigger her to wake up, though that idea had been swiftly shut down by Emily, who scolded him for hours after hearing it.

As the days dragged on, the tension in the house grew thicker. The minutes stretched into hours, and Quil found himself sitting in the guest room, once again in the chair next to the unconscious female. The room was dimly lit, the shadows cast by the evening light creeping across the walls. It felt like time had slowed to a crawl.

Quil didn't realize just how long he had been sitting there, staring at her, but every time he looked at her, it felt like something pulled him closer to her. He didn't know what it was. Maybe it was because she was unlike anyone he had ever encountered before, or perhaps it was simply because she was the first supernatural being he had ever been around, but something in him felt... tethered to her.

He didn't tell anyone about the strange sensation, chalking it up to her being a supernatural creature. After all, he was used to the supernatural. But there was something deeper to it, something he couldn't quite place.

Sam, however, wasn't oblivious to what was happening. Sam had experienced imprinting before, and though he didn't say anything, he had a strong suspicion that what Quil was feeling was just that. Imprinting. Quil hadn't realized it yet, but Sam could see it—he could see the way Quil's gaze lingered on her, how his body seemed to lean toward her as if drawn by an invisible force.

Sam kept his observations to himself, knowing it wasn't his place to interfere just yet. But it didn't take a werewolf alpha to sense the bond forming.

On one particular night, Quil sat in his usual spot beside the bed, the silence of the room broken only by the occasional sound of his own breathing. As he sat there, he couldn't shake the feeling that tonight would be different. He leaned forward, the urge to stay close to her overwhelming. His gaze never left her as he sat on the edge of his seat, almost as though waiting for something to happen. And then, as if on cue, the woman's eyes suddenly snapped open.

But instead of meeting her eyes as he'd expected, Quil felt a light thud against his forehead. The woman, clearly disoriented, had slammed her head straight into his, sending a shockwave of pain through him.

"Oh—oh my god!" Quil panicked, his hands instinctively reaching out to steady her. She groaned in pain from the impact of their heads colliding, and Quil quickly pulled his hands back.

"Bullshark!" The woman's voice was sharp, the word coming out as an odd, almost comical curse. Quil blinked in confusion, his brow furrowing at the strange swear.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—uh, have my face right in front of yours?" Quil stammered, unsure of how to explain himself. The woman turned her head slowly, looking up at him with a frown, clearly irritated by the whole situation.

But the moment their eyes locked, everything around Quil seemed to be still. The air felt charged, and he couldn't pull his gaze away from hers. It was a deep, intense connection, and Quil felt his heart skip a beat. He wasn't sure what this was, but he knew it was something he couldn't ignore.

Just then, Sam walked into the room, his steps faltering as he saw the interaction between Quil and the woman. He froze in the doorway, taking in the scene. Quil, still staring at the woman, didn't even notice Sam's presence at first.

The woman tilted her head, clearly confused by what she saw. "What in Poseidon's name was that?" she asked, her eyes narrowing as she scanned Quil's face. "What did I just see? Are you some kind of enchanter?"

Both Quil and Sam were taken aback by her words. Quil turned his head toward Sam, his expression questioning as if to ask for some clarification on what was happening.

"Pardon?" Sam asked, his voice calm but his brow furrowed. The woman pursed her lips, clearly displeased but not answering right away. Instead, her gaze darted around the room, taking in her surroundings for the first time.

"Holy Shark, what is all this?!" She blurted out in surprise, her voice laced with confusion. Her attention then snapped back to her own body. She looked at the strange, soft appendage behind her and pulled at it with alarm. "What are these?!" she cried, her panic rising as she felt around. "Where is my tail?!"

Before either Quil or Sam could react, she grabbed the pillow on the bed and swung it at Quil, hitting him squarely in the face. "What did you do to my tail?!" she yelled. She repeated the action on Sam, throwing the pillow at him with as much force as she could muster.

"What have you bottom-feeders done to me?!" she screamed, her voice filled with both anger and desperation.

Both Quil and Sam attempted to calm her down, but it was no use. Every time they got near her, she threw whatever she could find at them. The chaos continued until, in her frenzied state, she slipped out of the bed and fell flat on the floor with a loud thud.

The room fell silent.

Both Quil and Sam shared a glance, unsure of what to do next. Sam, with his usual calm demeanour, finally broke the silence. He leaned in close to Quil and, in a low voice, muttered, "She's your imprint."

Quil's eyes widened in disbelief. His heart skipped a beat as he processed Sam's words. He looked at Sam, then back down at the woman, still lying on the ground, and for the first time, the weight of Sam's statement fully hit him. Quil opened his mouth to protest, but the words didn't come.

Swallowing his nerves, Quil stood up and walked over to the woman. He kneeled beside her and, with a hesitant voice, spoke softly, "Um—are you okay?"

The woman lifted her head slowly and glanced at him. She studied his face for a moment before speaking. "I may have overreacted, and I apologize," she said, her tone softer now, though still confused.

Quil couldn't help but chuckle at her words. He extended a hand to help her up but paused, unsure if it was the right move. "Is it okay if I help you get up?"

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes flicking to his hand before she nodded, reluctantly accepting his offer.

But the moment their skin made contact, something surged through her. It wasn't something she could explain, but it was like an electric shock running through her body. A rush of unfamiliar sensations flooded her, but she quickly pushed them aside, focusing instead on the more immediate problem.

She couldn't remember anything from before waking up on the beach—except that she had been in her room, under some form of protection. The rest was a blur. What had happened to her? Where was she? And why was she so different?

All she could do now was wait for the answers.