Imprint

When Damien woke, the sun was filtering in through the slats in his window shade. He watched the dust motes dance there for a minute, trying very hard not to panic. In all likelihood, he had every reason to panic. But he hadn't actually confirmed his suspicions yet, so it wasn't time to panic.

Finally, he rolled himself out of bed with a groan - the stiffness from his transformation still lingered in his limbs - and realized he was still wearing his nice 'visitors are here' clothes. He grimaced at the wrinkled clothes, and changed into something less disheveled before slowly making his way into the main room.

There, at the table, Dezzy and Mother appeared to be chopping some herbs, keeping one eye on a cauldron bubbling in the hearth.

"Good morning," Damien said, wandering over to see what they were chopping. It smelled terrible, whatever it was. "What's on today's menu?"

"A digestion potion," Dezzy said, "For Old Man Grouchy."

"His name is Elder Groche, Dezzy," Mother corrected absently, picking up some of the nasty-smelling leaves and dumping them into the cauldron before stirring the mess a few times to incorporate them.

Damien felt his spirits lift a little despite himself. Dezzy's irreverence had become something of a family tradition at this point, along with Mother's patient reminders each time Dezzy intentionally disrespected an important figure.

Damien pulled out one of the stools by the table and sat, watching the two of them work for a minute, sighing heavily.

"Something on your mind?" Mother asked, glancing up from her preparations to spare him a genuine look of concern.

"I guess," Damien answered, feeling his face heat. "I… Um. Do werewolves go through double puberty?"

Dezzy immediately began laughing so hard that she had to sit down. Unfortunately for her, Damien had quick sibling reflexes, and he kicked aside the stool she was trying to sit on, so instead of finding a seat, she instead sat directly on the dirt floor, howling so loudly with laughter that she couldn't find the strength to stand up and try again.

"Double puberty?" she hooted, gasping for breath. "Damien! Another…! Hah…"

Damien's face felt so hot he thought he could probably boil a cauldron on it. "Shut up, Dezzy." He glanced at mother, who was looking at him with none of his sister's amusement.

"Why do you ask?" Mother asked, carefully setting her knife aside and focusing her full attention on Damien.

"It's just…" Embarrassing. It was mortifying, and Dezzy losing her mind with laughter wasn't making the situation any easier to talk about. "I felt. Something."

"GODS," Dezzy shrieked between peals of laughter. "YOU FELT SOMETHING?"

"Desdemona," Mother said sharply, turning to look at Dezzy, "control yourself."

Dezzy sobered instantly. "Yes, mom. Sorry," she added, glancing at Damien.

Smiling weakly, Damien admitted, "It does sound pretty stupid."

"What did you feel?" Mother asked.

Oh gods, Damien couldn't tell his mom the vampire made him feel horny. He'd rather die than admit it. "Um. I felt … interested?" he finally settled on the most neutral word he could think of.

One of Mother's eyebrows jumped for her hairline. "When?"

Damien wanted to crawl back downstairs into the cellar and live there for the rest of his miserable life. "When. The… vampire…" he gestured vaguely, not really sure what he was trying to convey with the motion, but not really wanting to remain still, either.

Mother's second eyebrow leaped up to meet the first. "The vampire?" she repeated, sounding very surprised. She even sat down, picking up the stool Damien had kicked over and settling on it, a small frown starting to furrow her brows back downwards.

"Yeah, I…" Damien swallowed hard. "It was a… strong reaction. That's why I backed off. He smelled…" how was Damien supposed to explain that the vampire had smelled like home? That didn't even make sense. Home was here, not with some awful monster who'd ruined his life!

Mother's lips were pressed into a thin line as she considered his words. "You were able to pick up a scent?" she asked. "That's quite unusual, given that vampires aren't alive."

Damien hadn't even thought of that. "Maybe I was scenting the blood of one of his victims?" he suggested. That was a much more palatable thought.

Mother didn't seem convinced, though. "Not likely," she said, and then rose suddenly, crossing the room and running her index finger over the spines of the books that lined the floor-to-ceiling shelves set into the wall. "I think I've heard… Ah!" She plucked one of the larger tomes from its place, coming back to the table and setting it down in front of Damien before shuffling close to stand at his right. On his other side, Dezzy finally managed to pull herself up from the floor, and leaned over his left shoulder to see what Mother was showing him.

Mother was flipping through the pages of the book for several seconds before she stopped, and tapped a line of text. "I thought so."

Damien glanced at where her finger was pointing.

'Some werewolves may even be shocked to discover that their intended mates do not share their species. While this may pose a greater difficulty to the werewolf than a standard mate-bond -'

Damien stopped reading. "No," he said, and felt sick. "That can't be right."

Mother didn't say anything, she just carefully closed the book. "I certainly hope not," she said, her voice soft. "Because if you have imprinted on your fated mate, your transformations will become much more difficult for you."

"That's not fair!" Dezzy complained, as if she thought Mother was inventing arbitrary rules for Damien to abide by. "He can't control the fact that he imprinted on a mate! Surely there has to be a way to refuse it!"

"Oh, certainly," Mother said. She glanced at Damien. "I am not saying you must go to him. I'm simply warning you, based on what I've seen and heard over the years… rejection is not going to be a pleasant experience."

"I don't really have a choice, though, do I?" Damien answered, feeling infinitely more weary than he had moments before. "I never want to see that bastard again, so I guess I'll have to endure it as best I can."

Mother made a soft, sympathetic sound, and gently rested one of her hands on his shoulder. "I'll do everything I can to help," she promised.

"Me too," Dezzy spoke up. She punched Damien's shoulder lightly. "Cheer up. We'll figure this out. We always do."

Damien nodded slowly. If anyone could find a way out of this mess, it was Mother. And Dezzy would be there for him, same as she always was. He would be fine.

…probably.