Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hello, dear readers, and welcome to a new journey!

It's been so long since I last posted a story here, but behind the scenes, my creative wheels never stopped spinning.

This story has been in the works for the past year and a half or so. However, an awful case of professional burnout caused my writing to take a massive hit. For many months in a row, my energy to write or to enjoy life in general was nowhere in sight. However, this story demanded to be written, in all its angsty glory, so I refused to give it up.  Today I am in a much healthier place professionally, after changing my job in 2023, and I am beyond excited to finally share "In Kismet's Grace" with the world.

This story is written from Edward's POV and it explores some key "what if" questions that have been haunting me for years. What if the whole Volterra thing in "New Moon" never happened?  And what if, in the infamous love triangle situation, Edward was the friend?  How messy and morally questionable would the situation get?

Well, all of those questions — and more — will be answered throughout this story.  I hope you are ready for an intensely emotional and deeply sinful slow burn, where every line will be blurred, because this is precisely what you will get. With a generous side of seriously steamy times and bloody vampy goodness, of course.

A fair disclaimer to Jacob fans though: this is probably not a story that you will enjoy, so it's maybe for the best if you skip it.

Before proceeding further, I'd like to thank my dear CoppertopJ for being a wonderful beta and helping me with her amazing editing skills yet again. She's been by my side for every story I've written and posted here, and for that I cannot thank her enough!

Now, without further ado, it's time to dive in!

I hope you enjoy :).

"But

if each day,

each hour,

you feel that you are destined for me

with implacable sweetness,

if each day a flower

climbs up to your lips to seek me,

ah, my love, ah, my own,

in me all that fire is repeated,

in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten."

Pablo Neruda

2007

The worst part was knowing that the longer I waited, the more painful it was going to get for me. The waiting was too big of a distraction from the usual numbness. I didn't need any reminders that any of this was real.

And yet… the reminders were always there, lurking in the shadows. Mere mutts waiting for the easiest prey, slobbering with greed. Fighting them was a losing battle.

The reminders took on many shapes and forms. Such as a rat trying to chew on the sole of my shoe, mistaking me for a statue. Or an earthquake so small, so inconsequential, but just enough to make the air vibrate ominously, making me wonder if she felt it too. Or the stray whiff of a flower reaching me by accident, reminding me of her, but not quite. And the thirst.

Goddamn, always the thirst.

Almost a month had passed since my last hunt—a lifetime ago, it would have been impossible to last this long without accidentally committing a small massacre. But these days, I only hunted when the flames got so overwhelmingly ardent that they threatened to shatter my desensitized state.

And now that the fire had grown to dangerous levels, engulfing my very core with its red tendrils, I was getting more and more aware of how the world around me still moved, even when I was an inert disaster. How the Spanish-speaking family whose attic I had been haunting for the past month was getting ready to sleep. How a spider was wrapping a hopeless fly in its sensual silk, right above my head.

How in another life, this was precisely the hour I started singing Bella her favourite lullaby.

My entire body ached as soon as I dared to think of her name. It was the first rule I had set for myself—don't think of her name. For any reason whatsoever.

It was also the rule I was breaking on an hourly basis.

I had other rules too. Such as to not become overly obsessed about monitoring what she was doing. At the end of the day, I had no right to know. I comforted myself with the thought that I was only doing it to make sure she was still safe, still in one piece. It made me feel better—less like a failure, less like a stalker—when I called Alice every three months, to ask her about what I had been missing.

Even after one year, nine months, and four days, doing so didn't feel any less unnatural. I was supposed to make sure that Bella was safe, not anyone else. Getting rid of Victoria meant nothing in the grand scheme of things when it came to Bella's safety. Sure, she no longer had a revenge-hungry vampire following her every move, but she still was a victim of her own clumsiness. It broke me each time I found out, via my sister, about all the little accidents she had been having. The broken arm, the fractured rib, the crushed clavicle… most of them after riding her motorcycle or cliff diving, hobbies she only discovered she enjoyed after I left.

I tried to feel some type of joy whenever I thought about her new hobbies—because her entertaining such activities was yet another symptom of her moving on—but it was a challenge to feel anything other than dread, considering how the universe seemed so set on making sure that my Bella got hurt at every step of the way, even when she was doing what she loved.

No, another broken rule.

Thinking about her as if she was my own was very, very dangerous territory. Not only because it was a sure-fire way of bringing me out of my numbness, but also because she truly didn't belong to me. In fact, she belonged to someone else entirely.

When she started to spend her time with Jacob Black, I hoped, deep down, that it would lead to more someday; I might have been under the curse of never being able to move on, but that didn't mean she had to be as well. I remembered clearly how she had incited so many feelings in him, back when it was still me who held her close when she slept. I also remembered how much sense the idea of him and her made. Not on an emotional level, but on a practical, pragmatic one. Because unlike me, he could offer her what she truly deserved: warmth and safety and, above all, a promise of a normal life, untouched by the perils of my world.

She didn't want any of it, at least not at first. In Alice's visions, she seemed content with having him as a friend, nothing more, nothing less. I could not blame her—after all, losing both of her parents, after Victoria got to them before I got to her, made her sink deeper into the catatonic state she had fallen into after my leaving, to a place where not even love could reach. But Jacob never relinquished. He stood by her side when they fixed motorcycles together and he stood by her side when she cried herself to sleep, never afraid of the ghosts haunting her mind. And when she decided to postpone the idea of college indefinitely, he didn't make her feel inadequate, unlike most of her other friends. And when she went cliff diving for the first time and hit her head against a rock, it was him who drove a bleeding, unconscious Bella to the hospital, saving her from what would have been a sure death, had she been alone.

I could not help but feel grateful to him. He was, unbeknownst to him, continuing my mission of keeping her safe, and he was good at it.

It wasn't until the second day after her nineteenth birthday that she finally let him kiss her. It didn't take much longer for him to leave La Push behind and move in with her, in that house whose walls I knew all too well. He found a decent job as a traveling mechanic. A job that took him out of town every once in a while. But most assuredly, he always returned to Bella. I had never been strong enough to ask Alice for specifics about their relationship. My imagination was doing a decent job of filling in the gaps on its own. I could easily picture his hands on her. His mouth moving on the velvet miracle of her skin. Her asking for more of his heat. Him surrendering to her pleas, because—unlike me—he could.

But I tried not to let my imagination wander too far—another rule, of course. One that was made specifically to keep my sanity in check, nothing more.

As long as she was happy, I could keep on existing. Jacob Black seemed to make her happy enough, which was precisely what I had been hoping would happen eventually. There were times when the weaker part of me reared its head, boiling in a jealous fever that made me feel ashamed of myself. That very same part was also the one urging me to return. Not to interfere, but just to watch. To see if Bella's blush was just as enticing as I remembered it to be, even if I was no longer the cause behind it. But I could quench the absurd longing, as long as I didn't have any distractions ruining my willpower.

When the phone in my pocket started vibrating, I didn't feel inclined to answer. The last time I contacted my family was precisely one month ago. They understood my need for solitude—for the most part anyway. They certainly tried to. For instance, they allowed me enough space to be the one who called, instead of being the one who answered. It was a small thing, but I needed it badly. This way, I could mentally prepare myself to converse with them without sounding like an absolute wreck every time.

I might have never taken the phone out of my pocket if Maria—the matriarch of the family living underneath me—hadn't asked her husband if he could hear buzzing coming from the attic as well. And then, I saw Rosalie's name flashing on the screen, and something inside me stirred. Out of everyone in the family, she was the last person I expected to bother to call me. Even if she never said it out loud, I knew she was holding a grudge against me, for the way I uprooted her from Forks against her will.

The phone kept vibrating, and uneasiness shot through me as I stared at the screen.

My voice was nothing but a whisper when I answered. "What?"

"Hi." Rosalie seemed to hesitate, and for a second, I considered hanging up altogether, but then she talked again. "Before you hang up, please let me finish, it's important."

I didn't say anything. I felt inclined to tell her to fuck off, if only for the fact that I was dominated by a profound lack of desire to talk to anyone, and she was stepping all over my boundaries.

"You've got one minute," I warned.

"I think this has been going on for far too long." Her voice clearly indicated that she didn't care one bit about what I had just said, so I mentally reduced the timer to forty-five seconds. "Carlisle hardly ever smiles. Esme won't even let me play the piano because it reminds her of you. And it's been like this for almost two years. It's not fair to them, or the rest of us."

I sighed. The effects of my decision were not precisely a secret. But what nobody understood was the fact that if I came home to them—although I could hardly call Juneau home, considering how my love's heart was beating two thousand miles away from it—things would not have been better. For them or for me. I would have been an awful burden. Living separately was for the best, at least for now. Maybe for the rest of my existing days.

"I don't need to be lectured," I snapped eventually. "And you've got thirty seconds left, so make them count."

"You could certainly use some manners."

She was dragging this. I didn't like it. But I pushed through, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"What is it, Rosalie?"

Silence followed, and it was sheer torture that my gift didn't extend to work during phone calls as well. If it had, I wouldn't have been forced to be a part of this useless conversation for longer than needed.

"Well, it's happening. Alice saw it coming a few weeks ago, and she warned us not to tell you just yet, but it's only right for you to know." Another pause, followed by the worst sequence of words in history. "Your precious human is getting married." Everything fell down: the sky, my hopes, reality. I watched it all crumble. "Which means that she officially moved on for good, so you should too." True. Sensible. Logical. But also impossible. "You've got an actual reason to return to us, so that we can be a family again."

Out of all the emotions I should have felt, sadness was not supposed to be on the list, not even at the very end. Gratitude was at the very top of that list, no doubt about it, because when I looked back, Bella getting married one day was one of the many things I had been hoping would happen eventually. I had never really thought about when it would happen—nor about whether Jacob Black was the one who would eventually end up being her extremely lucky husband—but I knew, in the back of my head, that it was the way things were supposed to go. Anything that could serve as a means for her to savour all that life had to offer had to be good.

And yet, I couldn't find a pause button for the sudden flow of desolation inundating me. A way to stop the damned faucet, so that I could find it in me to be happy for her. Really happy, because she deserved nothing less. Liquified pain poured from everywhere, filling me to the brim. The more I thought about how wrong it was to feel this way, the deeper the feeling sank, making it harder and harder to get rid of it.

"Edward?" Rosalie's voice startled me. I had almost forgotten she was still on the line. "Are you… oh, for God's sake, I can't believe I'm saying this, but are you okay?"

"Yes," I lied with impertinence. "It was bound to happen."

"I know, so the sooner the better, right? It may not exactly be pleasant right now, I understand this much, but—"

"You don't understand a single thing," I interrupted.

The truth was that not a fucking soul in the world could understand how much it hurt. The magnitude of this new pain, whose tendrils were only starting to unravel, was far too great, simply immeasurable. It was one thing to be aware that my only love was destined to never be mine, but another thing entirely to finally witness it myself, albeit from afar.

It felt definite, permanent, in a way I found myself unprepared for.

"Anyway, thank you for telling me."

"So are you coming home?"

"Goodbye, Rosalie."

The smell of ether enveloped me progressively, as I crushed the phone to pieces in my hand, making me long for a different type of smell. I looked at the broken pieces in my palm, willing myself to wake up. Selfishly, I wanted to close my eyes, so that when I would open them again, I would be dripping with sweat, coughing my lungs out, slowly withering away at the mercy of Spanish influenza. I wished for my favourite pair of eyes in the world to be nothing but another image in a string of unfortunate fever dreams, one that I could peacefully forget before resting in a grave.

Seventeen and dead. For good.

More than anything, I wished to never have known the taste of losing everything that ever mattered to me. Then I wouldn't have to live under the shadow of what if.

The idea of oblivion was as sweet as it was untouchable. It died quickly, once I came to terms with its impracticality, only to be replaced by something a million times worse—the yearning to check on Bella, at long last, to see her happiness with my own eyes. Maybe then I would be able to keep moving. Maybe then I would understand that whatever hole I had left when I disappeared from her life, had been filled and it was overflowing.

She wouldn't even have to see me. I could keep myself in the shadows, like a banished guardian angel.

I had been suppressing this need for too long, and now it was coming back with a bitter vengeance.

And for the first time in forever, the strength to fight it was nowhere in sight.

And so it starts... :)

Do you think Edward is ready to face reality, in the state that he's in? Does he even know what he's getting into?

I'd love to hear your thoughts! I absolutely LOVE reading and responding to reviews, it truly is the most fulfilling reward that a writer can get.

See you next Sunday with a new chapter. Just as a FYI —all future chapters will be much longer; the prologue was just a small taste of what is to come.

Until then, stay safe and happy!

Chapter Text

Throughout the years, I witnessed the world changing in many ways. I had seen it all, good and bad, and nothing fazed me much these days—no new, revolutionary technology, no innovative creations. It all felt so predictable in a way; maybe not for the average human, but for someone who could not help but hear every single thought, surprises were definitely off the table.

Forks, on the other hand, was sort of a time capsule. The town resisted radical change with all it had. Its residents seemed to be content living as they were, no artifice needed. It was almost daunting to realize that underneath the fragile mist of the rain, everything was the same as the day I left. Paradoxically, the lack of fluctuations was the only thing capable of perturbing me.

Nature itself was the only proof that time had passed; since June was slowly coming to an end, everything was greener than usual, and a layer of humid warmth lingered in the air. I breathed it all in—the heat, the greenery, the rain—secretly hoping for a carnal mix of lavender and spun sugar to make its way to me. Still, nothing was there. Just the familiar scent of my one true home.

Alice had warned me against coming here. She and Rose got into a huge fight soon after the secret had been spilled. She saw it coming when she was mid-hunt—so too late. By the time she returned home, Rosalie was already waiting for her, with a pleased grin on her face. What Rose had not taken into consideration was the fact that, instead of returning to my family, and admitting defeat after hearing the news, I would choose to creep my way back to Forks, to torture myself further. Soon after, she chose to send a string of insulting texts my way, most of them revolving around the idea of me being a 'pathetic stalker'.

I didn't make an effort to contradict her. She was not entirely wrong.

And even if I didn't need anyone's approval, my parents and siblings still went out of their way to have a family meeting over the phone. Esme supported my choice, and so did Carlisle. Emmett chose to be neutral out of courtesy to his wife. Meanwhile, Alice and Jasper were both on the fence. My decision seemed to have caused a chasm in my psychic sister's visions; my future was suddenly so undefined, so muddy, she could not get a grasp of what was going to happen next, no matter how hard she tried to focus. She saw small fragments, but none of them were clear enough for her liking. Naturally, she told me to keep away, until things settled down. Jasper shared her view, worried that my mental state was not nearly stable enough to withstand something as monumental as seeing Bella again, even from afar.

And Jasper was right. I was anything but stable. My father was too gentle to tell me that I belonged in a psychiatric ward—maybe because he knew, just like me, that there was no real cure to the pain of losing your mate. But in between wasting away in strangers' attics and returning to Forks, just to check on Bella one last time, he knew what option was better for me. So instead of trying to get me to change my mind, he only made me promise that I would get a proper dose of blood in my system before leaving Guadalajara behind.

Five ocelots in a row proved to be more than enough, by both his standards and mine. I left at night, using my only car. It was one of the rare occasions when I didn't want to run, nor to get on a plane, because a part of me craved to have more time—enough to ruminate about how things were going to go once I would see her again. Still, the additional two days spent on my own didn't make me any less anxious. And much to Alice's dismay, they didn't change my mind either. If anything, they made the roots of my decision settle deeper inside me, taking a somewhat permanent residence in a land of nothingness.

I wasn't particularly sure where I was heading as I drove around in my black Corolla, I was simply trying to get a hold of someone's thoughts, in hopes that Bella would be somewhere nearby. I recognized some mental voices—classmates from what now felt like a lifetime ago—while others were completely new. Most people seemed to be preoccupied with plans about going away for the weekend, since it was Friday and this town didn't contain enough distractions.

"I might still get a lift to Port Angeles if I apologize to him, although…"

"If only Hollie could babysit tonight…"

"Maybe if I finish the homework tonight, I get to have the entire weekend free, so that I can…"

I pushed the thoughts away, uninterested in what they were offering. I passed by several houses, but I didn't dare to wander towards the one that mattered the most. It was obvious that I was only postponing the inevitable, but I could not face the full blow of reality just yet. Besides, what were the chances of her being home right now? From what I had gathered from Alice, she was still working at the local library—her job for the past year or so.

Maybe going to the library was a safer bet. Because if she was there, then it meant that she was alone, no sign of her fiancé. Even if she was alone, I wasn't going to get too close—I still had some semblance of reason left, enough to make me understand the importance of keeping my distance, so that she would not even know I was ever here. There was no use in revealing myself to her, now that her life had progressed beyond the unhappiness I had caused her.

The mantle of rain was thin, but I could perfectly imagine how she was mentally cursing the humidity. The thought sent a dagger through my heart, as I realized that I wished I could hear her complain again.

Minutes later, I parked the car on the other side of the street where Gossamer Grove, the only library in town, was located, finding a spot between two large SUVs. I noticed the 'Be Right Back' sign on the door, and a young girl, who couldn't have been much older than fifteen, waiting outside, under a large umbrella. I listened intently, but the girl was mostly worrying about the humidity affecting her freshly straightened hair.

I searched further, seeking new thoughts. I heard a barista checking the time as she prepared a new order, a couple of friends wondering about some upcoming sleepover, and a man worrying about his sick dog. No trace of what I actually wanted.

Sinking into my seat, I looked in my rearview mirror. I stared at it for the longest time, as if it could somehow grant me my deepest wish. More time passed—slowly, painfully. The girl was still waiting at the entrance, getting antsier as she studied the way her curls returned with a vengeance. She tried, in vain, to straighten her locks back with her free hand, only to realize her attempts were only making things worse.

I was still watching this absurd spectacle when I heard the splash of new footsteps in the rain. No thoughts, just several under-the-breath harmless profanities, let out by the softest voice in the world. "Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it!"

If my heart could still beat, it would have stopped altogether at this very moment. Because in the rearview mirror, through the hazy rain, I saw her.

Bella was running, but the wet ground seemed to make her mission a tad harder. She was holding a large cup of something steamy in her hand, but no umbrella to protect her from the rain. Her hair was soaked, and so was her shirt, and this simple image lit up several desires in me at once. Such as to get out and help her with whatever liquid danger she was holding. Then to wrap her in my jacket, away from the drizzle. Then to get her someplace warm and dry, so that she wouldn't catch a cold.

All of my willpower went into staying put in my car, where I belonged. With my hands tightened into fists, I ordered myself to remain still, fighting the urge to intervene with all I had.

But then, in her rush, Bella dropped half of whatever it was in her cup on herself, making my mission that much more difficult. She squealed when the hot liquid came in contact with her skin, and the shock got her to drop the cup on the ground. The resulting steam rose up in the air, traveling in transparent waves everywhere. I braced myself for it, but it was already too late. When it hit, my lucidity collapsed.

I barely got to recognize the scent of the liquid she had spilled. All I could smell was her. Thick and sweet and illicit, like a drug concocted at the border separating Heaven from Hell, her fragrance made me forget place and time. Even separated from the outside world by the car, I could still taste it on the tip of my tongue—its notes so different, so easy to distinguish, even in the pool of fresh venom in my mouth.

Truly, nothing could have prepared me for the feeling of inhaling this scent again. It made me hungry in a way I forgot was even possible. I didn't want to think about the last time I felt it—how it was a harbinger of the worst rift, how the autumn air made it stick to my clothes, even when I was hundreds of miles away. I could only focus on what it meant now. For the first time in what felt like a few eternities combined, I could finally see—and crave, and need—Bella again. Flesh and bones, not a figment of my hopeless daydreams.

My reason only started to return when I saw the girl with the curls rushing to help her.

"Are you all right?"

"Oh, absolutely, it was only tea." Bella was downplaying her troubles, as always. No change there, I noticed with bittersweet fondness. But even from afar, I could see that her wrist was glowing red from the burn. But then she turned her wrist, and I saw it. Made out of silver, with an ostentatious square ruby stone adorning the band, her engagement ring. Fuck. "I'm so sorry for making you wait here. I was getting ready to close. Have you been waiting long?"

"Not awfully long. Why don't you have an umbrella?"

"I forgot it at home this morning."

"Who forgets their umbrella when it's been raining for three days straight?" The question remained unasked, the girl choosing to keep it to herself, but it was extremely valid.

I watched as they entered the library, and thanked whoever decided that the little building was better off with half of its walls made out of glass. The new layer of physical separation helped because it kept her scent enclosed, far enough away from my overwhelmed lungs. I inhaled deeply, through gritted teeth, deciding to prove to myself that I was more than my basic instincts.

My vision was partially obscured by the stacks of books adorning the front window, but I could still see Bella half trying to dry herself up with some paper towels—a thankless task, really—and half trying to help the girl find a copy of Cloud Atlas in the database on her work computer. I could see that Bella was patient, despite the machine taking its time. Maybe it was just some remnant of her being used to the ungodly slowness of her personal computer… well, unless she had already changed it, of course. The thought made me panic for a second, making me wonder what else had changed during my absence, apart from what I already knew from Alice.

How much of the old Bella was still there?

"If you can't find it, that's fine, I can look for it myself."

"It's got to be here, but this database has been having quite a few errors lately. Technology has its perils, I guess."

Bella chuckled to herself, and the sound was pure ecstasy to my ears. My fists clenched tighter, ignoring the powerful wish to get out and enter the library. Wishing for such things was gratuitous torture for my already broken spirit, but there was no helping it. Not when my love, my mate, was here. I only needed a minute to get a proper dose of her presence, not more. I could hold on to those sixty seconds, as long as I spent them face to face with her, not lurking from my car.

Alas, a minute was not nearly enough, not when I had to isolate myself. Besides, the last thing she needed was for me to break my promise to her. Hadn't I told her that her life would go on as if I had never existed? She deserved that much.

In the end, Bella gave up the search and asked the girl to follow her. They disappeared behind a bookshelf and only emerged five minutes later—successfully, with a copy of Cloud Atlas held carefully in Bella's hands. Not long after, the girl left, and all of a sudden I felt as if I was floating on thin air. The idea of at least going outside, and moving on the other side of the road, closer to the window, was so irresistible, it made my head spin.

I was calculating which spot would be completely outside of Bella's field of vision when my phone grumbled in my pocket. Taking it out, one single text from Alice waited for me.

'Seriously, think things through TEN times before you do them, if you must. I love you both, but it would mess her up to see you now.'

It was the call to sanity I needed. I could not do this. Not now, nor ever. I was only here to see her happy and fulfilled. Meddling was not a part of that.

With renewed strength, I switched my phone to silent and kept watching, finding myself staring at that ring on Bella's finger way too often for my liking. She was alone at the main desk now, and she was typing something on her phone, looking rather annoyed. Then she glanced upwards, to what I assumed was a clock I could not see, and rose up in an instant. For the next quarter of an hour, she kept herself busy arranging and rearranging books on their shelves.

I almost had a panic attack when she balanced herself on an unstable chair, so that she could reach the higher shelves. Could she not feel it wobbling under her feet? Could she not hear it creaking ominously, just waiting for her to move to the left, so that it could slip and fall, bringing her down, where her frangible skeleton would surely suffer from a fracture?

Somehow, she got down unscathed, and I feared that her little balancing act was a rare occurrence for her. Not long after, she turned off her computer, tidied up her desk, turned off the dim lights of the library, and got outside at long last. Her scent had not reached me—not yet, thank the deities above for the wind—but I was distracted nonetheless.

As she was searching for something in her bag, I could see that her clothes were still damp, clinging to her form as if they were a second skin. I tried not to stare, but it was impossible to remain immune to what stood in front of me. Her skin was an alabaster paradise, her collarbones ever so delicate, while her waist looked as frail as I remembered. But other things had certainly changed.

Her hair was a little longer now, perhaps even darker, after being deprived of the sun rays she loved so much in Arizona for years. And it was almost imperceptible, but after holding on to the image I had of her in my head for so long, I could easily tell that there was a new roundness to her, that wasn't there before. The swell of her breasts was more arresting, the curve of her hips even plumper than in my memories.

All of it led me to a shattering conclusion. Even if it weren't for Bella's kindness—or her wit, or her sarcasm, or her calmness—one thing was for certain: her fiancé was the luckiest man on Earth, whether he knew it or not.

Before I knew it, the sight of her made my body react in ways I had all but forgotten. Distressfully, my jeans suddenly felt too tight for comfort. The sensation seemed almost new, as it rippled through my body and concentrated in one single spot, below the belt. I had lost track of what my body was capable of, after almost two years of solitude, during which arousal—in whichever way, shape, or form—had never been on my list of priorities. Hell, the last time my own body begged for release was when Bella and I were still together, when I didn't even deserve to feel that kind of liberation. That last night of holding her as she slept, right after the worst birthday party in history—when she unknowingly wrapped one perfect leg around me—made my cock harder than a rock.

Lost in dreams, Bella stroked me with her soft inner thigh, making my mind run wild with desperate need. I despised the way my body reacted then, and the way I had no control over it, as if the very presence of my beloved was enough to turn the cold granite of my body into warm flesh and brittle bones. It made me aware that I was in no way ready to leave, but also that I had no choice. In the end, I had to get out of the bed, afraid that Bella's movements would bring me to a devastating—and awfully undeserved—completion.

I never told her about it—because soon after, I terminated all contact with her. On one hand, it felt somewhat reassuring to know that I still functioned properly on that front—although the odd comfort was probably just a random shred of male pride, a relic from my human days. On the other hand, however, it was infuriating. Because having these thoughts about a woman who was clearly taken was not only wrong, but terribly useless as well. I wasn't going to act on them. Not privately, and especially not with her. Forgetting about them altogether was the best option, but… I wasn't sure how to go about it.

My insignificant problems got muted at once when I saw Bella slipping on the pavement. There were no particular irregularities on the ground, and yet one second later, gravity won and she fell, knees first, cursing out loud right when she landed with a painful thud.

Once again, I entered a battle with myself to not get out and cause additional trouble. No matter how much I wanted to help her get up, to assess how badly she was hurt, something else was more important: her emotional sanity. I managed to push back the idea before Alice got to send me yet another text.

Helplessly, I observed the way she got up. She didn't seem overly concerned about how serious her fall had been. If I had to guess, she looked pissed off. To the extreme. She walked forward, her knees shaking just a little, until she reached—oh, for the love of all that's holy!—a Harley motorcycle. The paint was scratched in various places, and I felt a deep sense of anxiety just imagining how it got scratched in the first place. Growing scared, but unable to do anything, I noticed her taking out a helmet from the black pannier attached to the bike. She put it on quickly, clearly having done this countless times before, and right before my eyes, she took off.

I pondered for a while if following her right away was a good idea or not, but I didn't want to risk the possibility of her becoming suspicious. The windows of my car were dark enough to hide me from untrained, weak eyes, but they weren't nearly dark enough to soothe my blooming paranoia.

So I started the engine and drove in the opposite direction, trying my best to get the swarm of scenarios of Bella getting into an accident out of my head. I told myself she had done this before. She was no longer a novice. Yet my worries were getting the better of me, each scenario getting more absurd, more agony-inducing, as I pictured her falling, crashing into trees, and getting thrown off the bike mid-ride.

Half an hour of this torture later, I finally dared to venture outside of my looping trajectory. It was past eight p.m. at this point, and the green curtain of rain was getting darker by the minute. There was precisely one place where I wanted to be right now, but my car was getting in the way. I could not possibly park it in front of Bella's house, for obvious reasons. There had to be a more subtle way to finish what I started.

And once I would see her with him, I would be able to return to what I knew: complete darkness.

With that in mind, I drove around, a reasonable plan forming in my mind, until I found what I wanted. The grocery store that was closest to Bella's house was past its peak hour, which meant that there were plenty of empty parking spots available. Once my car was parked and the light outside was completely gone, I got out, pulling the hoodie of my jacket over my head—not to avoid the ongoing summer shower, but to hide from any inquisitive looks, if necessary.

Thankfully, most people were indoors, where the everlasting moisture could not reach. The downpour was anything but annoying to my senses. It felt almost reassuring to feel my clothes getting soaked as I walked, reminders of a past life coming back to me gradually. The summer before I left, I used to walk down these roads with Bella's hand in mine on an almost daily basis. Each foot of concrete had its own story engraved within its solid depths.

Here was where she dropped her cookie dough ice cream on the ground, caught up in a laughing fit over an innocuous joke I'd told her.

There was where I convinced her to let me take her to a proper dinner in Seattle. As I moved my lips on her neck, she gasped the softest, sweetest yes.

Every single memory burned in a different way; some good, some bad. But behind each light-hearted echo of the past, lay a hundred little horrors. Because each time Bella laughed at my jokes or smiled over a thought that only she knew, or purred with delight under my loving ministrations, I knew. I knew it was all temporary. Fleeting, non-permanent, destined to end. I could not find it in me to share the most tragic truth of all with her. Not when she was living the best summer of her life. Her words, not mine.

My feet dragged me forward, mile after mile, causing me to step all over my remembrances until a strange familiarity made its way into my bones. I felt a knot in my chest as I stepped forward, recognizing the pattern of houses and streets. I breathed in their essence—wood and blood and food—preparing myself for what came next.

I noticed Bella's old red truck first. Cumbersome as ever, yet probably still functional. Right by its side, two almost identical motorcycles. I recognized Bella's easily, thanks to the scratched paint on the surface. And behind these vehicles, something much, much more important.

The Swan house looked the same as it always had. Simple and quiet, almost blending in with the lush greenery surrounding it. The lawn was mowed and the front door seemed to have a new coat of paint on it, just a shade lighter than the previous paint job. And even though there were barely any changes, the house felt so alien, so strange, almost as if it didn't even belong in this town, in this state, in this country, on this planet. The knowledge that I could never set foot inside weighed heavy on my shoulders.

The feeling was crushing, but it got lost in the background when my other senses started to demand my full attention. Bella's scent was merely a phantom, but still more powerful than anything else around me. It was kept safe, enclosed in the house, just potent enough to tease the embers in my chest without starting a fire. But there was a new scent too; a bizarre amber, that managed to smell both sweet and salty at the same time.

Troubled by it, I moved my attention to the sound of the running water and bubbling foam. Before I could understand what it meant, an inner voice I had heard before made its way to me, imposing in the sea of thoughts surrounding me.

"I'll have to miss the game tonight. Maybe if we watch a movie, she'll reconsider. Might take her mind off of things, at least. Hm, her ass looks good in those jeans."

Against my will, my body stiffened. Jacob Black's thoughts were not exactly new territory for me. I did hear them before, when they barely even mattered. But hearing them now, coming from inside the Swan residence, as he perused Bella's body while she washed the dishes, was something else. Yes, I knew she was his fiancée. Yes, I knew it was not my business to analyze this. And yes, I also knew I had no right to even witness it. However… there was no helping the possessive surge of electricity that started humming in my veins, bringing them to life.

I hated it, hated it, hated it. All the new electricity did was reinforce the specific kind of monster that I was. What gave me the right to even feel jealousy?

Not even a full minute had passed since I stopped walking. Willing myself to move, I picked the only place that would keep me hidden for long enough: the tree facing Bella's window. In the shadows, where I belonged. I climbed up quickly, balancing myself on the thickest branch, careful not to sit on a weak spot. I buried myself between the branches—enough to remain hidden, but also enough to give me a decent view. The curtains to the bedroom were closed, but it didn't matter. My mind was too preoccupied with the dialogue taking place in the kitchen.

"I was thinking of watching Click again tonight. What do you say?"

"Well, go ahead."

"What I meant is… do you want to watch it with me?"

"Jake, I don't know… I'm tired, to be honest. I was hoping to take a shower and head straight to bed."

"Oh, come on, honey. I know you love it when you fall asleep on the couch."

"I do, but I'm not really in the mood, you know?"

As they talked, his mind was not so much preoccupied with the movie itself, but with the idea of getting to be intimate with Bella. The images in his head were too much, and it cut me like a knife to see them. I tried to think of something else. The dishwashing sounds. The pitter-patter of the rain against the windows. The far-away thunder. Anything but his hands touching, his mouth kissing and his body possessing what once belonged to me.

"Maybe tomorrow," she offered, and I could hear his decision to get up from the chair before he did it. I couldn't see, not directly, but his thoughts were loud enough to make me understand. He was behind her now, not shaming away from showing her the effect her body had on him.

I wanted to die when I heard her groan.

"Let me finish," she said, and I could not tell if she meant it or not.

"I could help you finish, Bells."

"Um… Jake…"

The water stopped running. I had no idea if it was her or him that stopped it. I was petrified, a prisoner of my senses, unable to move, while Jacob's thoughts unfolded the most sinister spectacle. He turned her around, kissing her with a vehemence I understood and despised at the same time. He—and sadly, I—were very much aware of how his erection pressed against her abdomen now, how her hands pushed down on his shoulders, in what was obvious desire for him.

"That's what I'm talkin' about, baby…" His words ended in a moan and he went in for the kill without warning, pressing his palm right between her legs.

"Jacob, wait! Please!"

The urgency in her tone alerted me above all else—above the sudden revulsion in the pit of my stomach and above the sudden need to uproot the very tree that covered me. She sounded wary, and somewhat… worn out. Even now, as she was being actively caressed by her one true lover—the most telling sign that she could not possibly think about me anymore—I wanted to barge in and beg for her to let me embrace her once. Thankfully, I still had enough reason to know not to act on my desire.

Jacob didn't really stop. He was enthralled by her earlobes when he whispered his next words. "What? Not tonight either?"

"I'm sorry," was all she said.

"You're always sorry." Silence. There was still arousal clouding his judgement, but something else was there too. Frustration poured out of his synapses in thick waves. "It's just sex, not a big deal."

"I know, I know, it's just that… not tonight."

More silence. Just her breathing, his heaving, and a world of irritation taking over him. I would have given everything to hear what she was thinking now.

"Fine," he hissed. "But… this can't keep happening when we're married. You do realize this, don't you?"

"Yes, yes, I do. And it won't. I just need to… get out of my head, I guess. And I will, I promise. I'm getting there, only… a bit slower than you."

"Sure, sure… I can't believe I've got to jerk off again. Even a handjob would do at this point. Fucking hell…"

Still processing what I was witnessing in real time, I was somewhat aware that I could not stay here much longer. It was getting too much for my battered senses, and I didn't know what to make of it. Was Bella's rejection based on tiredness alone? How many times had she done this before? Did they ever…? I tried—without much success—to convince myself that the answers to these questions did not matter one bit and that I was in no position to know them anyway. But I could not shake off the feeling that I was missing something.

This was a facet of their relationship I was not supposed to see and it was my fault for peeking into their intimacy. The hollow feeling in my chest was proof that I had been right all along about not prodding Alice for further details, whenever she offered me an update. The details were supposed to be secret, and in just a few minutes, I had thrown this sacred notion out the window, only to satisfy my perverse curiosities.

In the wake of my intrusion, I found myself itching to get down and run away as fast as possible, as far as possible. One more minute and I go, I told myself. I was staring at Bella's window, not seeing anything past the curtains, feeling as if the doorway to my only sanctuary had been closed shut, with no key to open it. The craving to take another peek resurfaced, despite my best intentions, getting my muscles to tense up in anticipation.

Moments later, the sound of footsteps climbing on creaky stairs got my attention. I recognized their particular cadence: half soft, half harsh, completely whimsical. I held my breath like a coward when I heard the door to the bedroom opening. Attempting to understand what Bella was going to do next. Going by her erratic back-and-forth pacing, I was taken aback when the curtains were peeled away and the sash of the window pulled upwards, allowing the humidity and the night air in.

And there she was.

With her hair falling in unctuous waves and her skin an ode to the purest porcelain, she looked like a chimera. Beautiful, but so very dangerous too, for her charm was the one thing that could bring me to my knees. Her neck was well-hidden, but the song of her pulse was clear in my ears, a symphony that not even Chopin himself could have brought to life. Against my better judgement, I breathed in deeply, daring to throw all of my senses into the rapturous song I was hearing.

The embers turned to rabid flames in less than a millisecond. Venom flooded my mouth all at once, preparing my taste buds for a meal that would never come to fruition. I swallowed immediately, fighting the animalistic urge with fake indifference, focusing instead on Bella's face, the only element that could really keep me grounded.

She didn't do anything. She just stared aimlessly. She inhaled. Exhaled. Unaware of the monster staring at her with awe and hunger.

And simple as that, my one more minute turned into five more minutes. And when she closed the window and started humming a song, as she was picking a towel to take to the bathroom, the five more minutes turned into ten more. And when she returned from the bathroom, wearing old sweatpants I remembered and a camisole I had never seen before, twenty more. And when she fell asleep, forgetting to pull back the curtain, while her fiancé was still downstairs, in front of the TV, thirty more.

Before I knew it, I made a pact with myself to last through the entire night.

Well, Edward is in deep, that's for sure!

Do you think his snooping will bring anything good? And do you believe he'll be able to keep his distance, as he intends to?

Let me know your thoughts —r eading and responding to your reviews makes me SO happy I can't even describe!

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Until next Sunday, stay safe and happy!

Chapter Text

Leaving Bella had never been an abrupt decision. The resolution had always been there, at the back of my mind, but I tried fighting against it—stupidly, selfishly—for far longer than I should have.

I knew it the day I watched that damned video of James torturing her—the ultimate proof that even if her heart was still beating, she had stepped too far in my world of darkness, getting to taste its bitter atmosphere in a way that an angel like her never should have. I knew it when I promised her I wouldn't leave. I knew it when I swayed her delicate form on the dance floor, making more promises I couldn't keep. I knew it every day and every night of our only summer spent together. Between kisses, between touches, between late nights, between the flowers in our meadow, my worst fears always lay dormant, ready to dig their claws into the fragile fabric of our relationship.

I had always known we were doomed to end.

But it wasn't until I saw my brother hurling at her at full speed that I realized that it was not enough to know, I also had to act on it. Because the longer I stretched the inevitable, the worse it was going to hurt.

Something inside me broke that night, irreparably so. A proper birthday party was yet another thing on the list of things Bella needed to experience at least once—although, to be fair, it was not necessarily an item on my list, as much as it was on Alice's. In my foolishness, I thought the party would be uncomfortable at worst and boring at best, not even considering the actual nightmare it turned into.

I remembered it all with painful clarity, the details having embedded themselves in my brain for good.

Jasper had long blamed himself, but he and I knew the truth. It was never really his thirst that pushed him beyond the point of no return, but rather the unbearable reflection of my own. When that cursed paper cut through Bella's skin, my instincts took over. I was a pile of needs, every nerve of that pile programmed to crave one single thing only: that delicious drop of blood seeping from the tiny wound on my beloved's finger. I could already imagine the satisfaction of its wet warmth dripping down my tongue, bringing my taste buds to life, making them ache in the search for more, more, more. It would have felt so right. It would have been so wrong.

There was no time to rein in the desire—it had already reached Jasper's sensitive synapses. And he felt it too, in all its formidable intensity. However, he never really had a chance to practice his self-control in the face of such thirst the way that I had. There was no time to process the transition between the moment when I came to my senses and the moment he snapped, unable to make sense of our combined hungers.

Jasper had been fast, but not as fast as me. But in my attempt to save her, I ended up making an even bigger mess. Seeing my Bella bleeding, with shards of glass inundating her wound, made me want to disappear completely, taking all the shards with me, where they could not hurt her.

Even worse, as I was holding my breath, the air was so loaded with the scent of her blood, that I could taste its burning sweetness on the tip of my tongue. There truly was no escape from it. And regrettably, even in the midst of disaster, I wanted to taste it. To taste her and forget about the painful contrast between what my body needed and what my heart wanted.

"Just go, Edward," she told me then. She sounded so caring, as if I was the one who needed to be comforted. Hearing those words coming from her mouth unveiled my worst fear, leaving it bare.

"I can handle it," I promised her—and somehow meant it—while I was becoming one with the fire in my throat.

She didn't let up. "You don't need to be a hero. Carlisle can fix me up without your help. Get some fresh air."

But I didn't let up either. I wanted to stay, I needed to stay. For her. Like a normal boyfriend would. I could hold my breath indefinitely, while my father stitched her up, so that I could keep her hand in mine and assure her that things were going to be all right. My decision was clear. I didn't stutter when I said my next words.

"I'll stay."

"Why are you so masochistic?" she sighed.

And with that, she owned me. There had always been a certain dichotomy at the basis of our relationship. My masochism, juxtaposed with her recklessness. My tortured restraint, combined with her sensual provocations. My thirst, her lust, our lust, mixed up in such a way that we never found a healthy balance for any of it. Instead, we always took one step forward and three steps back. It was going to be like this as long as I allowed myself to burden her with my presence and force something that was never going to work properly.

I looked at her once more, taking in the disastrous state she was in, understanding that it was my own doing, and deciding that she would never have to endure the dangers of my world again.

When I stepped into her bedroom that night, I knew it was going to be the last time I was doing it. It was nothing but a selfish gift for myself, one that I certainly did not deserve.

I felt the pressure of the incoming separation hanging in the air, heavy like a lead blanket, ready to crush us under its momentous weight. I could not focus on my own music coming out of Bella's CD player in waves—my gift to her felt so insignificant all of a sudden—as I was too busy assimilating every detail of our last night together. Her warmth rolling out of the blanket, only to be stifled by my coldness, her heart beating so erratically that it made me scared, the scent of her making me shamefully hungry, the angry wind knocking at the window, as if to encourage me to leave my only safe haven behind.

As the music kept rolling, I felt more and more inclined to step over my usual rules and give in to my more human instincts. The temptation was higher than it had ever been, amplified perhaps by the dark knowledge that it was my last chance. I yearned to spend hours just trailing kisses all over Bella's body, using my mouth and tongue to make a thorough map of every single inch of her skin, leaving no area unattended. I wanted to feel the tremble of her flesh under my kisses. To hear her encouraging gasps. To say yes when she said more. How many times had she asked me to let go, to forget about limits for a while? Too many times, enough to make me question everything. Would it have been terribly wrong to listen to her, at long last? Perhaps.

Although my blooming desperation was making up a million excuses per minute, just to get me to understand that it could also be so, so very right.

"What are you thinking about?" Bella's whisper almost startled me. I felt caught, as if she had seen right through my perverse longings. It took me a little longer to find the strength to answer.

"I was thinking about right and wrong, actually."

I prayed that she would not demand a more detailed explanation. I didn't know how to offer her one without crumbling.

"Remember how I decided that I wanted you to not ignore my birthday?" she added. The question brought me some kind of relief, but I also didn't know where she was going with it.

"Yes."

"Well, I was thinking, since it's still my birthday, that I'd like you to kiss me again."

The words tumbled out of her so quickly, that it became obvious that she must have rehearsed them in her mind a few times before saying them out loud. The idea was so endearing, but also so very crushing at the same time. How was I ever supposed to do what was right, when everything I ever wanted lay in her fluttering heartbeat?

"You're greedy tonight," I observed. But then again, so was I, although for entirely different—and wrong—reasons.

"Yes, I am—but please, don't do anything you don't want to do."

I laughed at the irony of it all. If I were to listen to her—and to my less noble intentions—I never would have left that bedroom. And I would have gladly met my end in it, as long as I was by her side.

"Heaven forbid that I should do anything I don't want to do."

She seemed to want to add something, but I didn't let her. My needs came to the surface with ferocious vengeance, and I became their prisoner without putting up a fight. I pulled Bella's face towards mine and found her lips easily. I tried to be gentle—God, I swear I tried—but as soon as I heard her moaning into our kiss, I was lost. My defenses fell, leaving me a pile of raw, sensitive nerves. My mouth opened to take in as much as I could, as roughly as I could, and my hand twisted into her hair to bring her closer still, where I wanted her to be.

Bella reacted in lovingly predictable ways. Her hands tangled in my hair, pulling with what I knew was their full force, her back arched, her knees parted ever so slightly, in an invitation that was almost impossible to refuse. I usually stopped at this point, aware that my self-control could only handle so much, but simply thinking about parting from her made me groan in agony. The sound must have triggered something inside her because she groaned in return, and I found myself pressing against her further, careful not to let my erection graze her—Lord knew how she would have reacted then.

My hand descended eagerly from her hair, caressing her clavicle and shoulder in passing, stopping right underneath the soft mound of her breasts. I could feel the promising softness yielding under the hard knuckle of my index finger, Bella's rapid pulse bringing my palm to life, but I didn't dare to go further, despite how every cell inside my body was begging me to.

But the bliss didn't last long. Through the ever-rising heat between us, Bella's heart had started to pump her blood so violently that I could taste its melody. I could hear every ripple and every wave humming a sonata of their own.

It was the perfect sound.

It was an invitation to sin.

It was an invitation to feast.

It was the wake-up call I needed. Unwillingly, I pulled away.

"Sorry," I managed to say, not one bit surprised to realize that I was just as breathless as she seemed to be. My head was still spinning with scenarios of more heat, more Bella. "That was out of line."

"I don't mind."

She seemed so enthusiastic in her fervour, and turning her down was the last thing I wanted. Alas, it was what I had to do, for her sake. Thirst still played on my tongue, basking in the growing pool of venom, asking for just one bite.

"Try to sleep, Bella."

"No, I want you to kiss me again."

Those words alone were torture of the highest order.

"You're overestimating my self-control."

But she kept going, stubborn little thing that she was. "Which is tempting you more, my blood or my body?"

Considering the way the carnal lust overlapped with the bloodlust in such an evil way that I could no longer tell them apart, the answer was simple. "It's a tie. Now, why don't you stop pushing your luck and go to sleep?"

"Fine," she agreed in the end.

She fell asleep faster than expected, leaving me alone with my thoughts. She fumbled a lot in her sleep that night, unlike right now, as I was hopelessly staring at her peaceful figure from the tree. Jacob had joined her too, and he was holding her as they dreamed together—a picture as simple as it was envy-inducing. It was by no means nice or ethical, but I wanted it to be me who was holding her now, instead of him. She looked so soft, so perfectly undisturbed, and it was exactly what I always wanted for her.

But as the hours flowed by in muddy waves, there was no escaping the memory of her rejecting him. I had been trying to find an explanation for the way she freaked out, but to no avail. The further I dug for clarification, the less sense it made. The Bella of my past craved intimacy with wild rapacity. Like an animal who could never have enough of a perfect meal, she always sought my kisses, my touches, and my body, even when my monstrous nature caused our closeness to come to a halt far sooner than either of us wanted. Especially then. So what could possibly get her to be so against the idea of physical closeness now? Was it something terrible I didn't know about? Or perhaps something milder, easily treatable with proper medical care, like a hormone imbalance?

Not that it was my business anymore. Still, the unknown was eating me alive.

Jacob was the first to wake up, frowning at the grey light of the morning. The rain had stopped at some point, but the clouds were still scattered everywhere, effectively covering the sun. He went straight to the bathroom and I felt misplaced joy upon seeing Bella once again alone in the bed she once shared with me. It almost felt as if I could bust in through the window and wake her up. But then Jacob's mind became annoyingly loud, as it flipped through fleeting images of Bella and several artificially-enhanced women he stumbled upon during his internet searches. Luckily for me, the unwanted mental noise that accompanied his jerking off ended after three minutes, the house falling silent after that.

Half an hour later, it was Bella's turn to wake up. Her eyes opened lazily, fighting against the last remains of sleep, and she checked the time on her phone, sighing as if something offended her. Her hair looked mostly like a haystack, but I enjoyed the view. It reminded me of another life, when she woke up in my arms and her first worry was not fixing her hair or getting something to eat, but kissing me until she ran out of air and I ran out of control. I moved my eyes away once I realized she wanted to change her clothes—as tempting as the spectacle surely was, I didn't want to risk a single glance, since Bella couldn't—and surely wouldn't—consent to be seen like that by me, out of all people. It was bad enough that I was essentially stalking her at this point; I didn't want to add voyeurism to my list of sins as well.

Jacob barged into the room soon after, and I dared to look back inside at long last. She no longer had the camisole and sweatpants on, but a black T-shirt and blue jeans—simple, mundane clothes, yet they still couldn't hide her deliriously perfect shape. Every curve called for attention, every line was a work of art. My view got obstructed when he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her towards him for a kiss.

I instantly had to look away.

"Good morning, gorgeous," he muttered.

"Hi, Jake." More wet sounds of lips moving together. Her heart started beating faster. I felt my insides churning in repulse.

"How was your sleep?"

"Pleasant enough. Did you have breakfast yet?"

"I was just finished with it."

They soon left the bedroom, and I heard their steps descending on the stairs. I started getting antsy as I heard several familiar sounds, alerting me that she was preparing a bowl of cereal for herself. Jacob was not really paying attention, his mind was somewhere else, on some bike he had to fix soon. After a while, his attention shifted back to Bella, and he was the first to talk.

"So, Embry invited us over to his place today. Any thoughts on this?"

"Oh… today? I don't know…"

"Full disclosure: his folks got him a new PlayStation and he probably just wants to brag about it."

She giggled, and the melodic sound awakened butterflies in me that I forgot I had. "Like you don't love it, Jake!"

"You know I do. But I promise not to get distracted if you join us."

"You said this when Harry got him that VR thingy from Europe."

"That was the exception."

They started laughing together, and my butterflies died. There was no use for them being alive anyway. Their reason for existing was clearly a pipe dream, withering right in front of their dead wings.

"Well, don't worry about it," Bella said. "I'm not joining you today."

"No, come on!"

"It's fine, really. I've got to do some stuff around the house anyway. You have your fun with Embry."

"But I told him we're going together, Bells."

"He'll cope, I'm sure."

"You can make an effort though." There was a sudden edge to his voice, one that had not been there before. And I didn't like it one bit.

"I'm just not in the mood today, no need to get cranky again."

"She always does this. Never in the mood my ass. I hate this. It's getting too much."

He didn't voice his thoughts out loud, but he let his attitude do the talking for him. He left the kitchen, and I heard her calling his name, with a voice that sounded defeated. But I didn't hear her getting up. She just sighed and continued eating her breakfast. I didn't know what to make of it. It made me feel uneasy—how he left her there alone, how he dismissed her, how she accepted it all.

Maybe my mind was blowing things out of proportion—it wouldn't have been the first time. People went through phases and mood shifts, it was the blessing and the curse of being a living, breathing creature with a conscience. Trying to find a hidden meaning behind their actions was not only intrusive, but useless as well.

This was their life, not mine. I was nothing but a miserable trespasser.

Bella lingered in the kitchen long after the sounds of her cleaning her plate stopped. I had no clue what she was doing, as she had become frustratingly quiet all of a sudden. Meanwhile, Jacob was in his own bubble. He was texting the friend he mentioned, Embry, back and forth, complaining about having to drive to the reservation alone. Apparently, Embry had managed to smuggle a few beers from his father and they were planning to drink them later on. Jacob had counted on Bella being there, so that she could be the designated driver.

My distress started to dissipate when I heard her moving again. She found Jacob in the living room, still texting. It wasn't until I heard lips moving against rough skin that I realized what was happening. She was comforting him.

"Please, don't stay mad at me, Jake."

He said nothing, even if deep inside his ego was pleased.

"I will make it up to you. I'm just a little bit under the weather today. It wouldn't be fun to be around me with how I'm feeling anyway."

Jacob huffed, but I could see the decisions forming in his mind in real time, when he grabbed her and pulled her in his lap, obviously unable to resist her.

"So what is it?" he hummed. "Bad period incoming?"

"No, it just ended three days ago. I thought I told you that."

"It's difficult to keep track sometimes. Haven't your periods been all over the place lately?"

"A little bit, yes."

"Must be those hormones going crazy, honey."

And with that, they made up. No further questions, no complications. But for one reason or another, I still felt tension plaguing the air—and I knew it was not just my own bias at play this time around; otherwise, he would have been more focused on her eager kisses, and less on pondering about the ways she could make it up to him in the future.

He didn't stay much longer after that. He left, leaving Bella all alone in the empty house. It was the best temptation. The worst temptation. I still had enough strength to not obsess over her scent, mostly because the thick walls of the house were doing a great job at keeping it contained. Its trail was soft, barely scraping my throat. I didn't know what to do with myself, now that I knew she was all by herself. The more reasonable part of me reminded me that I had to leave—as soon as possible, ideally now. Hadn't my mission been accomplished, after all? I only came to Forks to see her once more, before she made the leap and got married. Overstaying my welcome was beside the point. Furthermore, how long could I hide in this damned tree?

As I was asking myself these questions, I heard Bella going on about her day, doing exactly what she told her fiancé she would do. She vacuumed the house, mopped the floors, loaded the washing machine, and started it. Throughout all this, she whistled a tune that sounded half off-key, half charming, and I could not help but smile. This was yet another thing I missed about her. Once she grew a little more comfortable in our relationship, she no longer shied away from humming in my presence. And even if she was not a professional, my ears still preferred her sound over that of a skilled soprano. This thought alone made me want to bottle her little whistling song up and carry it with me everywhere, once I inevitably left again.

I had no idea where an entire hour had gone. It felt as if time itself was playing tricks on me. I expected her to need some rest after finishing her chores. But her heart was suddenly beating faster, signaling that she was far from needing a break. Craving to know what it was that got her pulse to quicken, the frustration of her unreadable mind resurfaced, making me feel weak and incapacitated. The fact that I could not even see what she was doing was adding to my aggravated state.

But then, taking me completely by surprise, the back door of the house opened and closed, and the wind carried Bella's intoxicating fragrance right into my nostrils, no warning beforehand. And goddamn, how spoiled I had been by those thick walls of the house. Without them acting as a fortress, her scent was a maddening storm, one that worked to get me to succumb to my lowest needs. I needed its lush sweetness to coat my tongue more than anything.

Powerless, I held my breath and waited. Bella was out of my field of vision, so all I had was the noise of damp grass yielding under her footsteps as she stepped forward. She didn't stop, she kept going in a direction completely opposite of where I was. As her steps got further and further away, I realized I knew precisely where she was heading. I stood by completely motionless, until I could no longer hear anything other than the duet of her breath and pulse.

She was not far away. But going by the faint echo of her heartbeat, there were trees surrounding her now from every angle.

My body instantly craved to get closer to where she was. Just to see.

One last time—for real this time.

Ever so carefully, I left my spot on the branch, once I made sure there was no one within seeing distance from me to spot my misdeed. I crossed the backyard in between two blinks of an eye, heading towards the east side, where Bella's trail led me and the forest began. I made a point to be as silent as possible so as not to arouse any fears or suspicions in her. I could not risk being seen—not now, that I was so close to finding enough peace to flee again.

I found a new temporary home behind the thick base of an old hemlock tree, twenty feet away from the tantalizing call of her blood. I was still holding my breath, but my tongue could taste the forbidden honey lacing the air. Gathering enough strength, I dared to look in front of me, painfully aware of where I was.

Bella was closer than ever now, and this time there was no real layer of separation between us: no walls, no windows, nothing. Just me and her and the most divine anticipation. She sat on the trunk of a fallen alder, her eyes closed, and every atom in my body started to sizzle upon realizing how easy it would have been to step forward, kneel in front of her, and beg her for one single embrace. It was so easy to imagine myself doing that—dangerously so. I tightened my hands into fists, warring with myself to remain calm and not ruin everything in the wake of my selfish desires.

Held in place by the thinnest willpower, I observed her. She seemed peaceful, even if she was not even ten feet away from the place where she last saw me. I was not foolish enough to think that she remembered the exact spot, of course, but for me, it was impossible to forget. It was the place where all happiness went to die. Being here again hurt in a way I had not expected. Because if I looked to the right, I could see the ghost of us still lingering there, still saying goodbye. And if I looked to the left, I could see the sounds of Bella shouting my name materializing, coming to life, and taking nightmarish shapes, ready to attack me.

And worst of all, I heard all my lies, trapped in the very sap of the trees that had been our unwilling witnesses.

I don't want you to come with me.

You're not good for me.

I won't come back.

So much for my resolve.

As Bella's heartbeat returned to a normal pace, I felt my pain slowly turning into panic. Liquid, black, ugly panic, its source neverending. I closed my eyes, inhaling again, if only to distract myself from the sudden, overwhelming emotions. Her smell hit me like a freight train, mouth-watering to the extreme, and I realized I had made a mistake. Because now I wasn't just a raw pile of anxiety, I was also a starving animal.

I forced my eyes open and looked at her again. At her tranquil face and the voluptuous way the shadows were slithering around her like snakes. Instead of calming me, the picture worsened my state. Because along with the thirst, another hunger reared its head, reacting with pure avidity upon seeing Bella. Her parted lips, her taut neck, her slowly moving chest—everything she had, worked against me.

Craving to taste, to grab, to bite, my fingertips sunk into my palms until it started to hurt. I didn't trust myself to move further than that.

As if to tease my demons, Bella sighed and stretched, making the air move in waves that carried her perfume straight to me. She frowned ever so slightly, but she didn't leave her spot on the fallen tree. I ached to know what it was that got her to frown. Was it a bad memory? Was it something mundane, or was it something deeper? Was it the harrowing aura of what this place meant, the one that was tormenting me as well? No, certainly not the latter. She had done her mourning when it came to me. She was engaged. She had no reason to look back on what once was. Enough time had passed for her wounds to have closed with minimal scarring.

Bella moved again, this time shifting until her wrists were visible. And I saw it. The bite mark adorning her right wrist, covering the blue lattice of veins underneath. The damned sign that proved she had seen the very worst of my Underworld and survived, against all odds. It was doomed to be forever etched into her skin, as a reminder that I had failed her worse than anyone in her life ever could.

My eyes stung, but I ignored them. There was already enough pain to focus on without them bothering me with their pathetic inability to shed tears.

I was still trapped in this limbo of watching her and burning to move, when she opened her eyes at long last, looking around. She rose up, wobbling a little on her feet, and started to walk again, seemingly without direction. I remained where I was, struggling to understand what her plan was. She just moved in a zigzag pattern, her eyes darting from the ground to the sky, again and again and again.

Several minutes passed like this, and I was getting more and more confused. A hummingbird started a wistful tune in the distance, and almost on command, Bella's eyes went on a mission of searching upwards. It was already too late when I saw the deceivingly hidden roots of a tree peeking from underneath the grass layer. One more step and her feet ran right into them, disrupting her already precarious balance.

It took everything I had to remain where I was when I saw her falling. All of my instincts screamed at me to catch her. She landed with a thud, and her loud groan sent freshly sharpened blades through me.

It's just a fall, it's just a fall, it's just a fall, I kept chanting to myself, in a desperate effort to convince myself to stay put, so that she could get up and continue whatever it was that she was doing. But then she started wailing, and my concentration gave way, replaced by terror in its most primal form.

I wanted to do something. But I couldn't. Even more than that, I shouldn't.

She searched inside the pockets of her jeans, cursing under her breath about her missing phone, and propped her palms on the ground. She pushed herself on them and tried to get up. Once. Then twice. Then she gave up, cursing once more, and reaching to touch the ankle that was causing her trouble. She winced, and it was getting too much for me to see her like this.

Goddamn, I had to do something already. My mind urged me to not waste more time, tempting me with thoughts of just because I shouldn't, doesn't mean that I couldn't. I tried resisting it, analyzing my options. I could go inside the house, and text Jacob from her phone, but there would be no sane explanation after that. Or… I could leave her here, until he returned and realized she was missing. He would know where to look, he knew her well enough at this point.

But how long was it going to take for him to return? An hour? Two? Three? More? An awful lot of things could happen until then. The rain could start, soaking her and adding unnecessary distress to the table. Or a wild animal could stop by, sensing the promise of a wounded creature and taking advantage of it. Or a venomous spider could spot her before she could spot it. Or… she could worsen her injury, without even meaning to, in her attempt to get up from the ground.

Try as I might, I was running out of excuses for myself. What I was about to do clashed with every selfless, rational musing I had ever had. It went against everything I believed in. It was wrong in more ways than one. It was also the only sane thing I was capable of doing, given the circumstances, so I prayed to whatever god was listening to me for forgiveness in advance.

Bracing for the worst, I stepped out of the shadows.

Uh-oh, interesting times incoming :)!

Do you think Edward is making a mistake by breaking the promise he once made to Bella about never intruding into her life again? How do you think she'll react when she sees him again?

I'd love to know your thoughts on this chapter! And if you'd like an early preview on what's coming next, you're welcome to join my Facebook group:  Twilight fanfics: NightBloomingPeony & friends corner.

Until next Sunday, stay safe and happy!

Chapter Text

Before we jump into this new chapter, I'd like to thank everyone for all the reviews—it never fails to make me smile whenever I realize that so many of you are interested enough to read and drop a comment, so for that I am grateful :).

And thanks to my dear CoppertopJ for being a wonderful beta!

I made every effort to take careful, calculated steps—not too fast, nor too slow—so that she wouldn't get scared. She was in enough distress already, I couldn't risk her entering a state of shock too. So I moved towards her, locking in a cage that part of me that longed for her blood and focused on what mattered most: her being safe.

Bella didn't realize she wasn't alone at first. She was far too busy analyzing her slightly swollen ankle to notice that the new rumble was not a result of the wind blowing, but of someone approaching her.

One more step, and she understood at long last when she raised her eyes.

All of a sudden, I didn't know which one of us was more scared of the other. Shock flashed across her face, followed in quick succession by stupefaction, confusion, and distress, only to settle into what appeared to be pure disbelief. I didn't know if my face betrayed me to the same extent hers did, but I felt ready to burst. The impossibility of locking my eyes with hers, her scent playing with my senses, the whirlwind of love and protectiveness in my stomach—everything was so incredibly intense, I felt as if I was on the verge of insanity and she could read me, in all my unstable glory, like an open book.

The air was dense with the weight of the past, and there was no taking back what I had done. I could not run away. I could not hide again, now that my presence was no longer a secret to her. But facing her here, out of all places, where I forced myself to abandon our flame, was brutal.

I made another step, as scared as ever. We were still staring at each other, and I feared that this entire highly improbable, yet awfully real situation was getting to her because she winced slightly. My first words to her left my mouth before I could do anything else.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

It was as much of a promise to her as it was to myself as well. It didn't matter how my mouth was fighting the flood of venom, all that mattered was that Bella was hurt and in need of someone's help.

"I'm not," I repeated carefully, right as my feet closed the distance between me and her with one last step. I felt lightheaded as I kneeled by her side, my mind and body hyper-aware of the new closeness. Warmth radiated out of Bella in deliciously fragrant waves, enveloping me, while her heart struggled to find a more peaceful rhythm.

"What's happening?" was all she managed to get out.

"I want to help you."

Bella was not even blinking. I was the first to move my eyes away, suspecting that she would burn a hole right through me with her gaze if I didn't back down. I glanced down at her swollen ankle, wishing my father was here, since his years of study and practice far outweighed my humble degree in Medicine. At first glance, the ankle seemed to be the victim of a light sprain and didn't necessarily appear to require immediate medical attention, just ice and maybe an elastic bandage compression. However, it seemed to be bad enough that she had trouble standing up, so what did I know, really?

I shifted awkwardly, not sure how to proceed. When I looked at her again, I was once again reduced to nothingness by her eyes. Two chocolate pools, deeper than the ocean, stared me down as if I were a creature from another planet. I felt warmer just by being near her.

"Will you let me help you?" I tried again, stretching my arms forward, to let her know what my intentions were.

All colour had left her face by the time she nodded in agreement, and I felt terrible: for what I was about to do, for the way her face told me I was anything but welcome, for being here in the first place. But the damage was done—I was no longer a shadow—and I was losing precious time being an idiot.

A clap of thunder rumbled from miles away right as my hands slid under Bella—the only reminder that what was happening was real, not my imagination messing with me. Besides, my imagination had never been so thorough. I could always picture the heaven that holding Bella close to me once was, but not all the way through. Because for every precise detail my mind resurrected, there were a million little things missing. I was still cold, my throat calm, my senses sedated, when the fantasies ended abruptly.

But now, I was a live wire. My heart was threatening to function again, after a century of inertia, when my palms met Bella's body through her clothes. While I lifted her up, I kept my arms stretched forward, so that the only points of contact between us remained the small of her back, her thighs, and my hands—not enough to be inappropriate, but enough to fuel my wildest reveries for at least half a century from now. I recognized the way her flesh gave in under my hard coldness, and relished in the way her pulse quickened, even if it was probably a direct result of her horror and nothing else.

I was still getting drunk on reality when I noticed what she was doing. Once again, she was staring, making no effort to hide her puzzled consternation.

"Am I… in a coma of sorts?" she asked in the end, her voice barely a whisper.

Her assumption got me to chuckle, and the new reverberation in my chest felt strange. How long had it been since I last laughed, or at least smiled? Apparently long enough to have forgotten what it felt like.

"No, you probably just sprained your ankle."

She shook her head incredulously, stirring my thirst with how unfairly edible she smelled.

"You used to be just a voice, I don't… I don't understand. Can I just check something?"

I was a little worried about her mental state—had she hit her head too, and I somehow missed it? It would have explained the nonsense pouring out of her.

"Yes," I answered, feeling a little out of the loop.

Against my will, I froze when I saw her raising one trembling hand, stretching it more and more until it landed right on my cheek. With that, she got me into a state where I could not move to save my life. All I knew, all there was… was that divine heat, sizzling through my tissues, caressing my veins and turning them to ashes in its wake. But as fast as her touch came to be, just as fast it vanished.

As if it had never even happened.

Bella's hands were once again in her lap, and she seemed almost embarrassed. Now that my attention was on them, I saw it again—her engagement ring. It looked almost ostentatious, so close that I could make out every little line and facet of the cubical piece of ruby.

"It's impossible," she murmured.

Transfixed as I was, finding the will to walk again was a challenge. The fact that I could basically feel her pulse dancing under my touch was not helping.

"What is?"

"You feel real."

"I am," I assured her. "Very much so." She shook her head again, and it was getting obvious that I could not postpone my mission much longer. "I need to get you inside, where you can lay down."

Bella's mind seemed to be somewhere else entirely when she said yes. A small part of me knew that I was in the wrong—not only for interfering in a situation I was supposed to stay away from, but also for daring to return to Forks at all. I had broken several promises in the past twenty-four hours, but jumping right back into Bella's life, even for a few fleeting minutes, had to be the very worst. How was I going to take this back? How was I going to explain things to her in a way that wouldn't send her down a downward spiral?

For once, I counted on her love for Jacob more than anything else. That love had to save her from me. As long as he was her chosen one, she didn't have to look back on the pain and misery I had brought her with anything other than pale nostalgia.

The short walk back to her house was a silent affair. Neither of us said another word. She had left the back door open—not a sound idea at all, although it would have been a lie to say that I was surprised—so I used it to get back into the one house I had missed the most. Inside, the washing machine was still purring like a wildcat, but it couldn't hide the way my conscience screamed at me to get out. I ignored it, choosing instead to peek at my surroundings. Little had changed since my last visit, that I could tell. The floor creaked a little louder, the wood having shrunken over the years more and more. The modest pale-yellow walls could use a fresh coat of paint, but I found them pleasant exactly as they were.

However, there were clear signs that Bella did not live here alone. That sweet and salty amber hung heavy in the air, and I could not tell if the repulsive feeling it evoked in me was a direct result of my unwarranted jealousy or not. This was no longer my territory. It was theirs. Their little nest I had intruded with no right to do so.

I tried to push my discomfort away, shifting my attention to Bella instead. If she was in pain, she was hiding it well. I traversed the hallway, still incredibly careful to keep a distance between our bodies, and stopped once I reached the living room. There were a couple of unfolded T-shirts on the couch and empty cans of beer on the table in front of it, his smell even stronger here.

"I'll lay you down here, all right?" I said, mostly to get my anguish to quieten a little, as the silence had been nothing short of crushing.

"All right."

As I laid her down, I pushed away the T-shirts, so that nothing would get in the way of her comfort. She winced when her foot touched the sofa, and my first instinct was to reach out and caress her ankle. Luckily, I caught myself just in time.

"Do you have any kind of elastic wrap inside the house?" I queried.

"I think I have some left over in the kitchen."

"The kitchen? Are you sure?"

"Yes, I needed it when my… when, um… when Jacob, my fiancé, pulled a muscle a few months ago while… well, he was fixing the sink. I think I left it there. In the top cupboard, I mean."

The words tumbled out of her mouth chaotically, and I could not look at her anymore. Hearing her say those words out loud made the knowledge that she was getting married real in a way that observing from a distance had not been able to. My eyes drifted back to her ring—specifically the way she was stroking the little gem as if it were some wounded animal.

"I'll get it," was all I said, and the weight of that sentence started to weigh heavy on my shoulders before I even finished it.

I rushed to the kitchen, away from the awful shame I felt. My reaction had been completely backwards—I should have found the grace to congratulate her on her engagement, at the very least, instead of acting as if I hadn't heard what she said. Idiot, idiot, idiot. The oddness behind this whole meeting of ours was not an excuse to act like a selfish disaster. As I searched through the cupboard, I could not stop berating myself for my own insensitivity.

In my anger, I found what I was looking for moments later than I would have in normal circumstances. I grabbed the pack of elastic bandages, and immediately after headed to the fridge. I opened the freezer door, relieved to see an ice tray waiting there. Taking it out, I looked around, until I noticed a green kitchen rag hanging on the edge of the table. It wasn't ideal, but I had to make do somehow. I stuffed a dozen ice cubes inside the rag, before twisting the material around, into an improvised ice pack.

When I returned to the living room, I was still too weak to look at her directly. I kneeled by her side, the thirst quietened only by the sight of her ankle: swollen and most likely painful. While I was busy fighting with myself in the kitchen, she had managed to take off her shoes and cuddle in a self-embrace on the couch.

"May I?" I asked, pointing at the new items I had brought.

I saw her nodding in the periphery of my view, and I didn't waste more time. I placed the ice rag on her ankle—ever so careful to keep my fingers away—and backed down after.

"There you go. The ice should stay there for at least ten minu—"

"Why are you here?" Louder than anything else she had uttered to me, Bella's voice pulled me from my guilt trip and right back to reality. It was hard to tell if the accusatory tone was a fruit of my imagination or real. It might have been, since she was completely entitled to despise the first—and hopefully last—man who broke her heart. However, there was no time for pondering over that, because the tide had turned against me, and I needed to learn to swim against the current before the water caused me to drown.

In a bid to stall the inevitable, I danced around the answer. "I saw you falling out there. I just wanted to help."

"That's not what I meant. What were you doing in the woods? In Forks?"

"Passing by." Another way to stall. Perhaps more lamentable than the previous.

Truth be told, I had never really planned to come face to face with her, which meant that I had not fabricated any excuses either. I was here specifically because I wanted to see her one last time before she made her way to the altar in a white dress. To see her happy, fulfilled, and content without me. How could I ever admit to any of this without seeming like a psychopath?

I was fully out of my wheelhouse here.

"Passing by my house?" Bella raised one eyebrow, challenging me. Doubting me. Her eyes were deeply unforgiving. If I thought she was confused before, I had been wrong all along. She was merely trying to piece an illogical puzzle together, with as little information as possible. Until she realized she had to ask for a clue.

"It's hard to explain."

"Try."

I took a deep breath, still hoping I had one ounce of control over the situation. But the firestorm igniting in my core put my reason in jeopardy. I tried going through every possible scenario, praying to find something that made a shred of sense, getting more and more disappointed as I realized there was really no sound explanation.

But the truth was worse. Way worse. More frightening, more revolting. Desperate, I dug deeper, for a proper lie. Something that would assure her it was all a lucky coincidence.

"Actually, I'm here for my family," I began. I wasn't confident in the path my mind chose, but the pressure of having to answer got me to talk before I could find something better. "Well, mostly for my mother. She needed help with the house."

Bella frowned, and that little dimple I adored so much—the one that formed whenever she saw right through my games of play pretend—seemed deeper now.

"Help with the house," she repeated slowly, an appealing shade of red climbing up her cheeks.

"Yes. She… intends on selling it." As the main lie cemented itself, several more got born out of thin air, eager to deposit themselves on the newly-poured foundation and grow on top of it. Not all of them were inventions. For instance, I knew about Esme's intentions to focus on working to help the environment, and how she tried to avoid excesses of any kind—and for once, I could put that knowledge to good use. "Lately, she's been into the idea of a more minimalist lifestyle. Getting in touch with the less materialistic side of life and all that. She wants to turn some of our properties into flora sanctuaries, and she's found some buyers who are willing to demolish them and build botanical gardens from scratch in their place."

I sounded more confident than I felt. As I talked, Bella listened, still frowning at me. The temptation to reach out to smooth that little dimple above her nose was hard to resist, but not impossible.

"Huh," she let out, giving me nothing to work with.

"We're all helping her," I added, hoping hard that she believed me. "I just happened to be the one closest to Forks when she asked."

"And you just so happened to be nearby when I fell."

"I didn't mean to. I was planning to hunt before going to the old house and I heard you wailing from afar, I…"

"Your eyes aren't black."

"It was a precaution."

Our verbal match ended with her squinting, and me looking away. Again. I did not dare to face her questioning gaze, afraid that my fragile justification would crack and reveal how empty it really was.

"Listen," I sighed. "I'm sorry I intervened. I am. It was not part of my plan. But I couldn't walk away, knowing you were hurt."

"I have injured myself in the past."

"I bet you have, but I wasn't there to see it."

Our entire conversation made me feel naked, uncomfortably so, to the point I wanted to run and hide. I tried to make myself useful again, so I removed the ice pack from her ankle, reaching instead for the pack of elastic bandages.

"Wasn't this supposed to stay on for ten minutes?"

"Yes," I confirmed, hoping that my restlessness didn't come across as irritation. "But I won't be here in ten minutes."

"What? No, you will be. You can't just go!"

I was already unwrapping the bandage, eager to finish what I started and disappear. Using my hands, I ripped the stretchy material.

"May I?" I asked, intentionally ignoring her last words.

"Yes, but… don't leave, I want to talk."

My fingers worked fast to wrap the bandage around Bella's ankle, trying to be as delicate as possible, but also as fast as possible. I had missed my chance to be tactful, I could at least be gracious enough to leave her alone sooner rather than later.

"You might need to see a doctor about this if you still can't use your leg to walk one hour from now." I made a small knot, to keep the elastic in place, channeling my concentration into not stalling any longer than necessary.

"Are you ignoring what I'm saying on purpose?"

Yes. But I could not admit to that atrocity out loud.

"I need to go. I'm sorry once more for… this. Please, just be careful from now on."

"No!" she burst out, her voice raised and definitely angry. "I'm not done talking! You can't show up and disappear like that, it's not… it's not…"

She had still not finished her sentence when I stepped outside. And like the spineless idiot that I was, I started running. Away from my blunders, away from the possibility of facing any sort of consequences. My rhythm was far too slow for my liking, but I had to keep up appearances. I could still hear Bella's voice resounding in my head, like a desolate ballad, drowning out all the unwanted thoughts I was hearing, even as I was getting further and further away. Its call was more irresistible than that of a siren trained to lure sailors lost at sea. I wanted to respond—to run right back to her, to tell her my being here was anything but a coincidence—but how could I allow myself to be even more selfish than I already had been?

And even if I knew I was doing the right thing by leaving her alone, it felt deeply, powerfully wrong.

The dozen unread texts from Alice were nothing compared to the eighteen missed calls from Esme. I didn't know where to start, once I got inside my car. I somewhat knew what to expect when it came to Alice, so I swiftly ignored her messages, assuming that they were all various iterations of don't do it. Not that I blamed her.

Esme, however, was a different story. She had been a supporter of my plans, even if they hadn't exactly been the most sound. Besides, she had always respected me enough to not contact me unless I contacted her first. Just one missed call from her would have been a first, let alone eighteen in a row. Curiosity got the best of me, so I decided to call her back, to discover what the fuss was about—besides, I could use hearing her voice, if only to smooth out the waves of trepidation that had been crashing against the periphery of my mind ever since I left Bella's house behind.

"Hi! Sorry for not answering earlier, I—"

"Alice told me already. What were you thinking, Edward?"

"I don't know what happened, I just saw her there and then—"

"That is not an excuse," she cut me off. "Last time we talked, you made it clear you had no intentions of interfering. You know how much that poor girl suffered."

"Yes, but she was hurt, and her phone was in the house, I couldn't leave her alone like that in the woods."

"Agreed. But you did have your phone with you. And if you had checked it, you would have known that Bella's fiancé was going to return half an hour later because his friend wasn't feeling so well."

If I had not felt bad enough before, I certainly did now. With my lids shut, in a thinly veiled attempt to block out the outside world, I talked again. "I left as soon as I could, Esme. I didn't linger."

"Even a minute is enough to open old wounds, my boy."

"What old wounds? She's getting married! She's long past mourning what we had."

"Long enough for you to take such risks? I figured you'd be a little wiser than that. And what about that whole scenario of you helping me sell the house? I hope you know that's not going to happen. In fact, I was telling your father that I wanted to do some renovations there soon. I'd have to check if there was any damage before, but still, the main point remains: I am not selling this particular house. It's our home in more ways than one."

"I know selling it is out of the question," I sighed, daring to open my eyes again. The parking lot was bleak and grey, much like my mood. The pavement was still wet from last night's rain. "It was nothing but an excuse I made up on the spot."

"It was a lie," she corrected me.

"Whatever we call it, it was better than telling her the real reason, don't you think?"

"I think there would have been no need to complicate things like this, had you been a little more careful. Going back to a dark place is the last thing Bella needs."

"It's a little late to backtrack now."

I heard her disappointed sigh, aware that I had it coming. I had let several people down in such a tremendously short span of time: Bella, my family, and myself. Perhaps all of this could have been avoided if I remained in that little attic in Guadalajara after learning about Bella's engagement. My own conceit led my steps back to this town, making me blind to one simple fact: it was not my place to know if she was fulfilled or not in her relationship, and believing—even for a second—that it was, had been my first mistake. And yet, I fooled myself, finding excuses in the way she denied him the pleasure of sex, in their little morning dispute—as if any of that was going to lead her back into my greedy arms.

"Look," I said, feeling defeated. "I really am sorry for not being more careful. I'll leave Forks, all right?"

"And come to Juneau?" My mother's voice sounded so hopeful, it broke me to sadden her yet again.

"I don't know. Maybe not right now. I'm sorry."

"At least let me come to you. You've been on your own for so long, it can't possibly be healthy!"

"I'm good," I lied. "I'll just go check on our house for you, to see if everything is in the right order, and then I'll leave."

There was still plenty of concern hanging from Esme's every word when we bid our farewell, but there was nothing I could do. Keeping in touch with my family via phone calls was already an effort because it was almost impossible to act as if I still had a reason to live when I talked to them. And their reactions were far too overwhelming. Carlisle and Esme were, more often than not, compassionate to the point it became unbearable. Alice sometimes behaved as if she was reeling from a breakup as well, while Jasper handled me with kid gloves—acting more like a therapist than a brother—and I was willing to bet that his behaviour was fueled by the fact that he still felt guilty for that fateful night. Emmett was in a league of his own, since he always tried to cheer me up with jokes I had no inclination to laugh at. And Rosalie—well, she was Rosalie. The magnitude of my suffering was completely lost on her. She could not see past the fact that my leaving led to our family being somewhat less than picture-perfect.

I knew I could not handle seeing them face to face—not yet. It would have been too much, too unpleasant, for them and me.

After I hung up, I turned off my phone completely, needing yet another break from my family, and left the parking lot in a hurry, convinced that every new second I lingered there could open the door to finding new excuses. I could not have that. My mind was swimming with all kinds of regrets when I passed the bridge over the Calawah River. The houses flanking the road were familiar, but I couldn't concentrate on them without remembering the way Bella liked to make up stories about the people living inside them, only to fact-check how close to the truth she was with me.

Frighteningly, everything about this town reminded me of her. No corner was safe.

When the moss-coloured forest started growing thicker, to the point that no other houses were in sight, I started feeling a little more at ease. The road's curves got tighter and curvier, but driving past them was almost second nature to me. I knew them too well. Soon enough, the forest thinned enough for me to find the entrance between the cedars. Not that far behind them, the faded-white facade of the house became apparent.

With nowhere else to go, or hide, I killed the engine and got out, stepping into the massive shadow cast by the trees. The first sign that the house had been abandoned was the new lattice of ivy that had climbed to embrace its outer walls. Half of the structure seemed to have fallen victim to the green invasion. The coat of paint was not as bright as it was when I left. The window surfaces seemed clean enough, courtesy of the constant rain, but overall, the house was obviously uninhabited.

It wasn't until I stepped on the porch that I realized something was off. Too caught up in the big picture, I had not noticed the long crack that sprawled over the window closest to the door, culminating with a hole that couldn't have been wider than two inches. A quick look at the rest of the windows—all immaculate, all whole—confirmed that the hole couldn't possibly be the result of an unfortunate hail-filled rain. No, this hole had a purpose behind it.

Without a key to make my entrance facile, I found myself taking the door out of its hinges, making a mental note to pay for the damage myself. Once inside, I was greeted by the same emptiness as the day I stepped out of this house. Esme's butter-coloured rugs and Carlisle's prized bookshelves were long gone. My piano was nowhere in sight either. Just a vast, blank space—with a notable exception.

Close to the entrance, lying on the floor, I saw a rock. I was both intrigued and wary when I spotted the thread that was wrapped around it, keeping a rolled fat piece of paper close to the rock's crisp edges.

I picked it up, not knowing what to make of the intruding object, but deeply fearing what it hid. Gently, so as not to accidentally ruin it, I separated the paper from the stone and unfolded it.

My heart sank completely when I saw the three one-hundred-dollar bills hidden inside the roll, and even more so when I recognized the handwriting on the paper. Even if the small letter had been left unsigned, I would have still recognized Bella's messy handwriting. The missing tittles, the sharp edges that replaced all traces of roundness, the inconsistent sizing of the font…

God, I wasn't ready for this.

Still, my eyes were already traveling down the paper, swallowing with insatiable hunger the words before them.

"Edward,

I don't know how else to get to you. You've made it entirely impossible to ever be reached. I don't even know if you'll get to read this, but it's all I've got at this point, so it's worth a shot.

It's my birthday next week. And I'm not celebrating, even though Jake wants to take me out to dinner. I probably don't have to explain to you why I don't want to celebrate my birthday ever again, but… how do I explain it to him? He's the closest thing to a best friend I've had since you left, but even he has his limits. I try to be less selfish for him, but it's so difficult when you're always on my mind. Each second I'm alone, there's no escaping thinking of you. Whatever I do, it keeps eating at me. It's a curse. Loving you is the greatest curse imaginable. And yet I don't regret ever knowing you, ever being with you. I only regret not being enough, not being worth keeping.

To be honest, it was a tad easier when Charlie was around. At least then I had a distraction in him when the day ended and Jacob and I parted ways. But now… whenever I return home, loneliness creeps in from every corner. When I eat my breakfast, I swear sometimes I hear a creak on the floor, and I foolishly hope it's you. When I go to bed, all the shadows take your shape, and I invite them to bed with me, hoping their embrace will be as cold as yours. But they never come, and the bed is always too warm, and I end up crying until my tear ducts are drained and my mind becomes too tired to do anything else but occupy itself with the same nightmares on repeat.

The thing is… I know it's all pointless. The loneliness, the crying, the need for distractions. It's not like any of that is going to bring you back. You made it perfectly clear that you don't want me anymore in your life, so I don't know what exactly it is that I am holding on to here. There is no real reason to hope that you'll return, and yet… I still do it. But whenever I dare to hope again, reality keeps knocking me over. Because, you see… I think Jacob likes me. And I think I can learn to like him too.

He tried to make a move on me a few times, but I turned him down. Maybe because a part of me still pines for you to come back, to pick up right where we left off. It would be difficult for both of us, I know—I wouldn't know how to trust you again at first, and you would probably find it difficult to even consider the possibility of loving me. Difficult, but not impossible, right? So I guess the point of this entire letter is to give you an ultimatum, in case you see it, or in case Alice tells you about it. If all my hopes are in vain, I understand. But if not, please know that I'm willing to talk. More than that, I am willing to forgive and forget.

I would do anything to have you back—anything you ask, anything you want, anything you need.

Anything.

So I'll allow myself to hope one last time, until my birthday. And if I'm wrong, then… I don't know, I guess I truly am an idiot.

P.S.: I'm really sorry for breaking the window—hence the money.

P.P.S.: If it's long past my birthday and this letter ends up in someone else's hands, please just throw it away. It's probably useless anyway."

I kept rereading the last few paragraphs, as if the letters would somehow rearrange themselves, at their own volition, and reveal something else, something promising.

Something that wouldn't have me turning the intruding rock to dust.

Something that wouldn't mean that the contents of the letter expired long before I got to reach them.

Something that wouldn't have me kneeling on the floor, breaking apart, with no hope of ever being put back together.

We're going deeper still into Edward's journey of torment...

What are your thoughts on the interaction that Edward and Bella shared after her injury? Do you think he made the right choice when he lied to Bella, just so that he could linger in Forks a little longer than he intended? And did you expect him to find that letter?

As always, I am super-excited to discover your thoughts on this chapter! I try my best to respond to everyone.

And if you'd like to see the sneak peeks and visuals that I make for this story every week, feel free to join my Facebook group:  " Twilight fanfics: NightBloomingPeony & friends corner".

See you next Sunday with a new chapter! Until then, stay safe and happy!

Chapter Text

August was coming to an end, its flowers withering and its sweetness wasting away, when Bella first showed signs of awareness that something about my behaviour was off. And it had been admittedly my fault. Because against my better judgement… I slipped.

It was one of the few evenings we spent away from Forks, with her father's permission. If it hadn't been for Alice's persuasive talents, he might not have agreed to allow his only daughter to go all the way to Port Angeles to watch a movie with me. Bella and I were waiting in line for popcorn, and I had one arm wrapped tightly around her as she was telling me about her day.

"You'd think Charlie would give me a warning by now," she sighed, shaking her head. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't mind when Billy visits and brings his son along, I just… I wish I'd know beforehand so that I can have an excuse to leave early."

"I thought you said it wasn't so bad today."

"Well, Billy skipped the boyfriend talk this time, so that was some progress. But Jacob… I don't know, he's still looking at me with those puppy eyes of his."

"Did he make you feel uncomfortable in any way?"

"No, he didn't say anything bad, it's just… I wish he'd get over this… crush, or whatever you call it."

"I see. But perhaps it's not the worst thing to have other options too, Bella."

She appeared conflicted, but she gathered herself quickly enough. "What do you mean?"

"I mean finding a partner who isn't a constant threat to your very existence."

The silence that followed was not only pressing, but ominous too. A sign that my honesty had been too much, too soon, too inappropriate. I wished to take back what I had said, but there was hardly a proper way to do it. I felt Bella wilting away under my arm.

"I don't need other options," she said, visibly upset. "I have made up my mind already."

"You're only seventeen."

"As if being older would somehow change what I want. Or, more importantly, who I want."

"There are better, safer options, Bella. Trust me."

"Do you really believe that, or is it your way of telling me I'm just not enough for you?"

Taken aback, I didn't know what to say. As usual, she had it all backwards when it came to what I felt for her. She couldn't comprehend the magnitude of my love, how all-consuming and never-ending it was. Yet again, her insecurities were creeping back to the surface, mocking all of my past efforts to banish them for good.

"That's not what I meant, not even, close," I said in the end. "I'm sorry, but you've got it all wrong, love. You are all I want, all I need, there's no—"

"Save it, you've made your point."

I didn't get to focus my attention on the movie at all that night, mostly because Bella didn't quite recover from the blow of our argument, and having a front row to her pain—pain that I had caused—was taking up all of my attention. It made me aware, yet again, that my plans of leaving were going to cause her a great deal of trouble. Even later on, when our lips moved together before she fell asleep, there was a hesitancy covering her usual enthusiasm, a hesitancy that sent chills down my spine. I consoled myself with the idea that maybe she suspected a break-up was imminent, but it didn't help much.

Nothing helped when I knew I was about to lose her—my entire world. But I had to lose her if I wanted to save her. If I wanted to keep her safe, where the claws of my demons could never reach again, there was no alternative.

For the longest time, I believed I had come to a certain closure with all of these musings. Not the kind of closure that ended the need to mourn, but the kind that allowed me to understand that the right decision could hurt worse than being thrown into the cauldrons of Hell, and there was nothing I could do about it. But after slithering my way back into Bella's life, even for a few fleeting moments, I realized how surface-level my closure was.

Deep down, I was still an ugly tangle of regrets, pain and 'what if's.

Now, more than ever, I couldn't keep myself from wondering what would have been if I had found Bella's letter in time. Would I have caved, crawling back to her and begging for forgiveness? Knowing myself, most likely. I hated Alice for keeping me in the dark, but I also didn't. Because by not telling me about the letter, she had done me the greatest favour—she allowed me to let Bella fall in love again without interfering.

It was too late to change anything, which was oddly reassuring, because it prevented me from being too reckless. However, it wasn't enough for me.

Because the longer I stared at the letter in front of my eyes, the more I understood I still couldn't leave. The money accompanying the letter was of no use to me, and knowing the bills belonged to Bella made me feel uneasy, as if I had stolen directly from her. I had no right to own those bills, especially when she needed the money more than I ever could.

Frighteningly quickly, my mind had already decided the next step, having rationalized all the possible outcomes. The conclusion was clear.

I wasn't leaving. Not just yet.

Bella was going to get her money back, even if it was the last thing I did for her.

If there was a God above, he was probably shaking his head in disappointment over my actions on an hourly basis. But neither him nor my family could stop me from going through with my plans. I had a new mission now, and I had to accomplish it the right way.

I would hand the money back to Bella face to face, as soon as I would get the chance to do so. I had already done the unthinkable by showing myself to her in the woods, which meant that some damage control couldn't hurt. If I had one more chance—one last chance—to make amends with her, maybe the pressing feeling of having left unfinished business behind wouldn't bother me so much.

As the shadows of the evening fell over Forks, I found myself hiding between the branches of the tree in front of the Swan house once more. With the curtains of the bedroom closed, there was no chance of peeking inside, but I could still hear everything. Jacob was cooking dinner—something with a lot of tomatoes, going by the smell—with Bella instructing him what to do in the background.

"I used to take this for granted, you know, Bells? You made it look so easy."

"It is easy."

"Look, all I'm saying is I'm counting the days until your ankle gets better."

She laughed a nervous laugh, and I couldn't prevent myself from rolling my eyes at the objectively bad joke. As if Bella needed pressure when recovering. I wished to get a direct look inside the kitchen, to at least see with my own eyes that she was no longer hurting from her accident.

More than that, I ached to know what it was that she told Jacob. He didn't seem mad, and I was willing to bet he wouldn't have been in such a cheery mood had he known I stepped foot inside their home earlier today. He had never been my biggest fan, so it wasn't entirely crazy to assume my barging in wouldn't be a well-received gesture.

"It serves you right for placing that cupboard so freaking high," she retorted, once her nervous chuckle faded.

"I figured I'd always be around when you need something from it."

And there went the answer to my curiosity. For whatever reason, Bella didn't share what actually happened with Jacob. Naturally, a story in which she tripped and fell while trying to get something from a cupboard that was placed too high up sounded credible, and it had the absolute advantage of not having to reveal anything about my absurd return. I couldn't blame her for going down a lying path, but the weight of knowing I had led her towards it was crushing.

She wouldn't have had to be dishonest if it weren't for me.

"Anyway, I'll just be more careful next time," she replied. "It's not that big of a deal anyway. I mean… I can walk. Kind of."

"If you say so."

"I can," she insisted. "Just wait and see me on Monday."

"Don't be ridiculous, you're not going to work."

"I am. I have no more sick days left and I can't afford to skip one day. Especially now that the bathroom pipes are broken again. We need to have them fixed."

"Yeah, but I've got some good orders in line. You know, McCleary next week, then Port Angeles, Bellevue… Maybe Seattle too, if all goes right in Bellevue."

"I know, Jake. But it's my responsibility too. So I'm going."

He didn't contradict her further, and their conversation soon shifted. He did most of the talking, with Bella intervening every once in a while. She struck me as uncharacteristically non-talkative, and I wasn't sure if it was the result of guilt pressing down her shoulders for having lied to Jacob, or if she was simply having a bad day. I felt terribly inclined to find a way to console her, but I didn't know how to do it—not to mention that it was none of my business anyway.

Still, selfishly, I pictured myself setting up the DVD player in her living room, putting on her favourite rendition of Wuthering Heights, bringing her a steaming cup of hot chocolate, and taking her in my arms, until her worries softened and her mind was at ease again. It was a small thing, but once upon a time, it used to make her happy. These days, it probably would have freaked her out, to say the least.

As the evening stretched further, things got quieter, as Jacob chose to watch a soccer game with a bottle of wine to keep him company, and Bella headed to the bedroom, telling him she was tired and needed to sleep. He didn't believe her, but he didn't care enough to fight her either, not when her ankle was hurt. I didn't know what to make of their dynamic—particularly if she was pleased with it since Jacob didn't exactly seem to mind—but something about it gave me pause. It was almost as if they were too tired to get closer; although I knew for a fact, considering Jacob's loud thoughts, that he very much craved the physical closeness.

I didn't allow myself to get hopeful over that, reminding myself of the ever-changing nature of human relationships. What I was witnessing now was probably nothing more than a result of that. A temporary shift, that was subject to change—hopefully for the better—at any given point.

With yet another made-up conclusion to keep me in check, I kept listening. Bella's steps—their usual pace a little off-beat as she persistently ignored her injury—wandered around the hallway, until the door of the bedroom opened and she stepped inside. With the curtains closed, Bella was out of my sight, and maybe that was for the better. There was, however, one problem; now that she was so close to my hiding spot, her perilous perfume was also closer. The thick walls did a great job suppressing it somewhat, but it wasn't nearly enough to temper my thirst.

My throat throbbed with cursed desire, and I could do nothing but accept it.

One particular step made the floor creak under Bella's feet, triggering a memory I hoped I had managed to suppress. But the very fabric of my being made it impossible to forget such things. There was no erasing the hopelessness I felt when, not long after Bella's failed birthday party, I hid the proof that I was ever part of her life under the one floorboard that had always been a little wonky. It had been a childish attempt to leave a part of myself behind, safe with her, despite promising her the very opposite. I wondered if she ever stumbled upon the small treasure under her floor—and if she did, what did she do with it? Did she throw it away? Did she burn it? Or maybe she was never aware that the pictures, the expired plane tickets, and the CD had always been right there.

I heard the scraping of a chair, and then the softer sound of her body making itself comfortable in that chair. Then, a small drawer opening, papers rustling, and Bella sighing. Not quite understanding what was happening, I almost longed for Jacob to be there too so that I could watch her through his eyes at the very least. But he was busy watching the soccer game and texting his friends, not really wondering what she was doing.

So between her sighing every once in a while and the less ominous noise of paper, I felt trapped. I wanted to know more, to understand what was the reason behind her defeated breaths, but the constant awareness that I was not privy to such knowledge—not anymore, at least—was always there, lurking, keeping me in my rightful place.

It took her an entire half an hour to leave her desk and finally go to sleep. However, I still remembered the pattern of her sleeping breaths, and it was nowhere close to what I was hearing. The calm regularity was missing, and my ego wondered if I was partly to blame for her mood. After all, she had a seemingly restful sleep the night before I bulldozed my way back into her life. Lord knew that if I could sleep, all of my nightly thoughts would begin and end with her.

No, no, no.

I had to stop indulging myself like this. Thinking that she still cared about me in any capacity was going to destroy me—and it was going to be my fault alone, no one else's. Just because I was designed to be unable to move on didn't mean that she was too.

Hell, she did move on. She was getting married to a man who was soon going to wrap his arms around her.

A man who, for the time being, was still mindlessly watching the game, not even faintly aware of his fiancée's restless attempts to sleep. A shiver traveled down my spine as soon as I allowed myself to think of Bella like that; the word itself made her even more unreachable, our ill-fated history together even further away than it was moments ago.

She didn't get a lot of rest that night. But then again, neither did I.

Things got progressively worse as the night melted all around me. Once Jacob got into bed with Bella, I was instantly aware of how pleased with her warmth he was, how crazy it drove him to grab her hips and pull her ass towards him, so that he could press the excitement in his pants against her. She didn't react, which only got him to reach for more, feeling encouraged. He was getting fired up as he slid one hand over her shirt, skipping her waist and heading straight for her breasts, marveling at their softness.

I felt my insides getting colder than the core of an iceberg.

"Jake…" Bella's voice was groggy, and I surmised that she must have managed to fall asleep not long before he woke her up. "Hmmm… What are you doing?"

"I'm just getting cozy, honey."

"You've got to stop doing that," she mumbled, sounding a little incoherent.

"What?"

"You know… touching me in my sleep… it's…" A small yawn interrupted her already muddled speech. "Not cool."

"Not a damn chance. It was worth a shot though. One of these days we'll get somewhere." Jacob's thoughts were getting repetitive, and I was surprised to discover not only that my hands were tightened into fists, but my instincts were also itching to send him to sleep with a punch. Because sure, I could deal with him being intimate with her; such things were to be expected, regardless of how my heart was breaking as a result. But to witness the way he tried to force himself on her?

That was a blasphemy worth an excruciating punishment.

I didn't relax, not even when Jacob begrudgingly turned away from her and fell asleep, and especially not when, later on, she started sobbing quietly, not quite managing to succumb to the oblivion of sleep again.

I couldn't, for the life of me, understand what kind of chaos I had walked into. When I made my decision to return to Forks, I made it promising myself that it was only a way for me to see Bella's happiness with my own eyes from afar, to witness a version of her that had truly moved on after I ruined the very concept of first love for her. But so far, I had been witness to a strange mass of irritation, frustration, and bad luck, that did nothing to assure me that she was, in fact, pleased with her life. Even worse, I had failed to deliver on my promise of staying far away from her, and it took me less than twenty-four hours to do so.

And now, I was hiding in the tree by her house, with her letter tucked safely in the inner pocket of my jacket, pressing against my chest, and her money stuffed in my wallet, waiting to be returned to her. I was nothing but a sad caricature of a man, that was worth nothing. Not even pity.

The only thing that made me move was the inevitable daylight looming in—this time, the morning didn't bring another deluge of clouds. The air was pleasantly warm, announcing a sunrise that would surely not be disguised by the omen of bad weather. I would have despised it for the way it forced me to leave my branch behind and head to my car if I didn't know how happy Bella was going to be upon waking up and realizing there were almost no clouds in sight.

The morning sun was starting to paint the sky a pearlescent blue by the time I passed the bridge over the Calawah River. I wasn't incredibly enthusiastic about the prospect of heading back to the place I once called home, but I had nowhere else to go. A seemingly endless day of waiting stretched ahead of me, with nothing to fill its nothingness. I couldn't return to Bella's house while the sun was up in the sky. And maybe staying away after sunset wasn't a bad idea either. I had already stepped too close to something I was never supposed to see, all for the sake of satisfying a self-serving curiosity at the expense of Bella's intimacy.

In a way, I wasn't that much better than Jacob was when he touched her against her will. I was also an intruder—but my encroaching was different, slyer, harder to evade, which made it noticeably more perverse.

The only good thing about it was that it wasn't going to last much longer. I had to leave again.

The profound emptiness of the old house hit me again, as soon as I went past its threshold. Between last night and this morning, no one had taken advantage of the broken-down door I left behind. It wasn't like breaking and entering had ever been a problem in Forks, but I could imagine Esme's disapproving glance over knowing the damage I had caused to her beloved house.

At least I had a purpose for today, after all.

I looked around, feeling responsible for the barren walls and the desolate floor and picturing everything that was missing in this place. I could still see my parents playing chess in their corner. Jasper and Alice were also there, in the emptiness, having wordless conversations with their eyes. The sound of Rosalie playing the piano was filling the silence, while Emmett marveled at her with childlike innocence.

And in the middle of this spectacle of memories, I was utterly alone, my wounds bleeding with ghosts of what once was.

A pang of nostalgia almost got me to turn my phone back on. However, I knew all too well what awaited me if I did. I hated being at the centre of their attention, even if their intentions were anything but malicious. For a long time, my family understood my need for solitude. They even respected it to the best of their abilities. So why did it have to be different now, as if simply being in Forks made me unable to operate properly? I was a functional wreck before, things had not changed much in this regard. Their pestering wasn't going to make things better, only worse if they kept at it.

Begrudgingly, I left the house just as quickly as I had arrived. An hour and a trip to the hardware store later, I was back with a new set of door hinges, a chisel, a hammer, a drill, a box of screws, and a new lock.

The day passed slowly, flowing in solid, bulky waves, as I repaired the door and replaced the old lock with a new one. It was admittedly more interesting than what I had been doing for the better part of the last two years, but it still didn't get my mind off why I was even here. My brain was still very much filled with thoughts of Bella—was her ankle better? Were the events of last night still upsetting her? Did she smile when she woke up and saw the sun's warm light filtering through the curtains?

Unsurprisingly, submerging myself into her world again only made my inquisitiveness soar. Knowing the vague outline of her life was no longer enough, now I needed to absorb every minute detail. Much like an addict needing a little more each time he had a dose of his favourite drug, I was getting hooked, hopelessly so—and it had taken me frighteningly little to get there.

I promised myself, time and time again, that I would keep away from her, at least for tonight, if only to get a proper grip on my emotions. I needed to be somewhat in control if I wanted to face her tomorrow and give her money back without losing myself. But the self-imposed withdrawal had a much more commanding hold on me than my reason had.

Staying away, while knowing she was so close, so easy to reach, was a torture I was not sure I could endure for long. It was much easier to keep the distance when I was wasting my days thousands of miles away from her—at least then I could use those miles as an excuse meant to reinforce my good intentions and be a better version of myself.

But not in Forks. Here, I felt a dangerous pull to be the precise type of monster I had tried not to be for so long.

So when the night fell, I was back in my tree, the spineless stalker that I was.

Bella's sleep didn't sound particularly restful tonight either. She tossed and turned by Jacob's side, and I inferred that she was stuck somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. She only started to calm down two hours before dawn, but her irregular breaths made me fear that she was dealing with some kind of nightmare. I longed to wake her up from whatever it was that haunted her and sing her back to a more peaceful sleep, where the trials of the night could not reach her.

The morning came with a delicate blast of rain that made the summer air more fragrant. Bella was the first to wake up, upon hearing her alarm ring. Jacob followed soon after, and I instantly understood why—in my absence, they had reached an agreement for him to drive her to work while her ankle recovered completely.

By the time they got in her truck, I was already making my way down the street, heading back to my car through the thin layer of rain. I had no foolproof plan for what was going to come next—all I knew was that I had to get to her and give back what was hers.

I waited an appropriate amount of time before setting off—the last thing I needed was to accidentally come across the two of them together and create any kind of trouble for her. Sure, she had every right to tell Jacob about my temporary return, but it was her call to make, not mine. And since he was still unaware of what actually happened on Saturday, while he was gone, I figured that Bella had her reasons for remaining quiet.

More than an hour had passed since the opening hour of Gossamer Grove when I finally parked my car on the other side of the road. Had my body been anything other than an annoyingly inhuman prison, my hands would have been shaking right now. The anticipation was searing, almost exquisite in the way it worked to bring every feeling alive. If anything, it was a surprisingly welcome change from the bleak nothingness I was used to.

But it was also a symptom of my selfish ways. I could just leave the money on her desk when she had to take a bathroom break, then disappear. But I craved one more—really, just one more—interaction with her. I wouldn't cross any boundaries. I knew how to behave if I absolutely had to.

With a new burst of courage in my veins, I stepped out of my car, into the humid warmth of June, and jaywalked straight across the empty street, too exuberant to care about human laws. I stopped for a brief moment in front of the door, to observe her from the outside once more. Just a few feet away from the books stacked behind the front window, Bella sat at her desk, going back and forth between reading a book whose title was obscured by her dainty fingers and clicking the mouse of her computer, frowning.

She was absorbed in a world of her own, and I was completely absorbed by her. From where I was standing, her scent was as appetizing as ever, but still kept under wraps by the enclosed space—enough for me to think with something other than my ardent desire to devour the blood pulsing in her veins.

I can just leave now, I thought to myself. I still had time. It wasn't too late to backtrack.

But the hazard seemed to share my idiotic wants because immediately after, a thunder boomed from far away. I didn't even expect her to hear it, but her eyes flew up from her book without hesitancy, as soon as the sound ended, and instantly met my gaze. She gasped, jumping up from her seat, and I heard the crunchy noise of her book falling on the floor.

"Fuck," she whispered, disappearing under her desk to retrieve her book, before resurfacing with it in her hands and placing it face down on her desk.

Brilliant. Making my entrance with a jump scare.

I pushed the door aside and walked inside, already feeling like an ass.

"Hello," I said, stepping forward with care. Inside, all scents perished, but one. The lignin of the old books was nothing compared to the delicious-smelling aura of Bella. It was like the air had been imbued with her molecules, the nitrogen and oxygen successfully replaced with candied lavender. "I apologize if I startled you."

"Hi." She sounded just a little out of breath and her heart fluttered like the wings of a Colibri bird—which was to be expected, considering her peace had just been disrupted out of nowhere. "It's fine. I'm fine. Wow, I just… I didn't expect to see you here or… well, anywhere, really. Especially after you left so abruptly the other day."

It sounded like an accusation. A completely plausible accusation, to be fair.

"I'm sorry," I apologized once more. "I was in a hurry that day. How is your ankle anyway?"

"B-better, I guess. I can walk." Another step, and we were face to face at long last, only the desk separating us. The chocolate in her eyes was deep and melting, complimenting the rosiness of her cheeks in a comforting way. As always, she was beautiful. It hurt to know she could never be mine again. So lost in perusing her face, I had missed the fact that I was supposed to say something in return. Bella used my silence as a way to voice her own question. "How did you know I work here?"

I shrugged, composing a good enough excuse. "It's a small town, Bella. It's not exactly difficult to find out."

"Right. Of course."

"Am I interrupting something?"

She looked to the side, to the computer monitor, and I noticed, from an angle, that a game of Solitaire awaited on the screen. "Not really. Hardly anyone comes here, anyway."

"People have other means of distracting themselves these days."

Bella nodded and looked down, her fingers fidgeting on the back cover of her book. I saw her engagement ring yet again, and I had to look away when the sight began to hurt too much. "What are you reading?" I asked, unsure of how to further the conversation without stepping on a landmine. Asking her about books sounded like a safe bet.

She seemed puzzled for a moment, but she recovered quickly. "The Book Thief. Have you read it?"

I felt too ashamed to admit not only that I hadn't, but also that I had not been reading anything else since we broke up. Escaping to other worlds seemed pointless when I had no world worth returning to. "I haven't," I confessed, already making a mental note to break my new, bad habit of ignoring books and check this one.

"You should. It's really good."

"I'll keep that in mind," I promised, meaning it. At this point, any little thing I could get that could bless me with a glimpse of her, I was willing to get. Getting to read a book she enjoyed was more than I could wish for right now.

"Actually, I have a few copies around here," she stated, waving around with clumsy, abrupt movements that sent her perfume spiraling my way. My jaw clenched instantly. "I can get you one."

"Don't I need a library card for that?"

"Yes, but don't worry, I can use mine."

Before I could argue, she was already walking away from her desk, heading to one of the many shelves surrounding us, and I was surprised that she wasn't limping. I consciously avoided marveling at the sway of her hips, which in turn only made it easier to obsess over her delectable smell.

Perhaps I had chosen the wrong battle.

She grabbed a heavy-looking book and returned to the desk, handing it to me before sitting back on the chair. I studied the domino pieces on the cover, trying to understand their meaning. Even if she had not held the book for longer than half a minute in her hands, the warmth in her palms still lingered on the cover. Greedily, I traced my fingers all over that warmth, trying to soak up its remnants.

"You didn't have to do this, but thank you," I said, more touched by her gesture than I was letting on.

A smile started to bloom in the corners of her lips, but it perished quickly. "It's nothing. Although you do have to return it in three weeks maximum."

"That won't be a problem", I assured her. My caresses turned the cover cold after a while, ruining the heat that Bella had left behind. I missed it already. Disheartened, I placed the book on the desk, reminding myself that my visit had another purpose. I reached for my wallet. "But to be honest with you, I'm not here for books. I wanted to give you something."

"Oh." I was willing to bet she had no idea what I meant. And maybe I was right, at least at first. But as soon as she saw me taking out the ruffled three one-hundred-dollar bills from my wallet, she turned completely pale. "Wait, that's not—"

"It's yours," I rushed in, not allowing her to finish. "I wanted to give your money back."

I stretched my arm forward, handing her the bills, but she didn't react. She just stared at me with unnervingly wide eyes, not even gazing at the money. Dismayed, but not willing to back down, I placed the bills directly on the desk.

"I can't take this," she whispered.

Adamant to give her what was rightfully hers, I pushed the bills closer to where her hands were resting. "Please," I insisted. "I've got no use for it anyway."

More moments passed slowly—too slowly—until she talked again. "When did you find it?"

"A few days ago, when I arrived at the house."

"Oh." I could almost taste the panic in the air, going by the way her heart started pumping the blood quicker. "That means… you found… um, the other thing as well."

It wasn't just that I had found it. I had also been reading it obsessively since then, fully knowing its meaning was expired. But I couldn't admit to that.

"Yes, I did, but don't worry about it," I said, hoping she would believe me. "It was a long time ago, you owe me no explanations."

"I know. Of course, I know." Bella appeared to sink in her chair a little. Her previous paleness started to diminish, as colour returned to her cheeks. My less honourable yearning started to pulse at the sight of blood rushing to paint her skin. "I just wanted to say that I was in a really bad headspace when I wrote that thing. My parents had just died and… I don't know. I was grasping at straws, although I should have known better."

Upon hearing the well-disguised sorrow in her voice, I felt guilty. It was always going to haunt me—the fact that I had not reached Victoria in time, way before she got so close to Bella and her family. If I could erase one memory, it was this one. But then again, I deserved to live with the guilt. "I've heard about your loss. I'm truly sorry, Bella."

"Thank you." A shade of grief flashed across the face, but she blinked fast, chasing it away. "But that's not the point."

"Then what is?"

"Well, to put it simply, can you forget I ever wrote it?"

It would have been more feasible to promise her the moon above. If I had it my way, I would have addressed every minute detail of her letter, down to the most upsetting part.

These words were haunting to the extreme: I only regret not being enough, not being worth keeping. How was I supposed to tell her that it wasn't her that wasn't enough? It wasn't her that wasn't worth keeping? It had always been me.

I hated the fact that I had to be dishonest, but between the appalling truth and an acceptable lie, I knew what was better. "It's already forgotten."

A sigh of relief escaped her lips, right before she talked again. "Thank you. I mean I don't want things to be weird or anything, since you know…"

"Since you're getting married," I completed her sentence, nodding in the direction of her hand. Not just because she seemed to be slightly uncomfortable having to say it out loud herself, but also because I needed to reinforce that information into my brain and really get used to it. "I didn't get to say this last time, but congratulations on your engagement."

It was a new level of pain to utter these words to her. It made the crushing reality sink in deeper—even more so than when I saw her with Jacob. She looked down at her ring. "Yes. Thank you. It's… a rather recent thing."

"When is the big day?"

"We haven't set a date yet."

I nodded, having no clue what to say next. Silence fell upon us, filling me with all kinds of fears and the aching need to know what Bella was thinking—if she wanted me to disappear already, or if she could tell how this interaction was laying waste on me the longer it stretched. It was getting difficult to keep looking at her, because the more I did it, the more I was reminded of everything I had lost. The only thing that hurt worse was the certitude that it would never get any easier.

My heart would always be stuck on Bella, wired to never find any solace.

"You know, I didn't get to say much last time either," she murmured, momentarily hitting pause on my mental restlessness. "I wanted to ask how long you were going to stay in town, but then you left."

"It's something temporary," I assured her—that much I knew, at least.

"And if you had to be more specific?"

A smarter man would have had an answer to this question long before coming here. Clearly, I was anything but. However, the pressure was on, and I didn't want her to see how unprepared I was. My answer was hardly well thought out. "A few weeks or so."

Did I imagine it, or had there been a glimmer in her eyes?

"That's good," she stated. "That's… really good."

I wasn't sure if she was mocking me or truly meant it. "I suppose."

"No, it really is. Because at least there is some time to catch up."

If there had ever been a time when I questioned my hearing, it was right about now. "To catch up?"

"Yes, catch up—you know, like…like old friends do," Bella clarified.

I chuckled bitterly, imagining the unlikely scenario she had just proposed. What would I even tell her, if we were to sit down and talk about our lives? That I had been haunting people's attics for the better part of our separation? That I had become a walking ruin? That I loved her even more than when I left? I knew how she had a tendency to place the blame on herself, regardless of who was actually in the wrong, so it probably wouldn't take her long to feel responsible for my state. She wouldn't understand that it was my doing—my stubborn hunger to pursue something that could never be—that had led me in the state that I was, not hers.

Not to mention the sure-fire gossip that would ensue if someone saw us together for an extended period of time.

Besides, thinking about us as old friends was certainly not something I had ever done. Because to me, there was no erasing the loving bonds that had once tied me to her. We had always been friends, yes. But we had also been infinitely more than that. In the absence of her love, I wasn't quite sure what we were to each other.

"I don't know about that," I replied, still a little amused by her idea.

"You're too busy or what?"

"No, it's not that. But I don't want to put you into a questionable position."

"What? That's ridiculous, you wouldn't."

"Not intentionally, but… people talk." I didn't add more, hoping that she could understand what I wasn't saying out loud. She had to know that in a town like Forks, it didn't take an awful lot for rumours to spread.

"Of course, but that's because they don't know any better. Besides, it's not like I have people spying on me in my own home."

I tried to hide the shock on my face. More than likely, I failed. "Your home," I repeated, completely perplexed by the possibility.

"Yes. You can come by again."

Her proposition had no right to be this tempting. I didn't have enough weapons to fight against the desire it stirred in me, but I tried anyway. "I'm not sure your fiancé would appreciate this." I pushed further, even though I knew the answer to the question already. "Does he even know I'm in town?"

"I didn't get to tell him yet." She made it sound trivial almost. As if the way she had been lying to him for the past few days was nothing. Was it nothing to her, or had she simply got better at playing pretend while I was away? I inhaled deeply, feeling at a loss, and the impossible strength of her scent reached me again, luring me to lose myself. To lean across the table, pull the long curtain of hair away from Bella's neck and take one single, perfect bite.

That fantasy was too much to bear for my severely beaten senses. It was starting to ruin my already weak defenses, almost getting me to consider her invitation. I had shattered several barriers of common sense by now, one more couldn't make that much of a difference, even more so now, when she was openly inviting me in.

"Maybe he should know," I found myself saying out loud. "If I were to come over, that is."

"Yes, although… he'll be gone this Wednesday. He's a traveling mechanic, and he's got a client in McCleary he's got to tend to."

"Even more reason for him to know about potential visitors."

"Not necessarily. Catching up with old friends is not a sin."

God help me. I was digging my own grave and she was happily giving me more shovels so that I could dig deeper, better, faster. I longed for my reason to come up with something convincing, something that would force me to say no. But having Bella so close, while being wrapped in the irresistible blanket of her scent, was far more convincing.

"Is that what we are?" I found myself asking out loud.

"Certainly."

She seemed so sure of herself, so confident. More proof that she was over our dead liaison. I envied her human capacity to move on. Selfishly, I wished I had it too. Masochistically, I was glad I didn't.

My voice was low when I talked again, even though no one else but her was around to hear my damning inquiry. "Are you sure you want me to come over?"

"I am. So… Wednesday, sometime after eight?"

I could have melted under the torrid intensity of her irises. "After eight it is," I agreed, delightfully inveigled. "I'll be there."

A hint of a smile played on her lips yet again, and this time it lingered. I returned it, a little incredulous at my sudden good fortune. After the heartbreak I had caused her, I expected many things upon my return, and none of them involved the cordiality and lack of anger she was showing me. She had never been particularly vengeful, so I should not have been surprised by the influx of friendliness.

"I'll be waiting for you," she offered back, and the sound of her accelerating heartbeat did not escape me. I wondered if the prospect of being alone with me scared her, considering it had been a while since she last had to worry about supernatural menaces of any kind—hence the crazy throbbing in her chest.

I prayed it didn't.

Later on, while I was walking out of the library with the book she gave me in my hands, I could swear I had a pulse too.

So much for staying away :)...

What were your thoughts on the interaction between Edward and Bella, now that he gathered the courage to have an actual conversation with her? Did you expect her to invite him over?

I am SO excited to read your thoughts on this chapter!

Until next Sunday, stay safe and happy!

Chapter Text

Hello, dears!

I would like to thank everyone who decided to give this story a chance—your comments really mean a lot and they make the journey even more amazing.

And I am also highly grateful to CoppertopJ for always helping me with her magic beta skills.

Now let's see how that Wednesday meet-up between Edward and Bella goes, shall we?

Impatience had never really been a real problem for me—it wasn't a smart trait to have when your time was virtually unlimited. I was good at feeling the unbearable passing of time without going insane over its inevitability. Better yet, I had perfected my patience in new ways since breaking up with Bella; I had no choice but to do that, seeing that my existence had become a useless blob without her.

How easily it all went out the window.

I spent the rest of my Monday replacing the broken window of my old home with a new one and reading The Book Thief twice. This book opened the gates to another type of connection with Bella—one I had been convinced I lost long ago. There was a time when discussing what clicked for us and what didn't upon reading a certain book was normal. Expected. It was yet another way for me to pick her fascinating brain, only to discover I had more to learn, more to discover—about who she was, but about who I was too. Her unpredictable takes kept me on my toes.

As I kept reading, I felt distressingly attached to Death, the narrator, and his simple, yet harrowing conclusion: I am haunted by humans. Much like him, I felt haunted too—however, my affliction was caused by one human and one human only. Even more than before, I could see what I had lost with perfect clarity, and I didn't know how to accept the reality of not having the right to get any of it back. Facing ghosts was much easier when you kept your distance from them, but I wasn't ready to return to that.

Each new minute fed my delusion that I was doing something right by overstaying my welcome in Forks, making it feel more justified, more reasonable. After all, I had no intention of letting Bella know that my fire had never burned out. I wasn't going to cross any lines, or—God forbid—flirt with her, just to take the edge off my self-serving desire. I could be good if I set my mind to it. And I was going to exhibit absolutely impeccable behaviour, as long as it earned me the right to enjoy Bella a little longer.

Passingly, it dawned on me that my stalking could hardly qualify as impeccable. Little did it matter that I wasn't doing it for perverse reasons. It was still a depraved act. Unhealthy. Warped. Immoral, just like myself.

The evening was starting to paint the empty walls with deep shades of blue when the tingling need to head to the Swan house for the fourth time in a row started to rear its head. I fought against it, seeking to rise above its dark, tempting depths. Seeking a distraction from it—any distraction, really—I switched my phone back on, fully aware that I was about to wake up a different kind of beast. The wave of missed calls and unread messages had not even begun to load when I saw Alice's name on the screen.

Inhaling deeply, I answered.

"You're all over the place," she accused, giving me no chance to properly greet her.

"I've had better days."

"In another lifetime maybe. You're impossible to reach, and it's more annoying than usual, to be honest. You're lucky I have a signal here, in the heart of the mountains. And that I haven't started hunting yet."

"Alice, I'm dealing with a lot. But I've no doubt you know all about it."

I couldn't see her, but I was pretty sure she had rolled her eyes. "That is the problem. I've been losing my mind with all this topsy-turvy you're doing. One minute you're set on leaving, the next you've found an excuse to stay. I can't keep up."

"I didn't ask you to keep up."

"No, but Esme and Carlisle have. For the record, they're pretty much convinced you're trying to get Bella back, after that whole thing at the library."

"I'm not," I retorted, insulted by such an assumption. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"That's reassuring, because your technique there was… highly questionable."

"There was no technique. I'm not trying anything with her. She made a promise to a man, I'm not getting in the way of that. My morals might be skewed, but I don't want to be a homewrecker. Especially if it's Bella's home we're talking about."

"I know," she replied. "I mean I'm highly aware of the possible outcomes, and every decision you might make seems to lead to friendship and nothing more. You appear to be highly chivalrous in my latest visions."

"I aim to be chivalrous. The last thing I want to do is to give her the impression that I'm flirting."

"So it seems."

"Can you make sure Carlisle and Esme understand this? I really don't want them to think I have any nefarious intentions here. Or worse, worry about me."

She laughed, but I could guess she was far from amused. "I think we're past that point. Besides, you can tell them yourself. They've both been trying to call you."

"I will. But not right now. I'm… I'm not sure I can handle either of them, after my last phone call with Esme. I know I upset her."

"And you also know she can never really stay upset for long when it comes to you. You are her favourite."

I huffed but didn't bother to argue, mostly because she was right, even though our mother would have never admitted to it out loud. "I'm just not ready. I need some tranquility for a while."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you have to stop coddling me with texts and phone calls. There is a reason I turned off my phone. It's exhausting having to explain myself in front of you."

"It's because we care", she snickered. "We care about you, and we care about Bella too."

"I believe Rosalie would beg to differ."

"Some of us care, all right? And we don't want to see you hurt yourself or Bella more than you already have."

"I won't." This wasn't just a promise I was making to Alice. It was also a promise I was making to myself. Because if I was going to be a passing guest in Bella's life once again, I was going to do it right. No self-seeking actions this time. No waiting around past my due date, waiting for an excuse. "She deserves better."

"And you deserve some mental rest. Although I doubt you'll be getting it anytime soon, at this rate. I'm… sixty-seven percent sure you'll be going to her house tonight as well. You'll fight against it some more, but… it won't be enough."

I felt called out. "That's encouraging."

"It's not like I'm pushing you to do anything. You can always try to prove me wrong, you know?"

"I might. Anyway, I'll manage just fine."

"I hope. I'll certainly be on the lookout."

I smiled to myself. "No doubt you will."

"Take care of yourself, Edward. Please."

"You too. And… everyone else."

When the phone call reached its end, silence descended once again, unnerving in its potence. With the house so still, it was strange to imagine that there had ever been a time when it was brimming with footsteps, whispers, music, and laughter. I wasn't sure what the empty feeling in my stomach meant. Was it nostalgia? Or was it just the acknowledgement of my own loneliness?

As much as leaving Forks affected everyone in my family, at the end of the day each of them still had something to hold on to. Their mate, their raison d'être. But ultimately, what did I have? Apart from the certitude that the one woman I loved was going to walk down the aisle and say yes to another man, nothing. I was an empty shell. No prospects of real, meaningful happiness, just fragments from a more joyful past.

In these moments it was more difficult than ever to keep myself from imagining what would have happened years ago if I allowed the venom in Bella's body to just spread. To burn her life out, replacing it with stone-cold immortality. Just like she wished. I could picture her: garnet eyes, snow-like skin, indestructible tissues. Maybe then we wouldn't be old friends. Maybe then nothing would get in the way of her being mine and me being hers in all the different ways that I wanted.

Maybe then I could love her the right way, no devilish hunger hampering what I felt for her.

Alas, she was the same fragile human I had left behind—more mature, I was willing to bet, but still as breakable and prone to accidents. To illness. To bad luck. To the ruthless harpy that was her fate.

I had to remind myself why it was better this way. As temporary as her existence was, at least it was pure. She would never have to face the cursed bloodthirst that I knew all too well. She wouldn't have to drain the life out of breathing things in order to sustain herself. And she still had a shot at whatever kind of heaven awaited for those who had their souls. Ultimately, a shot at a peaceful afterlife had to account for something—definitely something greater than the crushing eternity ahead of me.

Nevertheless, the impulsive need to be close to her tickled the periphery of my senses again. I knew I shouldn't—I was still sane enough to distinguish between right and wrong. But sanity didn't equal strength. I needed that glimpse of her, even though I just saw her in the morning. I needed to hear her pulse and know that she was fine. At peace, despite the unexpected encounter of the morning. Right now, Wednesday was too far away, even though it was more than I could have ever wished for.

If it wasn't obvious before, I was in way over my head.

Alice's vision won in the end. Bella was sound asleep in Jacob's arms when I climbed up to the familiar spot in her tree, risking a glance through the window. My guilt was muted at once when I heard their breaths weaving together in a calm pattern, replaced by something else. I didn't want to believe it was jealousy, I had to be better than that. Yet it felt an awful lot like it. The feeling was hot and blistering, rendering the misplaced hope of the morning to nothing.

Of course she would be sound asleep in his arms. Where else would she be?

Of course our interaction didn't stir some long-forgotten feelings inside her that would disturb her rest. Why would it?

Of course my entitlement got the better of me again. Had I really learned nothing?

I forced myself to keep my eyes away from the window for the rest of the night, making sure to only pay attention to the fragile dance of the leaves above my head and Bella's pulse. The sound pranced up and down, its sweet, alluring wavelengths reminding me that I had nothing to worry about, as long as she was alive and breathing. At the end of the day, it was all that mattered.

Not my longing, nor my thirst.

And especially not my love. Never again that.

Living alone, unsupervised, and brokenhearted in attics for almost two years meant that the charade of human habits was no longer a requirement. I changed my clothes rarely and purely out of necessity, with the sole purpose of seeming a little less disheveled whenever I had to face the world upon moving from one place to another. Otherwise, I didn't mind the cuts, the tears, the wrinkles, and the occasional blood stains on them. They meant nothing to me, other than the fact that more time had passed and less meaning had seeped into my existence.

Humans had a good way of phrasing it—letting yourself go. Perhaps I had done exactly that, in the absence of any semblance of motivation to live instead of simply subsisting. And I had never given it a second thought, until recently.

I changed my clothes when returning to Forks for the same reason I changed them when I had to find a new loft to inhabit: to keep up appearances. However, the knowledge that I would spend an evening catching up with Bella made me feel self-conscious to the extreme. It wasn't like I wanted to impress her, but I didn't want to appear like a slob either. All of a sudden, the wrinkles in my shirt felt too obvious, too irksome, too much—which is why on Wednesday, I found myself in the unpopulated thrift shop located at the periphery of Forks, begrudgingly picking up several clothing items that appeared to be my size. I also took advantage of the small collection of old domestic irons in the shop, settling on a battery-powered one, mindful of the fact that the old family house had long been disconnected from electricity.

Electricity was not the only thing lacking, of course. There was also the fact that the shower was no longer functional. Objectively speaking, I knew I didn't need cleaning. I had not hunted, and my body was blissfully immune to the burden of sweat and bacteria. Still, I wanted to be presentable in every way humanly possible, so I picked the easiest option available and bathed myself in the river behind the house.

The colours of the day were starting to shift and fade when I put on my new clothes: a black button-up shirt and regular jeans. If my reflection in the window was anything to go by, my still-damp hair had seen better days, but I didn't know what to do about it other than running a hand through it and praying for the best once it would be fully dry.

Once I was done with the trivialities, I realized I had underestimated their positive effect on me. Because as soon as I no longer had a distraction in sight, unwelcome jitters started to travel all throughout my body, irritating every nerve and dousing every bone. I wasn't ready to face Bella, not at all. I had nothing interesting to tell her, no story worth sharing. Her life had been far more eventful than mine had been, but I could only be so intrusive before she started asking questions too.

And worse than the somewhat reasonable fear that I wouldn't know what to tell her, I feared my instinctual urges. They were always there, in the back of my thoughts, waiting for the tiniest, most insignificant signal to go into overdrive. I knew I didn't need a lot for my thirst to be awakened from its slumber and start raging—just being near Bella was more than enough. And I needed even less for my lust to come into play—simply imagining the things she and I never got to do was triggering to the extreme, which was why I didn't let my imagination wander too far. At least not usually. But if we were to be face to face again and she would go as far as to bite her lips in a transient, pensive moment…

The mental image alone got me hard. Tonight would be hell, no doubt about it.

Since it was too early to show up, I decided to drive around for a while, hoping that my excitement would relent, even just a little bit. The town was calm—too calm—as I perused its streets from the comfort of my car. No sign of turmoil other than the usual trivial worries that humans had. Passing thoughts came and went in waves.

"Whoever the fuck invented homework was a sadistic fucker."

"Definitely not enough money to go to Niagara this summer."

"The meat is too dry, maybe I'll tell her."

I listened to the choir of mental voices, content with their immaterial contents, mildly aware that their comfort was not going to last forever. Because soon enough, it was already eight, and I was looking for a parking spot far enough away from the Swan house to not be too conspicuous if someone curious enough were to walk by.

The last remnants of the day were still hanging in the air, their pale light dancing in the purple darkness that was slowly falling over the town, when I finally knocked on Bella's door. I listened to the sound of her steps—almost imperceptibly off-pace, thanks to her injury—hurrying down the hallway, racing to overtake her fast-beating heart. I inhaled the night air one last time, preparing myself for what was to come.

Promising myself to resist at all costs.

The door creaked open and the world stopped spinning for a few moments. The doorway might as well have been the gate to heaven, and Bella the welcoming seraph. She was wearing a blue shirt that clung to her shape tightly, revealing the most gorgeous contrasts my eyes had ever seen—between the way her alabaster skin made the cerulean fabric stand out and the dichotomy of her curves blending seamlessly into her small figure, I couldn't decide what I loved more. It didn't help that her hair had been tied up in a ponytail, allowing the lattice of veins pulsing underneath the skin on her throat to call to me.

"Hi," I said, letting go of some of the air reserve in my lungs.

"You actually came!"

She sounded surprised. I immediately feared that she had changed her mind about the invitation.

"You expected me not to?" More air left my lungs, bringing me a tad closer to my thirst.

"I'm not sure… m-maybe?"

My heart sank. "I can leave. If you no longer want to—"

"No! No, please don't. I just thought that it's not out of the realm of possibilities for you to leave town. And I had no way to reach you, so it's not like I could check." I felt inclined to tell her that I had an emergency phone, but I stopped myself right in the tracks. No need to feed my flame. "Anyway, get in."

"Thank you." And with that, the last breath of clean air escaped, leaving me raw and exposed. I stepped inside and Bella closed the door behind me, sealing my fate. I was welcomed by the same pale yellow I knew too well, but one thing got my attention. On the wall by the hanger, a photograph hung lonely and heavy with meaning. The picture sheltered an awkward-smiling Bella, wrapped tightly in Jacob's arms. They seemed happy. Complete.

I had to look away, not wanting to stare for too long.

"I'm sorry, it's a little messy around here. I usually clean the house during the weekends, but I had to postpone it this time, with my ankle being a little funky and all that."

That was it—I had to breathe again if I wanted to get another word out. Fearing the consequences, I inhaled.

I barely managed to keep my train of thought steady when Bella's scent hit my senses. Why in the world did she have to smell so damn edible? Not even Jacob's lingering scent could help me overcome my hunger. The air in the house was all her.

"Don't worry." My words struggled to get past the pool of venom on my tongue and out. "Your ankle needs all the rest it can get. How does it feel today?"

"Almost normal. Not enough to drive myself to work, but thankfully I've got Seth to help me with that when Jacob's away."

"Who is Seth?" I found myself asking out loud, strangely thankful to this stranger who was willing to help Bella in her time of need.

"Just about the nicest kid you can imagine. He's one of Jacob's friends from the reservation. And, well, my friend too."

She started to move, and I followed her down the hallway, feeling out of place, like I was trespassing. It felt so strange to be alone with her in this place, where some of my best memories resided. Long ago, if we would have had the chance to have the house to ourselves, Bella's appetite for lust would have taken the wheel right about now. She would have lured me in with loving kisses, basking in my defeat, and I would have needed all the strength in the world to put an end to our mutual passion before I lost my head.

My mind was still swimming with fantasies of the past when we arrived in the kitchen. I pushed my roaming thoughts away, studying my surroundings. With the exception of new dishes having been placed on the drying rack by the sink, the room looked exactly the same as five days ago, when I was frantically looking for an elastic wrap for Bella's ankle.

"I know the kitchen is not necessarily the ideal place for guests, but the living room really is a mess right now," she said. "Sorry about that."

"Bella, stop apologizing. You didn't invite me here to inspect your house now, did you?"

Her eyes widened, but she must have noticed I was smiling, because immediately after, the shock dissipated, a small laugh left her lips, and with it a rush of blood imbued her cheeks with colour. "You're right. I'll stop." She sat down on one of the four chairs surrounding the table and motioned me to do the same. "Make yourself comfortable."

I picked the chair facing her, deliberately making my movements slower than normal, not wanting to startle her—because surely, my nature was no secret to her, but I figured that certain things had stopped feeling familiar a while ago.

We studied each other in silence for several unending moments, the depth of her eyes so inquiring it was difficult to look anywhere else. Lost in that depth, I tried swimming to the surface, in a bid to find something—anything—to say. Something was separating us, and one of us had to break the proverbial ice.

"So," I began, a little unsure if this was the best way to get the conversation going, "how was your day?"

She huffed incredulously and I feared that I might have offended her without even meaning to. "You're really asking me about my day?"

"I upset you," I inferred, feeling like an imbecile. My muscles started to tense with anxiety

"No, you didn't. It's simply weird—having you in that chair and asking me the most trivial question."

She didn't sound upset, at least. My body started to relax—the parts of it that were able to relax anyway, since my throat had been busy burning with need from the moment I entered the house.

"Why is it weird?"

"Because… your presence still feels pretty unreal. Like I made you up."

"I am real," I assured her, my eyes never leaving hers.

"You look real too, but that doesn't make my brain hurt any less." She squinted at me as if she was still deciding if reality was tricking her or not. I felt like she wanted to add something more, so I didn't intervene. I was proven right when she opened her mouth to talk again—however, I was anything but prepared for her next words. "You know what? I think I'll pour myself a glass of wine. That ought to help."

I blinked—not because I needed to, but because it was almost like a reflex whenever I felt confused. "I'm… not sure that's a good idea."

Bella rolled her eyes at me, and the familiarity of that motion hurt. "Wrong. It's a great idea."

"You're nineteen," I argued, but it seemed futile—she had already left her chair. She made her way to the fridge, surprisingly confident in her steps.

"And? You're going to tell on me or what?"

"Don't be ridiculous, that wasn't my point."

She opened the fridge and pulled a sturdy-looking bottle out. It appeared to be already open, as the garnet liquid inside only occupied half of the space. She held the bottle with both hands as she placed it on the counter. I watched helplessly as she grabbed a glass and filled it to the brim, wondering if this was a usual occurrence for her.

It can't be, I thought to myself. I would have known by now, as people who regularly consumed alcohol had an easily recognizable smell—there was a shade of transparent sourness in their blood, that was nowhere to be felt when I breathed her perfume in. Besides, Bella had never been particularly interested in spirits, not even to taste them and see what the fuss was about. I suspected that this was just some strange bravado and nothing more.

Once she was done, Bella returned to her chair and took a long sip from the glass she held. The swift grimace that followed instantly confirmed my fast-growing suspicion.

"You've never done this before, have you?" I asked.

She blushed, but didn't put the glass down. "Not really. That bottle is Jacob's."

"Isn't he twenty?"

"Yes, but some of his friends are older." She took another sip, controlling her facial expression much better this time around—but I still caught the slight spasm in her throat, once the wine entered her esophagus. She wasn't enjoying this as much as she had probably imagined she would. "God, I figured this thing wouldn't be so… I don't know, sour?"

"Feel free to stop then," I suggested.

"Absolutely not. Now where were we?"

I sighed, not at all staggered by her stubborn will. "I was waiting for you to tell me about your day."

"Right." She giggled, although I couldn't understand what she found so funny about my query. "Well, it was the same as every other day. I went to work, not that many people stopped by the library. I got home and had dinner. The end."

Admittedly, it was far more interesting than what I had been doing.

"That's not too bad," I replied. "Having stability should feel somewhat reassuring."

"Maybe. It gives me plenty of time to read, at least."

There it was—something to hang on to. "Any recent favourites?"

"Apart from The Book Thief? Hmmm, I enjoyed Never Let Me Go. We received another batch last week. Although it's rather sad, I might have shed a tear or two when reading it."

I smiled, relieved to realize that she was just as sensitive as I remembered her to be. "Well, The Book Thief was brilliant, for what it's worth, so it is safe to say I still trust your taste in literature."

"Hmmm, you were fast," she observed.

"Such is life for creatures like me."

I shrugged and a new smile blossomed on her face. "Show off. Now tell me what you liked about it the most."

"The narrator," I answered without thinking twice. I had been having plenty of time to digest the book's contents, after having read it twice. "You'd think that if Death existed as this tangible creature, with a real conscience, he would be all arrogant since he'd hold all that knowledge. He knows, without fail, how everyone is going to die, and being all-knowing could get old fast. It would be all too easy for him to fall into the trap of conceit. Instead, he's just… sad. He's given up. He's not even haunting humans, like grim fairy tales would make you believe; the humans haunt him. And the worst part is he can never escape it."

Bella looked down at her glass, and a concerned dimple started to form between her eyebrows as she was preparing her next words. "I liked him too. I kind of envy the way he knows how everything is going to end." She drank again, before raising her eyes to meet mine and continuing. "Actually, he reminds me of you. I mean… you're also all-knowing, at least with your gift, right?"

"With one exception," I reminded her.

"With one exception," she confirmed, a hint of pride hiding in her voice. "Regardless, I think you're a little worn down by humans too. Or at least that's how I remember you to be."

"Your memory serves you right," I admitted. "But I've made it my mission to keep my distance from humans, for the most part, so it's not so bad."

"Then you must be terrible at that mission, seeing that you are face to face with a human as we speak," she teased.

"Again, one exception."

She laughed, and I loved the sound more than I could ever tell her. Still, something else was eating at me. "So, you envy Death," I reminded her, not willing to let go of that little breadcrumb she had thrown my way.

"Sometimes," she confirmed. "The utter lack of knowledge about what is going to happen next feels daunting."

"It also makes life interesting, in a way."

"Not really." Bella shrugged, her eyes darting to the glass in front of her again. "I'd rather know if tomorrow is going to suck or not."

"How would that help? When you consider kismet and all that, it's not like you could change much about it."

"True. But I'd have time to mentally prepare, obviously."

"Have your days been so bad you need special warnings for them?"

"Some of them."

She didn't sound sad, nor concerned—more like it was a usual, even expected eventuality for her. I was instantly reminded how, just a few nights ago, she cried herself to sleep as a response to Jacob's crude, non-consensual touches. That surely had to account for why some of her days were bad, but I could never dare to tread that intimate territory with her.

But that didn't mean I couldn't try to find ways around it.

"I'm sorry," I said after a while. "At least you don't have to face them alone, I suppose."

She grabbed her glass and sipped again, wincing as the liquid slithered down her throat. The alcohol did nothing to mask her appealing scent. "Yeah. Jacob's wonderful. It's good to have him around. He's been… really helpful."

I nodded, still not managing to push away the thought of him touching Bella in her sleep. Maybe it had been nothing more than a slip-up. I wanted to believe that, but the memory of Bella sobbing after he fell asleep kept my doubts alive. My new mission was to not let them come too close to the surface.

"I bet he is," I returned. "So, he's in McCleary now?"

"Yes. He travels around, repairing bikes and cars, that's his schtick. He's really good at it too, he's built quite a reputation." She paused abruptly, chuckling softly to herself.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, just… thinking how his mechanic skills are what brought us close in the first place."

Not necessarily new information to me, since I knew the grand outline from Alice already. "Oh, I see."

"We used to fix motorcycles together," she explained. "Well, he fixed them. I watched. And then we rode them for hours."

I forced a smile, for her sake, not showing her how much it hurt to know the underside of their love story. "That sounds nice. Although I never took you for the adrenaline-loving type." Well, if I didn't count her past penchant for seducing a vampire who wanted her in every possible way, that is.

"Me either, until I found two dilapidated motorcycles in a neighbour's yard. He was selling them for nothing and I… I don't know, I needed a change of pace, I guess."

"No better way to change the pace than to jump on a death machine and ride it into the sunset."

My waggish remark caught her unprepared, as she started laughing so hard that the glass she had grabbed started shaking in her hand, spilling some of its contents on the table. "You're as melodramatic as ever," she uttered, not one bit concerned about the now-wet table. "Not that I'm surprised."

"I'm only stating facts."

"It's not really rocket science to ride a motorcycle and not die. I should know. Besides, Jacob was a pretty good teacher."

"Clearly, since you're still in one piece."

"There you go again with the melodrama," she accused, her gorgeous eyes squinting at me while she drank some more, leaving progressively less wine behind.

I instantly felt awful, realizing I had overstepped without even meaning to. I had precisely zero rights to worry about the safety of her decisions. "I'm sorry, I'll stop. I promise."

"Ha! Now I'd love to see you try." Her tone was playful, sending scary, warm, pleasant feelings in my bones. A part of me wanted to run away—as fast as my feet could take me and as far as geography allowed me. I wanted to once again be in a place where her temptation was only a lively memory, not something I had to actively fight against. "But no, seriously, it's fine," she assured me. "I wear a helmet and everything."

That I knew, thanks to the first time I watched her from my car. "Then there's that at least," I sighed, forcing myself to look away and trying to come up with something to change the subject. At that precise moment, a loud noise broke through the freshly-fallen veil of silence, getting both of us to stare at its source. At the opposite end of the table, her phone was ringing, a single name illuminating the screen: Jake.

In her rush to get out of her chair and grab her phone, she managed to spill more wine, this time the liquid landing on her shirt and painting it crimson. She cursed under her breath right before responding, greeting Jacob with a strange, strangled voice. I tried my best to tune out their conversation, but it was awfully difficult. It wasn't just that she was so close I had no choice but to overhear. I was curious too.

"All good, baby?" he inquired. "You sound startled."

"Yes! I mean no, I'm not startled at all. I'm fine."

"What were you doing?"

"Just… you know, some last-minute chores around the kitchen."

She started walking back and forth, not once glancing my way, only downwards, to the floor. Even though her face was turned away from me, I could hear the sound of her blood rushing more violently into her veins, the noise of her heart beating too fast for comfort. And God, the smell of it all—the pooling blood, the lavender, the brazen lie… it made my mouth water with greed.

"Good for you, Bells. I was settling in here and I gotta say, it's far from being the worst motel I've ever been to. The water pressure in the shower is actually decent!"

She laughed, a tad less distressed on the surface—on the inside, her body told another story, going from how loud her circulatory system was getting. "Happy to hear that. I know how upset you were the last time."

"Don't remind me! To think I almost brought you there… I'm telling you, you wouldn't have survived."

"I still think I could've handled it better than you did."

Their conversation drifted into unknown territory for me—and without Jacob's mind close by to give me a clue, I was completely estranged from their inner jokes. I heard the sounds of their shared amusement every now and then, and the more this went on, the more I felt like a charlatan. What kind of monster did I have to be to sit at this table, falling impossibly more in love with Bella, when her fiancé was nowhere in sight?

I didn't doubt that her intentions for inviting me over were, at their core, pure—I imagined she couldn't possibly entertain the idea of wanting me now, when she was in the middle of settling into a long-term commitment with Jacob; and for one reason or another, she was graceful enough to still consider me somewhat of a friend, even after ruining her first foray into the world of relationships. However, I felt as if her pure intentions were causing her to miss the obviously rotten elements of our meeting: from my intolerable thirst to the hurtful desire boiling my every cell to perdition.

But how could she ever see them? I was playing my role to perfection.

By the time the phone conversation ended, I had made my decision. Bella sat back at the table, tension still plaguing her body, going by her suddenly upright posture.

"Sorry about that," she murmured. "Where were we?"

I shook my head, feeling hopeless. "It doesn't matter."

"What? Are you mad at me?"

I couldn't fathom the mere existence of a parallel reality in which I would be mad at her. Her presumption hurt in an unexpected way—but then again, it had been so long since we spent any amount of significant time together, I shouldn't have expected her to read me like an open book. "Far from that. I couldn't possibly be mad at you."

"You look upset."

"I was just thinking, Bella."

"About what?" she persisted.

"About… how it's probably best for me to go."

Her eyebrows jumped up, and her eyes widened in pure shock. "No! Why? Did I say something or—"

"No, of course not. I enjoy talking to you. I always have." Admitting that out loud made me feel weightless, even if the feeling lasted less than a nanosecond. In its wake, reason came back, reinforcing its gravity.

"Then tell me what's wrong, please," she pleaded with me, and I didn't have the strength—nor the will—to leave her hanging.

"I don't want you to be forced to lie to cover my tracks," I confessed. "It's not fair to you. Or to Jacob, for that matter."

"Oh. Oh, I see." Her blushing returned in full measure, getting me hungry in more ways than one. I looked away, to the tree branches taking a peek at us through the window, my wrist involuntarily pressing down my erection under the table—as if that was enough to get it to go the hell away. "I know how that might have come across, but… I promise you, it's not what it seems. The thing is, Jacob's just getting back to being himself after a rather stressful time in his life, and I didn't want to burden him with… well, with something that's definitely a lot to explain right now. I wanted to have a talk with a friend, I guess. I haven't really got a chance to do it properly lately with anyone else but Jake, to be fair."

I listened to her, having a million questions, but only having the courage to ask one. "Why is that?"

"Because he needs me. And I want to be there for him, even if that means missing out on certain stuff. Like, I don't know, saying no to Angela when she invites me for an evening out, for instance."

"I didn't know she was still in town."

"She's not, but she comes back every so often. She went to college in Seattle." There was a hint of longing in her voice, if I had to guess, almost like she wished she had followed in Angela's footsteps too. But it was equally possible that I had only imagined it—at the end of the day, I really didn't know her as much as I used to. Maybe she had given up the thought of college altogether, for all I knew. "Anyway, I don't even know when she and I last talked. My main point was that I thought tonight I'd be able to… I don't know, to talk to a friend and not think about anything else for a change."

She took a deep breath when she finished and started to rub nervously at the stain on her shirt, looking anywhere else but directly at me. I couldn't escape the fear that my arrogant presumptions had hurt her feelings. I wanted to go back in time, just minutes ago, so that I could simply continue the conversation right where we left off, instead of telling her I needed to go.

I really, really had to find a way to pick up the pieces.

"I'm sorry," I offered, meaning it fully. "I should have thought twice before saying anything."

"No, it's fine, you couldn't have known. And it's not like you owe me any conversations, so… really, it's fine."

I watched as she nervously went back to drinking her wine, getting closer to emptying the glass. I strangled to silence the part of me that wanted to ask her to take a break, not wanting to risk offending her again.

"Do I get the chance for a redo?" I asked. Bella nodded, putting her glass down and finally daring to meet my gaze again. I got lost in her eyes for a few seconds, but I pulled myself back together. "In my defense, I forgot what it's like to be utterly unable to read someone's mind, so things are more difficult than usual for me. But my ineptitude aside, I do want to talk to you too, Bella. That's why I'm here. So if I'm still welcome and you haven't changed your mind—which, trust me, I would completely understand if you have—I can stay a little longer tonight."

My words seemed to ease the previous tension, but its leftovers still hung in the air, heavy with implications. I could almost taste them, in all their bittersweet glory.

"Yes, Edward," she replied, uttering my name for the first time in a long, interminable while. "Please stay."

Inevitably, I wondered if she noticed my sudden relief when she said that single word. Stay. And it wasn't just relief that made my bones mellow—it was a sense of joy so pure, so primal, that I almost didn't recognize the feeling.

One thing was certain.

I had been brought to my knees.

Don't hate me, but their meet-up is still not done!

As you can see, Edward and Bella are treading the waters of rekindling their friendship—do you think anything good will come of it? How long do you think Bella will be able to hide Edward's return from Jacob?

I'm so excited to read your thoughts on this chapter! Your reviews are like a gift that keeps on giving, so for that I am grateful.

Until next Sunday, stay safe and happy!

Chapter Text

Hello!

As always, I am really grateful to all of you who are following and reviewing this story (there are no words to describe how happy I am to read them), but also to my beta, CoppertopJ, who is absolutely amazing.

 Now let's get into it!

I had forgotten the comforting feeling of being welcome somewhere. For the better part of the last two years, I had been an intruder and nothing more. An intruder in other people's attics, in other people's lives, in my family's peace of mind. Hell, even in my own existence.

But sitting in Bella's kitchen filled me with the strangest joy, as if—at long last—I had found a home; or at least a place where my amorphous anguish turned to hope, even if only for a while. Of course, I knew better than to entertain this dangerous thought for too long, because I didn't belong here, no matter how my mind was tricking me to believe I did.

"So, tell me how things are going with the house," she demanded as soon as she filled her glass back up and I was instantly reminded of my cowardly lie. "Will it really be demolished?"

"We still need certain permits in order for that to happen."

"When will you get them then?"

"Any day now."

She nodded, her cryptic thoughts far from me. I had the nagging feeling that she wanted to know more—that she would dig the actual truth out of me, because she certainly could if she put her mind to it—but she remained quiet, her delicate fingers tracing patterns on the glass, leaving warm fingerprints behind. Maybe it was for the best—this way, I couldn't be deluded into thinking that she actually cared about me in a meaningful way.

"And after that, you leave," she murmured many long, torturous moments later.

"That's the plan."

She paused, but not for long. "All right, but until then… would it bother you terribly if we hung out more?"

If she had noticed the sudden surprise on my face, she chose to ignore it. She simply looked at me, with those hopeful eyes of hers, whose secrets I couldn't possibly know, and I caved—not that I even had the backbone to refuse such tempting offers. "Of course not. I could use a friendly face around here."

"Then we're both in luck," she replied with a smile and I wondered if it was the alcohol in her bloodstream speaking. She smelled slightly different now too—sadly for me, the alteration was barely noticeable, which meant that my thirst was very much intact, reigning in the background of my conscience. Still, her desire to spend even more time with me felt unusual, out of place—and too good to be real. I couldn't understand where it stemmed from, since most humans seemed to hold either abhorrent grudges or complete disinterest regarding their past loves, no in-between, undefinable feelings.

But it wasn't like I could afford to inquire about such deeply personal matters. So I went with something else, something more broad, to give her some actual room for choosing the topics that she felt comfortable with.

"Since we're here," I began, "tell me what I missed while I was away."

"Ah, I wouldn't know where to begin!"

"There has to be a start, I'm sure of it."

"Well, what do you want to know?"

Absolutely everything and nothing less. Was she happy with her life? Was the death of her parents still haunting her? Was she planning to go to college someday, eventually? Was she dreaming about having kids with Jacob? And what new hobbies had she picked up, beyond motorcycling?

"Bella, my curiosities are plenty, but I don't want to encroach."

In return, she gave me a completely lovely, completely in-character roll of her eyes. "Look at you being all ethical. You can ask me questions, you know? Seriously, I don't bite."

"Unlike other individuals." The words left me before I could register their meaning properly. Bella's eyes widened, revealing the full circle of her irises, and I understood instantly that I had to apologize. "Sorry, bad joke."

"Oh, on the contrary," she protested, taking one long sip from her glass, leaving it empty at last. "It was a fantastic joke. So by all means, keep making them."

"I'm starting to think that wine is getting to your head, Bella." I was only half-joking now—she had to be some level of tipsy, otherwise she would have had more sense than to entertain my morbid, ill-timed puns.

"Wrong." With a swift movement of her hands, she pushed her long locks back, disclosing a perfectly kissable, perfectly edible throat. I ordered myself to refocus, choosing instead to marvel at the fabric texture of her shirt. That blue shirt, that made her veins stand out more… that barely contained their frantic dance… that wrapped the commanding swell of her breasts in a cotton embrace…

Refocus, refocus, refocus.

"Anyway," she added. "Since you're being so prudent, I'll ask you a question. Where are you living now? I mean, before you came to Forks, of course."

I thought of the dusty attic in Guadalajara, where not long ago I was making friends with the spiders. Then the humid caves of San Luis Potosí. Then the musty basements of Manizales, with their smell of wet coffee beans rotting in large sackcloth bags. I could just tell her I was living in Juneau, with the rest of my family, but lying to her never felt good—besides, I had already done a fair share of it by not disclosing the actual reason I returned to Forks. "I'm mostly traveling at the moment."

"Oh, where?"

"Here and there. I never spend more than one month in a place."

"And… is your family traveling with you?"

"No, it's just me. We talk every once in a while, of course, but we parted ways, for the most part."

Her previously jesting mood melted into something that looked a lot like concern. "It sounds really lonely."

"Perhaps, but you can always find distractions."

"Distractions," Bella repeated, and this time the concern was mixed with a different emotion. She seemed almost… irritated, although I couldn't tell why. "Right. Of course. Thank God for those."

I shrugged off her strange reaction, attributing it to what I could guess was an alcohol-induced dizziness. I was far more concerned by the fact that my strength was diminishing the more I lingered here, taking me closer to the point in which I was not sure if I could—or even wanted—to resist the different urges she was rousing in me much longer.

Common sense alone was keeping me in my place. Without it, I would be doomed. And she would be too.

"Well, I wish I could travel too," Bella offered afterwards, her voice still bearing the remnants of an irritation I couldn't fathom. But even with the mask of chagrin, I recognized the longing in her voice easily. The same longing I was once privy to when we talked about all the places she never went to, but hoped to visit someday. Back then, I dreamed of promises I knew I couldn't make out loud—promises of the two of us, driving down a highway at night. Stealing kisses in an opera house. Holding hands under the glorious dome of the Northern lights. Resting in each other's arms on an island far away from the world, while the sunrise enveloped us in its honeyed light. Sun warming her skin, her skin warming mine.

I sighed, accepting the painful weight of the future we never had.

"You should. You've got your whole life ahead, you might as well start now."

"It's not so simple."

"Why?"

"Why? Because I've got responsibilities here that I can't just abandon. Like… the library. And the house."

"I understand that, but a few days off won't be the end of the world for either of those."

"I'm not so sure about that," she countered. "I'm the only one working a full-time shift at the library. There's one more girl, but she works part-time and it's complicated to work around that. I don't want to put her in a difficult position."

Always thinking of others, never of herself. My hopelessly and agonizingly selfless Bella. "But you deserve a break every once in a while, regardless of that."

"What break? I don't even have any more sick days left. I lost them all at the beginning of the year when I got the worst flu you can imagine." A sudden ripple of dread traversed her eyes, and she quickly covered her face with her hands. "Oh, no, sorry, obviously not the worst." I would have smiled at her innocent oversight, but the mere mention of her having to suffer at the hands of a random virus made me less than easy to entertain.

"Don't worry, go on," I encouraged, seeing that she was still hiding.

Bella's mortification lingered, but eventually subsided, because she placed her hands back on the table and dared to look at me again, heating me with just her gaze. "Even if I could take a proper break from work, there are still things to be done here, in the house. Take the bathroom pipes, for example—they are broken and they might flood the entire house if we don't pay attention to them. What if we go someplace and get back to a flooded house?"

I listened to her, realizing that I had never been faced with such questions or worries myself. The fact that they were so mundane, so seemingly easy to fix, made them more imposing. I wished I could take them all away so that she would never have to choose between responsibilities and otherwise achievable dreams.

"I'm sorry it's not easier," I replied. "I hope it won't always be like this."

"Me too." A bittersweet smile appeared on her face. "You know, Jacob's been telling me we will go to Niagara Falls for over a year now. He's never been there himself, but he saw a flyer when he was a kid and he's been dreaming about it ever since."

I nodded through the pain, commanding myself to accept that it was more than expected for the two of them to have shared hopes and dreams. In a masochistic attempt to cement my acceptance, I asked her if they ever ventured anywhere outside of Forks.

"Not really. I mean Jake has, because he's got his clients all around the state, but we haven't gone anywhere together yet. Now, to be fair, the timing was never right. So many things happened these past few years… to both of us. The mood for vacation simply wasn't there."

God, how I wanted to know what she meant, beyond the outlines of what I already knew. Would she understand my need to know more? Would it reveal how disturbingly obsessed I was with her? Or would she chalk it up to our apparent friendship? "Hmmm." If I kept hesitating, we weren't going to get anywhere. Our discussion would run around in circles, never reaching a meaningful destination—and we really didn't have as much time as I would have liked. "Tell me about those things."

Bella's posture shifted almost imperceptibly—she pushed her shoulders back and her eyes widened with renewed yearning. "Fine, but more wine first," she said, getting up. She instantly reached to grab the table when she lost her equilibrium—and thank God she did, because I had been one wrong instinct away from reaching out to keep her steady with my hands. She walked back to the counter where she had left Jacob's bottle, this time bringing it to the table and using it to fill her glass back up. Red droplets—so small, so inconsequential—took flight, but she didn't seem to mind the way they were painting the tablecloth.

When she sat back down, the air moved again in dangerous patterns, forcing the full delicious blast of her scent into my lungs. My tongue twitched in agony, as it anticipated a feast that would never come.

"Well, as embarrassing as it is to admit out loud, those things started after you left," she began, coercing my thirst to take a back seat. Being reminded of my decision to leave her had predictable effects on my heart, almost making it move from the cold confines of death. Beyond its motionless shell, I felt it bleeding with regret. "For a while, I refused to believe there was a life after… you know, everything I lived with you back then. And yes, I know now that it was so, so very stupid to even think that, but… I was pretty clueless and didn't know any better." Bella found her way back to the chair, cheeks tinted again. "Anyway, Jacob and I started hanging out after a while. We didn't know it at first, but we both needed each other more than we realized."

"In what sense?" I asked, careful to keep my tone neutral. Casual even.

"In the sense that we both needed a friend at the time. Maybe to forget certain things, but also for the sake of having someone you can rely on. You see, Jacob had quite a rocky relationship with his mother. About the same time that he and I started hanging out, his parents divorced and his mother moved back into her parents' home, in Nebraska, so they rarely got to hang out. And when they did… it wasn't necessarily pretty." She hesitated, dark concern weighing her eyebrows down. "She had a good heart, really, but she didn't know how to let Jake in. Nor his sisters, although they lost touch completely, unlike Jake. She enjoyed drinking—she enjoyed it a lot—and that hurt him."

"I'm sorry," I offered, somehow meaning it. Not just because the situation seemed to worry and disturb her, but because a part of me still remembered a version of Jacob that was carefree and happy—the version of him that dreamed of Bella, never knowing she would actually become his one day. "That must've been difficult for him."

"It was, because he constantly had to question if he had done anything wrong." She used the next pause to lift the glass to her lips and drink. When she put it down, she looked paler than ever. "He was devastated when she died. It was this awful car collision on the highway, and she died before help even arrived." The news crashed against me, making me realize that, as much as I had been relying on Alice to satisfy my curiosities, there was still so much I didn't know.

I leaned forward over the table, aching to console her and not knowing how. I couldn't take her hand in mine. I couldn't graze the warm velvet of her cheeks. I couldn't do a damn thing. All I was capable of was staring, pining, aching for her.

"I'm really sorry." If I sounded repetitive, I didn't care. Our gazes danced together for a few moments in an unstable rhythm. I refused to look away, willing to take in as much as I could from this interaction with her. "What happened after?"

Her eyes separated from mine, her heart stammering in the process. Fuck, I was making her uncomfortable. "I remained by his side, of course," she answered, her voice low and strange. "It didn't take him long to find the bottles his mother had left behind before she went back to Nebraska. And… it took him even less time to empty them when Billy was asleep." She didn't have to say more. The short silence that followed was crushing. "I tried getting him back on track, but then… then my own parents died, and it… it all became a farce. The blind leading the blind and all that. So, so stupid…"

"It doesn't sound stupid," I countered. Then, fighting with my own pointless jealousy, I dared to continue. "You both fought to bring the other to the surface, right?"

"Yes… that we did. Although I'm not sure I was any good at it."

"I doubt that. You have always been a good listener."

She huffed, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, right." Once again, I was puzzled by her reaction, not knowing how to dig deeper into its meaning without seeming overly intrusive. My inability to read her better was slowly, but surely killing me. Was there no end to this madness? "Anyway," Bella said, "enough with the tragedy. Tell me something."

"What do you want to know?."

"Earlier, you said you've been traveling on your own a lot. So… what were you doing during all these travels?"

Missing you.

Hunting Victoria.

Missing you more.

No, these were not acceptable answers. I decided to go with something a little less specific. "I did a lot of running and hunting."

"Hunting what?"

"Whatever animals were available."

Her eyebrows jumped up, almost in disbelief. "Hm. Animals."

I was a little distraught by her response—she had to know me better than this. She had to know I wouldn't go back to my old ways. "You seem surprised. What did you expect?"

"No, I expected animals, yet… I don't know. I was thinking you might be out of practice."

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Well, it's just that your eyes got darker since you got here."

Fuck. My own body was actively working towards betraying me. I fought to keep my guard up, despite having been caught already. "Did they?"

"Yes. A lot darker, actually."

Flashbacks from a lifetime ago, when she first observed the different nuances in my eyes, struck me like a lightning bolt. Unlike then, now she knew what the nuances meant. She knew all too well. There was no excuse good enough to hide the truth. Invoking the faint light in the kitchen would have made me look like a fool.

She didn't give me a chance to redeem myself. She went right back in, even more determined to dig the uncomfortable truth out of me. "I can't help but wonder… do you still want to eat me and all that jazz?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't. Instead, I leaned back in my chair, trying to comprehend how it was even possible for a creature like me to lose all reason in less than ten seconds. For someone who should have known better, I had no idea what I was going to say next. My mind was a blank canvas, devoid of any reasonable explanations.

Bella didn't seem bothered by my silence. She leaned over the table conspicuously, getting closer to me, her skin blooming with pink undertones. Even in my torpor, I couldn't help but notice the graceful lines of her cleavage, revealing themselves in a torturous way. My cock twitched at the sight, protesting in the confines of my jeans for the hundredth time that evening. "Edward, it's fine, you can tell me," she muttered. My name sounded unexpectedly tender rolling off her lips. I instantly wanted to hear it again. "Does my blood still have that effect on you?"

Hypnotized, I pondered about capitulating. It wouldn't have been so bad, come to think of it. She had always held a deep understanding of my demonic hunger, never really judging me for it, even though she had every right to. What was there to lose if I confessed my shameful yearning to her once more? After all, it didn't have to mean anything.

At least if I told her the truth, she wouldn't keep pushing further.

"Yes," I said in the end, perhaps harsher than I had intended to sound. "It very much does. Can we move on now?"

"Well, if that's the case… do you maybe want a sip?"

It took my entire will and an instant miracle not to combust then and there at the profane invitation. Maybe she had gone completely mad and her question was the first symptom. "Bella, what the hell?"

"You know, just… a little slit to the wrist, so you can have a taste and see what it's like."

She was still leaning in and I was still leaning back, too afraid to get one inch closer to her. My morals struggled with the possibilities she was laying on the table, almost considering what her preposition entailed. As soon as I allowed myself to picture the debauchery, I knew I had fucked up. The flash image of my mouth glued to her skin, waiting for blood to be spilled, shook me to my core.

I hated that image with a vengeance. I hated what it meant—it meant that I had caved, that I had placed my needs before her safety. I could never do such a thing to Bella, and not just because it went violently against my love for her. The problem was that if I allowed myself to taste even a single drop of her essence, I wasn't sure I was strong enough to stop. I would want more, I would want so much more. I would want to drink it all, to gorge on it, until there was nothing left.

Goddamn, I despised that image.

Yet I craved it in such a carnal way it scared me.

I sat up, disturbed by how vile my thoughts had become in the span of a few moments. "All right, I think it's safe to say you're drunk."

"I'm so not!"

"Then you have a death wish. Either way, you're talking nonsense."

"I'm not," she retorted, annoyingly confident. "You want it."

"What I want is for you to rest. I seriously think the alcohol got the better of you."

"You didn't deny it."

Refusing to entertain the madness further—because that only meant feeding my crazed lust, which was never a good idea—I stepped away from the table. "I'm leaving, so that you can rest. Do you understand?"

"Don't be ridiculous, I… I didn't mean what I said, all right? It was a joke… of sorts. You do remember what a joke is, right?" Her fast-fluttering eyelids did nothing to make her seem credible. She was as unskilled of an actress as she had always been, no changes there. I walked further away, towards the hallway, not trusting myself enough to linger. "Come on, you can't seriously leave! We barely got to talk. Please?"

"I hope you get a good night's sleep. I mean it."

"Edward—"

"Goodbye, Bella."

It physically hurt to open the front door—the metal of the doorknob felt too warm for comfort—and even more so to close it behind me and stalk outside, into the night. I heard Bella's faint gasp and I wanted to run away from it, where I would not have to face the consequences of my heedless decisions.

Had I declined her invitation to join her tonight when I still had the chance, she wouldn't have had to suffer through the effects of my highly unstable disposition.

Had I kept my distance when it was still within my power to do so, I wouldn't be running away from her.

Hell, had I not been an idiotic vampire entirely too in love and entirely too obsessed with a human, I wouldn't be returning before I even got the chance to properly put enough distance between the two of us.

But I was, so not even five minutes after rushing out the door, I was back in Bella's backyard, becoming one with the shadows. For a while, I didn't hear much—until, at one point, a small sob broke the silence.

What started as a small sob turned into something else alarmingly fast—just like the sputter of summer rain turning into a deluge before hitting the ground. I stood there, in the grass, petrified, not knowing what to do—nor if I should even contemplate doing something.

That night, Bella didn't stop crying until the break of dawn.

And proving yet again that I was a fool who never deserved her, all I did was listen.

There were few things that could make me feel more like a failure when I returned to my old home in the early hours of the morning. The air itself felt loaded with the weight of yet another sin I had committed—the biggest one yet. Not only had I fallen prey to my endless desire to be near Bella in any way that I was allowed, but in my pursuit to do so, I had also failed her. She had made it abundantly clear that all she needed was to talk to an old friend, yet the minute her ribald drunken joke escaped her, I ran away almost instantly, in a way that only a complete stranger would.

And by God, her crying—whether a result of my rude manners, or something else—was haunting me. The sound was still ringing incessantly in my ears, as if we were in the same room, not miles away from each other. Taunting me with what it could mean. Tormenting me with the certitude that I could never ask her about it. Reminding me that I left her to face the strange sorrow alone.

I felt uncertain about my next steps.

On one hand, I knew what the best option was. I should leave. I had done enough damage in less than a week of being here, what was the point of extending my cursed stay way past the welcome point? Bella didn't need me here in any capacity—if anything, she needed me out of her life, as proven by her soul-stirring cry the other night. Out of her life and as far away as possible.

On the other hand, I still had to return the book to the library. And it was a lame excuse to get me to linger, but it was the only one I had.

It seemed that my selfishness knew no bounds; or rather that it had forgotten them altogether, considering that there was a time—not even that long ago—when I was still fairly able to move past what I so desperately wanted and do the right thing. It was frightening to observe just how weak my convictions were. How easy it was to find justifications for myself when temptation was so within reach. To build those justifications without a foundation and fool myself that they would be stable enough to be credible to someone other than me.

In other circumstances, I would not have thought twice about going to my father for advice. More than anyone else, he would know what to say and how to deal with my mess. He would find reason among the madness and guide me towards it so that I never strayed again. But I had not talked to him since I let my entire family know about my plans to go to Forks—not only because he had enough grace to allow me space when I asked for it, but also because I had been deliberately avoiding him. As unending as his support was, it was also undeserved. There had to be a point at which even Carlisle would understand that. After all, how long could he emotionally subsidize my mania and pretend it was fine?

I had created a trap of my own making, and I had no clue how to escape it. I wished for the sweet liberation of sleeping—just a few hours of complete mental numbness, to let go of the pain without effort. The more I went on without any type of rest, the more erratic my thoughts got. I started pondering about the possibility of visiting Bella at the library, to check if she was in a better state. Then the possibility of setting myself on fire, since it would have been arguably more helpful than to keep persisting in my foolishness. Then the possibility of humiliating myself by asking Alice if she was able to see a future that made sense for me.

The thoughts of calling Carlisle never left me. They kept playing in the background of my mind, waiting for me to pay attention to them. But how could I, when just being in this cursed house brought back the very last conversation he and I had between these walls, and how profoundly crushed I felt after it?

I could remember him in the corner of the now-empty living room—his concerned frown as he was zipping his leather suitcase, his shirt unironed for the first time in decades. Back then, I couldn't even feel the guilt of what I was putting him through. All of my emotions were crushed by the colossal weight of what I knew I was about to lose in less than twenty-four hours. Anyone else's pain seemed pale and insignificant in comparison.

"You can still change your mind," he said out loud, finally voicing the thoughts I had been deliberately ignoring. "Even now."

"It's not going to happen."

"Stubborn, as always. But you must know that this resolution might be too severe of a punishment."

"It is not a punishment. It's what I had coming for messing around with fate too much. It's what sinning should get you."

"You fell in love, son. We would all be the worst of sinners if such a thing was a crime. You weren't messing with fate, you were simply following what your heart knew was right."

"What is right for me," I grumbled over his thoughts. "Not for her. And it shouldn't be like this. What is right for her should come first. Above my desires, above my caprices, above my self-interests…"

"Not above love," he retorted calmly.

"No, Carlisle. Especially above love." It hurt to admit that, but not as much as it hurt to say the next words out loud. "And if I would have known she was my mate the moment I laid eyes on her, I wouldn't have said one word to her. Not one word. I would have left her alone when I still had the privilege of not knowing what I'd lose. And I wouldn't have dragged her into any kind of relationship with me."

"Drag might be too harsh of a word," he offered, and his mind did the rest of the talking for him. "You never obliged Bella to do anything she didn't want to do. Correct me if I am mistaken, but from where I was standing, it appeared that her will and desires played an active part in everything."

"It doesn't matter now. I am not risking her life any longer. She's had enough misfortune and darkness to last her a lifetime. Thanks to me."

"That should be for her to decide."

"No," I growled. "Because if it was up to her, she would be doomed." I paused, realizing just how corrupted my ways were. "See? That's what I meant. I am not good for her, not one bit. You believe her will has always played a part, but there is too much of a power imbalance between me and her for that to be the case—I've never given her a fair chance, not even now. So yes, I dragged her into my world, and I'd be damned if I don't drag her out of it as well. It's for her own long-term good."

While he didn't contradict me again out loud, his thoughts did that for him. And as much as I wished to be able to forget them, I was unable to. Remembering them was part of my ill-starred fate.

"This decision will ruin both of you."

I didn't believe my father then—and I didn't believe him now. Because if there was someone to be ruined in the wake of my decision, it was me. I knew Bella had been hurt too—it was a truth I often ran away from—but the emotional pain was the easy way out, considering the alternative would have been an untimely death. Besides, she had something I didn't: the ability to grow. To move on. To let things go, even if that meant letting a love story as intense as ours slip away.

Not that I gave her much of a choice. But Bella was strong, I didn't doubt that. If she hadn't been, she wouldn't be wearing a ring on her finger, waiting for the day when Jacob would pledge his love to her in front of an altar. The day when she would do the same for him.

I forced myself to picture it—the chapel, the priest, the inevitable. They probably wouldn't have too many guests, since she was never a fan of lavish ceremonies. And they would probably choose a sunny day, to make her truly happy. Sunny enough to keep unwanted guests, like myself, away. Her father would not be there to walk down the aisle, and her mother would not be able to hold her when the wedding emotions would get too much—cursed be the day I failed them.

And Bella… Bella would look like a walking dream in a long, white dress. Beautiful to the extreme, the kind of beauty that would have people look away in bewilderment, not quite grasping that something like it could even exist. But it wouldn't matter, because she would only have eyes for her groom anyway, as she would walk up to him, wobbly on her feet as always. As she would listen to his vows. As she would say hers. As she would smile while he leaned over her and…

No.

My imagination refused to elaborate further, crippled by the pain. I didn't have to do this to myself, not when I knew that there was nothing I could—or even wanted to—do in order to change things.

But crippled as it was, my mind was still capable of twisting things for its benefit. And twist it did, until a single image started repeating itself, again and again, in an obsessive reprise of my previous musings. An image that simply refused to loosen its hold on me for the rest of the day, rendering me prisoner.

Bella, in that white dress, saying 'I do'.

Only not to Jacob.

To me.

Well, I did warn you that this story is a slow burn, right? ;)

Did you expect Bella to make such a bold proposition? How many excuses do you think Edward can make just so that he can linger a little longer?

I would LOVE to know your thoughts on this chapter!

Also, if you would like to get weekly visual sneak peeks, feel free to join my Facebook group: " Twilight fanfics: NightBloomingPeony & friends corner".

Until next Sunday, stay safe and happy!

Chapter Text

Hello! I really appreciate all the reviews—as well as your patience regarding Edward's antics. I know his mind can become a tedious place, but it's all part of his journey to redemption ;).

And as usual, a big 'thank you' to CoppertopJ for being an amazing beta!

Somewhere between my guilt for causing Bella so much unintended pain with my visit and the unorthodox—and very much unattainable—dream of being with her, I decided that I had to do the humane thing and at least apologize to her. It was the bare minimum I could do after storming off into the night, leaving her alone right after she told me she needed a friend—and all because I couldn't take a joke.

Not that she needed my apologies, of course, but I wanted to keep things civil, considering I was running on borrowed time in Forks. I had already told her I would only stay for a couple of weeks. So sooner rather than later, I would have to leave again. I might as well make the most of the time I had left, while I still had the chance to do so.

Besides, I still had a book to return.

By the time I decided to gather the courage to face her again, it was already Friday. I deliberately avoided going to the all too familiar spot in her tree the night prior, choosing instead to be smart and curb my bloodlust by hunting until the break of dawn. After all, I needed all the help I could get to make myself appear somewhat normal and collected, not rabid and hungry for her.

An impossible task, of course, considering how her scent seemed to erase all traces of common decency in me as soon as I was close enough to bask in it.

I feasted on several mountain lions before even daring to return to the house, making sure that whatever dark tint my eyes had last night, when Bella called me out on it, would be long gone. Once again, the nearby river proved to be more than a decent shower alternative, serving to wash off all the remains of my hunt. I took my time, since hurrying was not an option that day—courtesy of the sunny summer weather.

Once I had a fresh change of clothes on, time seemed to slow its rhythm, much to my dismay. Out of a self-destructive impulse, I started reading Bella's letter again, even though by now I knew the contents by heart, just to pass the time. Once more, I started dissecting what must have gone through her mind to even consider writing it. What must have driven her to think about giving me a second chance, ignoring the way I broke her trust and made her believe she was not worth keeping.

I felt torn between cherishing that piece of paper for the rest of eternity—preserving it under a dark glass dome, where photolytic and oxidative degradation would never reach it—and tearing it to pieces, as a final act of closure. Of course, I was much too scared to do either, afraid of how permanent it would feel.

In the end, the letter found its way into the pocket of my jeans—close enough to feel its fine, crumpled folds through the cotton fibers, yet hidden from my view, so that I felt less tempted to grab it and read it again. And again. And again.

I waited around the house for the longest time, until the sun decided to dim its exuberance at long last. Hidden between a deceptive layer of clouds, the afternoon sun didn't shine with as much vengeance. The light was paler, duller, certainly not radiant enough to disclose my true self if anyone happened to glance my way.

Thankful for the clouds, but still keeping my guard up by wearing a hoodie—yet another fruit of my thrifting escapade—I drove all the way to Gossamer Grove, trying to ignore the restless feeling in my bones.

When I finally reached my destination, I realized there was still some waiting to be done. Gazing from a distance, past the front glass wall, I saw Bella at her desk, calmly arguing with a couple of clients that watching Clueless—whatever that was—was not enough to understand the complex layers of Emma. I briefly remembered that she didn't even enjoy Emma that much, but I could understand why she still advocated for reading the book. The sight of her face was enough to soften my anxiety, even if it didn't last long. It felt good to watch her in the middle of such a mundane activity—away from the distressed tears from two days ago, just focusing on the trivialities of her job.

The back-and-forth argument between Bella and her two clients continued for a few minutes, ending up with the two of them surrendering and borrowing two copies of Emma. I loved seeing Bella's little smile of victory as she watched her clients walk out; it was such a small thing to fawn over, but I couldn't help it, because that smile made me understand that she actually enjoyed her job, even when the professional stakes were way below what she could do.

I prolonged the moment, cherishing the way the distance allowed me to appreciate Bella without titillating my thirst too much. The yearning was there, it always was, but it was merely a gentle ember.

And I could fight a mere ember.

I got out of the car with a renewed sense of confidence, trusting myself to behave. The book in my hands felt lightweight as I carried it with me, and a sick part of me begrudged the fact that I had to let it go. Letting go of this one precious thing that Bella wanted me to experience was surprisingly difficult.

As soon as I was inside, the embers in the pit of my stomach were set aflame, as if I hadn't gorged on the blood of five mountain lions the previous night. I had to make a wilful effort to breathe in the fragrant air and not groan. The door closed behind me, prompting Bella to raise her eyes. I saw the instant surprise in them, tinged with disbelief—in fact, I was starting to get used to being greeted as if I was nothing more than an annoying hallucination.

"Edward?" Even her voice seemed to reflect the doubt.

She got up from her chair and I forgot the importance of formalities when I saw the way her dark-green shirt wrapped around her waist in a snug embrace, disclosing the elegant details of her form. What I would give to wrap my arms around that waist, bringing her closer…

"I'm sorry to barge in like this."

"No, you're… you're not barging in. It's a library, everyone's welcome."

Bella was clearly nervous, going by her bodily responses. Tinted cheeks, turbulent heartbeat, heavy breathing—all these things used to mean something else at one point, but now I was reasonable enough to accept that they were nothing more than signs of her utter astonishment.

Still, my reactions to her—hitched breath, tense muscles, hardened cock—had precisely the same meaning as when we were together.

"You're too kind to me," I sighed, chasing away my fast-paced desire. "May I have a few minutes of your time?"

She nodded shortly, walking away from her desk and meeting me halfway. I was still holding tightly to The Book Thief, and she seemed to notice. "Is this about the book? Is that why you're here?"

"Yes. But I'd be lying if I told you it was the only reason why I'm here."

I couldn't suppress a smile when I noticed the glimmer in her eyes. To my delight, she returned the smile, seemingly without too much thought.

"Fine, then I'm listening," she said.

Inhaling deeply, I forced myself to accept the pain in my throat and the way it reverberated into my lungs, pushing through its layers until I could speak again. "I would like to apologize. Two nights ago, when I stopped by your place and you made that joke… I shouldn't have reacted like that, it was out of line. And for what it's worth—"

"No, no, no," she interrupted. "You have nothing to apologize for, trust me. If anything, I'm the one who owes you an apology! I know I upset you."

I frowned, my confusion getting the better of me. Between the two of us, she was the one who ended up crying after our evening together, which meant that I had upset her, not the other way around. "You did nothing wrong, Bella. I'm certainly not upset."

"There's no need to sugarcoat things for my sake." She paused, and I could see that she was struggling to find her words. "The thing is, I… I never drink, all right? So the other night, you weren't wrong when you kept telling me that the wine got to my head. I would've been a hell of a lot more careful with my jokes if I was sober."

"I like your jokes," I replied sincerely. "I'm just no longer used to some of them."

"They're a little better when I don't have wine in my system." Her smile lingered still, before fading into a concerned expression. "Anyway, I hope you can forgive me for what I said. It's not your fault you feel the way that you feel about my blood. Trust me, I know that."

Just like it's not your fault you happen to smell like the best damn thing in the entire world.

I suppressed the need to voice that particular thought out loud. "I'd argue that's not entirely true, but that's not the point. Thank you for being so… gracious about this. It's more than I deserve."

"No need to thank me. Apologizing is the least I can do. I would have done it sooner if I had a way to contact you."

For a moment, I considered the possibility of offering her the number of my emergency phone—I could already imagine myself changing my habit of keeping it turned off, in hopes she would reach out to me.

The only problem was that I could also imagine my family calling—and I was hardly prepared to withstand any potential conversations with them, after the way I had been behaving.

"Don't worry, I can always find you," I offered half-jokingly, relying on the fact that she would not push further.

"Oh, that I know." Bella walked back to her desk, and I followed her, enslaved to the sweet cloud of her fragrance. "But don't you think it's a bit unfair?" she pondered, right as she was getting comfortable in her chair. "I mean, I'm still not supposed to drive until my next appointment at the orthopedist, so… so I cannot just drive to your house."

I raised one eyebrow, curious—and a little afraid—of where she was going with this. "Why would you need to drive to my house?"

"To make up for the fact that I don't have your phone number when I have something to ask you, for instance."

"Well, I'm here now," I replied unconvincingly, still trying to shift the discussion away from the tempting offer of exchanging phone numbers. "So you can ask me anything."

"Right." She closed her eyes for a few seconds, slightly frowning, and I instantly recognized her expression. She had given up on her task of convincing me—not because she wanted to, but because my veiled rejection made her feel inadequate. It was the same expression I saw when years ago, late at night, I had to curb her enthusiasm before I imploded from the insane concupiscence of our kisses and touches.

I hated making her feel like this. Not even the thought that I was doing it for her own benefit was enough to ease the aching feeling in my chest.

"I'm listening," I encouraged her when she opened her eyes again. "What was it that you wanted to ask me and couldn't?"

Distress still lingered in the chocolate wells of her irises, coupled with a strange tension in her shoulders. "It was more of a favour, to be fair. Only if it's not a problem for you, of course. And if you've got time."

I refrained myself from admitting that I would probably do her any favour if she asked me to. She didn't have to witness how deep my desperation ran. "I have time," I assured her.

"It might be a little strange though, so I understand if the answer is no."

"Fortunately for you, I can do strange." I winked, in an attempt to set her mind at ease, and her pulse quickened in response. Damn. Perhaps my gesture killed my attempt in its tracks, turning it into an unintentional scare tactic. It seemed that I was particularly good at being scary lately—which was precisely what I was trying to avoid with her.

She gazed at me as if she was still deciding whether to go through with her question or not. I waited, hoping she could not read the greedy anticipation on my face. "All right, so you remember how I told you about Jacob leaving on Wednesday for that client he's got in McCleary?" I nodded calmly, even if the mere mention of her future husband's name hurt worse than a stake through the heart. Every reminder that he was real was sheer agony. "He was supposed to return tonight. But this guy recommended Jake to a friend of his, who needs help with his truck. So he won't return until Monday evening."

I didn't dare to say anything, nor to make the arrogant presumption that she would ask me to pay her another visit. I chose to shut up, confident that my silence would convince her to go on. And that was precisely what happened. "The problem is, Jacob drives me to Charlie's grave on the first day of every month—it's kind of a remembrance day, because that was when he… you know, when he was buried."

An uncomfortable silence fell upon us. I desperately wanted to know how to crush it without also crushing Bella's heart too; as skilled as she was at putting up a brave front, I feared that the wound of losing her parents was still very much open and bleeding. Worse, I feared that it would never really heal.

It wasn't long until guilt started to overcome me. The guilt of knowing that if I had never disturbed Bella's life, her parents would still be alive.

"The thing is, Seth has been my driver for the past few days, and I would ask him to drive me there," she started, and I had to make an effort to push aside the more nefarious thoughts, to offer her my undivided attention. "But the weekends are usually reserved for visiting his sister, Leah, in Seattle. So I don't want to force him to stay in town just so that he can drive me to the cemetery. It wouldn't be fair to him." I could hear the self-reproach in her voice, as if the simple thought of disrupting another person's plans was causing her internal misery. "So my question is: do you think you can drive me there on Sunday morning? Please?"

She seemed sheepish, and I wondered if it was because a part of her expected me to refuse. I didn't allow myself more time to process what my answer should be. All I knew was that there was no way in hell I would let her down now. "Of course, Bella."

I saw the shift in her posture as soon as the words left my mouth—the rigid tension in her shoulders let up and the corners of her lips jumped up. "Really?"

"Yes. Although, there is one thing." The sudden flash of fear on her face stung—she couldn't possibly believe I would back down immediately after assuring her of my willingness to help. I continued before she could think the worst of me. "I still need to be careful about the sun. If there are no clouds in sight on Sunday morning…"

"Oh. Oh, you're right, I'm sorry! I should have thought about it beforehand. I am so sorry!"

"Shhh, Bella, it is fine, trust me. I don't blame you for not taking this into consideration. All I wanted to say was that even if it'll be sunny in the morning, I can still take you there in the evening if it is not too late for—"

"The evening works for me too", she said, not even letting me finish my sentence. "Actually, it's even better, because Sundays are usually packed with chores for me, so I'll get to do most of them until then. Thank you so much for doing this! I'll owe you one."

I smiled, loving every bit of her reaction. "Don't worry about it." My smile started to fade once I observed the pink splash in her cheeks—particularly how mouth-watering it looked, the rosy tendrils of blood dissipating under the fragile alabaster fabric of her skin, painting it in demure hues of red. And how close to it I was, with nothing but a desk separating me from Bella…

Masochistically, I breathed in deeply. I might as well have been inflaming direct flames from a fireplace—although I was tempted to think that dealing with actual fire would have been a hell of a lot less painful. With Bella, it was never just mere pain. It was torment and lust and ache and scorching scenarios about what I could never do with her.

Scenarios that got me hard as much as they filled my mouth with flaming venom.

At least she couldn't see the effect she had on me—because then she would most likely not even entertain any kind of conversation.

Desperate to hang on to something other than my visceral needs, I placed the book I was holding on the desk.

"So, as I was telling you, I am also here to return this," I began. Bella grabbed the book with trembling fingers, and I yearned to feel, even for a fleeting moment, the heat of those fingers on my skin again.

"Yes. Give me a second." I watched as she started typing on the keyboard in front of her, captivated by the small, rapid movements. She was done in no time. Soon after, she raised her eyes to look at me again, her gaze leaving me awfully hot and bothered. "Um, do you maybe… want to borrow another one?"

There was a thick layer of hesitation wrapping around her words, making me wonder if she was asking just to be polite. "I still don't have a library card."

"I can still let you use mine, obviously."

I mulled over her proposal, slowly understanding that maybe she wasn't just polite. "If it's not a problem for you, then yes. Thank you."

"Great. Do you want to read anything in particular?"

"I trust your recommendations," I answered truthfully. Although, if I had to be honest all the way, I was silently craving to read something that she enjoyed, something that she wanted me to enjoy too. It was such a fragile emotional connection, but it was a connection nonetheless, one that I was more than willing to experience.

Even if it meant reaching pathetic levels of desperation.

"Sure, no pressure then," she quipped, moving away from her desk. I accompanied her to the nearest shelf unit and stopped when she did. If the closeness from moments ago, when we were separated by the desk, had been overwhelming to me, what was happening now was all the more compelling. Several hungers battled within me as I watched her scan the books that were at the level of her eyes.

Hoping to tame them, I talked again. "I didn't get to ask you, but how is your ankle now?"

"It doesn't really bother me if I don't force my luck by standing for too long", she said, starting to pick several volumes from the shelf. "Or walking for too long."

"So not much walking for you these days."

"Not if I listen to my doctor. Although I'm counting the days until I can be normal again. I miss my motorcycle."

She sighed longingly, picking another book and staring at the cover. I recognized the title instantly—Never Let Me Go, the book she told me about two days ago. She hesitated before adding it to the small pile in her hands.

"Your motorcycle," I repeated, still not fully comprehending why she seemed to enjoy this perilous activity so much. "Exactly what you need right now."

"Oh, get used to it."

Although I knew she was joking, the slight sharpness in her voice lured me to believe that her joke might have been buried in some type of resentment.

"I am trying," I admitted. "It is a work in progress."

She said nothing in return. She simply turned around, heading back to her desk. I followed her, my senses choking on the maddeningly delicious trail she left behind her. I was aching to get the smallest fraction of what she was thinking about. I didn't get the chance to embarrass myself by asking her if my remark angered her, for she opened her mouth before I got the chance to. "There you go. These should keep you busy."

She handed me the books she was holding, and I grabbed them eagerly, all of a sudden ravenous to feel the warmth left behind by her skin once again. My entire body tensed upon sensing the fevered paper. I started analyzing the titles, one by one. Lisey's story. Slow Man. A Thousand Splendid Suns.

And, invariably, Never Let Me Go.

My fingers started to draw patterns on the covers—partly to bask in the last remains of heat, partly curious to discover the stories awaiting inside.

"Thank you, I appreciate it."

"It's what I'm here for," she returned, downplaying my zeal.

I agreed with a nod. In the distance, I heard two unknown voices arguing ardently whether they wanted to stop by the library or not. Not wanting to ignore my cue, I took one step back, hardly ready to say goodbye.

"So, will I see you on Sunday?" she asked.

"I will be there," I promised. "Try not to hurt yourself further until then."

"And here I was hoping to get back on my motorcycle tonight before I go to bed."

I shook my head, suppressing a laugh. It was refreshing to know that her sarcasm was as strong as ever. "Take care, Bella. I mean it."

Once I was outside, a hollowness I knew all too well made its way to me—through the deceivingly calm air, past whatever strength was still left in me, and right into my bones. Maybe the hollowness was to be expected since each time I said goodbye to Bella was a cruel reminder of the day when I thought I had said goodbye for good.

With half of my heart still in Gossamer Grove with her, I did what I knew best. I went back to nothingness.

Time seemed to have found a new cadence, thanks to the books received from Bella. Had I not known that she handpicked these books specifically for me to read, I wouldn't have been inclined to touch them; not because the subject matters were not interesting—no, far from that. The real reason was that I gave up on reading—and playing the piano—around the same time I realized life was pretty damn pointless without Bella. In her absence, the very idea of literature turned dull and indistinct, while music lost all meaning, turning into an annoying clash of sounds.

Of course, all that went out the window, now that Bella was a tangible presence in my life again—not tangible in the sense that I could somehow let my hands near her body again, but rather in the sense that she was flesh and bones, so much more than a vivid memory. And I wanted to get a glimpse of what she had grown to enjoy while we were apart—what books she was reading, what foods she was eating, what kind of music she was listening to.

Anything that would bring me closer to who she was, at her very core.

I went through the books she lent me over and over again, searching for meaning, trying to guess what aspects captivated her the most. Was it the harrowing origin story of pain and darkness in Lisey's Story? Was it the looming pride that people would not let go of in the process of getting old, so aptly shown in Slow Man? Or perhaps the almost superhuman resilience that the female protagonists of A Thousand Splendid Suns showed?

But then again, if I knew anything about her, I was willing to bet that the utter futility of human life and its inevitable destiny of reaching completion, was what got her attention upon reading Never Let Me Go. Either that, or I was projecting, because that was precisely the aspect that was ceaselessly troubling me. Even if, for all intents and purposes, my human life was very much gone, Bella's was still intact. But there was a time when she was more than willing to give it up—a time when she begged me to take it away, so that she could join me in the dark realm where life and death met.

I wondered—and feared—how much of that desire was still left in her.

The lure of immortality had fascinated humankind for millennia, so I couldn't blame her for it, but that didn't mean I wasn't bothered by the fact that I was most likely the fuse that lit up that particular bomb of thought in her mind. I preferred to believe that, thanks to the newfound love she discovered with Jacob, she no longer understood the appeal of living under the curse of eternal life and indubitable damnation; but then again, her reading preferences got me to wonder if I had been wrong in assuming.

I kept rereading the books, seeking answers to Bella's mind, only to find more questions staring back at me from between the powder-white pages.

Saturday came and went, the sunny weather keeping me locked in one place. I refused to indulge myself by watching over Bella when she slept, willing myself to be a better man. I kept myself busy with the stories in my hands, with the many—yet perfectly countable—splotches of worn-off paint on the walls, with the humming of the fauna around the house.

Time only started to dilate when Sunday rolled in. With the knowledge that our meeting was getting closer and closer, I started growing unbearably restless, wondering about all the things I could do to make our little trip easier for her. Visiting her father's grave was anything but a cheerful activity, especially since she was not going to benefit from the comfort of having her husband-to-be close, which meant that I deeply wanted to make things better, in any way I could.

So when the sun was getting ready to set, I decided to use the knowledge gathered from attending several funerals and visiting several graveyards with my family—in a bid to commemorate the lives we took the only way we knew how—by picking dahlias and poppies from the forest and arranging them in a tiny bouquet that Bella would be able to place on her father's grave.

The sky was still basking in the last remains of the day when I got into my car, carefully placing the flowers in the back seat. It was dark enough to no longer worry about the possibility of exposing my kind, but still light enough for the thin wispy clouds to bleed red through the purple canvas of the sky—mere scraps of the melting sun.

Bella was ready and waiting when I arrived, her hair pulled up in a disheveled bun that revealed her enticing neck from every angle. I found her beauty even more striking than usual as the twilight pulled us deeper in its vice, making my need for her ache and throb in new, exciting ways.

"Are you ready for this?" I checked as we walked to my car, keeping a safe—yet utterly irresistible—distance between us. One wrong movement and our hands would have touched.

"As ready as I can be."

Grateful for the lack of intrusive neighbours peeking out their windows, I opened the passenger door for her and watched as she got inside my car, cherishing the sheer improbability of such a momentous thing happening. I was by her side in no time, already feeling the hunger creeping in, despite having fed three days ago. Trying to appear somewhat casual, I rolled down my window, praying that the new opening would keep me in check.

"I hope you don't mind, but I brought these for you," I said, once I was in my seat, reaching behind me to grab the flowers from the back seat. A wave of shock traversed Bella's eyes as she gazed at the bouquet in my hand, and I rushed to continue before she got the wrong impression. "For your father's grave, I mean. I figured you would need something like this."

"Edward, I…" She seemed to struggle to continue, but she managed to. "Sorry, I'm kind of speechless."

"Perhaps I shouldn't have?" I didn't mean to make my words sound like a question, but I certainly failed midway through my attempt to say something thoughtful.

"It's not that, it's…" Another pause, as her struggle went on. "I always bring flowers when I visit Charlie's grave. Jake usually takes care of it. I didn't want to bother you with this, since I had already bothered you by asking me to drive there, so…"

"You didn't bother me," I clarified.

She shook her head as she accepted the bouquet. "If I didn't know any better, I could've sworn you read my mind." I wish. "I honestly can't thank you enough."

I used the brief moment of starting the engine to think about the right response—a response that would not hint at the harsh reality of how I was ready to do anything and everything for her. "Don't worry about it. Having friends in low places has its benefits, right?"

"More than you know."

In what appeared to be an instinctive gesture, she reached forward to turn the radio on. The shaky frequency squeaked for a few seconds before it started carrying an unknown tune, filling up the small space with the soft strum of a guitar, that faded in and out in wistful waves.

I couldn't decide whether I liked it or not. But for the first time in a long while, I realized I didn't completely hate the sound of music. In fact, I was getting eager to listen to more, suddenly fascinated by the possibilities of where the melody could go next.

Although, truth be told, having Bella by my side would have made even an outright apocalypse fascinating.

With her scent in my lungs and melodies hanging in the air, it was easier to accept the fact that I was getting closer and closer to the point at which reason would outright abandon me. It was the logical consequence of being trapped in a car with her for far more minutes than my body was trained to endure.

And it was also a fight I couldn't afford to lose. Ever.

So when Bella asked me to close the window, because the draft of air was unpleasant to her, I knew I had only one option left.

Bracing for war.

An evening with a vampire in the graveyard —wh at could go wrong?

I'd love to know your thoughts on this chapter :).

Stay safe and happy!

Chapter Text

Hello, everyone!

As always, I cannot thank you enough for reading and for leaving reviews. I know the journey is quite rough, seeing that Edward is drowning in self doubt and anxiety, so I really appreciate your patience.

And special thanks to CoppertopJ, whose editing skills are out of this world.

Now let's dive in, because this chapter will go to some interesting places ;)!

When I broke up with Bella, I hadn't been ready to fully let go of my mission to keep her safe.

While I relied on divine providence to keep her in one piece, I couldn't count on it to also tie up my loose ends. And the one loose end I couldn't afford to ignore was Victoria. I was aware that my decision to leave meant leaving Bella exposed to the inescapable danger of that revenge-hungry vampire, who was slobbering greedily at the thought of avenging her psychopathic mate.

In return, I made a promise to myself to hunt Victoria down and keep my Bella safe. It was the last thing I could do for her—one she would never have to find out about.

What I didn't account for was the fact that I was far from a great tracker. While I managed well enough to chase her away from Forks, guided by my senses and Alice's visions, I didn't take into consideration how eerily apt Victoria was at never making a clear plan and sticking to spur-of-the-moment decisions. It was almost like she had a gift of her own—this chaotic spontaneity that managed to catch even Alice off-guard at times.

One year ago, during the last week of May, I was on pins and needles, knowing that Bella's graduation day was coming. I hung around the outskirts of Forks for days while my sister kept me posted through phone calls about the various visions she had been having of Victoria infiltrating the school grounds during the ceremony and stalking Bella into a dark corner until she had nowhere to run. Even if my family insisted on helping me by joining the hunt, I refused to drag them into my mess again. They had new lives, and I didn't want to disrupt them by asking them to help me kill a predator. Undoubtedly, my refusal was not enough to convince them—at least not until I threatened to cut off all contact with them if they persisted.

So, I was alone on the gloomy Wednesday when it happened.

That day, I kept scouring the very edges of the town, making sure that I knew precisely who was entering and who was exiting the premises. With Victoria keeping her distance, I started hoping that Alice's visions would remain an unfulfilled possibility and nothing more. As time went on, she could see Victoria driving in circles somewhere in Sappho, in a stolen car, caught between the decision to fulfill her plan and the decision to postpone it again. As much as I wanted to go to Sappho and end her for good, I couldn't risk the possibility of leaving the town unattended now. What if the vengeful monster turned around at the last minute? What if I wasn't fast enough and she managed to reach Bella before I could?

The thought made me shudder in horror, further reinforcing my conviction that the time for actually fighting Victoria had to take a back seat, because the mission of actively protecting my beloved was much more urgent.

As the day went on, I heard cars and thoughts of people leaving Forks and going to Port Angeles to celebrate graduation with a proper dinner. I listened to the passing noise around me, careful not to miss anything. My concentration peaked when, from miles away, I recognized the familiar mental noise of Bella's mother. Loud and clear, her mind almost begged to be noticed—in a way Bella's mind never did.

I had no choice but to give her my full attention.

She seemed preoccupied with the possibility of missing her plane. But in between fragments of worries, she was also reminiscing about how the day went. About how strange it had been for her to wake up in the house she ran away from when her daughter was still a baby—and how it was even stranger that she was now alone in a car with Charlie, as he drove her to Port Angeles, so that she could catch her plane to Orlando, where Phil was getting ready for a big game. About how Bella barely smiled through the graduation ceremony, but made an exception when Charlie took a picture of her and Jacob together. About the modest lunch the four of them shared at home after Bella insisted she was more than happy to reheat some lasagna instead of going to a restaurant.

As Renée's thoughts were sifted through the transparent sieve of her mind, I couldn't help but feel envious. Missing such an important event in the life of my one and only love—only to see pieces of it in the mind of someone else—felt like being stabbed in the heart a thousand times consecutively. I wanted to deny this envy, but it was as much a part of me as my thirst was.

It wasn't until the car got closer that I started to decipher Charlie's thoughts as well. As usual, it was difficult to get a proper glimpse at them, since they seemed to be so well-guarded, but not impossible. I could hear the bittersweet nostalgia that was troubling him, although it was rather unclear whether the feeling was caused by the milestone in his only daughter's life or by the rare occasion of sharing the same car with his ex-wife and not exchanging a single word with her.

After a while, the familiar mental clatter started to dissipate, serving to clear my head a little—just enough to check the new text received from Alice.

'Safe for now. 91% sure of it. She's in Maple Grove, in the same stolen Ford. The driver is still knocked out, but she is considering the possibility of killing him before he wakes up.'

There was no way I was taking any chances if there was a nine percent chance of placing Bella in harm's way. I wondered if there was any rhyme or reason behind Victoria's dedication to driving around aimlessly, as if she had grown bored of her stalking game. As I got to find out eventually, she had once again chosen to rely on hazard, in an annoyingly successful bid to evade Alice's power.

And the hazard eventually materialized itself—early enough for Alice to call me in a frenzy, too late to do anything to stop it.

Somewhere between Maple Grove and Port Angeles, the roads of Victoria and Bella's parents converged. Victoria's new plan didn't really take shape until she realized she recognized the scent of Charlie—and with it, she saw the fucked up opportunity to send a warning. Less than three minutes separated the moment when my sister called, completely terrified of what she had seen, from the moment when Victoria turned around and crashed into Charlie's car from behind at full speed, driving both vehicles off the road and straight into the depths of Lake Sutherland.

As the paramedics were going to declare, Renée and Charlie died before they hit the water, the sheer force of the collision being enough to splinter their spines, crush their skulls, and turn their brains into irreparable mush. The other man—the one whose car had been stolen—had not been any luckier. He was unfairly declared guilty post-mortem for causing the accident, the case closing before the victims' loved ones got to process the loss—and without them ever finding out that he had never been in the wrong.

The guilt for leaving Bella so utterly alone didn't really register at first—in fact, it wasn't until weeks later, when I was watching the red-headed monster burning in front of my eyes, that I started to understand that if Bella and I had never met, her family would have still been alive and well.

And the deeper that strain of knowledge sunk in, the more I wanted to disappear completely.

The evening was not ready to surrender to the fast-growing night when I found a spot for my car in the little parking lot by the graveyard, right under the branches of an old alder. Bella had just finished telling me the story of how her parents died—well, the official version, the only version that she knew. I was certainly thankful when we got out and I got to breathe properly again, finally getting a break from the narcotic essence filling up the air in my car.

I walked carefully to Bella's side of the car and leaned on the door while she rearranged the flowers in the bouquet. Standing so close to her, I felt unsure of what I was supposed to do next, now that we were here. I wasn't even sure if she wanted me to go with her further—not to mention that it felt morally wrong to visit the grave of the man I inadvertently killed when his daughter was right by my side.

"You know, you can take your time there, I can wait," I said, in an attempt to back down.

"What do you mean? You're not coming?"

"I just want to give you some privacy, that's all."

"Edward, privacy is my last worry right now," she assured me. "I mean, I don't want to walk alone in a cemetery when the light is almost gone."

"You didn't bring a flashlight?"

"Why would I need a flashlight when I've got you here?" There was a strange fondness in her voice when she uttered those words, one that I didn't know how to interpret without driving myself crazy. "Just tell me when I need to watch out for obstacles and I'll survive."

She really didn't have to fight hard to convince me to do anything. As wrong as it was to proceed with this walk and all that it entailed, I could not deny her wish—and how could I ever leave her to deal with the incoming darkness alone? With a defeated nod, I accepted, and we headed to the entrance gate, making our way past the unassuming guard, and into the large graveyard.

The gravestones looked purple and lonely, as most people preferred to pay their homage to the dead during the day. The place reminded me of a labyrinth, as the main road appeared to bifurcate sooner than one would expect, with each path ramifying in new directions that led to various patches of graves. Small fir trees seemed to pop up here and there, disrupting the horizon line and accompanying the deathbeds.

"Where to?" I asked, and Bella signaled me to turn left.

I followed her directions, and the newfound path caused the wind to blow Bella's perfume straight into my nose. The agony would have been sublime if it hadn't caused my imagination to go rogue. But it was downright impossible to ignore how easy it could be to stave off the pain and end my inhuman hunger. We were virtually alone—save for the guard dozing off in his cabin—so no one would notice if Bella and I were to sneak behind one of the few solitary trees. Would she try to stop me if I leaned in, begging to get a taste of her blood? Would she mind if I allowed my lips near hers before I dove into my darker needs? Would she long to feel our bodies pressed together, in a bid to smother the pain of my bite, as I drank and drank and drank?

I shuddered, as my reason forced the abominable fantasies out of me.

I would never do such a thing to her—not even if the circumstances made it so that I could. I loved her too much to allow myself to go there.

"This place feels so odd when it's not broad daylight," she observed. "It makes me understand why cemeteries are a regular set-up for horror movies."

"Any place can be a set-up for horror movies if it's dark enough."

"Fair point. I once saw one taking place in an amusement park, although I can't remember what it was called."

I chuckled, a little bewildered as I learned something new about her. "Since when do you watch horror movies?"

"Since I realized that most of them are funnier than regular comedies." Bella raised her eyes up to glance at me, and I instantly detected the playful determination dancing in them.

"I'm not sure being funny is their intended purpose though," I replied. Before she could fight back with an argument, I noticed a small boulder a few feet away from us. She was still looking at me, unaware of the obstacle to come, when I turned back to warn her. "Be careful where you step, there's a big rock there."

Squinting at the road ahead of us, Bella slowed her pace, taking calculated steps, until she successfully passed the hurdle.

"It may not be their intended purpose," she continued, "but have you seen a horror movie lately? More often than not, they're so ridiculous it's funny—and that's just based on the bad decisions made by the main characters. Decisions that no one would make in real life if they had half a brain. And if we're talking about visual effects, that's another Pandora box."

As much as I loved to hear the heated passion of her argument, I was also aware of the irony of it all. I wasn't sure that she was aware of it. "Bad decisions, you say?" I had to hold back my laugh as I talked. "Such as—I don't know—walking in a graveyard by a vampire's side, right before nightfall?"

"Oh, that doesn't count and you know it."

"I'd wager it does."

"No, it doesn't, because I'm not in danger with you. The two of us, here? We'd make for the most boring horror movie in existence."

She was teasing my self-control, taunting it. Had she known the exact thoughts in my brain, she might have taken her words back. I chose not to say anything, out of courtesy—or maybe selfishness, because I really, really didn't want her to run away. So we walked in silence some more, with Bella guiding me in the right direction and with me warning her about the rocks and twigs along the way.

Minutes later, she slowed down, stopping altogether once she reached a patch of land that was half surrounded by rhododendron bushes, half barren. A few more steps and I could see, past the mauve flowers, the simple gravestone in front of which we stopped. Just a few words were engraved on the rough surface of the stone.

Charlie Swan

1964 - 2006

Chief of Police & loving father

My heart sank in the blink of an eye, suddenly looking for a hiding place.

I didn't dare to look at Bella—not yet, because seeing the solid proof of my misgivings was something I was not entirely prepared to face, so I had to actively fight back my own emotions. Even if I had had more than one year to process what could have been done to prevent the awful murder of Bella's parents, seeing the actual grave of her father hurt terribly. I didn't care that he never really liked me, nor trusted me—in fact, his instincts regarding me had always been far better than those of his daughter.

It was easy to remember how worried he got whenever she and I were together. It was almost like he, too, knew the precise danger that she was in every single time I picked her up for a date. His mundane, fatherly worries, were a given, but his instincts were much louder—so loud that they were the clearest thoughts I had ever heard coming from his side. He never knew how right he was for wanting to keep her as far away as possible from me.

Charlie Swan had been a good man, through and through, if only for how deep his love and devotion for his daughter used to run, and that was all that mattered.

"This is the place," Bella uttered, her voice almost a whisper in the silent evening.

Gathering enough courage to look at her, I got closer still and watched her kneel on the ground, placing the dahlias and poppies at the base of the gravestone. I couldn't see her face from where I was standing, but I could certainly hear the hum of her heart changing, beating louder—perhaps in distress of having to once again face the reality of her father being gone.

If only she knew…

"It's like years and years have passed," she murmured. "Time is so strange."

"It's what time does," I said in return. "It plays tricks on you like that."

"It's not fair." She sighed, as her hand stretched to touch a rhododendron bud. With curiosity getting the best of me, I kneeled by her side, so that I could see her face again. She was staring at the unbloomed flower, the slightest frown darkening her expression. "I want my memories of Charlie to be fresh. But every time I come here… it's like my brain refuses to accept that barely more than a year has passed, adding all this made-up extra time to make it seem less severe."

It hurt to hear her forlorn voice, knowing that it never would have sounded like that if I never introduced her to my world. There was hardly anything I could do to make her feel better when she was actively caressing the flowers on her father's grave, but I still tried. "Tell me your best memory of him."

She didn't have to ponder too long—almost as if she had thought about this a hundred times before. "The evening before my graduation day."

"What happened that evening?"

"You see, that's the thing. Nothing happened. I just made some enchiladas for him and my mother, as she spent the night there. And the three of us, we just… we ate and talked, nothing more. We talked until we started drifting off to sleep in between conversations, too tired to continue them. It's actually my favorite memory of both of them."

It was endearing, but also terribly heart-breaking, that her best memory of her parents was also one that was so trivial and unremarkable on the surface. Bella had never required an awful lot of extravaganza to be happy, unlike most humans. The simple things always elicited more smiles from her—that was something I learned early on about her. Even when we were together, I remembered how much brighter her eyes sparkled when we spent an evening cuddling in her bedroom, whispering and kissing until she fell into the abyss of dreams, as opposed to having a date somewhere in public. How much louder her laugh was when it was just the two of us, in our meadow, compared to the times when Alice tried to surprise her with meaningless parties.

But even with this knowledge, I longed to understand what made that memory of Charlie and Reneé so special to her. So I asked. "Why this one?"

"Because I've known my parents my entire life, and that evening was quite possibly the only time I saw them so relaxed in each other's presence. I mean, they always got along, at least to a certain extent—I know I've told you this forever ago—but there was also… a certain tension between them. Not the proverbial tension that you can cut with a knife, but definitely the kind of tension that makes your spine tingle uncomfortably. Like… you could just tell they were on the verge of breaking into a fight if they were left alone, but they were too civil to go there. I don't know, maybe that evening they acted nice for my sake, but I don't care."

I listened in silence, equal parts shocked and touched that she was willing to open her heart like that in front of me, out of all people. Hadn't I done enough to make her wary of me? Had she learned nothing? Time really was the best medicine, it seemed, at least for humans—it was the only explanation I could find for the way she wasn't afraid of inviting me into this part of her life.

This part which I had been deprived of for so long.

"It makes all the sense in the world," I offered after a while, watching as she got more comfortable on the ground. She shifted from her kneeling position so that she could sit cross-legged, facing me even better. I refused to acknowledge the strained vibration of her veins, pulsing under the paper-thin surface of her barren neck; instead, I focused on the way the mild wind was causing a few loose strands of hair to dance around her face, tickling her cheeks.

So beautiful, I thought. And getting even more so with each passing second.

But also more tempting, in more ways than my battered senses could count.

"You know, funnily enough, that evening is also my worst memory of them," Bella confessed, as more and more shadows started falling around us, the night growing restless.

"I don't understand," I admitted, confused by the uncanny ways her mind worked—surely there had to be an explanation. "How can it be both?"

She huffed as if I was missing the obvious—and for all I knew, I probably was. In my defense, I was still out of shape when it came to guessing the thoughts behind her words accurately.

Fortunately, she didn't let me wonder for too long, stopping the torture once her lips parted to talk again. "As much as I want to cherish it, to look back on it as this precious, nostalgic moment… I can't do it with a clean conscience. Because what happened the next day… the accident… it taints everything else. And it makes me wish none of it happened. If I hadn't invited Reneé to my graduation, Charlie would have never had to drive her to the airport the next day. They wouldn't have been caught in the wrong place, at the wrong time. They would've still been alive, I'm sure of it. So yes, as much as I loved that evening, I would give it all up if it meant that my parents were still here."

I couldn't quite believe what I was hearing. In the wake of her parents' death, Bella somehow found a way to blame herself. To see a fault in herself, even though she had never done anything wrong. While I was not entirely surprised—Bella always knew how to make herself responsible for everything—I was certainly feeling the weight of my past mistakes getting heavier and heavier. It was one thing to bear their heavy burden in solitude—because, unlike her, I was to blame, thus I deserved the suffering.

But knowing that she was bearing that burden too? Because of me, even though she didn't know it?

I couldn't allow it. I almost wanted her to know the truth. The full truth. Regardless of how much she would hate me afterwards.

"Bella, I'm sure you know this, but… what happened to your parents was not your fault."

"No, I know, but… I can't help but make connections. Like, what if my mother stayed home and missed my graduation? Or… what if she didn't and I asked her to miss Phil's game for once so that she could stay in Forks one more day? Just that one day would have saved them both."

I thought about whether there was any merit to what she was saying. Truthfully, Victoria had only acted on an impulse decision when she ran Charlie's car off the road and into the lake. However, that was not an excuse for my grave error—and it certainly didn't mean that Bella could have prevented it in any way. I should have looked beyond Alice's visions. I should have known better than to assume that Bella's parents would be off the table in Victoria's avenging plans.

I should have found a way to keep them protected too.

"You couldn't have known," I muttered under my breath, and I feared that she could sense just how on edge I felt and call me out on it.

"Sure, but it's not like that's any consolation though, is it?"

"It's not, but playing games of what if is not the best idea. Usually, at least."

"You're telling me you've never looked back on something and wondered what you could have done differently? To have things go your way?"

Only every waking moment of my life since I left you.

The thought almost slipped my mind, but I caught myself just in time.

"Of course I have," I answered. "But you know how that saying goes—do as the preacher says, not as he does."

"Now that would be one hypocritical preacher."

I chuckled, her apt joke too good to resist the impulse, and then I got courageous and looked at her again. A hint of a smile played in her eyes when she raised them towards my face, stopping once our gazes met. The warm brown abyss was as alluring as ever—but then again, so was the vibrating carotid peeking from underneath her skin. The taste of venom was painfully familiar, as it started to pool in my mouth, signaling all the possibilities that my lesser self was still considering.

Possibilities of me leaning over her, closing the distance with a kiss on the side of her neck, and asking her to obey my wishes. Then pushing her gently on the ground, under me, where she wouldn't be able to escape those wishes. Then sealing her fate with my teeth, by tasting what I wanted to taste at long last…

Bella must have sensed the rearing hunger in me, because she suddenly glanced at the flowers on the grave again, interrupting the delicious connection between us. It was enough of a distraction to allow my attention to snap back into focus and reveal the sensual images in my head for the truly appalling nightmares that they were.

I despised myself instantly for even daring to imagine such atrocities—and for how my erotic yearnings seemed to intermingle so much with my dark ones. To a certain extent, it had always been like this. Years ago, when I was getting riled up with lust, it was a given to also find myself overcome with thirst, as my body couldn't fight against either urge for too long, at least not effectively. Left to their own devices, the hungers paired and blended, joining forces, until they became almost inseparable. But as connected as they were, I still found ways to handle them—to push Bella away with gentleness when she was becoming too irresistible for her own good. But now, for one reason or another, I felt increasingly vulnerable in front of my appetite, as if it was the first time I was facing it in its full glory.

And if I were to turn back time in the state that I was in right now and find myself on her bed again… I hated to admit it, but I was certain I wouldn't be able to stop myself from fulfilling the second most dangerous fantasy in my head.

The fantasy that would surely lead to more perils.

Going all the way with Bella.

"I'm not sure if it'll go away," she said after a while, blissfully unaware of the deranged mess in my mind. "That feeling of guilt… I'm pretty certain it's there to stay."

The desperation of needing to tell her that I was to blame was pressing even harder down my shoulders. Would the consequences of telling her the complete story be too much to handle? I had already lost my chance of being together with her, so there wasn't anything meaningful left to lose.

"Bella… you don't deserve to live with any type of guilt. You shouldn't let it consume you when you never did anything wrong in the first place."

"Maybe that's just how I mourn."

"I understand, but you don't have to punish yourself for the rest of your life."

She seemed to ponder over my words for a while. When she spoke again, she sounded mildly infuriated. "You make it sound easy. I can assure you it's the opposite of that. It's not like I can wake up one day and forget that I was the one who insisted for my mother to come to my graduation."

Her voice trembled, along with her heartbeat, and I knew then that I could no longer fight the hankering to be honest with her, not when her distress tinged the air so poignantly. I could picture the pain that was sure to follow—the pain when she would finally understand her parents had been nothing but pawns in Victoria's sick games. Games I had been too weak to play properly, without causing collateral damage and hurting my only love beyond repair.

But if Bella could at least have the privilege of knowing all the details, then maybe she would allow herself to let go of the guilt she had been carrying around for the past year. She deserved it, even if the fresh knowledge would more than likely injure this strange friendship of ours. I could handle whatever would come next—it would probably still be too weak of a punishment compared to the severity of my failure.

To hell with the consequences.

"If anyone is to blame, that would be me," I managed to say.

Bella's first instinct was to roll her eyes. Then, of course, she instantly fought back—just like I subconsciously knew she would. "Look, I know you've always had a way to take the blame for everything, but… this time, it's not the case. It's… you weren't even here when it happened, Edward. It had nothing to do with you."

"That's the problem. I was here."

"No, you weren't. You couldn't have been. It was last year, it was…" She looked up, frowning, clearly trying to understand what I wasn't saying out loud. "It doesn't add up."

I hesitated, fearful about how I could possibly phrase this to make the story easier to digest. Eventually, I decided that a chronological retelling was probably the best idea. "I was on the outskirts of town on the day that you graduated."

"Oh… you were?" She seemed equal parts incredulous and confused. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely sure."

"And you were there… on purpose?"

"Very much on purpose," I professed.

"I don't understand." Her eyes were piercing in the dark, almost accusing. I tried to grasp if she had already guessed the rest of the story without me having to tell her, although it seemed quite unlikely at this point. "Why didn't you come see me then?"

That was certainly not what I was expecting to hear.

"Bella, I… I made a promise to leave you alone." It felt so strange to acknowledge that particular promise out loud, knowing that I had recently broken it to pieces. "I didn't want to break it."

Unsurprisingly, she didn't let it slide. "But… you did, right? I mean you're here now. Why not then?"

"Because now… now you're not in any danger." At least not life-threatening danger, I added to myself, never forgetting that her life was not much more substantial than that of a soap bubble—at any point, something immaterial and unstoppable could end it. From illness to bad luck, the world was not safe for her kind. It was all a continuous gamble. "Besides, this, us being here, talking… I didn't mean for it to happen, I swear. I meant to stay away. What happened in the woods, when you sprained your ankle…"

"I know, I know. You were going to hunt and you heard me."

"Yes," I lied, deliberating quickly whether I sounded as nonchalant as I would have hoped before realizing that I probably didn't. "And I feared what you would think if I showed up, seeing that I had managed to keep my promise just fine until then, but I also genuinely wanted to help you once I realized you were hurt and alone."

"Still, last year… you could have stopped by."

"I wasn't even around that long. Why does it matter so much?"

Bella shook her head, closing her eyes, and something in her expression looked a lot like exasperation. "It doesn't. So what were you doing?"

There we were—back to the reality of what I was about to admit. I feared the unknown, but not more than I feared what would happen if Bella didn't stop blaming herself. "All right," I began, "let me know if it wouldn't be far off to assume that you still remember Victoria."

Whatever hint of rosiness had been in her cheeks before left all at once, almost on command. My mouth watered as I heard the song in her veins gaining momentum, the beats reflecting in the most gorgeous quiver of her throat.

"She's… impossible to forget," she replied. I heard the terror behind her words, even though she didn't make a spectacle out of it. It was there, hidden in plain sight—a testament to what I could guess had been many sleepless nights spent trying to figure out if the world she knew was ever going to feel safe again.

"Unfortunately she is," I confirmed. "And also a nightmare to track down."

"What do you mean?"

"As you probably remember, she wanted revenge, after…" I hesitated, refusing to go too in-depth with the details about the cursed night that convinced me that our incongruous nature was impossible to mend. "After that night in Phoenix." Bella nodded, but I could tell her mind was no longer here. She glanced down at her wrists, and I did the same, unable to look away once I spotted the bite mark again. The otherworldly silver hue stood out against the warm undertone of her skin.

"I do remember."

"So I had to search for her, to make sure she didn't reach you. And I thought it would be the easiest thing in the world since Alice was keeping me posted about Victoria's next steps, but… Victoria was smart. She knew she was being watched, so she stuck to making momentary decisions." It was agony to relive these truths in front of her, giving her full access to my utter lack of competency—but I knew that my agony was nothing next to hers, so I continued. "And I hate to admit it, but most times it worked."

Bella listened patiently, and I could feel her gaze burning through me. I did not dare to face her eyes directly.

"You searched for her," she murmured—so softly that I doubted if she even wanted to say it out loud.

"I had no choice," I replied, stating the obvious. "Not when I knew you were virtually unprotected."

"Is that why I never saw her again?"

"Yes," I said. "I eventually managed to make sure she would never bother you."

"How?"

I thought about it—how one night, not too long after committing the most abominable crime, with only two cities separating us, Victoria went all out with her thirst, killing an entire family of five innocents, just because she could. She took her sweet time draining them, so confident that she was out of harm's way. So confident that I would be too terrified to leave the proximity of Forks to go after her. That night, I ran faster than I ever had, determined to catch her in the midst of the feeding frenzy—the only time when her defenses were down.

And I succeeded, at long last—too late to make a difference for Bella's parents, but enough to make a difference for her.

"She became too arrogant after a while," I explained. "Too convinced that she had the upper hand."

Bella shifted slightly from her position, somehow getting closer to me. I was still too much of a coward to meet her eyes, especially when she voiced her next concerns. "But… what got her to become arrogant in the first place? And how does that have any connection to my parents?"

Still hesitating—but aware that I was on borrowed time with her—I glanced up. A part of me was convinced that she managed to put the pieces together during the last few minutes, and all that she needed was my confirmation that she had guessed right. Bella could be frighteningly smart, and I could actively see how her fast-working mind was causing her brows to furrow and bring about a delicate dimple between them. But she also had a way of seeing the best in people unless proven wrong. So, despite her logic probably ringing several alarm bells at once, I could bet she still didn't want to believe I could be to blame for what happened to Charlie and Renée.

I hated having to let her down.

I took my time telling her the entire tale of Victoria. I told her how, at some point in Victoria's evil bedlam, it stopped being about taking revenge on me and it started being about taking revenge on Bella too. Even if I made an effort to cut down on the gory details, I realized the story wasn't any less horrific—if anything, it was a downward spiral of things getting worse and worse as they progressed.

In a way, what was happening now wasn't new to either of us. We had been here before—caught in a moment, with me confessing things that were beyond detestable and Bella listening far too bravely, instead of running away. Of course, where could she run to now? With the night pressing down on our shoulders and no source of light in sight, she had no choice but to stay.

She was downright trapped, I realized with horror.

By the time I finished my story, that harrowing realization had not let up. I waited for Bella's reaction, bracing myself to accept her hate and anger, knowing that I deserved it all. But she didn't say anything. In fact, she didn't even move. She just sat there, on the ground, staring at the grave, no other sounds other than her breathing and her heart disrupting the quiet air.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am," I said, aware that I was starting to sound like a broken machine. I had apologized constantly throughout my confession, but it didn't feel like enough. In all honesty, even if she had the patience to listen to my apologies all night, it still wouldn't have been enough, as there were no words to undo what was done. "I wish more than anything to turn back time and do things differently, but…" I stopped, realizing that these words weren't helping either. But my anxiety-filled brain refused to shut up, so I tried again. "If there was a way to bring them back to you, I'd give my life for it to work, I swear."

Even if I meant every word, the blow of the truth wasn't any less excruciating.

I felt powerless, as I anticipated the incoming sign that she never wanted to see my face again. But nothing happened, and it made me wonder if Bella had entered a state of shock. I was anything but competent at dealing with such a situation, so I decided to give her a way out since she seemed to be far too speechless to ask for one herself. "Listen, if you want to go home now, I can drive you back. And I promise I won't bother you again after that. Ever."

At long last, she moved again. It was more of a shudder, as her gaze drifted away from the grave and back to me. I could see that her pupils were covered in a glossy sheen now, and the sight shattered my heart.

"No," she whispered, not even blinking.

"No?"

"No, I don't want that," she clarified. "Why would I want that?"

"Well, now that you know how I…"

"Know what, Edward? It's not like you killed them."

For a brief moment, I didn't know how to react. I was convinced that she had listened to everything, but now I was debating whether she had paid attention to the parts that mattered the most. "I'm not sure you listened to everything," I murmured.

"On the contrary, I did. But if I know anything about you, then the story in your head probably sounds a whole lot different than the one you just told me." I tried to come up with something intelligent to say in return, but the logical part of my brain was malfunctioning. Bella used my rustiness as a way to further her argument. "It's not even a question if it's your fault or not, trust me."

"But it is my fault I wasn't there for them," I persisted.

"How can it be? It's not like Victoria had made some big elaborate plan that you knew about days in advance. And—no, actually, sorry, even if she did make some elaborate plan, you didn't owe it to me to do anything at all. Victoria was my problem, not yours."

"Your problem?" I shook my head, shocked by the unforeseen change in direction that our conversation was taking. Where the hell was the anger? The hate? "Bella, you never would have been on her radar if it weren't for me."

"With my luck, you really can't know that for sure."

That was a reasonable argument, but the rest of her point still made no sense—not to mention I was still at a loss when it came to the lack of rage directed at me. "You couldn't have stopped her if she came for you. You do realize this, right?"

"I know. But at least if she came for me to get it over with, then she wouldn't have had any reasons to go after my parents."

It was chilling to the bone to hear such an affirmation coming from her—although I really shouldn't have been surprised, seeing that there had been a point in her life when she was more than ready to die for her mother if it came to it. Perhaps it wasn't the thought itself that froze me in place, as much as it was the ease with which she voiced it, as if her own life didn't even matter in the grand scheme of things.

I refused to believe that to this day, she still couldn't comprehend just how important she was or how precious her life was. It didn't make sense, considering her new partner. Jacob never had to push her away the way that I had, allowing the right kind of love to bloom in her heart. The kind of love that didn't leave room for uncertainty or fear. For that reason alone, I expected Bella to understand her own worth at the very least.

But something in my reasoning must have been flawed, because all of a sudden, Bella's eyes no longer glistened, they flooded. Tears started flowing in streams—hot, unstoppable streams, that imbued the air with the wretched scent of salt and disappointment—and I felt utterly lost.

My hands reached forward for the shortest moment before I realized I couldn't do anything with them—no touching, no comforting, nothing. They retreated in defeat, at their own volition. My panic, however, only skyrocketed.

"Bella…" She turned her face away completely, as if she had just remembered she was not alone. I tried to let my words do the touching that my hands weren't allowed to. "Bella, I'm so sorry… so sorry I didn't save them."

"It's not that," she sobbed, suddenly preoccupied with playing with the ring on her finger.

"You can tell me."

Silence descended upon us, dragging its weight all over my consolation attempt—and my unconvincing plea. As much as I wanted her to bare her soul in front of me, I had to give myself a mental nudge, to remember why expecting such things from her was not acceptable.

With gritted teeth, I waited for her decision.

It took a while. Between stroking her ring and hiding her crying face, I could guess that Bella's resolution was hardly simple. Because sure, if I was a regular friend, it might have been easier for her to get it over with and just speak. But I knew, deep down, that the tonnage of our history—specifically how I abandoned her without too many explanations—disqualified me from being considered a good friend.

I was an untrustworthy acquaintance at best.

"I think…" Bella started but stopped immediately. I held my breath—half because the suspense was eating me alive, half because it was getting progressively harder to ignore the way she made my body ache with impossible cravings. "I think I spent so much time with a certain scenario in my head, that I feel stupid for not doubting it sooner."

"You're not stupid, you had no way of knowing what happened."

"But I should have known!" Her voice raised a little, taking me back to all the times when she was so mad at herself that her temper got out of control. Back then, I found it enchanting—now it only made me sad. "I should have at least considered it, since I never got to see Victoria again. The rest of my theories made no sense anyway."

My nosiness reared its head again. "What theories?"

Her answer came quickly this time around, just like I had hoped. "At one point, I thought that she simply got bored. Or that I was no longer a priority on her list. Or… that something happened to her—you know, wrong place, wrong time, and all that; that she crossed paths with someone she shouldn't have. Someone, but not… well, not you."

The fact that she considered my intervention so surprising would have hurt my ego if I didn't know that it came from a place full of insecurities and self-doubt.

"Bella, tell me you didn't honestly believe I would leave you at a psychopath's mercy."

"I… did," she mumbled, sounding as unconvincing as ever. I sighed, and she changed her answer immediately. "I didn't?" Even if I tried to suppress my reaction this time, it didn't matter. She could read me too easily. "What do you want me to say, Edward? I honestly don't know. You did say it would be like you never existed. I assumed you meant it fully. Although… you clearly didn't, since you are here now."

She was still hiding, so I couldn't be sure of the actual sentiment behind her last words. Maybe she was accusing me of not staying away like I had promised. Or maybe she was way past the point of accepting the fact that I had been unable to keep my promise.

Relinquished, I decided to go with the truth again—as it turned out, tonight was a good night for truths. "I meant it at the time."

"And I believe you. But maybe this is not so bad, right? Maybe… maybe this—us being friends—can be a good thing."

"Do you think so?"

"I feel so. Don't you?"

I didn't have a good answer to her question. "To be fair, I'm not sure. I was so certain you wouldn't want to hear from me—first when I came to you in the woods that day, and then a few minutes ago, after what I've just told you. So I am still processing the very idea of friendship—specifically why you would even consider it, knowing everything that you know about me."

"You're overthinking this too much. Some things… you just need to let them be."

Then, for the first time in what felt like a long while, she turned to look at me again. The dried tears were the first thing I noticed—the delicate trails left by her weeping were still there, I could tell, but they were almost invisible now, their outline getting lost in the rose pigment of her cheeks.

Bella's slight smile was the second sight that got my attention. So small it was almost negligible, but to me, it was everything, as it allowed me to hope. To really hope that being her friend was not the most outrageous thing in the world.

"I'm sorry I made you cry earlier," I blurted out, bewitched by the contrast between her smile and her still-glimmering eyes.

"You have nothing to apologize for," she assured me. "Actually, for the longest time, Jake tried to get me to laugh whenever we came here. Not in a weird way or anything, he was just… I don't know, he liked to make a fool of himself and crack all sorts of jokes, if only to make me smile and get my mind off things." The picture she was painting was perfectly clear. I could see them here, right by this very grave, sharing relieved laughs instead of tears. And I could imagine him protecting her from the dark twists of her unfortunate life with his arms. With his exasperatingly lucky lips. I envied the simple serenity of that picture. And I envied him, for being able to offer her what I couldn't. "It was just his way of helping me cope, I guess," Bella continued, her voice more mellow with each new syllable. "But I needed this. I needed a good cry, so thank you."

Her comforting smile was probably her way of convincing me that she meant what she had just said, but it only made me more confused. I couldn't fully comprehend how crying could ever be considered a good thing—good enough to thank someone for driving you into such a trap, albeit accidentally.

As I kept searching for a hidden meaning, Bella reminded me that, at the end of the day, she was only human. This time, it wasn't her scent that prompted the reality check—no, that was one continuous, inescapable, delirious hellscape that never ceased to exist; at best, it quietened long enough to allow me to concentrate on the rest of her—but something simpler. A yawn. Soft, silent, and precious, it was precisely the cue I needed.

"Do you want to go?" I asked. "Catch up on your sleep?"

"Oh, sleeping is a lost battle for me. I never get to rest."

"Why?"

Her shoulders moved up and down, matter-of-factly. "I think I have too many thoughts at night."

"Hmmm, so many thoughts and I don't get to hear a single one," I teased.

"Trust me, it's for the best that you don't."

I laughed, even if I didn't agree with her, and stood up at long last. Bella followed my lead, her legs looking a little wobbly as she did. My body tensed as I realized that her loose-fitting T-shirt had slipped off her shoulder, revealing the black strap of her bra. An incongruence of feelings bubbled up in my core: the need to peel that strap off, to reveal her shoulder, was as strong as the need to plunge my teeth into the newly-revealed artery. I wondered if my inebriated state was as obvious to her as it was to me.

At least it was too dark for her senses to observe the throbbing erection wreaking havoc in my jeans if she happened to glance down.

Not that she would glance down to check, of course.

"Can I ask you something?" Bella said, clearly unbothered by my silent insanity.

"Anything."

"All right, so after tonight, I'll… I'll be in my head way too much. I'm usually like this when I visit this place, but now more than usual, considering our discussion. The thing is, I could really use some company until Jake returns tomorrow, because I feel like I will go crazy if I am left alone now." She ran out of air and stopped, but started again before I could even make sense of what she was asking. "Would it be awful if I asked you to come over and hang out until I fall asleep? Please?"

That question alone must have taken a lot of courage to voice out loud, judging by how fast her heart was beating. She was handing me yet another olive branch—a chance to be something better for her than what I used to be. And I was just like a starved animal that couldn't—and didn't want to—say no. Every single chance she was feeding me, I was more than willing to gobble it down and secretly pine for more.

Perhaps I was getting high on the possibility that these chances were a gift that would just keep on giving. The more time we spent together, the more obvious it became that, on an emotional level, we clicked. We understood one another. We enjoyed spending time together. This aspect was hardly news to me, but at least now I got to appreciate it in a new way, since there was no hope in sight to surrender to my lust.

As it turned out, being Bella's friend was nothing short of a blessing.

"Nothing awful about it, I'll keep you company if it means you get to rest tonight," I answered in the end.

When she thanked me with that bashful smile of hers I loved so much, my cock strained further against the fabric of my jeans, clearly not at peace with the rest of my resolve.

No doubt about it, my spot in hell was warm and ready for me.

Quite an evening of confessions, huh? And it's still not finished...

Do you think actual friendship is possible for these two?

I can't wait to read and respond to your reviews :)!

Before I go, one important note: the month of June is quite a busy time for me, as my wonderful man's birthday is coming up. This celebration, coupled with another prior engagement, means that I will spend two weekends away from my laptop. So just as a disclaimer, there will be no updates coming on June 2nd and June 23rd.

Now, before you throw your tomatoes at me, I've also got a piece of good news! To make up for the delay in posting, I have prepared a super-duper special surprise for you regarding this story :). So if you'd like to see it when I post it next week —along with all the teasers for future chapters—make sure to join my Facebook group, "Twilight fanfics: NightBloomingPeony & friends corner".

See you soon with a new chapter! Until then, stay safe and happy!

Chapter Text

At a certain level, I knew this was wrong.

Sitting on Bella's armchair, being in her home again, while Jacob was away. I was taking way more than I deserved. And even if I had no intention to let my immoral whims win, that still wasn't enough to make me an upstanding man. There was a conflict inside me that I couldn't appease. Part of me wanted to do the right thing and be there for Bella in her hour of need, but another part couldn’t help listening to the sound of the shower upstairs, wondering how she looked beneath the curtain of water cascading over her body.

Beneath the noise of the shower, I also detected non-related sounds. An uncertain sigh. The slight slippage of skin against the porcelain enamel of the bathtub. An off-tune humming. Strands of hair squeaking under foam. More sighs. This disordered symphony was somewhat familiar, as this was far from the first time I waited for Bella to finish her human rituals before she headed to sleep. It made me terribly nostalgic for those long-dead times. However, these sounds weren't enough to fully distract me from the absolutely dishonourable and wickedly exciting fantasies awakened at the mere thought of her naked.

I found myself pressing down on the hardness in my pants time and time again, hoping it would go the hell away, but it never did. Not for one second.

Bella took her time in the shower, to the point in which I started to wonder if she felt unwell. So when I finally heard the bathroom door opening upstairs, it was a challenge to stay put in my spot, instead of running to her and checking if everything was all right. When I heard footsteps on the stairs, I struggled to mask my lascivious mood, so that I could seem poised and contained.

I liked to believe I managed, at least until the sight of her stepping into the living room ruined everything. Under the soft light from the lamp on the table, she looked very much like an angel who had just descended from the clouds. Her hair was a cascade of wet waves and she had on a black T-shirt and sweatpants—which shouldn't have been so damn exciting, but it was. Because even through the black fabric, the hint of her nipples poking through was undeniable and also undoubtedly sensual. And the way those sweatpants hung tightly to the plump outline of her hips… it really wasn't fair.

When she got closer, the fragrant heat of her body hit me with full force. A slave to my overstimulated senses, I simply stared at her and suffered through the abundance of venom coating my tongue.

"Sorry you had to wait so long," she said, as she grabbed the yellow throw blanket from the edge of the sofa and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Don't worry about me."

She sat down on the couch, before quickly moving into a more relaxed position, lying down on her side. "We can still go to the bedroom if you've changed your mind. I told you, there's a chair in there. And I won't bite."

My jaw clenched at the appealing proposal. It was the second time she had suggested this since we got here. The first time, I refused simply because it seemed a tad inappropriate to actually step inside the most intimate place she shared with Jacob when he wasn't home. Even without our past tainting the innocence of such an act, I would have said no, aware that Bella was giving my intentions far too much credit. Besides, the bedroom was too cramped of a space to properly contain my most savage hunger without driving me wild. At least here, in the living room, the wide space dispersed the delicious molecules of Bella's scent in corners where my nose could not reach.

"Of course you won't," I replied, "but I might."

I probably failed to sound as menacing as I had hoped, because instead of recoiling, she laughed. "No, you won't. You're all bark and no bite, Edward."

"I know your favourite pastime used to be testing my limits to hell and back, but let's not go there again."

Bella rolled her eyes at me, clearly not understanding that my self-control had not been tested in a long time. Her blood would have been all over my hands by now if I didn't love her more than life itself. "I'm not testing anything." She pulled herself deeper into the cover of her blanket until only her face was visible. "What is this really about? Someone waiting for you at home?"

"You're funny."

"I'm not kidding! I know how you get overly ethical with these things, so it would only make sense."

"There's no one waiting for me at home, Bella."

"Then… in another city?" she insisted.

I sighed, since an interrogation was the last thing I expected. "Certainly not."

"Another… country? Continent?"

"I am single, end of story."

"Oh." Her little oh sounded so indistinct, it could mean a myriad of things. It sounded like she was surprised. Sad. Relieved. Confused. All at once. "Is it… is it recent, or—"

"I have been this way ever since I left," I clarified, hoping that she wouldn't need further explanations beyond that.

Much to my disappointment, Bella didn't let up. "But… why?"

"What do you mean why?" If I sounded irritated, it was because I was. Discussing my singledom with her was the last thing I wanted, as there was no tolerable way of telling her that, even if we were no longer together, she was still my mate and there was no breaking that bond, not even if I wanted to—which I didn't. I had made my peace with that certitude, I didn't want pity. "Do I need a reason now?"

"I mean… you are kind, loving, and smart, and… I just don't see how someone like you cannot find love."

"It helps when you're not actively looking."

"But what about simply finding?"

"I didn't find anyone, clearly."

"Well, maybe you will."

"Maybe," I lied, eager to terminate the discussion altogether. Looking for a way to shift her focus, I went for the most obvious thing, not even bothering to make the transition smooth. "Do you sleep with the light on or off?"

"Off. But keep it on a little longer. Please?"

"Don't you have to wake up early tomorrow, to get to work?"

"Yes, I do, but I'm not sleepy right now."

I stuck to her wishes, as irresponsible as they were, and sunk deeper into the velvet-clad chair. The springs inside croaked, and I made a mental note to be careful with the rest of my movements—the last thing I needed was to leave actual proof of my presence here for Jacob to find when Bella hadn't had the chance to inform him on her own terms.

"So, you never told me much about the rest of your family," she began, but stopped before asking any specific questions.

"There's not much to say. They live in Juneau. I don't keep in touch with them as much as I should."

"Did you get into a fight with them or what?"

"Not really. I wanted to be alone and they offered me that—or at least they tried. Alice and Esme are rather… persistent about keeping in touch."

"Perhaps you should talk to them more often. I'm sure you know they love you." I nodded in agreement, knowing that she was right on a certain level, but fully determined to ignore the advice. "I tried talking to them as well, just so you know. Well, to Alice, at least. But she never responded. She probably thought I was a lunatic for even trying."

"It was never personal," I assured her. "My family, they… they all changed their numbers. Moving to a new place means having no strings attached."

"You also changed yours."

I ignored her accusing tone, hoping that—just like she did in the library a few days ago—she wouldn't insist. "I did."

But instead of giving up, she pushed the blanket away from her arms, reaching out to grab her phone from the coffee table in front of her. The sudden draft carried the concentrated fragrance of her blood my way, causing my lungs to tremble in agony. "You know, I think it would be useful if I had your new number too. While you're still around town, anyway."

"I can't see why," I replied, aware that I sounded unfriendly and rude—precisely the demeanor I needed if I wanted Bella to concede defeat early on and place the phone back on the table, where it belonged.

"So that I can reach you, obviously."

"I've told you before: I can always find you."

"And I haven't told you this, but I will now—you're not playing fair," she fought back. It was jarring to see her so determined to continue, despite my efforts to kill that beautiful diligence in its tracks with rudeness. "Waiting around for you to show up is more frustrating than you could possibly imagine."

She looked at me, clearly hoping I would capitulate. But much like her, I had my own arguments to bring to the table.

"Bella, I am trying really hard to be ethical about all of… this. I would appreciate it if you didn't make my job harder than it needs to be."

Messing with my expectations, she laughed. The kind of laugh that meant anything but merriment. "So it's all about ethics then, great. For God's sake, you're a smart man, Edward, so do I really need to spell it out for you? I've got a ring on my finger for a reason." While she didn't make a point out of highlighting her words with gestures, my gaze was certainly drawn to her fingers, where—sure enough—the ring was resting defiantly. "I don't want anything from you, besides friendship."

"I know that neither you, nor I, want anything else. But that doesn't erase the fact that it feels wrong to be friends behind Jacob's back. He should know that I came to visit on Wednesday. That I drove you to the graveyard tonight. That I'm here now."

Seemingly a little conflicted, Bella bit her lip. It was quite inconvenient that even in the middle of an uncomfortable conversation, that innocent act seemed so full of voluptuous promises. "That's… I will tell him if that's the problem. I've been meaning to tell him, but I was still trying to figure out how to do it in a way that he will understand."

"The truth will go a long way."

"I agree. I'd just rather do it face to face when he comes back tomorrow. It's easier to explain."

"Good."

"So now that we've got that settled, can we please be normal for a minute and exchange phone numbers?"

Subdued once again—by the deep, pleading pools of her eyes, but also by the onerous task of forcing another rebuff upon her—I accepted. She dutifully typed my number into her phone, while I wrote hers on a piece of paper—an unnecessary task, really, since her contact information had not changed and I knew it by heart, but it was better than turning my phone back on now and be bombarded with more calls and texts than I could take with a witness nearby.

With yet another small, but significant victory under her belt, Bella placed her phone back on the table and returned to her warm spot under the blanket. She hid an almost-soundless faint with the palm of her hand, her body exposing that she was ready to succumb to its need for rest, at long last.

"This must be a strange night for you," she remarked.

"The strangest in a while."

A half-suppressed laugh slid through her lips and her eyelids closed for a few seconds. "I didn't get to ask you if you read any of those books."

"Each and every one of them," I confirmed.

"You insatiable man. And?"

I tried to disregard the warm shiver that ran through my chest when she used those words to describe me; it seemed that even when I knew that there was no carnal double entendre running in the backstage of her sentences, my body could still not fathom it. Yet again, my thirst and lust were actively competing for my attention—and sadly, both of them were winning.

"I say we leave my impressions for another day, because you need to sleep at some point," I offered, letting her down as gently as I could.

"Do you promise?"

"I do need to bring those books back, correct?"

"Correct."

"Then yes, I promise."

Bella didn't fall asleep right away, but she didn't talk again either. At her request, I turned off the lamp and waited. There was familiarity in this kind of waiting, but also fear. Because with each new breath she was taking in, with each thud of her heart, I was reminded of the chances I never took—the conversations I had been too afraid to pursue, the places we never visited, the kisses I stopped too soon. It was getting tiring to ruminate about our past so obsessively, but it was unthinkable not to when my memories lurked at every corner of this town and in every new interaction she and I shared.

Thinking back on why I came here in the first place, I felt like a walking joke. Why did I ever feel I was entitled to make sure she was happy with her choices? I had given up on the right to check on her long ago, so why was I utterly unable to go through with my choice? Bella didn't need to have her life intruded upon at every milestone. One day she would go to college. One day she would have a job that brings a smile to her face. One day she would carry Jacob's child in her womb. And one day, eventually, she would have grandkids of her own—what then?

It wasn't like I deserved to be there to witness all of these moments. Besides, I wasn't nearly tough enough to endure some of them without dying even more inside. The mental image of Bella holding a kid with russet skin in her arms was as much of a blessing as it was a tragedy, since it would always remind me that I could never offer her anything remotely close. My cold, barren body wouldn't know how to bring her anything other than long-term disappointment.

With my mind falling apart, I forgot I had to leave—but then again, I was good at making excuses for myself, so perhaps forgetting was my way of prolonging the little time I had with Bella a little longer.

It was still dark outside when I left. I made sure to use the spare key to lock the door—it was hidden behind a loose brick inside the walkway, as it had always been.

I drove around in circles on the empty streets for the longest time, not knowing how else to distract myself from the whirlwind of events from the past eight hours. Driving helped, but not as much as I would have hoped. I could still see Bella's face, in the back of my mind, and I could still hear her voice ringing incessantly in my ears. I kept wondering, despite my better judgement, if she was getting the proper rest that she needed. If she was enjoying her dreams.

If I should have stayed the night.

The microcosm of Forks was starting to wake up when I decided to head to my old home. I felt on edge as I checked the clock on the dashboard, realizing that Bella was probably having breakfast by now. New questions arose along with that realization. Was she reminiscing about the time we spent together last night? And more importantly—did she regret any of it, looking back? In my case, last night was the only thing I could truly think about; and I was still not sure whether dumping the most awful truth on her—right before driving her back home and keeping her company until she fell asleep—had been a mistake or not.

While I didn't regret my confession, I was still puzzled by the fact that, instead of stirring anger and repulsion in Bella, the truth only seemed to have stirred her softer side, which in turn got her even more willing to be vulnerable in front of me—a side of her I never would have imagined seeing again. Perhaps the vulnerability shown in front of a friend was not the same as the one shown in front of a lover—it was less treacherous, more innocent—hence why I got to witness it.

Whatever her reasons were, I was grateful she seemed to trust me enough to let her guard down again. And I was set to make sure I wouldn't break that trust again.

Back at home, I felt keyed up. The books from Bella were no longer a viable distraction since I had already gone through them an unhealthy amount of times. Reading her letter was an even worse idea, considering that I was supposed to forget it even existed. I didn't know what to do with myself in the big nothingness of the house, apart from slowly going insane over every single thought of Bella in my head.

There was, of course, one thing that could actually soothe my concerning state—talking to her again.

In all fairness, our conversations so far had been unexpectedly therapeutic, mending—even if for a short while—the painful longing that had been afflicting every single atom in my body since the day I left. But I wasn't going to go to the library now. It was too soon and I didn't want her to see that I was in great need of using her every waking moment as a new chance to talk. I wanted her to believe that I didn't need any crutches to go through life, as untrue as that was.

In my journey of trying to not go insane, my phone almost started getting heavier in my pocket. It was almost like it knew that the cure to my malady could very well be conceived then and there if I just turned it on.

I thought about the consequences of turning my phone back on—because undoubtedly, I would have to face a whole new wave of missed calls and unread texts. But… maybe I would also have to face a text from Bella. It could be a great middle ground for the two of us; she wouldn't have to endure my physical presence, yet I would happily get to pick her brain again.

Simply imagining the possibility sent a rush of twisted pleasure through my frozen bones—enough to get me to take the phone out of my pocket and stare at it. The small device stared back, full of promises.

Clearly having the self-control of a five-year-old in front of a bowl of candy, I turned it back on.

The device went through the motions, slowly coming back to life. However, not even half a minute later, the screen went back to black, dying before it got the chance to power up. Unaccustomed with the triviality of using my phone on a daily basis, I had almost forgotten about the need to charge it regularly.

I cursed out loud, knowing there was no place in this house where I could find a functional electrical outlet. Not wanting to lose another second, I stalked out of the house—wallet and charger in hand—and right back into my car. I took off without a clear destination in mind—all I knew was that I had to find a place to charge my phone and I had to do it fast.

The road back to town passed quickly. The commotion of voices started getting louder and louder; and maybe I had been a little too spoiled by Bella's quiet mind—or perhaps the fact that I recognized some voices got me to panic about the possibility of running into someone from my old life here in Forks—but I instantly decided that remaining in town for my task was not an option.

So I pumped the gas pedal and I didn't slow down until the roar of Port Angeles—so much milder than that of the big cities I had been in, but notably louder than what I had been hearing for the past week—started humming in my ears. I welcomed it—after all, it was bringing me closer to the possibility of communicating with Bella again.

I eventually stopped in front of a coffee shop that appeared to be small enough to not be riddled with people, hurrying to get inside at a pace that could still pass as human. I heard the disgruntled thoughts of a young man when I closed the door behind me, and I surmised that he was not happy about having to be on both barista and waitress duty while his co-worker was on vacation.

He seemed half-relieved when my order consisted of a single bottle of water. With the bottle—which was nothing more than a prop to me—in my hand, I headed to one of the tables lining up the back wall, quickly making use of the available socket near it.

With my phone finally plugged in and charging, I dared to turn it on again. The screen lit up, much like my expectations, and I waited. When the deluge of calls and texts from the past few days hit, my heart almost came alive from the angst of it all. I dutifully ignored everything, already typing Bella's number into the device, so that I could add it to my modest contact list.

But right as I did so, the quiet notification about receiving a new text popped on my screen.

If I could have, I would have died from the shock when I realized it was from Bella. It seemed that I couldn't open it fast enough. When I did, two other messages that had been sent earlier this morning, when my phone was still off, showed up. I read them all in chronological sequence, not quite believing they were real.

'Hello, stranger!'

'I hope you're enjoying your morning. Mine started with a missed alarm and bird droppings in my hair right before work.'

'In case I got the wrong number, I'm sorry.'

I didn't know if I should have been insulted by her veiled assumption that I would give her the wrong number. All things considered, she still had every right to believe that I would act like a jerk. Wanting to prove to her that I had the potential to be more than that, I started typing.

'My apologies, Bella. My phone was off.'

Her response came back almost instantly.

'Don't worry, I figured.'

'I'm sorry about the bird droppings. How is your hair now?'

'Frizzy. I had to wash it in the sink at work. Would NOT recommend it.'

I barely refrained from informing Bella that her hair looked perfect at all times—even in the mornings from my distant memories when she woke up in my arms and her long locks were all over the place, tied up in beautiful, silky knots.

Right as I was getting ready to reply, I saw my mother's name come up on the screen. Feeling guilty as hell—but also unwilling to offer explanations—I rejected it and made a promise to myself to make it up to Esme later down the road.

While I had been busy with actively being an ass towards my mother, Bella had been busy with not letting our interaction wither. A new message from her was waiting for me, which made me feel exceedingly spoiled.

'So… how is your day so far?'

'A little inconvenient, actually. My old house no longer has electricity, so I am currently in a café in Port Angeles, charging my phone.'

'Port Angeles?! Do you really hate Forks that much?'

It was difficult to remain immune to her words. I could picture the scandalized frown on her face, and that image alone was enough to bring a smile to my face.

'Not at all. I just didn't want to risk running into anyone familiar.'

'Well, you should have come here to get it charged. Libraries have electrical outlets too, you know? ;)'

'I reckon you would have got tired of me pretty quickly if I did.'

'No chance of that happening. And speaking of the library—you do have some books to return, so maybe I'll see you later?'

Did she have to make my mission of behaving properly so damn hard? I knew it was my responsibility to not interpret her sentences to suit my dishonourable wishes, but it felt like an uphill battle when everything she was saying was a goddamn invitation.

Begrudgingly, I offered her the right answer—which didn't coincide at all with the actual answer I wanted to give, but it was my chance to prove to myself that I still had enough dignity to not go astray.

'I happen to know the penalties only start after three weeks, so how about tomorrow?'

'And I happen to know you read all of those books, so if you don't want me to die of curiosity until then, it would only be fair for you to tell me if you liked them. Deal?'

I smiled again, even if I was alone at the table, and eagerly entered her game of compromises.

I ended up sitting at that table for hours. Even if I had certainly overstayed my welcome, I couldn't fathom taking a break from Bella just to get to my car—not even during the breaks she offered me whenever a client would enter the library. We spent the longest time talking about the books she had lent me, about the hidden meanings we found between the pages, about the characters we loved and the characters we hated.

There was a strange delight whenever our opinions overlapped—something that seemed to happen often enough. But there was delight in our disagreements too, because they allowed me to peer deeper into her soul and better understand the complex layers that fused it together.

If it weren't for Bella's need to go to lunch, I would have stayed in that coffee shop forever.

Neither of us seemed to question this continuous connection we were slowly establishing, nor why the regular lines of friendship looked so blurry whenever the potential double meaning of a sentence dawned on us. We just ignored those blurred lines, all too confident that our vision was otherwise faultless.

It felt worryingly natural to keep talking and talking and talking, regardless of the world around us. I knew for a fact that I had been missing her terribly and this was my way of filling the void left by our break-up, but what was her excuse? She couldn't have missed me—not even to half of the extent that I had been missing her, since her life hadn't stagnated like mine had. Or was it pity for me, after learning I had no one?

The uncertainty kept happily swimming in my head as I left the café behind and got inside my car.

And it continued to expand, getting significantly heavier and less buoyant, as the day kept growing older, taking over me completely.

Shamefully, I didn't really leave Port Angeles until the pauses in my conversation with Bella started getting longer and more frequent—which was to be expected, since she was finally finishing her shift and getting ready to be picked up by her friend, Seth. I didn't insist, knowing that this evening was special for her; with Jacob returning to town, she must have been over the moon.

Driving back to Forks, I felt uncharacteristically content with the remains of the day. The lavender clouds above the road stretched in endless formations, in perfect harmony with the incoming night. I watched as the last particles of light abandoned the sky, wondering about what the best course of action for me was.

On one hand, I wanted to spend the night in the forest, alone with my overly-active mind—maybe even hunt again, to ensure that my incessant thirst would not taint the next time Bella and I would be face to face.

On the other hand, the devilish curiosity to check on her one more time today was strong, if only for the fact that I craved a reminder that she was truly taken, especially after the last few days.

My worse side won this battle easily.

I parked as far away as possible from her house and left my phone in the car. It felt unusual to be back in my sad tree, considering that one day ago I was a guest in Bella's home, but I had to make do. Settling between the branches, I was surprised to realize that the voices coming from somewhere in the living room were not vibrant and happy. In fact, it appeared that they were long past celebrating a reunion.

They were fighting.

Bella sounded atypically meek as she talked, but I could still tell that there was plenty of anger hidden underneath the surface. "You know I haven't even kept in touch with him."

"It's not something you can just dump on me like that though," he retorted, the frustration in his mind spilling into his tone. "Not when you cried over him on my shoulder for a fucking year!"

"Jake, I know I've said this already, but I will do it again, because I mean it. There is nothing going on between us. He is only an old friend at this point."

"Old friend my ass," he thought to himself, choosing to be far more gracious out loud. "I don't like the idea of you having him as a friend. I don't trust him."

"Well, he never made a move, if that's what you're worried about. He has moved on too, you know?"

"No one moves on after you, Bella."

He certainly got one thing right.

They stopped for a while, making me wonder for how long they had been going at it. How did it even begin? I knew that she had assured me about her intention to tell Jacob about me, but I assumed she wouldn't do it as soon as he returned home. It seemed like a safer bet to leave it for another day, but the chance for that was clearly gone.

I hated that she was facing the reproachful storm on her own, but I also didn't know how to help her without making an even bigger mess.

The fight relapsed soon after, while Bella was folding clothes and Jacob was watching. And once again, when she went to the bathroom for a shower and he waited at the door. At some point, his accusations went through a metamorphosis that turned them into shouting. On and off the fight went, as she tried to put off each new fire, only for him to reignite it again.

They hadn't really reached a resolution when they headed to bed together. As he pulled the curtains over the window, Jacob almost told her that he was going to sleep in the living room, but deep down, he knew he didn't want to be alone with his anger. A frail fragment of a memory in which Bella slept soundly while he drank his pain away in the kitchen crossed his mind in passing, strengthening his decision.

For a while, silence ruled over their bedroom, save for Jacob's clashing thoughts. He wasn't satisfied with the fact that they had not reached any sort of conclusion, but he was also tired of running in circles, bringing the same arguments to the table over and over again without really winning. More than that, he wanted to make sure that Bella's devotion was as strong as she had assured him that it was.

And with that particular wish in mind, a plan started forming.

I went rigid as I visualized the plan along with him, understanding what it entailed and realizing that I could not possibly linger there to witness it—not if I valued what little bit of sanity I had left.

Alas, I felt frozen in place, in the same way that humans were irresistibly attracted to car crashes.

"You know what would actually make this shitshow of a night better?" Jacob whispered.

Her reply came instantly, sounding genuinely hopeful. "No, but tell me."

The bed creaked under his weight when he moved—all too aware of the fact that he was now on top of her. Her heart started stammering in response to the closeness and I felt ready to throw up.

"Why don't you take your shirt off?"

"What? Jake, I…"

"Come on, baby, I'll beg if I have to."

I knew that he wanted to appear playful, but there was a sharp roughness in his voice that sent chills down my spine. I heard movement again, along with his mental discontent when he realized it was too dark in the bedroom to actually see anything. The noise then shifted—soon enough, it became apparent that they were kissing and his thoughts were slowly melting into a pool of pleasure.

Not my place, I reminded myself, hoping that my body would understand the cue and finally leave the tree behind.

But then Jacob's mind audibly exploded with delight once he got a hold of Bella's breasts and she whimpered under the attack.

Their interaction went by so quickly, so horrifically, I couldn't keep up.

"Shit, you're so hot."

"Look, it's late, I—"

"Shhh, it's fine, we're not doing anything. I promise. I only need a little something to make me forget about today."

"Jake…"

"You know I love you. Don't you love me?"

Silence. And then, the loud and harrowing answer. "Yes. Yes, I do."

If I didn't know any better, I would have been convinced that I was trapped in a nightmare. But this cruel unfolding reality was slowly teaching me a pivotal lesson—apparently, there was something a million times worse than the all too powerful jealousy triggered by the knowledge that Bella was actively being touched and kissed by another man.

As she pleaded with him to offer her space, my heart ached in a way it never did before, almost as if it could feel every single reverberation of Bella's discomfort, only amplified. Her pain was my pain and there was no cure for that. I desperately wanted to barge in and pull Jacob away from her. To give her the space she was asking for. To prove to her that she didn't have to be forced into anything she was not comfortable doing.

Hell, even to give him a chance to apologize and promise to never do it again, even if he didn't deserve it one bit.

The burning in my chest was so profound, so acute, and it had nothing to do with jealousy; it only swelled up when I realized that, at some point, she stopped protesting. In fact, she simply resumed kissing her fiancé back, as he used his hands to fondle her breasts.

And this, right here, was a grueling auditory spectacle, one that, as much as it hurt to admit, I didn't know how to stop without causing more trouble in my wake.

Because what excuse would I have to barge in? How would I ever be able to get him off of her without causing an explosive scene that would turn Bella's otherwise calm reality to shambles? And what if, in a wicked turn of events, the reason she stopped protesting wasn't because she gave up trying, but because… she was starting to like it?

No. That possibility made me sick to my stomach. Reading her mind right now was not a caprice, but a need.

I wanted to be the kind of man who would have no qualms about barging in and beating Jacob to a pulp. The type of man that would kill him and spit on his grave, no questions asked. But being that man also meant disappointing Bella beyond any hope of redemption. As twisted as it was, I knew that this was not the kind of punishment that she would ever find acceptable.

And I hated that her mind worked that way, because it left me with little to no options to intervene and teach him a lesson. But at the same time, I loved that her mind worked like that because her humanity was the only thing that kept the worst parts of me locked away.

But God, I could not let this go on. Something had to give, one way or another.

I was a raw, dense pile of anger when I grabbed the thick branch above me and tore it away with full force. For a moment, I imagined it piercing through Jacob's useless eyes, straight into his brain, crushing it to smithereens. The fantasy lingered, tempting me. But I forced it away by smacking the branch to the ground. The cracking sound reverberated in the night, deafening and clear. Though it wasn't nearly enough compared to what I should have done, it got Jacob to stop, which was exactly what I had been hoping for.

"What the hell?" he grumbled.

"Was that…"

His thoughts were a muddled mess. The loud sound seemed to have brought some of his reason back—enough to get him to lose his will to continue, but not to consciously regret what he had done. At least not yet.

"I think it's that branch that got struck by lightning last week," he whispered. "It finally caved."

"Oh."

There was silence for a while. Just the two of them, their heartbeats frantic and out of sync, as Jacob's thoughts painted a picture of him trying to get back his reason. It took him many minutes until he felt ready to talk again.

"We should… we should go to sleep, Bells."

"Yes," she replied and I could tell from the sound of her voice that she was on the verge of crying. "We should."

By the time he started snoring, the salty scent of her tears was so strong I could feel it emanating from the walls of the house.

Feeling, once again, that I had failed her—but really, what were my options?—I finally left. My eyes stung terribly, as if pierced by a million blades, yet I ignored the sharp tingle as I made my way back to my car. Not a single second of the road back home registered in my brain. I was aware of one thing and one thing only: in my attempt to be friends with Bella, I had flown too close to the sun, and she was now paying the most unfair price. Jacob forcing himself on her was nothing but a show of power and ownership—his own cursed way of telling her that she belonged to him fully.

Her whimpers were still playing on a loop in my head when I stopped the car, close to the old house. Unfortunately, it didn't take me long to notice that those were not the only sounds I was hearing. A chorus of distinct mental voices crowded my senses and rendered me speechless, as I realized I recognized each and every one of them.

Getting out of the car, I stared in disbelief at the six silhouettes lined up in front of the house. The smallest one stepped forward, and I instantly stepped backward. She didn't let up, continuing to walk until we were face to face.

It had been so long since I last saw her—or any of them, really. They might as well have been a figment of my imagination.

"Alice," I muttered. "What the hell are you doing here? What is everyone doing here?"

My sister smiled, as if my shock meant nothing to her.

"We're here for an intervention, silly."

I mean... it was about time someone intervened, right?

How do you think the intervention will go? What were your thoughts on how Edward stopped slimy Jacob's actions?

I'm really looking forward to reading your reviews!

See you next Sunday with a new chapter! Until then, stay safe and happy!

Chapter Text

Hello, everyone! Thank you a lot for all the reviews, reading and responding to them is always a joy.

And special thanks to CoppertopJ for her amazing beta skills!

I never considered myself to be a particularly great son or brother. Perhaps it was due to the unfortunate combination of my inability to fully come to terms with my own nature and the cursed gift of hearing every single thought around me, which made me less than an ideal person to be around on a daily basis. But when I forced my family to uproot itself and then went to live on my own, I knew I had hit one of the lowest lows as a family member—even for me.

They never judged me for it—most of them, at least. Apart from Rosalie, who craved the comfort of knowing she was part of a whole, picture-perfect family, the rest of my brothers and sisters had shown a great deal of understanding. Even Carlisle and Esme proved to be incredibly empathetic to my cause, regardless of how it was breaking their hearts

However, I was afraid that the overall consensus had shifted once I made the rash decision to enter Bella's life again. Witnessing my self-destruction was not exactly something either of them had asked for, so naturally, they were concerned. But to the point in which they considered it would be a good idea to pile up on me for an intervention as if I was a petulant child who needed to be guided on the right path?

Now that was insanity.

I quietly accepted their hugs, only half-returning them, as I was too busy trying to decide on which mind I needed to focus. There were too many voices overlapping.

"He doesn't know what he's doing. No clue whatsoever."

"His feelings are all over the place, I wouldn't know where to begin."

"And of course, he reeks of her."

"Now if any of this would start making sense, then I'd know what to tell him."

"I wish I could take all that pain away and bear its weight for him."

"It's been too long, I'm never leaving my boy's side again."

It was painfully overwhelming to be subjected to this mental storm, even if there had been a time when that used to be a daily occurrence. To make matters worse, their disordered thoughts only added to my already fragile state; I was already a walking heap of anger and distress after having witnessed the awful spectacle of Bella being actively touched by her future husband just so that he could prove to himself that she belonged to him. In the heat of his erratic passion, her hesitation meant nothing to him.

Useless. That was how I felt since I had been unable to intervene in a meaningful way when it mattered the most. Ripping off a branch just to shift his attention enough to get him to stop? That was nothing. I should have ripped his limbs off, one by one, forcing him to stay awake through every step of the process.

If what Bella thought didn't matter to me, I would have done it. Slowly. Happily. Enjoying each second of his pain.

In the wake of my terror, the last thing I needed was to explain myself to anyone, especially my family, as there was no sane way of decoding what was happening inside my brain. Hell, I didn't even know what was happening, and I had had more than a week to get a hold of myself. If anything, things were a thousand shades more confusing now, compared to the day of my return—and getting progressively more so with each new occasion I spent time with Bella.

"I really wasn't expecting company," I grumbled, once the wave of embraces ended.

"Well, if you answered your phone, you would have known what to expect," Alice snickered.

"And I don't need an intervention, so feel free to leave me alone."

I was aware that I sounded like an ass—in fact, that was precisely my intention. If there was a chance for me to find an easy way out of whatever my family thought was happening here, I was willing to take it, even if it implied acting less than pleasant.

"Son, you are better than this."

My father's mental voice juxtaposed with my attempt of chasing everyone away, and the weight of guilt that overcame me was not only sudden, but monumental too.

The last time he and I talked was when I told him about my decision to take one last glance at Bella's life from afar, after finding out she was getting married. He had shown a great deal of understanding, allowing me to proceed with my lunacy—so very trusting that I would do the right thing. Perhaps to a fault, he always trusted that I had what it took to be an upstanding man. And more often than not, I didn't want to disappoint him; not only because I valued his opinion, but also because I genuinely liked that idealized picture of me he had painted.

Strong. Honourable. Calculated. Worthy.

Clearly, all adjectives that could no longer be attributed to me.

My metamorphosis into the most pathetic version of myself started about the same time I stepped out of the shadows, revealing myself to Bella. It only continued to get worse after that—the more I was stretching the limits of our friendship, the further I was slipping into my delusions that not everything was lost. That she and I still had a meaningful bond. That she still somewhat cared for me. That we could find new—and appropriate—ways to be close.

But as soon as I stepped away from my biased perspective, I knew how screwed up it all was. Because while friendships between men and women were most certainly a fact of life, what Bella and I shared transcended that. How could our connection be acceptable when I couldn't spend one moment with her without my senses boiling with the impending excitement that only lust and thirst could bring? Even if I never acted on it, the need to love and caress every inch of Bella's body was always there, much like the need to drain her dry. There was nothing ethical about that.

And I could try to remain a gentleman for as long as possible, but Bella was smart. Soon enough, she would see right through me and she would send me away, where I could not bother her.

I didn't know if I was willing to admit any of it out loud in front of my parents and siblings. However, with Carlisle's plea to be better, I didn't know if I could go through with my mission to get rid of them either. There had to be some sort of comeuppance for my actions—maybe that comeuppance was this very moment.

And maybe facing reality was not the worst thing in the world.

"We only want to talk to you, sweetie," Esme cooed. "We're all trying to understand what your plan is here."

"There is no plan," I sighed lamely.

"Clearly," Rosalie huffed, but quickly looked at the ground when our mother shot her a warning glare.

"You've been here for more than a week, and it doesn't really seem like you know where you're heading," Esme continued. "We are worried for you."

"Not to mention you are turning most of my visions to mush," Alice's quiet complaint followed. For a few seconds, both of us got engulfed by figments of her past visions. Admittedly, none of those figments made much sense, as they were too flippant, too undefined to hold any consistent meaning. I could see myself walking aimlessly through a dark forest. Then waiting under a tree at night. Then, impossibly, Bella joining me under the branches for the briefest moment before disappearing altogether, as if she had never been there.

As if the vision itself knew how wrong that was.

I faced Alice, certain that she could guess the questions I was not asking out loud. She moved her shoulders up and down. "No idea, honestly. It's like she is only half there. I suppose she is undecided about what she wants from you."

"She wants to be friends," I said immediately, not caring one bit that the rest of my family didn't know the entire context behind our exchange. "She made that abundantly clear."

Alice shook her head. "She might not want that either. I think… I think your presence here is taking a toll on her."

The thought of Bella wanting to alienate me completely was so painful it made me physically recoil. The moments we had been sharing together had filled me up with an unhealthy amount of hope, which in turn turned my expectations into a stack of unrealistic desires. Besides, if she really didn't appreciate my company, she would not have bothered to talk to me in the first place, right?

Or to confide in me about her darker fears. Or to invite me into her home. Or to text me for an entire day.

Right?

"That can't be right, Alice," I muttered.

"I don't know. I am trying to understand it myself."

"Look, I think we need to cut to the chase here," Emmett intervened, and I could hear in his mind that he was getting impatient with the half-spoken discussion between me and Alice. "You said you only came here to see Bella once more before she got married, and now you're getting all cozy with her, according to what Alice here has been telling us. So we all want to know: do you want Bella back or not?"

His bluntness attracted various reactions.

Carlisle and Esme both sighed, as they had planned a much softer approach when it came to actually questioning me about my true intentions. Alice and Rosalie were almost relieved, albeit for different reasons; while Alice was genuinely trying to untangle the messy web of visions caused by my actions, ready to use any additional knowledge to piece together the strange puzzle of my life, Rosalie much preferred to get to the root of the problem; because—according to her—the sooner I admitted to my wicked dreams, the sooner I could be convinced to adopt a more realistic outlook and return home.

And Jasper… he knew.

He already knew that there was no universe in which I wouldn't want Bella back. Sure, I would not act upon that wish, especially when she was already building her life with another man, but the true extent of my emotions was still an open book to him. And he could feel my unbridled tension as I was getting ready to lie to them all.

But he also wasn't willing to use his gift against me.

"Go on. Do what you have to do. I won't intervene." His promise was calming, but it pained me to realize that it sprung from his old certitude that he owed me. Even with all the time that had passed—and all my attempts to reassure him that I held no particular grudges against him—he still felt in debt to me.

A debt he was convinced he would never be able to pay back.

"No, I don't want her back," I answered, pouring as much self-confidence as I could into my voice, to make the lie sound credible enough. "I simply think I stumbled upon a moment in time in which she and I can be friends."

"But for how long, sweetie?" my mother checked, so certain under the surface that my stubbornness would be the end of my sanity—which, come to think of it, might as well have been true.

"I don't know, a little while. She thinks I'll leave soon anyway, so I suppose not that long. Why does it matter so much to warrant an intervention?"

Esme stepped forward, one of her arms reaching to wrap around my waist as she guided me to the stairs of the house so that we could both sit there. I reluctantly accepted.

"We are afraid that your being here is hurting you beyond repair."

"And no one wants to see you moping for the rest of eternity," Rosalie added, not filtering her thoughts before setting them free.

"Rose, let me handle this," Carlisle intervened, his voice kind, but firm, just like his thoughts. "Her petulance is not always a gift."

He joined me and Esme on the steps, choosing to sit down to my right side, so that there was no way for me to escape either of them.

"Look, it is no secret for anyone here that your tie to Bella is unbreakable since you are each other's mates," he began carefully, and it didn't escape me that he had been rehearsing these precise words in the back of his mind for the better part of the last few minutes. "But… you also made a choice to overthrow that tie and let her live her life in peace, with no supernatural interference. Now going back and forth between that choice and what you are doing now is not precisely fair—not to you, and not to her. And I would be lying if I told you I didn't understand why you need to make up for the lost time with her. But you should consider that each time you decide to get closer to her, you are also taking away the progress you allowed her to make in your absence."

"I am not trying to do that. Truly."

"You might not, but at the end of the day it is all the same."

"No, Carlisle, you don't understand. Just two nights ago, she told me she didn't want anything else from me. She specifically told me that."

"Yet she was set on having you in her bedroom."

Alice's mental voice alerted me more than Rosalie's eye roll. Determined to set the record straight, I looked straight at her when I talked again. "You weren't there, Alice. She had just learned the truth about Victoria and her parents, she was a mess. She only wanted someone to talk to until she fell asleep." I glanced around, only to be met with pairs of eyes that held various degrees of mercy—or, in Rosalie's case, disgusted pity—in them. That view was unexpectedly enraging. "Don't look at me like I'm insane! Whatever Alice saw, those visions couldn't possibly paint the whole picture of what actually happened. I never went overboard. I never did anything out of line with her, I…"

"You definitely don't sound like an insane person right now," Emmett winked at me as those words danced in his brain, trying to get me to at least smile in the middle of the bedlam.

I didn't.

"With these things, going overboard is usually a process," Esme murmured. "It doesn't happen overnight."

"Just to make sure you understand, by these things, she means cheating," Rosalie added, and this time no one jumped in to get her to be more tactful. I secretly hoped that the earth would open up to swallow her.

"Good, because there is no cheating going on. Bella wouldn't go there, especially not with me. She knows what she wants and she has chosen her fate, the fact that I am here now will not change that."

Jasper was visibly distraught by my continuous attempts to deny each accusation, feeling damn well that my denial was fraught with doubt at every step of the way. I didn't doubt Bella, of course, for even if the tiniest, inconsequential fraction of lust for me still haunted her mind—which I very much doubted—it still wouldn't change a thing.

But truth be told, I didn't trust myself to be strong enough to ignore the insurmountable force of my feelings for her for much longer. Maybe I could handle one more week. But two? Three? More? How long could I hide the fact that I was not over her—that I would never be? I wanted to be the kind of man who would not put her into a highly uncomfortable position by confessing what I felt when she was already spoken for, but I feared that I wasn't.

I had to learn to be less weak, it wasn't doing me—nor my mission to keep an appropriate level of attachment to Bella—any favours.

"Just forget about this nonsense and come home, Edward," Rosalie pleaded, making a deliberate effort to sound affable. "At the end of the day, you'll still leave. Why drag the inevitable when you could be home and happy with us?"

"If you honestly believe that there is the slightest chance of happiness in her absence, you don't know me at all."

"That's because you are not even trying, moron! If you at least made an effort during these past two years, maybe you would not be dragging your depressed ass through Forks to beg for the tiniest crumb of Bella's attention. But you decided to close yourself off! You decided to abandon us right after you forced us to move to a new place!"

"Having empathy really is a lost cause for you, is it not?" I snickered.

"The only lost cause here is you, Edward! Devoting yourself to a puny human, when there is clearly no future for—"

"I don't need to hear this," I decided. I got up, ignoring Esme's hand reaching to grab me and passingly catching the way Emmett grabbed Rosalie's shoulders tenderly, gently telling her to calm down. I moved away from the group, needing the separation. "You have to leave. And I mean everyone."

Their thoughts cascaded over me before either of them got to voice them.

"If only she would know when to shut up."

"Perhaps coming here was a mistake."

"What is the point? It's a losing battle."

"Of course, I'm the bad guy."

"I've never seen him so broken."

"No. He cannot be alone now."

I felt Esme's arms wrapping around me from behind before I made it back to my car. Her hold was easily breakable, but I felt frozen in my tracks, as she wordlessly asked me to stay.

"Let go," I said calmly.

"No, I am staying. You've been on your own enough."

"And I prefer it that way. I'm not the most pleasant company."

"I don't care one bit. I love you regardless. And we all want to make sure you remain sane here."

Soon enough, Carlisle walked forward, where we could be face to face, his infinitely kind eyes keeping me in place. I didn't deserve his kindness. I felt ashamed to let him see this side of me—selfish, unpredictable, despaired—but I held his gaze regardless.

"We're not changing your mind either way. Having your mother here would at least make it easier for everyone."

"Easier for you perhaps," I grumbled in response, feeling the arms around me shifting slightly until they were no longer there to hold me. Esme was still close by my side, but she seemed to trust that I would not attempt to escape again.

"Be reasonable for a minute, my boy," she demanded.

I wanted to retort, but then I heard the wheels of Alice's mind spinning, right as a new vision was developing. I allowed myself to be absorbed into it, even if the edges were too fuzzy. I could make out Bella's face, staring through the top window of the very house we were standing in front of. And she didn't seem happy or sad, just… thoughtful. Perhaps the clearest detail of that vision was the heavy torrent of rain—so heavy it almost swallowed the entire picture into its wet shades. I could hear my voice, under the salvo of the storm, telling Bella that it was time to go.

And her voice, so indistinct it might as well have been the rain talking. "I'm not ready, Edward."

The vision slowly dematerialized, leaving no further explanations in its mischievous trail.

"I've never seen that one before," my sister uttered.

"What does it mean?"

"Maybe Bella wants to pay you a visit here?"

"The hell she wants that."

"I don't know, I'm only working with what I have."

Intrigued—and anxious about a future in which Bella would step inside this house of horrors again—I felt my defenses falling. I didn't know what the vision meant, but I felt a renewed sense of hope washing over me, as I assured myself that I could prevent Bella from ever getting close to this place again.

And I could picture Esme here, with me, for the foreseeable future, making sure I didn't stray too far from the right path. I could picture us existing in comfortable silence for a while, as I tried to make amends with Bella. And I could picture the burden of having to keep in touch with my family lifted; with Esme here, there would be no need for my siblings to bombard me with their questions and worries.

No pressure of having to keep my phone shut. Even better—the lack of pressure would make it considerably easier to text Bella guilt-free.

Esme could be the buffer I didn't know I needed.

The tension that had been building inside my body let up considerably, and the change echoed into a full sigh of relief.

This can be a good thing, after all.

"All right," I said. "You can stay, Esme."

That first night, my mother and I didn't talk all that much. By the time everyone else left, I felt drained and ready to succumb to the fake relief of silence. Luckily, we easily fell back into the old routine of her understanding when I needed to be left alone without having to outwardly express that.

The repose allowed me to obsess over what I witnessed the previous evening. Again.

The memory alone made me hungry to maim and mar Jacob Black. I despised him for feeling entitled to Bella's body just because they were engaged—that could not possibly be a viable excuse. And I despised him for the way he tried to sneakily guilt her into accepting his advances, using my return to Forks as leverage for his insidious act. But then again, I didn't despise him more than I despised myself for invading Bella's privacy to such an egregious extent. Because now I wanted to know how she felt—if she was hurt in any way—but I had no available avenues to inquire about what happened without also revealing my stalking in front of her.

Caught in this limbo of my own making, I watched as the morning fell over the house, filling it with a veil of ivory light. It felt like an omen—as if now that the night was through, there was nowhere for me to hide and grovel anymore. The one good thing was that I had a purpose today—returning the books to Bella, as I had promised, and trying my best to decipher how she was feeling while acting as if I didn't know what happened to her not that long ago.

Esme said nothing as I got into my car, but her mind did. Even with my rushed explanation about the books, she feared that my exuberance was going to be short-lived.

I didn't expect her to be right and my obstinate conviction only became stronger once, after what seemed like forever, I was finally face to face with Bella again. The sight of her made me feel lighter and heavier at the same time—a familiar feeling lately.

She looked tired today, dark shadows resting under her eyes. Even her skin appeared somewhat lighter and sunken, as if she hadn't had a proper meal in a while. Still, she welcomed me with the same sheepish smile I had been growing accustomed to, and my world spun quietly while the wonder of her happy face lasted.

More than tired, she appeared… restless. Twisting the strands of her hair around her fingers and biting the pillowy flesh of her lip, as I got closer to her desk.

"You are a man of your word," she said, not really wasting time with the triviality of greetings.

"I'm only paying my dues, Bella." I paused for a few seconds, as I studied the mysterious universe in her eyes, trying to unravel its secrets. Deep down inside me, the thirst roared, but I decided to ignore it, too preoccupied with more pressing issues. For instance, did she get any sleep at all last night, or had she been too haunted to even doze off? There was only one way to find out. "How are you feeling today?"

"Well, today I'm supposed to receive new batches of books—which may sound exciting until you have to deal with the paperwork."

"Anything I can help you with?"

"Certainly not."

I could tell that she was agitated still, going by how fast her heart was beating and the way her fingers trembled on the covers of the books as I handed them to her. I resisted the urge to grab her hands and keep them safely tucked under my palms—another relic of our past relationship, when something as simple as that used to be enough to soften her mood.

Another relic I had to let go of as I watched her jittery fingers and did nothing.

"You seem rather… keyed up."

"I'm only stressing out about that damn delivery, it's supposed to—" Her phone rang, getting her to stop, and I mentally cursed the device for interrupting us so soon. Motioning me to wait, Bella liberated the phone from her pocket and answered. I didn't recognize the voice on the other line, but I quickly surmised from the short, frantic discussion that followed, that the delivery guy was going to arrive soon and wanted to make sure there was a large parking spot available for his truck.

A few moments later, she hung up, dropping the phone on the table in what could have easily been mistaken for an act of annoyance if I didn't know her better; as it was, I had no doubt that her unsteady hands were the culprit behind the dropped phone.

"Speaking of the devil…" she said, shaking her head.

"Listen, I don't want to get in your way when you've got so much on your plate, so I'll just…" I motioned to the door, even if I didn't want to leave. Not one bit. These fickle minutes we had shared were hardly enough to sate my insatiable need to be near her. To breathe her in. To taste her scent in the air.

These minutes only added gasoline to the already-existing conflagration.

"I'm so sorry, I wanted to talk to you so much…"

Her eyebrows tilted downwards at the sides and my own heart almost jumped in shock at her words. I tried to not let it show. "I wanted that too, but don't worry," I offered gently. "You're at work, I don't expect you to bend over backwards for my sake."

"I know, but…" She frowned and her lip once again became a victim of her teeth. I studied in awe the way the blood rushed to paint her mouth at the site of the sharp intrusion. I wanted to bite that precious spot too… "You know what? It doesn't have to be like this. Are you free tonight?"

Awakened from my reverie, I almost laughed at her presumption that I would actually have plans—she thought too highly of me.

"Yes, I am."

"Great. Do you think you can meet me in my backyard tonight then?"

I had to do a double take. "In your backyard?"

"Yes, and before you start—Jacob knows you're back, so you don't have to feel bad about anything."

She didn't seem startled at all upon mentioning his name—as if what happened last night was a fever dream that she forgot about. I kept my disgust hidden, pushing forward with an important question. "Will he know I'll be in your backyard though?"

"Probably not, 'cause he's still… processing your return, I guess. I'm trying to avoid any potential fights with him, I don't want him to go to a dark place again."

Bella was clearly choosing her words carefully, like she was walking in a minefield. And it was evident that she did not enjoy talking about this too much—if I had to take a guess, I reckoned that she was struggling with the idea of keeping our friendship under wraps. I wasn't vain enough to believe that the struggle came from a place of unspeakable feelings that had been buried long ago. But I was anxious enough to fear that she was probably starting to see through me and my attempts to remain civil despite my various desires. That could certainly be reason enough for her to feel guilty over meeting me in secret.

I didn't want to add more distress to her thoughts—at least not more than I already was. And who was I to say no to another chance to be alone with Bella? Lowering my voice, even if no one but her would have been able to hear me, I talked again. "How will you sneak out anyway?"

"Jake is a heavy sleeper."

I nodded complicitly. "Fine. Tell me when you want me to be there."

"After midnight should be fine."

And while our eyes tenderly sealed the promise of meeting again soon, one clamant thought rang louder in my mind than all the rest.

Rosalie was right. I was very much a lost cause, with no hope of getting better any time soon. But even more surprising than admitting defeat in front of my vain sister's logic was the realization that… it didn't matter to me at all. Because being a lost cause for Bella? I didn't mind it. In fact, I was starting to believe I might just embrace it fully.

I was already going to Hell—the least I could do was do it properly.

That will be one interesting meet up ;).

Do you think that with Esme being there, Edward will be a little more reasonable?

I am so curious to discover your thoughts on this chapter!

As mentioned at the beginning of this month, there will be no update coming on June 23rd, as I will be out of town, away from my laptop. This means that the next update will be posted on June 30th—sorry for making you wait and thank you for your patience!

Until then, stay safe and happy!

Chapter Text

Hello, dears!

Thank you for your patience in waiting two weeks for this chapter, you're all amazing.

It's been a rough couple of weeks for me, so I didn't get to respond to all of your reviews, but I am slowly catching up, I promise :).

As a gentle note, I wanted to let you know that this chapter, along with a few upcoming ones, won't be edited by my dear beta, CoppertopJ. She is currently focusing on her health, and I know we all wish her the best as she takes this time for herself.

Thank you for your understanding!

Esme was gone when I returned to the house.

Checking my phone, I quickly understood that it would be a while until she got back, according to the last text message received from her. As it turned out, my mother had a mission of her own today, because even if our stay in Forks was going to be short-lived, she could not fathom spending her time in an inescapably empty and impracticable space, like I had. She wanted to temporarily transform the house into a friendlier place, one that could remind her of home—and also one that had running water and electricity.

Not really caring either way, I packed a change of clothes and left, determined to fuel up for what I was certain would be a difficult night to bear in terms of thirst, since Bella and I were going to be alone again. It hardly mattered that it had only been a few days since my last hunt—in her presence, being full of blood didn't really make a difference.

Taking no risks, I fed on two unlucky deer—fully detesting their flavour, as it only made me ache that much more for the blood I really craved—before moving to the even less exciting offering of rabbits. I was probably overdoing it, ending way more lives than I needed to, but I much preferred this option compared to the nightmare of possibly acting out on my thirst and hurting Bella tonight.

Of course, I also had… the other hunger to consider.

Just as wild and demanding, but a million times more humane. Learning how to govern it was still an imperfect work in progress. Unlike the thirst for blood, I had no thorough training in numbing it. Long ago, the only transient relief I could find was during the rare moments in which I pleasured myself. More of a necessity than anything else, those moments were few and far between and they happened whenever my lustful forays with Bella got me riled up to the insane point in which the overstimulation turned my desire into actual pain. I always waited to be alone to bring myself to orgasm, knowing better than to tell her that I wanted to add a new and exasperatingly erotic layer to our relationship.

Because even if it never went further than masturbation, she would have said yes. Even worse—but also better—she would have been more than eager to turn that act into something mutual. And it was one thing to unravel myself at the mercy of my own depraved fantasies, but to witness her do the same, in front of me? In tandem with me? For me?

I wouldn't have made it. I would have taken her before she even got to lay a finger on her perfect body, all reason be damned.

And it would have ended us both, I had no doubt, courtesy of the incompatibility between my unbridled necessity to possess her and my inhuman force.

With my fantasies often turning into disaster, it was no wonder that I didn't offer myself the chance for relief that often. I was undeserving of it. Thankfully, during my time away from Bella, there was almost never a need for it, save for the rare times in which I accidentally let my mind spiral too far back into concupiscent memories. Other than that, the thousands of miles between me and her left room for a great deal of temperance.

But now, temperance was almost a breath away from being a thing of the past. Because every moment spent with Bella, every chance of physical and emotional proximity, every blush of hers—it was all bringing me down a path of hypersexual longings that I wouldn't even have thought possible a decade ago.

However, I had been deliberately ignoring the part of me that longed for the sweet relief of an orgasm, feeling that I would somehow betray the trust that Bella so innocently put in me if I went there.

Still, without relief I was more prone to listen to the devil on my left shoulder, who was waiting for any moment of weakness on my part, just so that he could convince me to touch her. Properly. At least once. But the devil also wanted to kiss her. To discover the shape of her body without the obstruction of clothes. To drag his tongue all over that alabaster skin. To open her legs and learn the lesson of pleasuring her all night long.

All of his—and, well, to be honest all the way, my—desires culminated with one. To fully capitulate and fuck her.

So unsurprisingly, I was a mobile pile of stress and arousal when I sneaked into the backyard half an hour after midnight and I saw her there, standing right where the forest line began, wearing a tight camisole and the same sweatpants she wore on the night she fell asleep with me by her side. Her hair was down, covering most of her neck and breasts.

Good, no distractions then.

"Hi," she offered softly. "It's good to see you."

"Likewise."

It was so strange—to be in front of her and to have no choice but to keep my hands to myself. It felt almost like a sacrilege to do nothing at all. And just as expected, my previous feast barely did anything to prepare me for the full blow of feeling her fragrance again. I breathed it in, letting the fire rip through me.

"Do you want to take a short walk maybe?" she asked.

I raised one eyebrow. "The forest is not the friendliest place at this hour."

"I know, but I don't care. You're here if anything dangerous gets too close."

It was astounding how she still failed to see that the most dangerous thing here was my presence. But at the same time, I found it endearing how she wasn't scared of me, despite the fact that it would have been the easiest thing in the world to do something unorthodox to soothe my thirst tonight.

So we started walking slowly, our footsteps barely audible as we stepped on the moist grass. Soon enough, the grass gave way to the soil of a well-beaten path, as we entered the forest through the most predictable opening. Once there, darkness engulfed us completely, deafening my reason.

It felt thrilling and scary and special and terrifying to be in this place again. This was the same place where, over one week ago, I had done the unthinkable and got out of the shadows and helped her, unraveling a most uncertain path for my future. And before that…

The place where I broke both of our hearts.

The deep gash of that tragedy was still open—as it would always be—and now it seemed that a new knife was puncturing through it, forcing it to bleed into painful memories, as I pondered about what life would have been like now if I never left. I wondered if this walk would have taken place in broad daylight instead, since she wouldn't have had any reasons to sneak behind anyone's back. There would have been no underlying reasons for her to feel guilty over meeting me, nor for me to constantly convince my hands to remain as far away from her body as possible.

That alternate reality was missing something—the very real possibility that Bella might have not even been alive at all if I stayed. My mere proximity was the most dangerous thing to her, and that certitude was enough to suffocate my ridiculous fantasy and leave it for dead.

My attention got sidetracked when I heard the snapping of a twig under Bella's foot. She tripped before I could decide whether it was appropriate to catch her or not, but whatever merciful god was above decided not to let her fall.

"Perhaps walking is not such a good idea, given the circumstances," I suggested, my voice alarmed.

"That's nothing, I know this place."

"Maybe during daylight."

"I'm just saying, my eyes will adjust, I'll—" I watched as her previously hurt foot hit a rock—which, in itself, was not the worst thing in the world—and my mind could no longer take it. I steadied her, my hand reaching to grab her waist for a moment that felt impossibly short, yet oddly unending. When my fingers made contact with the soft curve of Bella's waist, the heat was the first thing that stirred me. There was so much of it, barely contained by the thin fabric of her camisole. It was radiating in waves, with no hope to be cooled down. And the way the flesh yielded under my hard touch… so easily, no resistance whatsoever, as if it was trained to do just that.

I retreated my hand without really wanting to, once I realized she was stable on her feet. And even if that touch of little consequence had ended, my hand still tingled from the electric potency.

Mystified, but also careful to not let myself slip, I eyed a fallen alder—the same on which Bella was sitting last time we were both here, right before she messed up her ankle—waiting a few feet away from us and saw the outline of my escape. "I'm saying we find a place to sit down," I said. "Deal?"

She accepted with a mumble, and I was surprised when she moved in the right direction, where the fallen trunk awaited.

"There should be a fallen tree," she started, "right about… here."

Maybe her eyes were indeed adjusting, as she led me right to the dead alder. She only seemed slightly uncertain as her knees bent, so that she could find the right place to sit. But once she found it, she smiled, evidently smug. I followed her, choosing to place a safe distance between us.

"Well, the good news is that I am starting to sort of see your face, so it won't feel like I'm talking alone at night, like a crazy person."

I laughed at her little remark, instantly regretting the action once the new influx of air in my lungs got riddled with the sweet smell of her breath and the delectable aroma of life pumping inside her veins. The little distance I had put between us seemed to be useless.

"Bella, that ship has long sailed, don't you think?"

Her eyes widened, feigning shock. "You take that back!"

"Never."

We laughed together, and recklessly, she drew her body closer to me.

"You know, this is the best part of today for me," Bella said, once her amusement subsided.

Pride. Joy. Disbelief. A mixture of all three sentiments swept me off my feet at her confession.

"How so?"

"Well, for starters, all that paperwork I was telling you about earlier when you stopped by? It lasted for hours."

"I'm sorry."

"And when I got home, there was some mess-up with the telephone bills, so wouldn't you know, more paperwork to work through."

"Perhaps you should be sleeping then, because it sounds like you've exhausted your resources for today."

"No, that's what I'm trying to say, Edward. This moment is probably the first time today when I feel like I can breathe. You're… you're calming me, I think."

That was an interesting progression—I had not even daydreamed about the possibility of my presence feeling calming to her. I could guess, by now, that seeing me was at least enjoyable for her, otherwise she wouldn't have pursued all these meetings. But the idea of her finding calmness because of me was certainly pleasing, even if I didn't understand it fully.

"I didn't expect that," I admitted.

"Me neither. Especially not here."

My muscles tensed. "Why not here?"

The whoosh of her blood rushing to her cheeks set me on fire. I moved away from her, putting some sensible distance between us again.

"I-I mean… I'm not sure if you even remember, but here is where… you know, the place where we—well, not we… where you…"

Fuck. I should have given Bella more credit for her memory. She kept stuttering, and I decided to end her pitiful attempt to finish the sentence. "No, I remember. I'm just surprised you do too."

"It's pretty much the place that made me discover what a panic attack means, so… yes, I remember."

"Oh." Her divulgence felt too raw. Too personal—the kind of thing that usually remained unspoken. Needless to say, I was hopelessly curious to learn more, but I didn't want to come off as too intrusive, so I offered her the chance to choose. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"It's not exactly fun to talk about."

Not an outright no. But not a yes either. I tried a different approach. "I hope you know you're not scaring me with that."

Her lashes fluttered, as she appeared to ponder what to do next. "Fine," she decided. "But don't laugh, okay?"

"I can't imagine why I would."

Her eyes met mine and, even though the rods in her retina required at least thirty more minutes to accept the darkness for what it was, I was pretty certain that she could see me well-enough to understand that I had no intention to diminish her experiences with a joke.

Her position shifted again once she seemed to gather enough trust to continue. Almost imperceptibly, she leaned forward, supporting herself on the palm of her hand. "When you left… it took me a while to get used to… life, in general, I guess. The simplest things, that I used to take for granted, started feeling like chores. So I figured that if I wanted to actually function again, I had to find a way to… accept it. To accept that things were fully over between us." Bella paused, hesitating. "So it made a lot of sense for me to go back to where it all ended. To return here until it no longer felt like you had a hold on me."

I listened to her, reining in the level of aghast astonishment on my face. It was quite staggering to imagine Bella—at least this version of her, who had already made a promise to another man—returning to this place specifically to face her fears. I knew, thanks to Alice, that the break-up had not been easy for either of us, but it was one thing to be made aware of that through the distant retellings of my sister, and another for Bella to disclose it.

It used to hurt when Alice shared her knowledge regarding Bella's recovery with me, but I had ways to push through the pain. Having seen so many human minds in my lifetime, I was convinced that the eventual conclusion for Bella was healing. A potentially lengthy healing process, sprinkled with unfortunate hiccups, but it was the endgame that mattered.

So whatever stories Alice had for me, I was trained to swallow the agony caused by them.

But somehow, that level of agony was nothing compared to what I felt now, as Bella's voice trembled while she told me about her suffering. There was no reason for me to be so deeply affected, since her pain—however intense at the time—was a thing of the past. Now I finally had proof that she was over me. I stared at her engagement ring intently, to further reinforce that proof into my brain, but it didn't work.

"I made a habit out of it," she continued, my struggle unknown to her. "I came here a few times a week, replaying that day in my mind. And… it was difficult for a while. There was a lot of anxiety involved, because being here triggered a feeling of impending doom within me. But funnily enough, this exposure therapy actually worked. After enough time had passed, I was able to revisit this place without losing my mind."

My mind was taken back to the day when I spied on her in this very forest, right before her injury. How peaceful she looked. Was that what she was doing then—a mental exercise to keep her sanity in check? I didn't know what to say. What even was the appropriate thing to say in such a situation? My reason was hammered, so I went with what I felt was right. "I'm truly sorry you went through all of this." Then, instantly, something else occurred to me. "Why did you think I would laugh?"

"Because the panic, the inability to move on fast enough, all these things… I don't know, I suppose they're what you would call human things, so I'd understand if you thought that they didn't make a ton of sense. Or that they're silly."

"Bella, I may not be human, but my ability to feel is very much locked in place. And what happened here, years ago? It affected me too. Nothing about it was easy."

"It did?"

"Of course. I was a mess for way too long after I left, so I know a thing or two about heartbreak."

She seemed confused—rightly so. "But… I thought that was what you wanted."

"It absolutely was. But it didn't hurt any less."

Bella shook her head, the expression on her face too vague to decipher. "You are a riddle, I swear."

I wasn't sure if I should have been offended or not. "What?"

"Your line of thinking is baffling to me. It contradicts what I thought I knew."

"And what is it that you thought you knew?"

"Honestly? For the longest time I thought that your decision was all about that night, when Jasper… you know…"

Yes, I knew. That most haunting night when I nearly lost her was not something I could ever let go of—not when I knew I was to blame for it. In my pursuit to offer her a myriad of human moments to cherish, I had almost forgotten that Bella was always one breath away from death as long as I was near her.

I could vividly remember the sight of blood dripping down her finger. A single drop, slithering its bold way along her white skin. I could also remember how it had taken me all the strength in the world to keep my hands locked in fists instead of reaching to grab her hand, seal my mouth to the small wound, and drink. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to sink my teeth into that finger and break the delicate phalanges in my search for more.

So many promises arose in my mind, not a single one of them good or noble.

Would I be able to stop the bleeding of her finger, just so that I could move to her neck, where a much more generous quantity of blood awaited? Would it hurt her terribly? Would it make a difference if I held her in my arms while I did it? Or if I stopped to kiss her neck every once in a while, before plunging my teeth back into the one true home of her throat?

In that critical moment when all of my nightmares took the shape of fantasies, only one thing surpassed my thirst.

Love.

My love for Bella was the only thing that kept me grounded, reigning over the ugly thorns of my ache and yearning. Because along with the violent images that her blood brought to light, an entirely different set of images emerged as well. Images of a world in which Bella no longer existed. A world in which none of my past efforts mattered, because the ending was precisely as tragic as I had always feared. A world that held no interest for me to exist in.

Even worse, for three interminable seconds, those images were perfectly clear in Alice's mind, as the vision hit her with the force of a derailed train. She saw me—my eyes as red as the core of the sun—screaming my lungs out in front of a breathless Bella. Then, just as fast, she saw me uprooting a tree with my bare hands and throwing it in the middle of the road, as a dozen people watched in horror. The vision ended right as a pair of pale hands grabbed my head forcefully, while a voice I recognized from Carlisle's memories whispered: "Such a waste".

As my mind comprehended the unspeakable horror of even coming close to Bella's blood, I found my motivation to behave. But by that point, it was too late for Jasper.

Having absorbed the worst of my hunger, he held nothing back as he launched. All the brutality I had repressed and all the ferocity I had pushed back—everything reflected in his actions tenfold.

I closed my eyes, trying very hard to get my mind to focus on what was happening now instead of that mortifying memory. When I opened them again, I realized Bella was waiting for me to say something.

"Right," I managed. "That night. You thought it was all about that night."

"Yes. But maybe it wasn't." I said nothing, too startled by the fact that she was precisely right. So she went on. "I have this crazy theory that you wanted to break things off way before that. I'd say… August? After Seattle?"

My mind took me back to that warm, humid August—the one and only summer I ever shared with Bella. I remembered Seattle clearly. Bella wore the flimsiest, most delicate dress—courtesy of Alice—when I took her out to dinner one early evening. Throughout that evening, I kept getting distracted by the way her bare shoulders moved as she breathed in and out, making her chest stand out through the lilac-coloured fabric. Bella proved to be less interested in the fancy food and much more interested in what followed after, when we walked outside, right into a tight alley that separated the restaurant from the apartment block beside it.

With her back pressed tightly against that wall, she welcomed my sudden passion with enthusiasm, as my pent up lust drove me to push far more limits than either of us were used to.

My tongue just simply couldn't get enough of Bella, it kept exploring on and on and on—the warm, ever-inviting inside of her mouth, the elegant slope of her neck, the flushing valley of her cleavage—never tiring, nor getting enough. I kept going back and forth between those sacred places, my frenzy increasing with each second, until my thirst managed to strangle all hope of testing myself any further. With my teeth itching to bite, I put an end to it quickly and abruptly—something that I had no doubt she was used to.

Nevertheless, things didn't really change that much once we arrived home. I still spent the night in her bedroom, as I always did. I still sang her to sleep. And the following day? I found myself unable to keep my hands off of her body at school. So I couldn't imagine what could possibly make her believe that Seattle had anything to do with my decision.

"Bella, my decision had been made long before your birthday. And certainly long before Seattle."

"Really? How long before?"

I debated whether to lie or not, but every cell inside my body pined for me to tell the truth, so I chose to listen to my instinct—at least this particular instinct couldn't harm her. "About the same time you were in the hospital," I confessed. "It made me realize that being a part of my world was simply not a feasible option for you."

"Oh… wow. That's… wow. So not even Jasper had anything to do with it?"

"To be completely fair, Jasper wouldn't have done what he did if it weren't for me," I answered, still wanting to be sincere. "Certainly, he wasn't as trained in resisting human blood as the rest of us, but that wasn't the main problem. After all, he did witness papercuts before, at school, and there had been no massacre. But with you, it was different, because he felt my thirst first and foremost. And he felt how close I was to losing it." I was ashamed to say those words out loud, in front of her, especially when she looked at me with so much undeserved understanding. But I also felt compelled to be honest with her, now that enough time had passed for my past lies to be obsolete. "So it wasn't really his thirst that got him to launch at you. It was mine."

"God, that must have been terrible for both of you," she replied, her voice as soft as the July wind whirling around us.

Of course, she was worrying about anyone else but herself. "Are you forgetting who ended up with stitches after that whole ordeal?"

"Right." She laughed, as if that part was somehow funny. I frowned in return—the correct reaction to have. She must have observed the change in my face, because her chuckle died. "But that summer… was any of it even real?"

My chest hummed with pain when I heard how forlorn she sounded. I didn't want to live in a world in which she actually believed that the good parts of our relationship had been fabricated. "Everything was, Bella. I wanted all the time I could get with you."

"Why all the stalling though?"

"I couldn't bring myself to leave. You were…" I stopped just in time, right before I almost told her that she was my mate. There was no use trying to convey just how permanent the string that tied me to her was, so I decided to go with something slightly more acceptable. "Well, quite frankly, there is no way around it. You were my first love. And your hold on me was far too strong at the time."

Her heart stammered as I talked and I felt awful. Clearly, my burst of honesty had made her uncomfortable. "But… you still left."

"I still left." There was a brief pause on my part, as I struggled to find something positive to say. "On the bright side, everything passes. Eventually."

"But you see, that's also the problem, Edward. Everything passes. Even the good things."

"Some of them last."

"Yes, but never the ones we ask for."

Silence fell for a while, making me wonder if I had ruined everything by saying too much. I liked to believe that this conversation, as deeply intimate as it was, didn't feel like an awkward burden to her. She had grown enough in my absence to know better than to mourn the absurd idea of the two of us together.

"I'm sorry for asking you all these questions," she said, a bitter laugh insinuating in her discourse. "I think a part of me never got over the fact that you never gave me much to work with in terms of answers."

In the darkness, her eyes found mine, and I couldn't look away. In fact, I wanted nothing more than to get lost inside them, knowing that it was the one place where I felt truly safe. As I stared at her, I recognized the force that started flowing through my body, willing it to budge, but I didn't fight it. I simply accepted its seductive pull, while I moved on the fallen tree, closer to Bella.

With only two feet separating us, her scent became inescapable. In an act of complete madness, I breathed in deeply, letting the fire consume my senses.

"I know," I uttered, aware that she still expected me to say something in return. "I apologize for that."

Entertaining my madness, she also moved, killing more distance between us. I didn't dare breathe, once I realized that our thighs were so close they almost touched—and especially once I realized that our faces had not been in such close vicinity in years.

Bella appeared to be a little startled as well, if the rhythm of her heart was anything to go by—but then again, the quick rhythm could mean a myriad of things. Fear. Anxiety. Anger.

But she didn't sound fearful, anxious, or angry when she spoke. "The funny thing is… even with you here, now, actually giving me answers… I realize I still don't understand."

"What?"

"Why you never gave us a real chance. As if failure was the only way forward for us."

I shook my head, seeking an appropriate response and realizing I had nothing. Once again, I was stuck, unable—and more frighteningly, unwilling—to lie. "I'm starting to think I don't understand it either."

Our gazes parted when she closed her eyes. Almost on command, my own eyes followed suit. With one sense obstructed, the rest of them rejoiced. I could smell the strange anticipation in the air, almost as potent as the smell of her blood. And in that moment, all sounds of the forest faded into nothingness, as Bella's hitched breath commanded attention. I focused on it, inhaling each short gust of air she expired.

Being so sinfully close to her was the sweetest inferno. I was close enough to know that if I leaned forward just a few inches, our lips would touch and burn together.

"If I told you something," she began, allowing me to feel the vibration of her speech directly on my face, "can you promise not to hold it against me?"

I didn't think twice about my answer. "You know I couldn't do such a thing."

"It's something that's been on my mind for a while now."

"Then you know I want to hear it."

She sucked in a great amount of air, as if the intake of oxygen could somehow help her find the courage to voice her thoughts out loud. And thankfully, it worked. "I really missed you, Edward. And I thought it'll pass at some point, but the thing is… it didn't. I miss you when you're not here."

The solace brought by her confession was impossible to contain into mere words. It was too grand, too powerful—otherworldly almost. Was this what dreaming felt like? This immense pleasure didn't seem to belong to reality, so I figured that the answer was yes. This was the closest I could get to dreaming, come to think of it.

Trying to keep my excitement quelled, I found the power to talk. "Why do you think I'm always here when you ask me to? I miss you too, Bella. Every day. Even now."

"Why now? I'm right here."

"You are, but it's all so impermanent."

I was still deprived of my sight when I felt her moving again, until the gravitational pull of her lips was no longer within reach. I opened my eyes to find something just as enticing, but a million times worse, waiting for me. Now that Bella had pushed her head back, glancing upwards at the branches that covered the star-spotted firmament, her neck was not only barren and exposed, but also within direct range of my mouth.

Hypnotized, I watched the tantalizing movement of her jugular veins underneath the skin—so plump and lush and full of the blood that I would have died to taste.

I leaned forward without second-guessing my actions. "May I?" I asked, lost in a trance.

I wasn't sure what I was doing, all I knew was that I wanted to be closer still, because the one inch sundering my lips from her throat felt like a mile now. Bella nodded, giving me permission to proceed with my lunacy, and I channeled all of my efforts into not submerging my teeth in her neck. An almost impossible task, seeing that I was no longer aware of where my thirst ended and where my lust began.

The air between us tasted like her, as my conscience danced between sin and reason. I opened my mouth to take in as much as I could of that fragrance, granting it access to incinerate my insides. In my attempt to accept the inferno for what it was, my effort translated into a low sound—a sound that walked a thin line between pleasure and pain. My groan echoed in the small, almost non-existent space between my lips and her neck.

"Is it… is it difficult for you?" Bella whispered. I had not realized it before, but she was panting. From fear? From guilt? Or… from some distorted sense of desire? I couldn't tell. Not that I was any better, since my breaths had become an accelerated mess. "Being this close to my blood, I mean."

"It's… a battle."

"What if it wasn't?"

I almost slipped and kissed her neck then and there. "How?"

"I was thinking… I could let you take a sip. Or two."

"No." My response was immediate, and I fought to make it sound harsh, so that it wouldn't leave any room for doubt. "I can't. I won't. Never."

As expected, she didn't heed my warning. "I've been thinking though… you wouldn't even have to bite me. If you grazed my skin a little, enough to draw blood…"

The prospect flashed in my mind, against my better judgement—so shortly, but yet long enough to leave the cruel mark of what if behind. The mental image of Bella's blood, flowing freely from a small cut on her neck... hurrying along her clavicle… and dripping directly into my mouth…

It was all too much.

Weak and dying from the sheer anguish of wanting her so badly, I groaned once more. Her flesh trembled, close to the trap of my teeth.

I shook my head, starting to question how we even got to this point. I was remotely aware that I had started it, when I foolishly leaned in to indulge my senses with her perfume, but for some odd reason, she was continuing it. There had to be an end in sight. "Bella, you wouldn't dangle the sweetest liquor in front of an alcoholic like that, would you?"

"You are not an alcoholic," she retorted, clearly not understanding that I was on the edge of the precipice, ready to fall at a moment's notice.

"No, you know I am much worse," I warned, wondering if some good old-fashioned fear would work to bring some sense into her brain. If she could see half of what my mind was capable of when it came to her… she would not think twice about running away from me. I wished for her to comprehend how primal and feral the calling to drink from her was. Because if she understood, she wouldn't have offered herself on a silver platter like that.

No sign of understanding seemed to be there when Bella spoke again, "Tell me something then. How close are you to doing something to me?"

There was no point in lying. "Extremely."

"In that case, it would probably help if you had something to take the edge off. It would make it easier next time you saw me, right?"

"I don't want to take the edge off."

"Then what do you want?" she asked in exasperation.

That was certainly a good question.

Almost two weeks ago, I thought I knew precisely the answer. Back then, I wanted nothing more than to privately check on her, to finally see her healed and happy. But that past wish of mine seemed so distant now, after all the happenings that led me to this precise moment in time and space. Whatever possessed me to believe that I could be Bella's friend without selfishly seeking her attention? Without wanting more and more and more, never getting enough of what she was able to offer me?

Forcing myself to snap out of this spellbound state, I backed off. I figured that if I could see Bella's expression, it would finally convince me to put the act of behaving properly back on.

I realized how wrong I was immediately after.

Nothing about what I saw could save me from myself. Bella's lips were parted, her cheeks rubescent from the increasing flow of blood. The embodiment of a forbidden fruit, she looked unnervingly eager for something. While I couldn't correctly guess what it was that she wanted, I was fully cognizant of my own urge, as my body made sure to achingly remind me.

If I could afford to have things my way, I would have taken Bella right here. Right on the fallen alder, her back pressed against the bark while I thrust inside her as deeply as her hot depths allowed. Hard, steady, urgent, wet.

Through the fog of my fantasy, I remembered that she was expecting an answer from me, so I went ahead and offered her one that was as vague as it was true. "Nothing good."

Stunned by my own nerve, I watched incredulously as my right hand raised up, until it was at the same level with Bella's face. She didn't say anything, but the black hole of her pupils suddenly became wider. With my jaw clenched tightly, I tried to stop before I went too far, but there was no strength in me. With no witnesses around, apart from the ancient trees, the sin I was so close to committing felt less severe. More acceptable.

Impossibly, my fingers finally touched her cheek, and the earth stopped spinning.

The only source of gravity was the searing skin of Bella's face, and my hand could not help but submit to its pull. My cold fingers lingered there, making me forget how I was ever able to live without this. With all the care in the world, my touch trickled down, stealing as much warmth in the process as it could, stalling once it reached the contour of Bella's mandible. It seemed as if the veins underneath were ready to implode, if the way they pulsed so wildly out of control was any indication.

Not ready to let go—but also too captivated by the way her lips tremored—my thumb went on a path of its own, descending until it reached the corner of her mouth. Listening to some long-forgotten instinct, Bella parted her lips more, saluting my intrusion. I dragged the tip of my thumb over them, marveling at the surreal softness, but also at how the texture felt exactly the same as I remembered. There was no strangeness, only familiarity.

I repeated the motion, baffled by how supremely pleasing it felt. But the pleasure didn't last long, as the threads of my thirst also started to weave their way into my actions. I could almost see how easy it would have been to follow Bella's prior suggestion. A quick scrape of my nail and the flush of her lips would liquify and dribble down her chin in a red stream.

And God, the blood-stained kiss that would inevitably follow…

That vision almost did me in. Just as quickly as it had arrived on her face, my hand pulled back.

Slowly, but surely, the earth started spinning again.

"You're getting married, Bella," I said, my voice hoarse from the unsated longing.

"I am."

"We shouldn't."

"Right." She nodded shortly, a little confused—if I had to guess, my unmanaged mood swing was definitely the culprit. "I know. We… we weren't going to do anything."

"Of course we weren't," I lied. "You should go back inside."

"Yes, but… but I don't want to."

"Why? You need to sleep."

"I know. But I want to stay with you here a little longer. Each time I see you, I feel like it might be the last time."

So she was aware of the expiration date too. "We will see each other tomorrow."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise."

"And the day after tomorrow?"

"Come on now, I'll walk you back," I said, conscientiously ignoring her question.

As I guided Bella back to her house, the ominous pain in my body alerted me that living with it past tonight was not an option. Ever since I arrived, that pain had done nothing but grow and mutate. So after I bid my goodbye, I didn't stick around to listen to the sound of her falling asleep. I didn't head back home either, where Esme surely awaited.

Instead, I went back into Bella's backyard, decided to head towards the place where she and I stomped over several limits tonight.

I didn't make it that far. As soon as I stepped back inside the forest, I decided I could no longer take it. Postponing the inevitable even one second longer felt like a death sentence. Just like it happened earlier, my body made decisions before my brain could filter if they were decent enough to act upon. It felt like I couldn't unzip my jeans fast enough, so I ripped the zipper open, to get it over with.

My cock sprung open—throbbing, hard, and tortured by all the unfulfilled teasing. Having endured enough of my own nonsense, I went through the motions. I closed my eyes and started rubbing myself back and forth—no light teasing, I was past that point. The frozen veins in my shaft felt rough to the touch as I stroked it, but I couldn't care less. By now, my mind had replaced the depressing set-up with something much more alluring.

Between two blinks of an eye, I was right back with Bella, on the fallen log. But in the perfect land of my imagination, I didn't stop when my fingers reached Bella's lips. In fact, as soon as her mouth opened, I acknowledged the invitation for what it was and leaned in to cover it with mine. With our lips and tongues sealed together in a deep, thoroughly-exploring kiss, my hands were free to embark on the most inciting journey. I couldn't decide what I wanted to touch first, so I touched her everywhere. Running erratically all over her neck, over her breasts, over her waist, over her ass—my hands were in the midst of an overstimulation storm, as they grabbed as much of Bella as they could, as quickly as they managed, too afraid that the thirst could take over any minute and throw us into the arms of tragedy.

The biggest tragedy though? I didn't even get to make love to her in this fantasy.

Truth be told, I came so fast and so hard, I simply didn't get to reach that point. I cursed out loud while my orgasm unraveled into thick, interminable ribbons of venom that landed directly on the grass, and I slowly realized that, in between my lascivious words, Bella's name also rolled off my tongue a few times—a simple avowal that she was the only cause behind my carnal rampage.

And as this pure, unadulterated satisfaction settled in every part of my body, all I could see was her face. Soft and warm and blushing. More beautiful than anything else in the entire universe.

In the wake of one basic need being temporarily—and barely—soothed, I expected some clarity. Some kind of motivation to finally be good and behave in accordance with my morals.

But the clarity never came.

All I was left with was the insurmountable anxiety of wanting Bella back and knowing I could not have her.

Oh, that was quite a loaded meeting, wasn't it?

I am sooo excited to know your thoughts on this chapter! Do you think Edward and Bella will cave soon to the tension? How do you think they'll behave around each other next time, considering that they were *this* close to kissing?

Until next Sunday, stay safe and happy!

Chapter Text

Hello, lovely people!

I hope life is treating everyone kindly these days :).

Huge thanks to all of you who are still patient enough with all the slow-burn going on in this story!

As I mentioned last week, this chapter is also unedited, as my wonderful friend and beta reader is taking the time she needs to focus on her health.

Let's see what happened after the almost-kiss of the previous chapter!

Esme didn't ask me too many questions when I returned, even though she had plenty. She was simply grateful that I had accepted her presence there, so she didn't want to scare me away with her curiosity, out of all things.

Furthermore, it appeared that I was pretty decent at hiding my neurotic state from her. She wasn't even close to guessing just how close Bella and I got—and neither was Alice, whose radar luckily didn't catch what could have happened when our mother called her a few hours ago.

Of course, Esme did have some questions she couldn't help but voice out loud.

"Shouldn't Bella be sleeping at this hour?"

"She is sleeping now. She just wanted to talk first." Feeling the need to ease my mother's worries, I went on. "We didn't get to talk much when I returned those books, so she asked me if we could catch up before heading to bed."

"May I ask where you did all this talking?"

"In her backyard."

"Oh."

I heard her worrying thoughts about what this late night meeting meant in the long run, but I appreciated the fact that she kept them to herself.

Pleasantly enough, Esme allowed her questions to rest for a while. Soon after, she asked me to help her set up the few furniture pieces she had bought while I was away hunting the day prior. She had already set up the basic utilities in my absence, so the least I could do was help with the remaining necessities. There was an unexpected sense of calm in this shared activity—partly because it was a great distraction from the trainwreck of my own mind, but mostly because, if I had to be honest, I had been missing my mother more than I was willing to let on.

Once we were finished, the house was no longer a void shell.

"Now it looks a bit like home, don't you think?" she asked me proudly, as she analyzed the space surrounding us.

We had a tan couch now, as well as two armchairs flanking it on both sides. There was also a wooden table in front of the couch, with nothing on it apart from an empty vase. Across the room, close to the large window wall facing the forest, Esme had her own painting spot, with a large easel to complete it.

I had to admit—it looked homely in a way that took me by surprise, filling me up with long forgotten feelings. Those feelings only deepened as I realized just how bright Esme's smile was. Determined to keep the smile on her face, I asked her to wait for me as I went outside to pick a bouquet of wildflowers for the empty vase.

As I picked coneflowers and daisies, I took a moment to cherish the fact that the physical distance between me and Bella offered me the illusion of control at long last. Now that my precious love was safe in her bed, sleeping, and I was here, ripping flowers from their roots, it was easier to imagine that I had enough strength to walk away before it was too late. Undoubtedly, that decision was going to ruin me, but at least I knew I would not be leaving an utterly devastated Bella behind. I would leave behind this new version of her, who had Jacob by her side. And even if I viscerally hated the way he behaved with her the other night, at the end of the day I liked to believe that I was reasonable enough to accept that he was her choice. She knew him better than I did. Maybe his forward advances had been a rash mistake and now he was aware of it too. For all I knew, maybe he had already apologized to her when I wasn't around—it wasn't like I could go around and ask her about it, so all I could do was hope.

If I was offering him too much credit, it was only because I wanted to believe that Bella's choice had been the right one—the one that would bring her the most happiness in the long run. I felt compelled to cling to that conviction, because it was the only one that prevented me from outright murdering Jacob.

I spent the night going back and forth between possibilities. On one hand, I wanted to convince myself that it was not too late to act in good faith and leave. On the other hand, I was set on keeping my promise of seeing her again today. But what was I going to say to her, when I would inevitably see her again at her workplace? Was I supposed to acknowledge my almost-slip? Was I supposed to apologize? The sane option seemed to tell her I was sorry, even if the devil on my shoulder was more than pleased with how far I had gone. For the sake of keeping up appearances, she had to believe that I was sorry.

When the morning came, Esme asked me about my plans for the day.

"I promised Bella I'd see her again," I informed her. "So I'll drop by the library."

"And do you plan to go there soon?"

I listened intently to her thoughts, until I caught the far end of a stray wish—she was hoping I would join her in a creative pursuit. She was set on enriching her recently-started photography collection with photos from the deep heart of Snider Peak, which was less than one-hour drive away from us. And even if she tried to hide it, I could hear that she didn't want to do this for herself as much as she wanted to give me the chance to take a break from my self-deprecating routine.

"Actually, I can arrive at the library around the time she's getting ready to close the place. That way I won't get in her way too much."

"Thank you."

Later on, as we passed through the lush forest leading up to the peak of the mountain, I was grateful for the sun glimmering its light through the green ceiling of leaves above us—a sunny day meant that Bella had at least one reason to smile today. I would have done anything to witness that smile from up close. Ideally, to witness it as soon as she opened her eyes and she saw the rays filtering through her bedroom window.

"You seem to be in a good mood," Esme noticed.

"Do I?"

"At least a better mood than two nights ago."

"Can you blame me? I didn't expect any guests two nights ago."

"I know you didn't. I just figured you would be a tad happier to see your family. You haven't been alone like that since…"

She hesitated, wondering whether to go through with the rest of the sentence. She didn't have to say anything, of course—I had already heard what needed to be heard. Even now, so many decades later, my mother still couldn't bear the memory of me having lived in complete solitude. My bout of rebellion had left a deep mark in her heart—a mark that mostly healed in time, once she grew confident enough that our family bond far surpassed my downcast disposition. But the wound opened right back when I chose isolation again, digging deeper and further into her heart than ever.

"It is different this time," I sighed.

"That's what worries me. This time, your choice was not born out of a sense of insurgence or boredom. This choice was born out of loss."

I stood by as she leaned over a bush full of thimbleberries, to capture a close shot with her camera. It pained me to see that her worries about me occupied such a large portion of her mind—had it been like this for the entire duration of our separation? Or did it simply get worse as a result of seeing me again at long last?

I feared to know the truth.

"It is my burden to carry, not yours," I replied, once she got back up, and we started walking again.

"Now that is the problem. I know you are strong, but some burdens can be too heavy to carry, even for you. And I think this is part of the reason why you are here, even if you do not realize it just yet."

"What?"

"It's not about just missing your mate. You miss your best friend too. And Bella was both."

"She was," I responded to her fleeting thought. "And yes, I do miss her friendship. She understands parts of me that even I don't understand." I stopped, pondering a new thought. "Is it really so awful that I'm seeking to be her friend now?"

"No." My mother's response was in perfect alignment with her line of thinking. "But I can imagine it gets a little confusing for her, when you consider everything. You cut off any means of communication with her for almost two years and now… you're dialing back on it. And not exactly little by little, but all at once. It can potentially be overwhelming."

Overwhelming. That was an excellent descriptor for how I had been feeling. Going from the blur of days and nights spent in solitude, forcing myself to not think about Bella, to actively spending time with her—talking to her, watching over her as she slept, comforting her, almost kissing her—was a lot. So was it completely out of the realm of possibilities for Bella to feel just as staggered by the peculiar turn of events?

One question remained, of course. How exactly was it affecting her?

"I don't know what else to do," I admitted. "I suppose I started fighting a losing battle as soon as I revealed myself to her, but that's beside the point. I'm in too deep."

"If you were to ask me, you deserve to be happy, so… there are ways to get her back. For instance, you could—"

"No. Absolutely not. I can't have her back."

"If you really mean it, you can always set boundaries."

"I've already done that!" Before I even finished that sentence, the flash image of my lips trembling perilously close to Bella's neck, thirsting for contact, resurfaced. Now that was anything but a clear boundary on my part. "Sort of," I added, ashamed of myself.

"Sort of is simply not enough with the history you two share, son." Esme stopped again, her mind caught between the sight of the bright pink fireweed flowers hidden beneath an old tree and what she wanted to say next. "Falling back in love is so easy…"

"That's not the case here, but… I understand where you're coming from." Frankly, I might have not been as susceptible to admit that out loud if the memory of what I had almost done didn't haunt me so thoroughly. "I need to have a talk with her later."

Esme smiled, right before sneaking behind the tree where the fireweed flowers hid. She took several photos there, pleased with the way that light and shadow danced on the rosy petals. We continued to move through the forest, making our way to the top of the mountain. By the time we reached the peak, the sun had managed to hide behind a cluster of clouds. My mother used this as an opportunity to play with the brightness settings on her camera more, finding new ways to work with what the remaining sunlights offered.

Accompanying her on the rest of the trip didn't really take my mind off my problems, even if at some point I allowed my obsession with Bella to take a back seat, so that Esme could fill me in on what I had been missing about our family. She took me through everything: the little things, such as Emmett's decision to build a small at-home arcade games paradise in their house in Juneau, as a result of his newfound passion, but also the bigger things, such as Jasper and Alice deciding to have a new wedding ceremony. While they had never been as grand as Emmett and Rosalie when it came to these things, they still liked to renew their vows every once in a few decades, as a testament to their ever growing love.

Of course, I had been missing other things too.

For instance, I had no idea that Rosalie took a leap of faith and decided to record a few classical pieces that she composed on the piano and release them anonymously on the internet, under a grandiose sounding pseudonym, finding unexpected appreciation in that niche. I also didn't know that my father finally decided to allow himself to go on a vacation, after years of almost never taking time off from work, unless absolutely necessary. He and Esme planned to take a trip in the African wilderness for two weeks. And while she didn't explicitly say so, I could tell, from her thoughts, that this trip was something that both of them needed—apparently, in the wake of one of their children venturing on a path of loneliness, they had forgotten to spend as much time together as they used to, back when the family wasn't broken up.

It was odd, but somewhat reassuring, to comprehend the fact that their lives went on, while my own felt utterly stuck in the same place. Certainly, they all had a sense of meaning that kept them going, regardless of any adversities along the way. But I had none. Other than the fact that Bella was alive, I no longer had any threads to tie me to the idea that life was worth living.

Shamefully, I almost… envied them.

I envied them for how they got to live and thrive alongside their mates for the rest of time. It seemed like the ultimate unattainable luxury to even dream about having something like that with Bella. Because even if she was actually available and interested… I wasn't about to drag her down into my world of shadows again. Not after how it almost killed her the first time around.

And the alternative… the tragedy that would have allowed me to keep Bella forever… I couldn't even begin to fathom it without my heart folding in on itself and crumbling to smithereens.

Crushed by the renewed desperation, there was only one thing I wanted to do once Esme and I arrived back in my car. After our day-long trip, there wasn't a lot of time left, just barely enough to make it back to Forks before Gossamer Grove closed, so I hit the gas pedal like a maniac, human laws be damned. I made sure to drop Esme home, not willing to risk her overhearing whatever it was that I would say to Bella—I was still undecided about the precise wording, but I knew it was not the kind of conversation that a mother would like to hear.

I came short of bursting the door of the library open, knowing that I had less than ten minutes to work with. Bella was obviously finished with her work for the day, as she was now standing up by her desk, struggling to gather her thick hair in a low bun. Her hands froze when she saw me and a beautiful pink bloomed across her cheeks in an instant.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," I said.

She finished her bun hastily, leaving plenty of clandestine strands free. Somehow, the disordered nature of her hair made her beauty even more excruciating to endure. She wasn't even trying, yet I was ready to fall to my knees and worship her if she asked. And her neck… nothing could hide its pulsing perfection, nor how intoxicatingly delicious it smelled. If my memory wasn't faultless, I would have doubted that I got so close to caressing that perfection with my lips last night.

"I thought you forgot."

"Impossible. I promised you, didn't I?"

"That you did."

She smiled as she grabbed her bag from the chair behind the desk, but there was an unusual tension in her voice. I couldn't afford to examine the distress too deeply, since she seemed to be in a hurry, so I skipped the friendly banter, getting straight to the point.

"Bella, about last night…"

Her eyes widened and started a weird dance between glancing at me, then at the door, then back at me. "It's all good, you don't have to say anything."

"No, I really do. I need to make something clear."

"Can it wait a bit? I—"

"Please, give me two minutes and I won't ask for anything else."

"It's simply not the best time right now."

"Then one minute, I'll be quick," I begged, staring her down. She didn't protest this time—or rather I didn't give her enough time to do so—so I pushed on, while I still had enough impudence to face my mistakes and set some clear boundaries, as Esme advised me. "My thirst caused me to get too close for comfort and I apologize for that. I know I should have been more careful, and not just because you are getting married. You… you've been so understanding and trusting with me since I got here, and the last thing I want to do is to breach that generosity. I want to be—or at least learn to be—a good friend to you. No mishaps of any kind on my part."

As the words poured out of me, Bella's eyes resumed their dance between my face and the door. And maybe if I hadn't been so absorbed by her, I would have done the smart thing and paid attention to my surroundings a little better. For me, it was second nature to dim the loudness of the world when I was around her. After all, the rest of the world never held anything of substance to capture my curiosity when Bella was right in front of me.

Well, until now.

Not far away from the library, I recognized a familiar mental voice growing closer, that stopped my discourse in its tracks, making me understand Bella's previous hesitation in letting me proceed with my speech. My timing couldn't have been poorer.

With Jacob seconds away from us, I analyzed my options.

I considered disappearing, but that entailed using my full speed in a public space, which was all but forbidden. But… I could try to stick to a human pace. Yes, it was doable. However, a slow walking rhythm was also a clear guarantee that I wouldn't be fast enough to escape a human's notice. Jacob would easily see me, which was precisely the thing I was hoping to avoid.

Maybe if I hid? There were plenty of corners where I could already see myself drenched in the shadows. The possibility made me shudder, realizing just how unnecessarily dramatic that would have been. Besides, hiding would have contradicted what I had just told Bella. Could she really trust that I had good intentions if the first thing I wanted to do upon facing her future husband was to hide?

Goddamn, I had to stay. No excuses.

I took several steps back—a futile precaution, really, since I already knew he didn't like me. "Bella, I didn't realize—"

"You're here to return books," she whispered complicitly, right as the door opened and Jacob walked in. I nodded in agreement, wordlessly assuring her that we were on the same page. Then, ignoring the sinking feeling in my stomach, I turned around.

Face to face, Jacob Black had not changed too drastically since the last time I saw him. He was perhaps just one inch shorter than me, but certainly taller than I remembered. But other than that, his face appeared to be unchanged, save for the sunken circles underneath his eyes—if I had to guess, a result of his adult duties taking a toll on him. Still, there was no use denying the obvious—he had grown into what could be objectively described as a handsome man.

"What. The. Fuck?"

He had never been my biggest fan when Bella and I were still together, so the sharp annoyance of his mental voice was to be expected, to some extent. I quickly came to realize that the feeling was mutual—I didn't like him either. I couldn't, not knowing what I knew. I tried to dig into his brain, hoping that some memory of him apologizing to Bella after how he treated her a few days ago would show up, but his thoughts were too anchored in the present moment to slip.

"Honey, I didn't know you were expecting visitors so late."

He made sure to emphasize the last word, but kept a polite tone. His thoughts, however, were anything but polite. "He's got some fucking nerve to show up like this. What is he trying to prove? Or rather what is she trying to prove? It's not like she doesn't know what I think about him. That's some selfish shit on her end."

"Hi, Jacob," I said. I tried to chase away my frown upon hearing just how poisonous his mind got from the onslaught of jealousy. It was an onerous task to remind myself that there was once a time when his mind used to be a much more agreeable place. "It's been a while."

"He's just finished returning some books," Bella explained casually, surprising me with how at ease she seemed to be with this small—but significant—lie. I hated myself for putting her into a position in which she had to lie for my sake.

"I see."

Jacob measured me with squinted eyes as he walked towards us. I could hear him analyzing my stance, making an effort to decide what it was that he didn't like about me the most. "What did she ever see in him anyway? He's too pale. Fucking zombies have more colour in their cheeks than he does. Creepy fucker."

In the background of his mental chatter, I could understand that he was dead set on making a certain kind of statement, so I wasn't surprised when he walked up to Bella and grabbed her waist—so harshly, too harshly—and leaned in to place a long, vehement kiss on her mouth.

No, I wasn't surprised.

But devastated? Yes. Beyond repair.

It only took a second for that sight to break me. I turned away immediately after, knowing my limits. But even with my eyes guarded from the visual pain of witnessing Bella being kissed by another man right in front of me, I could still hear.

The wet sounds of lips colliding and moving in unison, their sloppy soughing getting me to forget all about the usual pain caused by my thirst and succumb to a much more nefarious torture.

Then there were Jacob's thoughts, so caught between lust and proprietorial desires: "She is such a little tease, mmm… I could do this all day. He better watch this. Really get into his head who she belongs to. Oh, yes, I'll give her an incentive to move her tongue like she means it."

I fruitlessly prayed to simply disappear. I was not trained to resist this kind of torment. In fact, if given the choice, I would have preferred to have each of my limbs ripped apart, one by one, slowly and on repeat, in eternal perpetuity, until the end of time. At least it would have hurt less.

The seconds dragged like centuries, enveloping me in more layers of despair—hard, unshakeable layers, that made me feel as if I no longer had a purpose in this world. As if I never had.

I had never felt closer to actual death than when the interminable kiss ended and I had to force my face into a mask of relaxed happiness. The corners of my lips almost refused to move up into a smile. Whatever expression I had managed to muster must have looked like a devilish caricature.

"So yeah, I heard you're back in town," Jacob commented, and I finally looked in his direction again. He had one arm draped around Bella, digging his fingers in the flesh of her right hip. "Family business, right? Something to do with demolishing your house and building some garden of sorts?"

"Right," I confirmed the lie.

"And somehow you're the one who's in charge." There was disbelief written all over his face as he said that.

"I only happen to be the one person in my family who lived closest to Forks when my parents decided to proceed with this project."

"Convenient."

He didn't buy my excuse, not one bit. He had already made up his mind about me—my presence here was not welcome and I was not to be trusted.

My eyes risked a glance at Bella. She looked almost… apologetic. And definitely sad—I should have listened to her when I still had the chance.

"I won't be around long," I promised, knowing that it was not only true, but also what he wanted to hear. Bella's mien grew sadder still.

"What are your plans after?" he inquired. "Like I care. He can crawl back to hell, if it's up to me."

"I plan to resume my traveling."

"Rich asshole," he thought immediately. "Well, best of luck with that. Now, if you don't mind, Bella and I have to go."

"Of course. I'll see you around."

"Sure, sure. Wouldn't get my hopes up though, 'cause we are pretty busy these days," he retorted.

I didn't miss the fact that, for a split second, Bella looked as if she wanted to protest, but ultimately chose to keep the fight to herself. I didn't blame her—as rude as he was, Jacob was still her fiancé. She didn't owe me any kind of defense in front of him. So even if it went against my instincts, I had to admit defeat. Her upcoming marriage was a million times more important than our abnormal friendship, whether I liked it or not. My thoughts on her choice of groom held no weight in the matter.

So I backed down, trying to comprehend that the time I spent being Bella's friend was quickly reaching its end—I would bid my final goodbye soon.

The sooner I accepted this inevitability, the better.

The night was warm and restless with sounds of life from the forest as I tried to find a secure spot in my hiding tree. Much like me, the nocturnal animals were active and waiting at this hour—for chances to take, for prey to stalk. Unlike those animals, I was not interested in such pursuits, as the only mission I still wanted to accomplish was to indulge myself and check if Bella was safe one more time.

Perhaps… the last time.

For the past few hours, I had been toying with the idea of telling Bella, at long last, that I had to leave town. I had to find a good enough explanation for why the house was still standing—because, knowing Bella, she would make sure to check—but that was the least of my worries. What scared me the most was the fact that I wasn't ready to part from her completely, not even after Jacob made sure to emphasize that my time with her was limited—and, quite frankly, possibly finished.

I wanted to make peace with that, I did. But it felt nearly impossible when, from the temporary home of the branches I was in, I could hear that Bella was caught in yet another fight with Jacob. They were somewhere in the kitchen, as I could pick up the subtle reverb of that particular room. I quickly gathered that they had been going at it for a while, as both of them sounded exhausted. He made no effort to conceal the harshness of his thoughts—he just set them loose as they came to him, uttering them out loud and regretting nothing.

"That's how it always is with you. You don't give people a chance."

"You want me to give him, of all people, a chance? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

She sighed. "I happen to think you two might even get along if you tried."

"Yeah? I happen to know I don't get along with assholes."

"What? He's not an—"

"Oh, don't even try to defend him. He is. And he is the worst kind of asshole—the kind that goes after what he cannot have."

Hot and red flashes of rage ravaged his mind, as a certain memory from the past resurfaced. A memory that, as I came to realize, he had fought long to forget. It was from a distant past in which Bella was still with me and she was still nothing but a crush to him. One evening, he caught an accidental glimpse of me and her, right as he and his father arrived to drop something—he couldn't remember what—at Charlie's. Before even arriving in the driveway, he noticed us in front of the entrance of the house. He saw me wrapping Bella so completely in my arms, he couldn't even see her body. And he saw me with my face buried in her neck, correctly assuming that I was licking up and down its length. I too remembered that evening and how I fought with myself to stop my wanton incursion once I realized we had spectators.

What I couldn't remember was how deep Jacob's jealousy actually ran. Upon revisiting that memory, he didn't just hate the fact that my lips had touched her body. He hated the rabid passion with which Bella welcomed my outburst of desire.

Jacob hated to admit it, even if it was only to himself, but he couldn't remember a time when his soon-to-be bride welcomed his advances so freely.

"Jake, I need you to listen to me, because I cannot stress this enough," she said, her tone in supreme dissonance with the anger he felt. "Edward is not pursuing me. In fact, he doesn't want a single thing from me. At least not anything that can threaten our relationship."

"That's a whole load of bullshit, just like that story of why he's back. Come on now, are you blind, or have you honestly not noticed the way he looked at you today?"

Panic struck me. Had I been so obvious?

"That's insane," she managed to reply under her breath. "I'm not blind, but I have a feeling you might be blinded by jealousy here."

The red flashes of anger from earlier grew hotter still, filling up his headspace—and also setting off my alarm bells.

"Jealousy? It's called common fucking sense! Something you seem to be lacking."

"Jacob, I'll give you a chance to take that back and apologize."

A maniacal chuckle creeped through his lips before he responded. Bella didn't know it, but she had just pushed his last button. My body was tense, awaiting for his next words. "I'll take it back when you stop seeing him."

"Come on, you're being ridiculous with this, it's—"

"I'm being ridiculous? You keep defending the guy you spent a whole year getting over—the same guy who left you to rot like a pile of dog shit, the same guy who didn't fucking want you!"

There was no response on her end, other than her hitched breath and a frail gasp.

"And now you're crying, of course," he laughed shortly. "God forbid I say what I think without you getting overly emotional, right?"

"No… you know I want to know what you think."

"Then don't pull that crying crap."

"I'm sorry, Jake."

"If you're really sorry, you will stop hanging out with him."

"Are you seriously asking me that?"

"I assume it won't be a problem if he's nothing but a friend."

There was a short pause on her end. Not long enough to get him to be suspicious about any potential hesitation, but long enough to make me realize that she was actually considering this. Then, all at once, the worst possible reply. "Fine. I will, if it makes you happy."

Pain. Unassailable, unending, real.

Whatever trace of hope that allowed me to believe that I could arrange a soft, polite farewell from Bella—a farewell on my terms—disappeared. How could there be any kind of farewell if she wanted to interrupt contact with me? I didn't even dare to dream that she would bless me with the tremendous privillege of letting me down easy; I didn't deserve it, nor did she owe me anything of that sort.

But no, no, no! There had to be another way, one that didn't involve such a drastic rift.

Spiraling further, I listened closely to the noise coming from inside the house. For a while, there was a tumult of sounds, following each other closely. Bella—going upstairs and fruitlessly trying to hide her sobs. Jacob—taking two bottles of wine hostage as he headed to the living room, where he could dispose of their contents in peace. Bella again, falling into the empty bed in the bedroom and groaning into something—a pillow, I surmised, since the curtains were pulled and I could not take a peek inside. Then Jacob again—cursing mentally and smashing the first bottle, still unfinished, to the ground. His mind was fuzzy with the promise of inebriation.

Was this my last night in Forks? And if it was, was this the last memory I had of them? One of them succumbing to a drunken sleep, the other unable to rest? It wasn't supposed to be this way. They were supposed to be in love and content. And although I didn't doubt that they had been in love with each other at some point, I found it unlikely that either of them were happy right now. And wasn't this the entire point of my being here? To see the evidence of Bella's bright start into married life with my own eyes?

But there was no brightness, only pitch black fears.

Even worse than the fear that Bella wasn't as fulfilled as she deserved was the crippling worry that I was to blame. The only reason they started fighting was my insidious friendship. I figured that if I hadn't interfered, there would have been no apple of discord to set them on such an ugly confrontation path. Jealousy was an ugly beast, but in this particular case—even though I hated to admit it—Jacob was not entirely wrong to keep feeding it. As much as I tried to keep appearances pure, my desires were the furthest thing from pure. So maybe there was no other way left for me other than accepting the new future prospects.

I was still trying to grapple with that notion when my phone buzzed with life in my pocket. In other circumstances, I might have ignored it, but I could use the momentary distraction of checking to see who was bothering me.

My world sank when I realized I had a text from Bella.

'I can't sleep. Can you meet me outside?'

It was short and to the point. Moreover, its neutral tone meant that I had no idea what she actually wanted from me. Was she set on telling me a courteous goodbye, despite her promise to Jacob? Or was she so mad at me for the chain of events I had inadvertently set into motion when I insisted on finishing what I wanted to say in the library when I should have simply shut up? The second option sounded more probable, current circumstances considered.

Regardless of the reason, I was in no position to turn down anything that Bella wanted. She had me wrapped around her tiny finger, whether she knew it or not.

So I accepted.

Fifteen minutes later, I was waiting for her in the backyard, my presence protected by the night. She followed soon after, taking careful steps through the grass. She wore a large T-shirt that swallowed her delightful frame and I immediately noticed that her legs were bare, save for the line of her short pants peeking from underneath.

The unexpected showing of skin got me to feel a horde of feelings—all immoral, all wrong. I hated how my brain was wired to make me crave her even now, when that was supposed to be the least of my concerns.

Would I ever be free from the madness of wanting her more than I wanted to live?

I was ready for her to end my world when we were face to face. Whether this was our last adieu or our last fight, I could face it. It would be all hell from now on, but then again, I had lived through it before.

I was ready.

But then Bella opened her mouth and I realized nothing could have prepared me for her next words.

"You were already here when I texted you, weren't you?"

So much for being ready.

Well, Bella certainly knows more than Edward thought she did.

Do you think they'll say their final goodbye? Or maybe they'll finally cave and give their relationship a second chance, as I'm sure many of you have been expecting for several chapters now? The answer might surprise you, so I'm super excited to share the next chapter ;).

Until then, I am looking forward to reading your reviews and, as always, respond to them.

Before I go, there's something important I'd like to share with you all. This month, we'll have new chapters posted every Sunday, and teasers will be up every Friday in my Facebook group, as usual. But August will be a bit different. This year, August is full of exciting events for me: I'll be celebrating my 10-year anniversary with my man, enjoying my mother's summer visit (we live an ocean apart, so our time together is precious), planning a trip for my little sister's birthday, and attending Taylor Swift's Eras Tour concert in Vienna. Needless to say, next month will be packed, and I'll be away from my laptop for almost the entire time. However, I'll be back with renewed forces and weekly chapters in September, so stick around :).

Until next Sunday, stay safe and happy!

Chapter Text

Hello, everyone!

If you're still here, following along, thank you so much! And for those of you who take the time to leave reviews, I can't ever express how grateful I am to you.

This chapter was one of my favourite ones to write, so I hope it will be just as enjoyable to read.

Maybe my ears were failing me.

Maybe my otherwise perfect sense of hearing had reached its limit and that was the first sign. Could vampiric senses rust, after all? Stranger things had happened.

"You were here already," Bella repeated. "Right?"

She was closer now—close enough for my thirst to flare up and push me towards the probability of implosion. I held my breath, panicked, and my jaw clenched automatically. It didn't help that her legs were completely exposed, showing off a satin-like surface of skin that ended abruptly right where her T-shirt touched her thighs.

"I received your text and hurried into your backyard," I said, a great portion of my air reserve necessary to talk leaving my lungs. My response wasn't a lie—just a less convoluted version of the truth.

"But you were here before my text," she persisted. "Am I wrong?"

I couldn't pinpoint if she was bluffing or if she was actually aware of something that she wasn't supposed to. Her eyes were piercing and full of determination in the dark, but there were no traces of anger in them. What did she know?

"Silence is an answer too, Edward."

The persuasion in her voice both intrigued and humbled me. It was the kind of subtle motivation that could get a man to spill all of his secrets without second-guessing whether he should. Within it, I could recognize the dangerous pull that already got me to reveal the dark facets of who I was to her a long time ago.

I sighed. "How did you know?"

"I didn't. It was a gut feeling." Bella frowned, as if she already knew I was going to ask her to expand. "I don't know how to explain this, but… I could almost sense your presence around. Kind of like when you're outside and there aren't really any ominous clouds in sight, but the air feels damp and earthy and you are certain that there is a storm nearby, but you just can't see it yet."

I nodded, understanding the sentiment, but also worrying about how it was even possible for her to be hyper-aware of my presence when all she had were feeble human senses. Then, all of a sudden, a fearsome thought made its way to my synapses—what if Bella had her suspicions about what I had been doing during these nights too? Learning about how I watched over her as she slept wouldn't be a first for her, but I was pretty certain that she wouldn't be quite as forgiving this time around if she found out.

Unless… she had already figured it out, as she seemingly had with my stalking. In which case, what was she even doing here?

"And this wasn't the only night either, was it?"

I didn't like it when she called out my nonsense—but I also didn't hate it. In fact, the feeling it evoked within me was strange and warm and familiar. "It wasn't," I admitted contritely. "I apologize."

"Then if it's not too much to ask… I want to know why."

I knew what the right answer was. I didn't hesitate to offer it, even if it only covered half the truth. "This town is simply reigniting plenty of my bad habits."

"What other bad habits are there?"

"Beyond my weak morals? Are those not enough?"

She rolled her eyes. "Your morals are annoyingly flawless, Edward. I don't know who you're trying to fool here."

"My actions last night beg to differ."

"That doesn't count. You were thirsty."

I chuckled, not really amused. Thirsty was my given state when I was with her. Always. Fucking goddamn always. It was probably so easy for her to forget, since she didn't know how overpowering the flame of my hunger really was. How it burned so furiously, so aggressively, that nothing could tame it long enough to make existing bearable.

She had no idea the kind of pain she had me in.

"My thirst is never an excuse," I grumbled.

"To me it is." She shifted her weight on her right leg, which drew my attention. Her legs were so beautifully shaped, that not even the faint random bruises—surely relics of her clumsiness—could take away from their appeal. They were a work of art—a sinful, forbidden type of art, that made my cock convulse in the tight space of my jeans. "Anyway, do you feel like walking?"

I knew I was still staring when her question reached me. Looking away was the last thing on my list of priorities.

"Shouldn't you cover up?" I snapped—mostly to sober myself up. "You might get cold if you walk around like that in the forest."

"I'm fine," she retaliated. "And in case you haven't noticed, it's perfectly warm outside."

She was not wrong. The weather was uncharacteristically pleasant for a place like Forks—and during a night like this, it was both a blessing and a curse.

"Suit yourself," I shrugged, faking indifference to the best of my abilities. I glanced towards the place where the trees converged into darkness, leading the way into the woods, and I was reminded that Bella's eyesight would require some time to get used to the absence of light once we got there. "I suppose you didn't bring a flashlight this time either," I added, stating the obvious—her hands were empty, after all.

"I would have if I was alone. But I'm not."

Always too trusting. "Of course. Follow me then."

We walked slowly—slow enough for her to properly register my warnings about incoming obstacles and act accordingly. The influx of vegetation surrounding us made her scent grow thicker, trapping it in between branches, in between bushes. It was maddening, truly, but it was an agreeable price to pay if it meant I got to steal a few more moments with her—probably the last, knowing Jacob's plea and Bella's confirmation that she would respect it.

"So," she started, "since you were here before I got the chance to text you, I was wondering when exactly you arrived."

I sighed, fully prepared for her to curse me when she heard what I had to say. "Not that long after you got home. A few hours ago, to be more precise."

"Hours?" She sounded perplexed, but not angry. Not yet. "Then I assume you heard… everything?"

"Something like that," I confirmed vaguely. "I'm sorry."

"What else do you hear? Like in general?"

The answer was disturbingly easy, as the one night when Jacob forced himself on Bella returned to haunt me.

I felt a knot in my chest upon remembering what was certainly the worst night I had witnessed from afar—how it broke me to be unable to react properly, how I had never felt more useless than when I ripped that branch. I had wished so deeply to ask Bella about it before, but I had never found a good enough story to explain why I even knew such an intimate detail about her life.

But now that my secrets had been spilled…

"Do you remember the night when that branch broke?" I asked.

She nodded without much thought. But as a reddish hue started to spread under her skin, it became obvious that she knew what I was talking about.

"What about it?" she muttered.

"That was me."

"Oh…" Unnecessary shame painted her cheeks further. "You didn't have to do that."

"I had to. He wasn't planning on stopping otherwise."

"It's fine, really… he was upset, you know? If that was going to make him feel better, then… I don't know, it wasn't the worst thing in the world."

I was dumbfounded by the ease with which she was speaking about this. Did she not remember what I remembered? "Bella, you cried."

"It wasn't for the reasons you think, trust me."

Frustrated, I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to find my calmness to continue. "Do you at least realize he had no right to do that since you were so hesitant?"

"He would have stopped, whether you intervened or not," she said, successfully avoiding my question. "He's got some limits."

"He didn't seem to have many that night."

"But he does." Bella was determined to stand her ground, I had to give her that. Even the shaky, crumbling ground of defending Jacob's slimy actions. "And he apologized anyway, so… I'd like to leave it at that, if possible."

I wasn't sure why she was so defensive all of a sudden, but I also wasn't keen on the idea of insisting on a subject that seemed to be so sensitive to her. Once again, her choice had to come before what I wanted, even if I didn't understand her reasoning one bit. I had to accept that, for whatever reason, her recollection of that night had cemented itself into a memory that looked quite different from my own.

Neither of us added anything else beyond that for a while. I felt profoundly ashamed of myself and what I had become. But more than that, I was preoccupied with the fact that Bella's anger regarding my invasion of privacy was failing to to show up, which was worrying. I assumed she was lacking the proper incentive, so I decided to help in that regard—remind her of her promises. If I had to guilt trap her into casting our friendship aside before it ruined us both, I wasn't above such tricks.

"Why are you here now, Bella?"

"Because I needed something to calm me down before I fell asleep."

"And saying goodbye helps?" I provoked.

"Who's saying goodbye? I only wanted to spend time with you."

"I know Jacob doesn't want you to. And I know you promised him you will stop hanging out with me."

"So?"

"So, this brings me back to my question: why are you here?"

My question startled her, because her heartbeat stammered when she heard me. But she rushed to respond—as if that was going to distract me from the song of her blood pulsing.

"I enjoy your company—of course, you knew that already." I did know, although I still couldn't believe it. "The thing is, friendships are a rare thing for me these days. Not just because Jacob needs me by his side after everything that happened with his mother and the drinking… but also because he gets a little possessive."

I tensed up. "Possessive how?"

"He's constantly traveling with his job, so when he gets home… he's not happy if I've made plans without him."

That didn't sound healthy—and even though it wasn't appropriate for me to critique her partner and the dynamic of their relationship out loud, I couldn't help it. "You should have some space to be yourself, Bella. You deserve it."

"Maybe you're right, but I didn't really have a lot of friends to begin with, so it wasn't like I had to make this huge sacrifice in order to make Jake happy. But with you, it's… it's different. We haven't seen each other in so long, so now I am trying to make up for all the lost time. Every moment counts, since you'll leave soon enough anyway."

As she talked, my concern for her lack of proper reactions grew. Even with the knowledge that I had been essentially stalking her, she still wanted me around. I didn't know what to do with that piece of information. The part of me that longed to end things was stifled within an inch of its life by the part of me that only wanted more of Bella.

"That can't be right," I said. "Not if us being friends causes you to fight with him."

"Well, he and I don't have to fight if… he doesn't know. After all, it's not like his fears are valid."

She looked up at me with hopeful eyes, crushing my sensibility.

Her naivety really had no bounds, I realized bitterly. In fact, it was endless, thanks to the show I had been putting up. She was thoroughly convinced I had immaculate intentions, choosing to see the best in me. Earlier today, when I made sure to set a clear boundary, I told myself that I was acting in her best interest. Only now I realized that it had not been the case—Bella believed what I shared with her, even when I lied to protect her from the repugnant reality of my feelings. And when faced with Jacob's request, she decided to ignore it because she trusted my lies.

The weight of my actions balanced on top of me, like a cleaver that was getting ready to end me, as I realized that a more reprehensible truth had to come out if I wanted to undo some of the damage I had caused to Bella's relationship. I knew I was doomed to fade into a memory for her again, so this only made my job of melting away from her life easier.

Or so I hoped.

I had to swallow the sudden knot in my chest before I was able to speak again.

Here goes everything.

"No, Bella, that is the problem. His fears are valid. Some of them, at least."

Her steps slowed down, as the meaning of my words fell into place, until they stopped altogether. I stopped too, noticing a large boulder formation not that far away from us.

"I don't understand."

She looked at me, her eyes clearly trying to decipher my expression through the black air of the forest.

I sighed, the taste of defeat coating my tongue. "Do you want to sit down for a minute?"

Bella agreed with a nod, so I guided her gently towards where the boulders awaited. She sat down right where the rock sloped into a seat-like shape, and I chose the remaining space beside her, just a little higher up to the left. I deliberately avoided looking down, knowing that if I did, I would see exactly how close her barren thigh was to my own thigh. Even through the thick cotton of my jeans, her warmth felt palpable, radiating in waves, awakening illicit desires in me.

"I'm listening," she whispered.

I breathed in the night, letting the scent of Bella wash over my senses. There went my chance to be a good friend to her—I could sense it, almost as clearly as the hunger.

"There is no point in denying that I crave your blood," I began. "You know this. The time we spent apart has not numbed my lust for it one bit. If anything, it erased the discipline I had fought so hard to master when we were together."

She didn't reply to this small confession, which didn't surprise me; she already knew this much about me by now.

"You've shown me a great deal of understanding regarding my… problem," I went on. "I can't say I deserve it, but I am grateful for it nonetheless. But therein lies the issue—you shouldn't show me any kind of compassion, because thirst is never the only plight I bring when I'm around you."

"What are you saying?"

One more deep breath, to really help set the truth loose. "I'm saying I want you in more ways than one. And everytime I see you is a reminder that it's not just bloodlust that ties me to you. It's sheer desire too."

"Oh." That simple sound she made was enough to make me understand that she probably didn't believe me. "You want me?" The question was ridiculous to me—in plain daylight, she wouldn't have to ask, she would simply see that my erection was getting ready to burst free from my jeans, serving as ultimate proof of my words.

"Maddeningly so," I admitted. "And I know it's wrong for a million reasons, but it's also not something that I can help. Hell, if it was, we wouldn't be here, having this conversation."

If her heart could jump out of her chest, it would have; it was beating so frantically, reminding me of the desperate flight of a hummingbird.

"You want me," she repeated, and this time it was no longer a question, but an affirmation. She was starting to understand. "As in… my body, my…" I wanted her everything, but that wasn't something I was willing to own up to. "You want me."

"I do. I shouldn't, but I do want you, Bella."

I didn't know what else to say—apologizing felt futile, as I couldn't really do anything to correct my wrongdoing of wanting her. It was her turn to say something. To scold me for even daring to bring up such a salacious topic in front of her. To be mad at me for not fighting harder to repress my lust. To ask me to leave her alone.

But Bella did none of that. She just sat there, by my side, staring straight ahead, with the most puzzling look on her face. Her cheeks were bright red now—understandable, since I had just thrown her into a terribly uncomfortable position—while her gaze seemed almost… nostalgic, as if a long-forgotten sadness had just fallen on her shoulders, reminding her of its existence.

"Okay, since it's honesty hour," she said with a shaky voice, "I'm about to say something that might change the way you look at me."

"Slim chances of that happening." Non-existent, really.

"I don't know if I'll regret it or not, but…"

She trailed off without continuing, so I found myself having to encourage her. What could be the most nefarious outcome? "It can't be worse than my confession."

"No, maybe not worse, but… kind of in the same vein."

My jaw clenched in anticipation. "You can tell me anything, Bella."

There was another brief pause that felt an awful lot like a couple of decades. But when the decades passed and she finally talked, my world came crumbling down. "Well, I want you too."

For a few finite moments, I forgot everything. I forgot my name and the circumstances that had brought me face to face with this dark-haired angel that wouldn't even look at me, in the deep core of the forest. There was no past attached to me, nor future. All I could cling to was this improbable moment and the simple words that were contained within it.

I want you too.

A sacred avowal, that deserved a shrine of its own in the altar of my mind. I mentally repeated those words, waiting for them to turn strange and alien, but they never did. The more they haunted me, the more enthusiastic I became to embrace their simple perfection. And shouldn't it be all so simple from this point on?

Two people, alone and in lust, fully aware of each other's longing. What was the evident path to follow, if not to wrap my arms around Bella and slowly lower her body into the grass below us, where I could peel off the unnecessary separation caused by our clothes and sink into her? What else was there to do, if not to navigate the map of her skin with my tongue, until I reached right between her legs and had my way there? Those legs that she was now crossing so tightly together, causing the web of veins painting her thighs to stand out and a new type of scent to fill the air…

Bella looked up at me right as I swallowed the sudden inflow of venom, breaking my reverie. Still blushing, but now her eyes were curious instead of sad. The feeling of guilt finally started to dawn on me.

"This is bad," I groaned. "Really, really bad."

"Don't say that."

She didn't understand. If the yearning—the cursed lust—was mutual… if she felt it too, to whatever extent… then we were facing an entirely different set of problems. Problems that I was not equipped to confront ethically.

"I shouldn't have opened my mouth at all. This is my fault."

"It's not like ignoring it would have made it go away," she offered innocently.

"No, but it sure as hell would have kept it under wraps, where it belongs."

"Wanting someone is not exactly a capital sin."

"It is, if we consider that ring on your finger," I spat out the words, instantly feeling like an ass for my harsh tone. I wasn't mad at her, only at myself, so I tried to soften my voice immediately after. "And it would have been a non-issue if I didn't forcefully step into your life the way that I did."

I obliged myself to recall the time when I still had a choice. I wanted to reach back in time and nail myself to the floor of that attic in Guadalajara, so I wouldn't ever escape. So that I would get no chances to trespass and disturb the order of Bella's world.

"Edward, do you really want to go there?"

"All I want is to erase the last few minutes," I declared.

"Then I don't know if it helps, but it wouldn't make a difference. What I feel is not exactly new, nor correlated with your return. It's… I don't know how to explain it, but it's always been there, in a way."

I wondered if she was only saying that to make me feel better—it wouldn't be uncharacteristic of her to soothe my monstrous side. However, she was not the most skilled liar and she seemed to be honest, if I had to make a guess.

Conflicted, I pursued the issue further. "Even after…?" I trailed off, too much of a coward to put the reality of what I had done in proper words.

"Yes," she sighed. "I tried running away from it, but… in the end I gave up."

There was a bit of remorse in her voice, yet I still couldn't understand what it was that she actually meant by giving up.

"How do you do that? How do you leave it behind?" I needed those answers more than anything.

"Are you kidding me? You don't. You just learn to live with it. At least I did."

"Even when you're on your way to getting married."

"Yes, because marriage has got nothing to do with it. Thoughts are harmless. They are immaterial, pointless…"

I pondered over that concept for a bit, trying to decide if I felt inclined to agree with it. After almost a century of hearing countless minds, I knew a thing or two about how delicate the processes that gave birth to people's thoughts were. For some individuals, there were not any notable discrepancies between what they thought and how they acted. They barely had anything to hide and life was so simple for them. For others, their minds were completely out of sync with the lives they lived—sometimes the two realities would meet, but there were so many variables along the way that I couldn't rely on my anecdotal memories. But one question remained: was Bella out of sync too? With no shortcut to her mind, I could only speculate.

"So thoughts by themselves cannot constitute a sin?" I inquired. "Is that what you're telling me?"

"Yes, but you make it sound worse than it is." She frowned, moving her eyes and gazing at her hands. "For instance, I know Jake wants other women too. I accidentally stumbled upon his internet history once and… never again." I could confirm that, as the unwanted memory of him jerking off while thinking of various women who weren't Bella made its way to me. I pushed it aside quickly, wishing to have never witnessed those thoughts in the first place. "But he doesn't act on those desires beyond… you know, the obvious… so at the end of the day, it doesn't really hurt our relationship."

"I'm not sure everything is as black and white as you think."

She huffed. "Well, there's a rather universal truth to relationships that I've learned. Your mind can and will get you to crave more than one person at a time."

"No." I shook my head, not agreeing one bit—although I was analyzing her words solely from the perspective of my own kind, not a human's. "I can assure you that's not the case. Not always."

"I thought so too, back when you and me… when we… ah, it doesn't matter."

"That was a long time ago," I murmured.

"As if that makes a difference. Some of the things that happened then changed a few fundamental parts of myself. Now I can't even…"

I waited for her to continue, all of my attention poured into the present moment. Nothing else mattered. The pain I felt when I realized she wasn't going to finish her sentence was almost as severe as the one caused by my parched throat.

"Now you can't even what?" I insisted.

"No, it's too embarrassing."

"I have a feeling we are past the point of embarrassment. Don't you?"

I watched as she nervously pushed the curtain of her hair between us, banning me from seeing her face. I resisted the urge to move her hair away with all I had.

"Bella?"

"I'll only tell you if you promise to tell me something in return." She kept her voice low, as if she didn't even want the trees to hear her.

In my desperation, any caprice of Bella sounded reasonable. "Fine, I'll tell you anything you want. You go first."

I wasn't playing fair, but frankly, neither was she. We were on a dangerous slope, only sliding further and further down, to an abyss we couldn't even see yet.

"Okay." She breathed in, still refusing to glance at me. Then the words started pouring. "So as you might have figured out, Jacob and I never had sex. Not because he didn't want to or anything, but… I was never ready. And we got close to trying several times, but there was constantly a blockage on my end. There were all these little things that dug at me… like, I don't know, he felt either too warm or too soft to my touch, and my brain had already been wired to want neither of those things." She bit her lip, almost as if she was debating whether to continue or not. "That's why I cried that night too. I just hate feeling like I can't do it. So… Jacob agreed to wait until after we're married, when I'm hopefully ready."

I felt my forsaken heart sinking deeper and deeper into nothingness while I listened. Half of her admission was not news to me—I could thank my highly invasive curiosity for that—but the rest of it was not only new, but devastating too, because it proved to me that the wound I had indented in her pristine soul ran deeper than the undiscovered trenches of the ocean, leaving behind irreparable traces of trauma that were invisible at a first glance, but so obvious upon further inspection.

And to add insult to injury, a part of me was aware that, even with this terrifying knowledge unearthed, if I could turn back time I probably still wouldn't have stopped myself from touching her and kissing her when I still had the privilege. A selfish fiend through and through, I would have done it all again, even if the price for my temporary happiness was her indefinitely long intimate strain. Because in my delusion, I liked to believe that the strain would dissipate eventually.

But almost two years had passed and Bella was still aching, still pining for something she should never want. And I wasn't sure how long it was going to take until her mind would settle on the right thing.

"That's a goddamn nightmare," I muttered.

She shrugged and finally looked up at me. "It is what it is. As I said—you learn to live with it." It was scary how at peace she seemed with these particular scars. "Now, for my question: what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Have you got the chance to… you know?"

I was properly mortified that she hadn't guessed it by now. "No, I haven't."

"And aren't you curious? Or, you know, don't you at least think about it?"

Fuck. We were falling in too deeply. Our mutual interest in these matters was magnificently cursed, but I simply couldn't resist its pull. As wrong as it was, I wanted to know more. And I wanted her to know more too.

"I do think about it," I answered. "Maybe more than I should."

"What's holding you back then?"

The truth was obvious enough at this point in our discussion. I was convinced that every question that she might have could easily be answered if she traced it all back to the moment when I acknowledged the genuine amplitude of my lust for her. But Bella's inquiring eyes were too much—too profound and unmoved, as if they needed the truth to cause a ripple on their smooth surface.

Unsurprisingly, I had no willpower in front of them.

So I offered her another divulgence—perhaps more audacious than the first one of this evening. "For me, the very concept of sex is irretrievably tied to you. Every desire, every craving, every need… every curiosity you might imagine… they all circle back to you. No one else."

I was taken aback by the short laugh that rolled from Bella's lips and right into the night—what could possibly be funny about my complete lack of interest in other women?

"You're messing with me."

"You are the one who wanted to know, Bella."

"I know, but I expected… well, to be honest, I don't know what I was expecting. But not this. I thought… I mean there are probably countless options for you to choose from, you know?"

I let out a long, despaired breath. "With all due respect, you don't know what you're talking about."

"Enlighten me then."

If that was a trap, I was ready to fall into it. Happily so. "Do you remember a few nights ago, when we were in the forest? When I got closer than I should have?"

Her breathing pattern became faster at the mention of my vulgar manners. "Yes."

"Good." I noticed that my breathing wasn't much better than hers. I fought to get it under control, if only to finish what I wanted to say next. "What you will certainly not remember, because you were not there to see it, is that after we parted, I was a mess. Sharing that closeness with you got me so riled up, so quickly, it was pure insanity… and you have to understand, I am no longer used to resisting this type of yearning. Everything you do affects me tenfold. I am simply out of practice with you. So when I did feel the yearning again, I didn't know what to do with myself. I went right back into the woods and… my instincts led the way from there."

"What did you do?"

Another confession—the worst one yet. The worst one ever. "I came. While thinking of you."

The pigment that flowed to inundate her cheeks was indescribable. Red and hot and sensual, a sight to behold. I expected her to shy away from my penetrating gaze, but she didn't. In fact, she pressed her nails into the flesh of her thighs, as her irises bore into mine.

"I understand and I apologize if bringing this up was too much. And if you want me to walk you back now, I—"

"I don't want to go back," she cut off my attempt to be chivalrous. "But I was wondering. Was that… the only time?"

"Recently, yes. Ever? Not really."

Her top teeth attacked her bottom lip softly as she listened. The carnal power of that action alone made me pull back on the rock, gliding further away from her.

"Just to be clear, I didn't think it was too much," she said. "Although my opinion may not be the most reliable, since… I do that too. And I've been doing it for a while now."

I was already sitting on the proverbial powder keg, but that admission alone? It was the match that got it to explode. And explode it did, along with the legion of improper thoughts I had been holding back. My imagination went wild with possibilities. I pictured Bella, laying in her bed wearing these exact same clothes, only this time she opened her legs wide. In my chimerical scenario, she slid one hand under her shorts, until her fingers reached heaven. I could picture the feeling of that touch… warm, silky, and probably really, really wet. I could imagine the sounds that would follow. Delicate moans. Sloppy, sloshing noises, as her fingers worked to properly caress her waiting pussy. Hitched breaths, as pleasure grew relentlessly. More moans, as the crescendo would reach its peak.

My jeans were on the verge of tearing from the pressure of my hardened cock straining against their fabric. To be honest, they were doing an admirable, if ultimately fruitless job to keep my erection contained.

"Tell me more," I requested with greed.

"Are you sure you want to hear this?"

"Absolutely sure."

"All right, then if we go back to that sex situation I was telling you about… I thought I was broken for the longest time, I swear. I think being with you actually broke something inside me, in a way." She stopped, a small dimple forming in the place where her eyebrows met into a frown. It was still so difficult to refrain myself from comforting her with an embrace. "And after you left, when Jacob and I finally got together… God, I wanted to feel something, I swear, but I just couldn't. Whatever mechanism that drives humans to crave sex must have been out of order for me, because… all I felt was complete nothingness. And it wouldn't have been so difficult to accept my state, if I didn't know any better. But the problem was that I did know that I could be functional in that one regard."

I also knew this about her. When it came to the physical part of our past relationship, Bella had always been more than eager to explore the various trails that could lead to a world of pleasure. She used to exist in a constant state of being ready and willing to go further, except I could never offer her what she wanted. What we both wanted. If I hadn't been so pressed about all the potential things that could go wrong, I would have gladly spent hours fucking her.

Even days, if her body allowed it.

"Of course, I couldn't bring myself to think about that side of me for too long, because it involved too many memories of you," she carried on. "And at the time, each memory was… hell on earth. But you know how I was telling you about my forest walks and how they were some sort of exposure therapy for me, when it came to the process of accepting your decision?" I nodded, completely caught up in her story. I could tell where she was going with it, but I still needed to hear everything out loud, just to make sure I was not deluding myself. "Well, they helped in more than one regard, because one night… one night, when Jake was away, I went for another walk. And I remember that I felt frustrated, because he and I had just fought about the lack of physical intimacy in our relationship. I was angry with myself, because I couldn't be normal and give him this one thing that he wanted. This one thing that was such a natural thing to expect. But it wasn't just about Jacob. The problem was that I couldn't even dream of the idea of pleasure for myself, unless it was a fleeting memory of you and me, kissing and…"

Transfixed as I was, I was instantly pulled back to reality when Bella stopped again. I couldn't bear one second longer without hearing the rest, so I swallowed my common sense and drew my body closer to her, to make her aware that I was actively listening. Her heated fragrance paralyzed me in an instant.

Seconds later, she picked up right where she left off. "Anyway, those were the types of thoughts that I kept under lock and key, as a general rule, even during those walks. But then again, I was so angry with myself, that… I don't know, I felt like rebelling. So I wondered: what if I allowed myself to reignite those particular memories again? Would it really be so bad? So… I sat down on the nearest fallen tree and did exactly that for a while. I thought about our first kiss… then the first time you kissed my neck… and the rest came into a cascade: fragments of nights spent in my bedroom—almost breaking new limits, figments of touches that you allowed to linger on my skin longer than I could hope for, of kisses so deep that I could feel you bury your way through me with your tongue…" Bella closed her eyes, making me wonder if the remembrance of those moments was still fresh to her—God knew it was fresh to me. "And it was like all the broken pieces of me were coming together, finally making sense. Suddenly I wanted to be touched again. I wanted to touch again, to… to be on the very brink of going all the way and actually go all the way. My body felt alive, you know? And it felt so right." I nodded through my shock. Through my arousal. "I came so hard that night, I thought I was going to pass out."

Bella seemed to be just as affected by this brazen recollection as I was. Neither of us could breathe right, neither of us could stand completely still. I was simply drunk from the electricity that flowed between us and its meaning.

"The funniest thing is that I stopped doing it right around the time you returned," she added. "And I guess it's because your physical presence rekindled my desire in a way that my mind couldn't even dream of. But now, I'm obviously facing a different problem."

"And that is?"

"The fact that it's like I'm on fire whenever you're near. I've been trying to ignore it, but it's too much, I… I need to be released from this feeling."

God, the implication of those words!

I could see it—my fall from grace, right now, right here. It wouldn't take much; I only needed to grab Bella and bring her on top of me, tearing off her clothes in the process. She would feel how hard I was for her and the rest would follow naturally. But knowing what I was, it wouldn't be long until the urge to bite her would take over the urge to fuck her. The road from loving to killing my beloved was so short and narrow…

Then there was the fact that she was already spoken for…

No, there was no way I could go through with this.

"That's what I want too," I whispered, slowly dying with each syllable. "But we can't ever do it, you know exactly why."

"I know, I know, but… I can't help it. Can't I at least think about it? Is it so wrong to just… fantasize? Fantasies never harmed anyone, did they?"

That was an impossible quandary. I couldn't solve it rationally, when my cock ached so badly as a result of the mob of fantasies afflicting me. "I'm in no position to answer that question."

She eyed me carefully. "Then maybe if we only… touch ourselves a little? Without even looking at each other. It wouldn't be so wrong, would it? I mean… we do it when we're alone regardless."

I had no idea how she was able to twist these delirious hypotheses around and make them sound almost sane, but she was succeeding. "I… suppose it wouldn't be as much of a crime."

"So… this would be the same, except… it just so happens that we're not alone."

"Precisely."

"It would still be just a fantasy."

"Nothing more," I lied, fully knowing that it would mean everything to me. What Bella didn't know—and she would never find out, I decided—was that there was a force more powerful than my thirst for her blood and my lust for her body.

My love for who she was.

She swallowed loudly, suddenly looking down, and I understood the cue. I turned around on the rock swiftly, changing my position until Bella and I were still next to each other, but facing different directions.

"You can still change your mind," I reminded her, staring at the black silhouette of two conjoined trees in front of me.

"No, I need this too much."

Her voice was needy and pleading, with no sign of shame. She knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to speak it into existence, which only heightened my excitement.

But as the moments passed and nothing happened, I realized that there seemed to be something that she was afraid of. Even with her overzealous hormones working over time, Bella was still pristine and inexperienced. She probably had no idea where to start. I wasn't any better than her in this regard, yet I felt bold in new, unabashed ways.

In fact, I felt an enthusiastic vehemence when I realized that I had to take the lead.

"Do you want me to talk you through it?" I suggested.

"Please."

I didn't need more. I knew what I wanted. "Tell me what you think about when you do it alone."

"I think about you. Your voice, your face… and your body…"

My ego rejoiced, but I kept the enthusiasm to myself. "And now? What are you thinking right now?"

She hesitated, and I could feel the boulder underneath us vibrating from the way her body trembled with anticipation. "Well… a lot of things."

"Name one."

"I wish you could touch me, Edward. At least once."

I could swear that several cells in my body defrosted upon hearing her wish. "Oh, Bella… I'd touch you all day if I could."

"Yes… I really need your hands on me."

"Where do you need them?"

"On my waist."

I closed my eyes, imagining that and smiling to myself. "Mhm, there… and then lower."

"Yes," she agreed. "And I need your lips too."

"Where?"

"Anywhere you want."

Letting myself get carried by the flow of our conversation, I offered her the truth. "On your lips. I miss them."

"I miss yours more than anything," she replied immediately, pouring more gasoline over the fire consuming me.

"And then on your neck."

"Yes… and… lower?"

She didn't seem sure, but I was. "Lower," I decided. "On your breasts." Then my bravery took new forms. "Speaking of which—why don't you go ahead and touch them for me?"

Her trembling subsided as I heard her moving to follow my instructions. I didn't dare break the rules by looking at her—even if I very, very much wanted to—but I could hear. Her T-shirt made a distinct sound when it rubbed against her skin, as she pushed her hand up. Then, a deeper sound when her palm met her skin. I groaned at the mental image it evoked in me.

"Where is your hand now?" I asked.

"Underneath my shirt."

"Be more precise."

"On my left nipple."

Fuck. How I envied that lucky hand! Maintaining my composure was a herculean effort, but it had to be done. My voice was low and sure when I talked. "Good. Use both of your hands now. I certainly would."

Bella listened, because the same sequence of sounds I had just heard followed. But this time, she let out a small whimper.

"How does it feel?"

"Almost as good as if you were the one doing it."

It seemed that, even with no prior training, she knew what to say to get me riled up. My painful erection throbbed and pulsed, letting me know that it could no longer bear being ignored. Slowly, my right hand reached to grab it through my jeans, offering the brief illusion of relief.

"Go slow and don't miss an inch," I demanded through gritted teeth. "I would take my time."

"And if I'm impatient?"

"It wouldn't make a difference if I was the one touching you right now. I love a good challenge."

Bella suspired, clearly a little frustrated, but didn't protest. Instead, she seemed to have a curiosity of her own. "What are you doing right now?"

I looked down at my busy hand. I considered my verbality and whether speaking like a proper gentleman made sense in such a situation. With my cells blasting with fire from the continuous excitement I had been collecting in my body, I realized I couldn't care less about gentlemanly discourse. The answer was highly lewd, but then so was the nature of what we were doing.

"I'm starting to get a feel of my cock through my jeans," I responded.

"Mmmmm,"—the way she sobbed should have been illegal—"are you hard?"

"I've been hard as a rock all evening, Bella. And pretty much every goddamn second we've been spending together."

"Ah… I'd do anything to see you like this."

"I can say the same. But our imagination will have to suffice."

Another little whimper slipped through her lips, less innocent than the first. I could feel my lack of resistance growing stronger, overtaking the remnants of self-control that still struggled to survive. Clearly having a mind of their own, my hands worked to free my erection at long last. My fervour caused my movements to be careless and harsh, which resulted in my zipper completely ripping apart.

I cursed, but the annoyance didn't last long. My cock sprung upwards, demanding my attention, so I grabbed it tightly. The sensation was sublime, getting me to let out another obscenity. But more than that, the intensity of it was doubled by the fact that Bella was sitting so close to me, her presence a chorus of ragged breaths and fast-pumping blood.

"What happened?"

"I might have ripped the zipper of my jeans," I admitted. She laughed and I followed, but the laughter soon got drowned by new sounds of pleasure on both ends.

"Are you touching yourself?" she whispered.

"I am." My hand moved down the length of my shaft, all the way down to my balls. Then up, reaching the sensitive head and stroking it gently. Then down again, already becoming aware of how easy it would be to find completion if I kept this pace. "Listen, I want you to do the same. Can you?"

"I was hoping you'd ask."

Every single move she made felt connected directly to my nervous system. Even if I couldn't see her, I could tell what was happening. My ears were seemingly wired to decipher each undulation of the commotion beside me. Seconds later, once her clothes stopped their rustling, I knew her journey had been accomplished. Her fingers taped down on her skin once, before they slid down, making an almost imperceptible sound. Then, not even a second later, a sloppy noise overlapped with Bella's moan.

I froze, understanding what was happening.

Soon enough, the same new, yet familiar scent I felt earlier, started dancing in the air. It was sweet and thick and lubricious, threatening to override the bouquet of her blood. It made my mouth water, but not with venom.

"You sound wet," I observed, tense as an outstretched wire. The hand I kept on my cock slowed down the rubbing—if I wasn't careful, I wouldn't last as long as I wanted.

"You can't even imagine how wet…"

Oh, I could. I could imagine many things when it came to her. Right now, I could imagine myself turning around and kneeling in front of her. Removing her clothes and parting her legs wide, revealing her in all her glory. Leaning in and allowing my lips and tongue to explore all that wetness firsthand, with long, interminable kisses. Licking and lapping at her entrance, like a starved animal, because that was precisely what I was.

"Bella…" Her name left my lips in a half-growl. "You need to tell me more."

Unlike me, her stroking motion had not slowed down. It kept picking up momentum, the more we talked. "It's flowing out of me… probably already ruined my underwear… and everything feels so warm and heated."

"Fuck… your pussy sounds like absoute heaven."

"It's all because of you."

"What I'd give to feel you on my fingertips… to let you really drench them…"

"Oh, God… I wouldn't last a single second if you were touching me."

"I wouldn't expect you to," I teased.

Bella moaned at my mischievous remark, and I heard her arousal sloshing sultrily under her fingers. She wasn't playing around, not one bit. For reasons that I still couldn't completely wrap my head around, she wanted this as much as me. It wasn't just a hedonistic caprice. It was a pure, unquestionable necessity that had been left unsatisfied for too long.

And God, how I wanted her to be satisfied! The fact that I couldn't use any part of my body to bring her pleasure was infuriating, but it made me all the more determined to succeed by using words alone. Thankfully, I had read enough books and I had explored enough minds to understand how these things worked—not that theory could ever substitute actual experience, but it was better than complete ignorance.

So I had to make sure that she was on the right track. "Are you rubbing your clit?" I checked.

"Yes," she breathed.

"I'd like you to go a little harder on it."

"I… might… I might come really soon if I do."

"Perfect, that's what I want."

I listened carefully, pleased to hear that Bella decided to obey my whims. Her long mewl filled the air between us—a testament to how good the new rhythm felt. In response, I picked up my pace too, applying more pressure each time my palm rubbed against the tip of my cock. For a while, nothing else could be heard in the forest, apart from the symphony we made with our bodies separately, yet together. It was the most beautiful song. But it was the most awful song too, because it served to remind me that my life would never get better than this very moment.

The last great summit of pleasure wasn't too far away—I, for one, could see it clearly. Even with my thirst wreaking havoc in the background of my senses, I knew I would be able to reach it. But I stopped again and again right when I reached its foothill, in an attempt to prolong the inevitable.

"Edward." My name sounded like a prayer when she uttered it. I almost turned to look at her, but I murdered that impulse quickly. "What are you doing right now?"

"I'm trying my best to delay my orgasm, to be honest. I don't think I can hold it for much longer."

"I'm… oh, I'm… I'm close too."

"Then don't hold back, I want to hear you."

"Yes!"

"Keep going."

"I am… I am…"

As words melted into helpless moans, I knew we had reached the point of no return. She was no longer coherent and I loved witnessing this side of her—a side that had always been readily available, but that I had been too terrified to pursue all the way. I felt inclined to mourn all the decisions that got me where I was: hidden in the heart of the forest, with Bella by my side and ready to fall into the sweetest perdition, yet somehow being a goddamn friend and nothing more to her.

All my fault, all my fault, all my fault.

But my mourning was difficult to sustain when infinitely more captivating things were unfolding. Bella gasped my name and I felt the rock vibrating again from her movements. Then, once more, my name tumbled out of her mouth, this time in a profound groan. The sloppy noises made by her fingers as they ceaselessly played with her cunt were louder than ever now, and I surmised this was the end.

And indeed it was.

Bella's orgasm, as I quickly learned, was a thing of godly perfection. It was difficult to say what I loved more about it—the way she cried out her rapture, knowing that I'd be the only one to hear it? The way the scent of her arousal took up all the space in my lungs, leaving me a hungry and ravenous mess? Or perhaps the way her head fell to the side, directly on my shoulder, right as the last ripples of release shook her body?

I couldn't find an answer.

My climax followed immediately, almost on command. Through a haze, I heard Bella encouraging me softly to let go. I spilled my load into the grass, while muttering her name again and again, like an invocation. Nothing felt real anymore: not the conjoined trees in front of me, not the angel beside me, not even my own body.

My conscience was floating somewhere between realms I had never seen before. There was no bitterness or regret here, in this uncertain place, only peace, quiet, and the purest love to have ever existed. I stood still, never having experienced a depravity more sublime, nor a pleasure more paralyzing.

But this limbo was ephemeral, for it disappeared before I could really grasp its divine nature. It disappeared around the same time I realized that, as satisfied as I was, I already wanted to do it again. It was a strange sentiment, one that I had not faced before. Shouldn't once be enough? Shouldn't I be fulfilled?

Bella's voice got my attention, bringing me back to earth completely. "That… was…"

"I know," I sighed.

I noticed that she was still leaning her head against my shoulder, which thawed my otherwise cold veins and filled them with streams of warmth. This was the closest we could afford to be after the monumental experience we both shared—and it had to be enough. Enough for now.

"Edward?"

"Hm?"

"I think we should do this again soon."

I nodded, surprised by how reasonable her proposal sounded to me. My fall from grace was complete now, not even guilt could work to bring me back to my once moral-guided self. My love for Bella trumped everything else—and if it was only lust that she craved, I could offer her that. God knew that I had plenty of depravity in me to share with her and only her. The rest of my feelings could be kept hidden inside me, where they belonged. She didn't have to know—it wouldn't have changed anything in the end.

"I think so too," I agreed.

"Tomorrow?" There was a hint of a smile in her tone.

"Yes."

"And… every day until you leave?"

I didn't know when that would be, but it didn't matter. "And every day until I leave," I vowed solemnly.

Gently, I allowed my cheek to rest against the top of her head, not yet realizing what I had got myself into.

Um, is it hot in here? Should I open a window or something?

There were a lot of confessions and questionable decisions made this chapter, so I am particularly excited to know your thoughts :). How far do you think this deal that Edward and Bella made will go?

If you'd like to see sneak peeks for future chapters, you are welcome to join my Facebook group:  Twilight fanfics: "NightBloomingPeony & friends corner"

Until next Sunday, stay safe and happy!

Chapter Text

Hello, everyone!

Let me just say that I absolutely LOVED your reactions after last week's chapter. The collective meltdown was sublime, haha!  I have a feeling this chapter might stir a similar reaction in you ;).

Huge thanks to all of you who take the time to review—reading your comments makes me happy beyond words.

It was a peculiar thing—loving someone so completely and not being able to express it in all the ways that mattered.

In the past few days, I had become somewhat of a master at separating the two things that defined my relationship with Bella: our friendship bond and our mutual agreement to please ourselves together, under the cover of the night.

During daylight, when she was at work, we kept texting each other—there was no thought too insignificant, no story too boring to share. We wanted to know everything there was to know about each other—things we might have missed years ago, things that changed in the meantime, things that stayed the same—and doing it through texting was a pleasantly untraceable method, as long as we were careful.

Remaining vigilant was of utmost importance, since Bella had promised Jacob that she would interrupt contact with me. In the past, she found him snooping into her phone, back when I wasn't even around, so she expected history to repeat itself, now that he had an actual reason to worry. So we never brought our nightly affairs into discussion when we texted; those were matters that we only tackled face to face. As for Bella, she made a habit out of deleting our conversations before she finished her shift—which admittedly hurt, knowing how much they meant to me, but I knew it was for the better.

When the night fell, I was constantly pining and longing, waiting for Bella to sneak out of her house at long last, so that we could get lost into the forest and witness each other's orgasms from a distance for a while. Never facing each other, nor daring to intervene with kisses and touches. But always listening. And always talking. There was so much candid vulnerability in those moments, so much trust… I was grateful for all the lessons I was learning about Bella's mind and body in the process.

For instance, I discovered that she particularly liked it when I talked about how much I wanted to explore her neck with my tongue. Or that if she flicked her clitoris in circles, she could delay her pleasure, resulting in an even more spectacular climax when she finally allowed herself to unravel. And she always went wild when I groaned her name in the midst of my own orgasms—it was as if her senses hit a restart button, because she instantly wanted to repeat it all again, even if we had both finished. Of course, I always stopped after that first round, never going for a second one. It wasn't that I didn't want to—far be it from me to entertain such absurdities. The real issue was that I could see the potential for addiction. If I caved, even once, there would be no end. I wouldn't want to stop ever, so it was only sensible to keep my appetite in check.

Besides, when it came to locking my thirst in the background long enough for us to enjoy each other properly, I couldn't force my self-control more than I already was. My internal fights were tormenting enough without any additional load.

Unsurprisingly, things didn't progress beyond that between me and Bella. As far as she knew, I was merely in lust, just like her. It was a label I was willing to accept, since it was the one label that allowed me to get closer to her than I had ever hoped without actively ruining her future. She would still get married. She would still build a family of her own. I was only a temporary distraction along the way. And I was fine with that, truly, because between keeping my pride intact and offering Bella what she wanted, I knew what made her—and ultimately me—happier.

And she really seemed happy. Even at night, when she was finally in her bed sleeping, I could tell that she was. There was no more fumbling, no more restless sleep, only mysterious sighs of content that escaped her dreams every once in a while.

As expected, Alice became aware of my misdeeds from the very beginning. She called me on the same night when it all started, right after I walked Bella back to her house. It was a short, but poignant conversation.

"You're playing with fire," she warned.

"I know what I'm doing."

"I may not know the exact outcome, since neither of you seem to be set on what exactly it is that you want in the end, but… I know enough to tell you that it will lead to heartbreak. Most likely on both ends."

"Not this time. I'm making sure it won't."

"Edward, if you want her back, I'm sure there are other ways we can think of, if you just—"

"No," I intervened. "She made her choice already and I am not getting in the way of that."

"You sure have got a funny way of not getting in the way," she snickered.

"Just don't tell the rest of our family about it."

"I had no plans to do such a thing. It's too… weird to even try to explain."

And she kept her word.

Esme didn't find out, nor did she have any consistent suspicions. No, my mother thought too highly of me to even take into consideration the highly questionable path I had taken. She was, however, constantly worried. Worried that I was delusional. Worried that I was wasting my time on a pipe dream. Worried that there was nothing that she or Carlisle could say to get me to behave more rationally.

But I was too caught up in my world to entertain any of those worries. My mind was always on Bella—what she was doing, if she was thinking of me, whether her lunch break was relaxing enough, if—like me—she was counting the hours until we could see each other again.

Still, there were moments when all these musings faded, replaced by their darker counterparts. Because when I wasn't wondering what Bella was doing, I was contemplating the decency—or rather lack thereof—of our agreement. Even if she wasn't actively cheating on her fiancé, at least not in the traditional sense, Bella was still offering me a part of herself that should have, in theory, been reserved to him. It wasn't her fault, of course. She couldn't be blamed for the way my absence had carved intimacy issues into her brain, nor for the way my return had caused her sexuality to burst back to life. She was only stumbling through life, working with what she had. I, on the other hand, should have known better.

I should have been the voice of reason.

Instead, I was the root from which sins grew. The old tree of the knowledge of good and evil, but also the serpent that drew Eve in. And now my Bella, more naive than Eve herself, was choosing to eat that goddamn apple again and again.

It was a struggle—trying to rationalize our affair and sculpt it into an acceptable shape. The more I tried to do it, the more tangled the web got. There were always questions I was afraid to answer. One of them was constantly haunting me: was I supposed to feel bad for Jacob? When I tried to put myself in his lucky shoes, the answer seemed simple. Had the roles been reversed and Bella went behind my back to seek release alongside another man, I would have been crushed, to say the least. Trivial details like the fact that he never touched her wouldn't have mattered in such a scenario. My heart would have been dead all the same. So yes, feeling bad for Jacob should have been a given. It was the least I could do, considering the cruel way I acted behind his back.

But then I thought about every instance in which his behaviour towards Bella rubbed me the wrong way—particularly the time when he didn't realize how he blurred the lines of consent until I snapped that goddamn branch—and the answer to my moral debate was even simpler.

Except this time it was a definite no. He didn't deserve my pity. Not even an ounce of it.

I couldn't really discuss these matters with anyone, so I was plagued to ruminate on them alone. Alice was too perplexed by what was happening and too annoyed to listen to my tenets of morality. The rest of my siblings and my parents were blissfully unaware of what was going on, so that wasn't an option either.

And Bella… she was carrying a heavier load than me already, since she was the one with a ring on her finger. Even if she seemed to be at ease—and happy even—with what we were doing, I reckoned that she was probably fighting more internal battles than she was letting on. At the end of the day, she wasn't just deceiving Jacob right before marrying him—she was deceiving him for my sake. Me. The cursed monster who ripped her heart from her chest and stepped all over it, as if it was nothing to me. That alone had to make for a whole new cargo of emotional turmoil for Bella, one that she never allowed me to see.

Needless to say, my headspace was an even more unwelcoming place than usual these days.

It had only been four days since that fatidic night when everything changed—four days during which anguish and joy continued to battle within me for domination. The weekend had been particularly difficult, as the number of texts between me and Bella exponentially dropped, as a result of her being stuck at home and constantly having to cater to Jacob's whims. He was more observant now, but not overly so. He mostly believed the lie—and he didn't have any reasons not to, as he was usually in a deep sleep by the time Bella snuck out.

The newly established routine proved to be more difficult to accomplish on Monday night.

Soon after Bella left work, a light drizzle started to envelop the town. Not long after, the drizzle turned into a downpour. I kept hoping that the dense rain would stop, but it was relentless. I had a feeling that our plans for tonight had to take a back seat. Feeling defeated, I drove my car until I reached a spot far enough from Bella's house, then parked and waited for a sign from her. I was bracing myself for the highly-realistic scenario of her calling off our meeting, trying to convince myself that I could at least watch over her sleep—an action that didn't bring me as close as I wanted to be, but it was a blessing nonetheless.

A little over an hour had passed when my phone buzzed. I grabbed it immediately, almost smashing it in my rush, and opened the new text from her.

'I hope you have your car with you, we're going to need it.'

'I do. But it's pouring, Bella. You should stay inside tonight.'

'Not happening. I want to see you. We can stay in your car.'

I smiled bitterly, a part of me still in disbelief over that second sentence she wrote.

'As you wish then. I'll be waiting for you in front of your house.'

Five minutes later, my car was in Bella's driveway, with the headlights turned off. I heard her tiptoeing close to the entrance door, the sound accompanied by Jacob's snores from upstairs.

My jaw dropped when the door opened and she got out into the storm.

Dressed in sweatpants and a loose camisole, with only a thin cardigan covering her shoulders, she had no protection whatsoever from the rain, save for the short rain boots she chose to wear.

Not caring one bit about the usual charade of keeping up appearances—there were no active humans around, after all—I jumped out of the car, taking off my jacket in the process. I wasted no time; as soon as I was by Bella's side, I placed the jacket on her shoulders.

"Are you clinically insane?" I asked, exasperated by her lack of self-preservation. Was she not aware of the way that the cold rain could play tricks on her immune system, lowering its strength and making her more prone to catching an illness?

"I got out in a hurry."

"I could have stayed in the car for as long as necessary. You know I don't mind waiting for you."

"I know, but I do."

We got into my car and I turned on the heating. Bella was already drenched from the thirty seconds spent in the heavy rain, so my most urgent mission was to remedy that situation.

"Is it warm enough for you?"

"I wasn't cold to begin with."

As if to prove her point, she pushed the jacket off her shoulders and placed it carelessly on the back seat. I threw her a disapproving look. In return, she grinned.

"You're impossible," I grumbled.

"And you're worrying too much. Shall I remind you that I am not as fragile as you think I am?"

"That's a great joke. Do you have more?"

We bickered some more on the topic of her vulnerable nature, as I started the car and drove to the nearest safe spot—the driveway of a house that had been up for sale since before I left Forks. No one lived there, and it was still close enough to Bella's home, which meant that we could spend our time there undisturbed, while I also got to hear if Jacob was going to wake up.

I kept the engine running, in order to keep the heat system on and hurry the drying process of Bella's clothes and hair. The warm air flowing through the vents turned the limited space of the car into a piece of sweet inferno. She had always smelled particularly delicious in the rain, but now that her scent was being blown and recirculated continuously, each breath was a punishment to my body.

Even so, I smiled through the pain when she asked me about my day.

"Someone kept texting me, so I didn't get to do much else," I teased her.

"That I know. But any progress with the house?"

I froze for a second.

Lying to Bella was always something I actively avoided. But there were still inescapable things—such as this ridiculous lie I concocted on the spot more than two weeks ago, when I revealed myself to her in a panic.

"It'll probably be finished before the end of this month," I lied, not looking at her, aware that I had just given myself a deadline. I had been dancing around the necessity of establishing it for too long now, circumventing her questions left and right.

"Oh… so not that long then."

"Not that long," I confirmed, unable to imagine what my life was going to look like once the ticking time bomb set off and I had to keep my word. No more snooping around in Bella's life after that. No more poorly-excused sneaky peeks.

"You can still visit every once in a while though… right?"

Not even in my wildest dreams.

"We'll see." My voice was firm when I uttered this vague response, which probably discouraged her from keeping the subject alive longer. I didn't want to taint this night with unfortunate conversations, so I was glad that she let it go so easily.

I should have known better, of course. I should have known that if Bella was willing to let go of a particular curiosity she had, it was only because she had an even greater one incoming.

"You know, I was wondering," she began, her voice soft and unassuming, "what were your plans if I would've told you to reschedule tonight?"

"I would have spent my time around the house."

That wasn't a complete lie. I would have spent my time around the house if that were the case—I simply had not mentioned that it was her house that I was talking about.

"All night? Like… is that how you usually spend your nights?"

Her voice was careful now, treading the waters. I turned to look at her and it was enough to understand. She knew. Of course she knew—she had already correctly assumed that I had been following her. There weren't that many dots left to connect in order to conclude that I had been watching over her at night too.

I swallowed the sudden tight knot in my chest, feeling caught. "What are you asking me?"

"You know what I'm asking you."

"Then you can probably guess the answer."

"I'd like to hear it," she persisted stubbornly.

With another falsehood crumbled, there was no point in denying it. The fear that this might be the thing that would get Bella to ask me to leave her alone was still there—there was no escaping it. In a bid to tone it down, I reminded myself that there were far worse things I had confessed to Bella without her running away in disgust. I had to hope that she would be kind enough to accept this one as well.

Admitting defeat, I began to talk. "I've been spending most nights in the tree by your window. Not exactly watching you, but… listening in throughout the night." There was an odd fondness hiding in the depth of her eyes as she took in my words. I felt even more guilt pressing down on me, seeing that her reaction was not one of pure revulsion. "I'm sorry, Bella. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"Why did you do it?"

"Why have I been following you? Why have I been watching over your sleep? Same reason, really. These old habits that I am not proud of come scarily naturally in this place. I don't even try to fight against them much, to be honest. And I know I should. I know that these are limits that I shouldn't be crossing, but—"

"Is it because you think something is going to happen to me while you're not around?" she asked, not letting me finish.

I considered her question for a moment. "Yes, that's a big part of it. But I also feel compelled to… simply be in your proximity for as long as possible."

"I get that. My days pass so slowly when you're not near."

Ah, the agony of hearing her say that! It was all-encompassing, stronger than any potential joy. "I wish it wasn't like that…"

A sorrowful smile teased the corners of her lips, but it vanished quickly. "When you're in that tree," she went on, "do you ever hear me saying anything in my sleep?"

"Come to think of it, not really, although you used to be quite an active sleep-talker back in the day. What happened?"

"I think it was my fear, mostly. When Jacob moved in, I was mortified by the possibility of saying something that I shouldn't in my sleep. So I started taking melatonin to help me sleep—supposedly, a deep sleep should prevent cases of sleep-talking. I must have taken those pills for half a year before I decided to stop and see if I could avoid saying stuff when I was asleep without any aid. It must have worked, because Jake never complained."

Bella shrugged and pushed away half of the damp hair that had been covering the front of her body. With the curtain peeled back, my eyes were immediately drawn to what had been hiding underneath. The swell of her left breast was visible through her loose-fitting—and now slightly moisture-laden—camisole, and so was the stiff peak of her nipple. It was a compelling sight, one that caught me off-guard. I realized that, although there had been many occasions during our relationship when she wore similar pieces of clothing—pieces that subtly revealed her decadent form, that made me long to find out what was hidden underneath the fabric—I had never stared at her as intently as I was staring now.

My pants became uncomfortable quickly, and so did my mouth. Because the more I peered at Bella's chest, the more aware I became of the other looming hunger. Her blue veins vibrated under the pressure of blood circulating through them. Their enticing movement captivated me beyond hope, sending torrent after torrent of venom to invade my tongue.

"Bella," I murmured through the flood, "why didn't you want him to hear you talking in your sleep?"

"Because… you never stopped haunting my dreams. So there was no way I was taking any risks."

I was instantly dumbfounded. It seemed that no matter how close Bella and I got, there were still things I couldn't possibly comprehend about how she perceived me. It was one thing to know that she still felt the tie of desire between us, but now her dreams? Dreams were the mystifying end product of the subconscious part of her brain, what the hell was I doing in them?

"I didn't know that," I admitted, feeling in complete awe. "What kind of dreams?"

"For a long while only nightmares of you in that forest. Leaving on repeat and stuff like that." She stopped and shuddered, as if the memory of those nightmares was still fresh, and my heart fell apart. It was never easy to be reminded of the awful repercussions that our break-up had brought on her, particularly when it was Bella that offered me these reminders. "But later on, when I finally forced myself to accept things for what they were… I started having good dreams. Really good dreams. Although… you'd find them pretty dishonourable."

"Dishonourable how?"

"Dishonourable in the sense that… they'd leave me, you know, pretty hot and bothered in the morning." A lovely blush spread from her cheeks, traversing her neck and painting her cleavage with pink undertones. "Kind of like the one I had last night."

"You dreamed of me last night," I said out loud, trying to confirm to myself that my understanding was right.

"Yes. I dreamed of this—of you and me—last night. And so many nights before… so many times I've lost count."

Her breathing hastened as she revealed this to me, and so did mine. I leaned forward, closer to her, granting access to the caramelized lavender of her scent to wash over me and inflame my lungs. Familiar, polarizing desires fought for dominance within me, not one of them close to winning. I wanted all of Bella and nothing less.

"I wish I could do it too," I avowed, hypnotized as ever. "I'd only dream of you."

She smiled, pushing the rest of her hair back, essentially flaunting her perfection to me. The way her nipples poked through the fabric of her flowy top was a thing of unmatched beauty. It demanded adoration, so much so that I couldn't bear to look away. All I wanted was to lean in closer. And closer. And closer, until I could peel back the fabric with my teeth and brush my lips against those pesky nipples.

"Tell me what you dreamed of last night," I requested in my fired up state. "How it started, what we did… everything."

I felt Bella's eyes on me, so I forced my glance to move from the valley of her cleavage and back to her face. She was toying with her bottom lip now, biting hard on it. The sound of rain clashing against the car all around us was still not as loud as the lively sonata of her fast-beating heart.

"It started in my bedroom," she whispered. "It was night-time and I was reading something at my desk, all alone. And I don't remember the logistics precisely, because this part is a bit blurry, but… all of a sudden I was no longer alone. I think you sneaked in through my window or something, because the room was suddenly windy and… just like that, you were there."

So even in her dreams I was a master at trespassing. I shouldn't have been surprised, since my reputation preceded me.

"I think you pulled me up from my chair and asked me to face you. And it was so…" Bella strove to continue, and I was surprised to discover that her hands had become restless, roaming around her thighs. "You were really adamant when you asked me that and I didn't know how to resist you—well, not that I wanted to resist you—so I listened. And once we were face to face, you… you leaned in and told me you didn't have much time and you needed me naked fast. So I took my clothes off."

The lack of subtlety that the dream version of myself had was outstanding. And it was all the more outstanding that Bella found his nonsense charming enough to go through with it, even in this fantasy scenario that her mind had created while she was asleep. Regardless of how this dream lacked any kind of finesse, I found myself getting increasingly aroused.

Because the thought of Bella, undressing at my request? Fuck, it was as sublime as it was impossible.

"After that, you asked me to lie down on my bed, with my eyes closed and my legs parted," she furthered the story, adding a new mental image to the mix. I noticed her left hand wandering off, tracing a trail from her thigh to her belly. Then a little higher up, dangerously close to her breast. "So of course I listened, how could I not? Time dragged so slowly afterwards, like it sometimes does in a dream, you know?" I glanced at her face again, right as the embarrassment of her small gaffe set in.

"I don't, but go on," I encouraged her with a smile.

"Right, sorry," she said. "What I was trying to say is that it took you forever to join me in that bed. And I remember being so frustrated, because while I waited there with my eyes closed, I could hear you taking off your clothes, telling me that you loved how wet I was getting just from listening to your voice…"

Well, there it was. A bit of realism. If there was one thing I had learned from our nightly activities, it was that Bella truly didn't need an awful lot of preamble to get wet and ready. Hearing me talk to her usually did the trick.

"Then you turned off the light, for some reason. I know you did, because I had grown too impatient and opened my eyes, only to realize we were in complete darkness. It wasn't fair, I wanted to see you too." She frowned, clearly frustrated. "But then I felt your weight on top of me and suddenly it no longer mattered."

I dared to imagine that for a second. Our bodies, naked and tangled together in her bed, a mere suggestion away from making love. Ice and fire, learning to coexist and to potentially thrive together in passion…

My imagination came to an abrupt stop when I realized what Bella was doing. Her left hand had run out of restraint, as it was no longer roaming around her breast. It was actively caressing it through her camisole. I could see the way her flesh rippled under the attack, still covered by the material, and I realized this was new territory for me.

Territory that I wasn't exactly allowed to walk on.

But right now I wanted to. Desperately. And I couldn't remember a single reason why I shouldn't.

"Can I keep watching you?" I asked.

"Yes," she purred. "I want you to."

And with that, she pulled the cardigan off her left shoulder, along with one strap of her camisole, allowing the fabrics to fall down and sate my curiosity.

I was mesmerized. I was entranced. I was transformed.

Bella's left breast was a work of art, better even than what the greatest sculptors of all time could have hoped to achieve if they put their minds together and worked day in and day out to create something perfect. No, no human hands could have designed curves so harmonious, nor a fullness so exemplary. And that nipple she was now teasing with her fingers… the colour of peonies waiting to burst in bloom, and obviously engorged with blood beyond capacity…

It was the masterpiece of a deity, I decided. And it made me as hungry as ever.

"Beautiful," I whispered in my transfixed state.

Carefully, Bella's thumb and index finger caught her nipple in a little trap and rolled it, which elicited a faint sob from her. I couldn't resist the avalanche of stimuli she was exposing me to; it was simply unfeasible to keep watching without doing anything. So I used my right hand to reach down to my pants, right where the fabric stretched itself to the limit. I grabbed my cock with a firm grip, teasing myself a little before the inevitable.

"I want to hear the rest of your dream, Bella," I groaned.

It was impossible not to notice the way her glance slipped down. Or how her eyes widened when she realized what I was doing. She quickly looked back up at me, blinking fast, her face dazed.

"You… fucked me into oblivion," she breathed.

My cock twitched at her brazen admission. I was still unaccustomed to hearing such crude words coming from her. The impossible dichotomy of purity and vulgarity shattered me to pieces and made me rabid with desire each time it happened.

I inhaled deeply, adoring the fusion between the scent of her blood and that of her arousal soaking through. I could visualize that dream of hers as I was doing this, but there was something missing. "No teasing?" I asked, feeling aggravated by this particular detail. "God knows I'd tease you to no end before anything else happened."

"No, you were in a hurry."

"Now that's just cruel… I would take my damn time if I could fuck you, Bella."

Her lips parted to allow for a better intake of air when she heard my last words. Her free hand could no longer stay put; I watched as it traveled upwards along her thigh, dancing close to the apex of her legs, then higher up, at the waistband of her pants, hesitating there.

"Go on," I encouraged. "I know you need it."

"Will you do the same?"

"Damn right I will."

"And can I… watch?" she pleaded with me between hitched breaths.

I paused, realizing what she was really asking.

Up until now, Bella and I had been really good at keeping a semblance of decency when it came to our pleasurable forays. We always kept our clothes on. We never touched each other, nor looked at each other. And it was more than enough—more than I could have dared to crave—that we were openly sharing our most obscene fantasies with each other and masturbating together at the same time. That in itself was questionable enough on its own, of course, but at least we had a limit. We knew what lines we shouldn't cross if we didn't want to muddle the waters further.

But tonight…

Maybe it was the contained space of the car, or maybe it was the mantle of rain hiding us so effectively from the outside world, but tonight things were admittedly different. We were dangerously ready to let each other participate with our eyes too. Bella had already allowed me the privilege to gaze at her bare breast. And I had already let her gaze down at my covered erection as I grabbed and caressed it.

Some boundaries, at the very least, had been broken—not that either of us really fought to keep them in place.

Breaking one more wasn't the worst thing in the world.

"Yes," I answered at long last, with renewed confidence. My head was swimming with euphoria as I pulled down the zipper of my pants and liberated my cock from containment. It sprung up instantly, throbbing painfully with need. "You can watch."

And moving my eyes on Bella's face, I realized she was already watching.

There was a lovely curiosity glimmering in her irises, as she studied the one part of me she had never seen before. Marvel and awe played in them while this momentous first unraveled for both of us, almost urging time to move slower and slower for our sake. She licked her bottom lip right as a soft sound of wonder rolled off of it, and God, it felt good. It felt good to witness her raw hunger like this, undefiled by any kind of hesitation. And in this moment, I truly trusted that she wanted me as much as I wanted her.

As more seconds passed, I quickly learned that I loved the feeling of being held by Bella's gaze like this. It felt right. It felt natural.

Impassioned, I moved my hand upwards across the length of my cock, adding more pressure once I reached the swollen head. This seemed to stir something in Bella, because she no longer hesitated when she slid her hand through the waistband of her sweatpants and right between her legs. She kept the other hand on her nipple, squeezing it so tightly it was no longer a pale shade of pink, but rather a deep rouge.

"God, Edward," she muttered, her eyes still fixated on my cock, "you're bigger than I imagined."

A primal part of me rejoiced, feeling a strange sense of validation for something I never even knew I needed.

And much like Bella, I felt an unequivocal pull to look at the hand she now had between her thighs. It was concealed by her pants, but I could see the way it moved back and forth, just like I could hear the delicate sloppy sounds that her fingers made as they stroked that sacred place.

I grunted in front of such a spectacular display, secretly dying to get a glimpse of more.

"And when you groan like that…" she managed to say, but didn't finish. She seemed decidedly distracted by her own ministrations, and I felt envious of her hands. They could touch everything I couldn't.

I groaned again—not because of Bella's confession, but because I couldn't fucking help it. Although it didn't hurt to know the kind of effect it had on her.

"You can't possibly comprehend how much I want to fuck you right now," I said, and my enthusiasm caused my hand to start a proper rubbing motion on my cock. I was no longer playing a teasing game—I was desperate to taste the heavenly release that only an orgasm could bring.

Bella's capacity to reply with actual words had diminished, because all she seemed to be able to offer now were rapturous cries and moans. For me, that was more than enough. I happily took the lead, already used to it by now, and as such, our downward spiral commenced.

I could never get used to this level of ecstasy. Allowing all of my inhibitions to fall in front of Bella was simultaneously the greatest and most intense experience of my life. Every night, it kept getting better. Wilder. Fiercer. It was this continuous crescendo of elation. Just unbridled, unsullied, unending pleasure.

And it broke me each time it happened. Because I knew I was never going to get further than this with Bella. It was the hex I had to endure—being her dirty secret and pretending it didn't hurt one bit.

I must have been particularly masochistic to still find it in me to get off, when my mind couldn't stop punishing me. But then again, how could I not, when my eyes were glued to Bella's, and all I could hear was the divine concord of her heartbeat and her out of control gasps? She was a different kind of beautiful in these moments—like an angel and a succubus, all wrapped into one. There was still so much innocence in the way she heaved and flushed and trembled, as if all this pleasure was too much to bear and she didn't know what to do with it. But there was also so much eroticism in the way she moved her hands to bring herself to the edge, in the way she kept glancing at my cock, in the way she moaned my name and bit her lip before the last syllable rolled off her tongue…

My splintered heart never stood a chance.

"Let go, Bella," I managed to say. "I want to see you come."

And by God, she came. Loudly, overtaking the raucous scream of the storm.

I was instantly mesmerized by how her face changed when her climax hit. Her eyes shut close and her eyebrows slumped, while a new influx of mouth-watering red blood flooded her cheeks. Then, observing her further, I could see that both of her hands had stopped moving, prolonging the rapture for as long as possible. Her nipple looked almost sore and bruised from the tight grip of her fingers, which made me lose my mind completely.

Hearing Bella, tasting the scent of her orgasm in the air… it very nearly felt like I was making love to her.

Seconds later, I was right there with her. One particular breath of hers was my undoing, getting me to relinquish and spill my load all over the steering wheel. Bella was still riding her own acme, but that didn't stop her from watching me intently. Her eyes moved quickly between my face and my cock, taking in my every reaction.

And unashamedly, I didn't look away, not even after the last stream of venom had left my body. We kept our gazes glued, solemnly sealing this moment in the only way we could afford.

I wanted to know, even more than usual, what secrets her mind held from me. Was she happy all the way through? Was she satisfied to her core? Or was guilt already finding a path to stream through her soul? I, for one, could feel it already. The weight of my misbehaviour was starting to set on my shoulders, trapping me under its heavy tonnage, reminding me that there was no turning back now, after one of our crucial limits had been crossed.

Would Bella even tell me if she felt such a weight too?

Incidentally, I wasn't the only one who was curious about these matters. "What are you thinking?" she asked, right as she pulled back her top, along with her cardigan, to cover herself. Her hand resurfaced from her underwear immediately after—and it only lasted a second before she hid that hand, but it was enough to get me to notice how her fingers were glimmering with the sap of her orgasm.

Suddenly, I felt the urge to take those fingers in my mouth and lick them clean, one by one. Slowly. Thoroughly. Not letting one drop go to waste.

For the first time in a long while, I felt compelled to close my eyes—I wasn't strong enough to offer her the real answer otherwise. "Maybe we went too far."

"You haven't touched me, Edward."

That was true enough. But that didn't change anything. "I might as well have."

"We're fine. Really. We are."

I opened my eyes and finally turned my head away, to assess the mess I had made. My venom was now dripping from the steering wheel, half of it landing on the floorboard on which my feet were resting, half of it directly on my pants. With a sigh, I reached over Bella's lap, opening the glove compartment and grabbing a cloth that was supposed to be part of the car's cleaning supplies.

I could feel Bella's eyes on me as I moved. My cock was still hard when I tucked it back into my pants, closing the zipper; a part of me hoped that she hadn't noticed that—what would she think? That I was an animal that was shamelessly wanting more, with no hope of ever feeling sated? Because yes, I was that, but she didn't necessarily have to know.

Ignoring those troubling thoughts was difficult, but I made an effort. I poured my concentration into cleaning the remains of my orgasm.

It probably took me less than a minute to get it all done, but it felt as if several long hours had passed when I heard Bella's voice calling me from my trance-like state. "Can we go to your place for a bit?"

To say that I was taken aback was an understatement. "What?"

"Your place. I miss it."

She had to be kidding. "You do realize it's the middle of the night, right? And if Jacob wakes up—"

"I don't care."

I shook my head in incredulity. "No, you do care. And you will care even more tomorrow, when you're not drunk on endorphins from your orgasm."

"Please?"

"I'm sorry, but no."

How could I make her understand?

Bringing her back into the house where the coup de grâce that ultimately ended our relationship happened was a dreadful idea. While I had known that things would end between me and Bella long before that, I never knew what would get me to truly break it off for good. Not until I saw my brother ready to kill her—not because he couldn't resist her, nor because he hadn't had enough practice to deal with a minor papercut. But because I had been unable to suppress the violent hunger long enough to not affect his emotional radar too deeply.

I couldn't face that part of the past fully, especially not with Bella by my side. It was one thing to haunt that house on my own, as I could somewhat tune out the ghosts from my past. But her being there? It could be my worst nightmare yet.

Not to mention that there was no way I could explain to Esme why I needed her to leave the house.

"You keep doing this thing," Bella said after a while. "You keep not playing fair."

"Do you think I'm playing with you?"

"At times, yes."

I had to do a double take, because that was not the answer I had expected. But she appeared to be serious—and even worse, hurt.

"I can assure you I'm not," I retorted.

"But you are. Because your rules always come on top."

"That's not true."

"No, it is," she insisted. "For instance, we didn't exchange phone numbers when I asked you to. We exchanged them when you changed your mind. Because God forbid I had the tiniest bit of control over deciding when and how we got to interact, right?"

I could see why that drove her to be mad at me. But she had to understand that it was not my penchant for control that got me to behave that way. "Bella, that was me trying to be a somewhat decent man and keep a certain kind of distance from you, considering that you were—and are, in fact—very much taken."

"And you did that by not listening to me at all. Just like you are doing now."

"What is there to listen to right now? You think you miss that house? I sure as hell don't. The last time you and I were under that roof together, things went downhill terribly fast."

"But it's been so long since that happened, why does it even matter now? Or am I simply no longer welcome there and you're trying to let me down gently?"

I could feel my muscles straining in apprehension of what I had to do. If being rude was the necessary evil that would get Bella to give up this fragile dream, I would do it. "Yes, as a matter of fact, you are not welcome in that house."

My harsh voice got her to turn her head towards the window, hiding her face from me completely. I felt a tinge of salt tarnishing the air between us, alerting me about her incoming tears, and I regretted my words instantly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I simply don't want to relive those moments."

Silence. She wasn't even breathing as she stared outside through the window.

I knew right then that I had to try again. "Listen, I shouldn't have said that. This is not about you and whether you are welcome or not, really. It's an issue of my own. One that I'd rather not drag you into, if I can help it."

"No, I… I get it. You were right to react like that."

Compassion? Now that was somehow worse than silence. She had every right to be angry with me for what I had just said, just like she had every right to make me work for her forgiveness a little harder.

"I wasn't." I shook my head, feeling an increasing sense of doom growing inside me. "I was out of line and I'm sorry. I mean it."

But Bella was on a wavelength of her own. "You weren't out of line. I shouldn't have insisted on going in the first place. It was my fault for bringing it up."

"Absolutely not," I objected. "It's not your fault I find it so difficult to say no to you. Taking the rude way out seemed simpler than continuing to refuse you without caving to your whims."

"Truthfully, I wish you would tell me no less often. But… it's probably for the best that you don't."

"Trust me, when I do refuse you, it eats me alive."

She finally turned back to face me. And there it was—on her right cheek, the almost transparent, yet unmistakable trail left behind by the one tear she must have shed. I wanted to erase that physical reminder of her pain so much. One single swipe of my index finger and it would no longer be there…

It would be so easy to cross another line now. But so wrong too.

"It shouldn't, your intentions are in the right place," she said.

The short laugh that escaped me was dry and sad, mirroring my mood. "You're giving me far too much credit. You would know, by now, that I'm the farthest thing from a saint there is."

She laughed too—but she was clearly not bemused either. "You say that as if I'm any better."

"You are. You'll always be."

We stood in silence for a while, allowing the rain to engulf us in its noise. I wasn't ready to let go. If I could have things my way, we would have spent the rest of the night trapped in this car, with nothing but my common sense keeping me from turning our meeting into a delicious massacre. I would have made love to her in between rounds of sleep, transforming her dreams—and my fantasies—into something real for once.

I forced myself to look at the clock on the dashboard, to remind myself of what needed to be done.

"It's late," I muttered softly. "You should get some sleep tonight."

"I know."

She didn't sound happy, and I wasn't either. Parting from her was never easy. Still, I reached behind my back and grabbed the jacket she had previously thrown on the back seat.

"It's still raining, so take this."

"Thank you."

"Do you think you can hide it?"

"Jacob never does the laundry, so certainly."

I nodded and started the car, barely refraining myself from suggesting that she shouldn't have to carry the weight of that chore on her own. It took us no time to arrive in front of her house. From inside, the most prominent sound was that of Jacob's snoring. He was having a dreamless sleep, not one bit aware that his soon-to-be bride was in my car, still flushed from her orgasm.

"So… we'll see each other tomorrow, right?"

"Of course," I promised. "I'll be here when you're ready to meet me."

She smiled—the first time in what seemed like forever. "And until then… do you plan to hang around while I sleep tonight?"

"I'm still debating," I offered playfully in return.

"I won't mind if you will."

Bella's coyness painted her face in appealing nuances. She looked astonishing, even when her dallying remarks got the better of her. I couldn't help but smile, as I decided that yes, I would watch over her tonight.

She fought to get her hand out of the jacket that was too large for her, so that she could grab the door handle. For a fleeting moment, I yearned to draw out the inevitable, even if that only meant stealing thirty more seconds with her.

I leaned forward. "Bella?"

"Hm?"

She turned around and her heart started to gallop once she realized how close to her I was. I could feel the sweet heat of her breath on my lips, just like she probably could feel the freezing chill of mine. But she didn't turn away; in fact, the cold reminder of death looming over her seemed to be as unintimidating as ever, when placed against her lack of survival instincts.

"I hope you dream of us again tonight," I said, glaring at her parted lips. God, a kiss was so easily within reach now…

Just five more inches and our mouths would meet… and dance… and melt…

I leaned in, closer still. Yes, so easy. If I made an effort and held my breath, even the raging fire caused by her scent could be kept under wraps—at least long enough to do what I truly wanted.

But then Bella closed her eyes, and my better judgement came rushing.

I couldn't do this to her. I couldn't pull her deeper still into this world of sin I had opened just because I could. It was too devious of a thought, too much of a punishment for her already injured soul. Petrified by my shamelessness, I quickly moved until my lips reached a safe space.

Bella's cheek was soft and hot under my kiss. Like velvet protecting the thinnest glass, her skin yielded ever so slightly under the pressure of my cold lips. And the phantom of her taste as blood hurried to feed the complex web of capillaries underneath her skin… it was sure to fuel my darkest fantasies for centuries to come.

I didn't let the miracle last too long—it was the kind of miracle that needed to be killed before it really got to get a good grasp of the world around it.

I pulled back, not fully realizing what I had done. She seemed to be just as lost in a haze as I was, not saying anything in return.

I watched as Bella opened the door and stumbled out in the rain, wrapping my jacket tighter around her small frame, and I wondered how it was possible to fall deeper and deeper in love with her every day. And the deeper I fell, the more I wanted to drag her down with me.

Into the shadows. The one place where I belonged. The one place where she once wanted to join me.

Also the one place I had to ensure she would never ever get to see.

*sigh* I know, I know, even I want to knock some sense into these two!

With yet another boundary crossed, do you think they'll be able to maintain their questionable deal in place for much longer?

As always, I am really excited to know your thoughts on this chapter!

Until next Sunday, stay safe and happy!

Chapter Text

Hey, dears!

Thank you for all the reviews, you are so kind for taking the time to share your thoughts on this story!

If you thought the last two chapters were intense, buckle up! This chapter will go to some downright insane places ;).

In case you are sensitive to certain topics, there is a trigger warning placed at the very end (so as not to spoil anything).

Up until a certain point, I was convinced that there was a method to my madness.

But after the rainy night when Bella and I broke some crucial rules in my car, the method became a shaking mess, ready to fall at a moment's notice. Bella and I kept our nightly routine intact, except we now allowed ourselves to look at each other… to sometimes let a piece of clothing slip from its usual place… to get more brazen about the words we used to describe what we wanted to do to each other…

To be frank, it felt like we were always one mistake away from giving up all rules and fucking. Alas, it was so much more complicated than that.

If each night served as a temptation specifically designed to get me to succumb to my instincts all the way, each day was a reminder of why I never allowed myself to go there. As twisted as it was, I could tell that Bella loved Jacob—a love that certainly went deeper than the temporary lust she felt for me. And if the numerous decades of inadvertently listening to various minds had taught me anything, it was this: for humans, attraction was a much wider and complicated road than it was for vampires.

They had a certain ability that vampires—especially those who found their mates—lacked. They could be intensely tied to more than one person at a time. They could love someone and crave the emotional—or physical—closeness of another person at the same time, without the two emotions canceling each other out. It wasn't exactly a relationship system that I could abide by, but I had seen it unraveling so many times in the minds of humans everywhere, that I had become convinced that it was simply a part of human nature itself, therefore not something to condemn or judge.

Hell, even Bella admitted to it.

But humans also had a way of sabotaging themselves. The same weak, impressionable minds and hearts that allowed them to fall hopelessly in love were also the main reason behind why the vast majority of their love stories failed, sooner or later. And I didn't want Bella's story to fail, if Jacob truly was the man she wanted, in spite of his flaws. She had the right to love whoever she wanted. I knew that the nightly thrills we were experiencing together were only a stop along the way—a detour that hardly mattered in the grand scheme of things.

So I still made an effort to keep the rest of the remaining limits in place.

Esme was starting to notice that something was happening, although she couldn't pinpoint it precisely. She was wondering why my clothes were always slightly crumpled and why my eyes were more lively whenever I returned home. She tried to rationalize it by convincing herself that I was probably running through the woods at night, as a way to distract myself from the torment—it was a more acceptable reality to her. She didn't even ponder the possibility that I would actually step into Bella's relationship and lead her on a cheating path.

I didn't know if I could ever explain to my mother that what was happening between me and Bella wasn't really cheating, at least not by the standard definition of it—well, the definition that Bella and I agreed to use, at least. I wasn't deluded enough to believe that someone from the outside wouldn't raise their eyebrows upon learning the details of such a mischevious deal. Alice had been so staggered by it, that she gave up and stopped trying to lecture me altogether.

But if my mother or father knew… I wouldn't have dared to face them afterwards.

More days passed, crushing me under the weight of the nothingness that the future without Bella was going to bring. I had lived through the nothingness once and survived, but twice? I wasn't sure I was that strong.

On top of it all, it was becoming increasingly difficult to continue being with Bella, as my body's need for blood was starting to get in the way of my ability to control myself enough to seek pleasure alongside my mate. It seemed that the longer I allowed my thirst to persist, the more animalistic I got in the midst of my self-pleasuring sessions—and that was a side of me that was not safe for my fragile Bella to witness. Especially not when she was always so ready to provoke it, just to see where it would take me.

It was a Sunday night when I decided I could no longer take it. I texted Bella as soon as my decision was made, apologizing for not telling her sooner. Her response came swiftly.

'I understand. But does it really make a difference if you stopped by for a few minutes before your hunt?'

'It does make a difference. But I'll be back tomorrow night anyway, so you won't even notice.'

I hated typing those words, but they were necessary. One night off might as well have been nothing to her, but to me? It was one heavenly night in an eternity of mostly hellish nights that I would never get back.

Bella didn't make my job too easy with her next reply.

'Please, I really need those minutes tonight.'

There were few things that were harder for me to accomplish than refusing her when she wanted something—anything, really, it didn't matter. I wanted to live in a world in which catering to her every wish with no second-guessing was possible.

I had to give her the truth—then she would be reminded that the feeling was, at the very least, mutual.

'You know I need them just as badly, but I've been postponing this for long enough.'

And it was true. I was so used to these nightly doses of pleasure that the idea of missing one just to feed was demoralizing. Bella must have found it just as disconcerting, because she didn't let up.

'You and I both know you'd never do anything you'd regret to me. You would have done it a long time ago if that were the case.'

Goddamn. I both loathed and loved the fact she knew precisely what to say to make me reassess my options. She wasn't wrong, of course, but she also wasn't completely right; just because I had never hurt her didn't change the fact that I easily could, if my instincts got the best of me, even for an idle second.

However, I had done such an impeccable job in suppressing those dark impulses ever since she and I started masturbating together. I had trained myself to do it, knowing that I could not live with myself if I made any kind of mistake.

But still, I wasn't a faultless machine—I could fail so easily.

But Bella needed me and I needed her…

The conundrum was never-ending.

'You're impossible.'

'I trust you. Maybe you should trust yourself for a change.'

I stared at the last sentence for far longer than I should have, stirred by the implications.

Bella trusted me. Even now, when it was the last thing I deserved.

Did I trust myself? Not completely, but… maybe just enough to lure my mind into believing that Bella's idea was not pure insanity. After all, my greatest purpose was to protect her: from the dangers of the world, but also from the worst danger she could encounter—myself. And I had done that so many times that it didn't really seem much of a stretch to believe that I could do it again, even in my currently starved state.

I didn't even respond to that last text. Before midnight struck, I was in my car, driving fast on the lonely road, ready to meet Bella again.

Always a fool for her.

"I thought you wouldn't come."

Bella skipped the usual pleasantries as she made her way to me, crossing the empty backyard at a rushed pace. The sky above was clear tonight, allowing the halved moon to shine its light abundantly upon her. She looked like a specter, with her dark hair falling over her bare shoulders in unruly waves and wearing a flimsy white nightgown that I had never seen before. I could already tell that this particular piece of clothing was going to be a problem—while it wasn't short enough to reveal her enticing thighs, it was transparent enough to offer a suggestion of what hid underneath.

Distraught, I moved my eyes to Bella's face. She was finally in front of me, close enough to get my senses and emotions into overdrive. And just like that, I no longer questioned my decision to show up tonight, because simply seeing her was worth it.

"Up until a certain point, I thought so too."

"I'm happy you're here."

"I am too," I admitted. "Although I really can't stay for long. I do need to hunt."

"Of course, I know, but…" Bella hesitated. "You can always have me, you know?"

I rolled my eyes, feeling incredibly not amused. It had been a week since Bella last sprinkled such an inappropriate suggestion into our conversation. With her unfortunate draw to menacing things, I shouldn't have been surprised that she was back at it. I was, however, aggravated, because she should have known better than to bring back that demented idea into discussion.

And what was even more aggravating? The way those words were enough to feed my fiendish imagination, despite my otherwise sound reasoning.

"This joke is getting old," I said, straining to abolish the blood-painted fantasy in my head.

"It's not a joke. I want you to."

"Bella, I won't go anywhere near drinking your blood."

She sighed, as if I was the one who was being unreasonable. I started walking and motioned her to follow me. We took careful steps forward, until the line of the backyard dissolved into the forest. This path was so familiar now, after tracing it every night for the last week and a half. It was somewhat comforting to feel the intimate shape of the ground under the soles of my feet and recognize the shape of all the previous steps that Bella and I had taken.

It made me feel certain that this was our place—not as pleasant as an actual home, but better than the nothingness before.

"Will you at least take me with you tonight?"

Her voice cut right through my reverie, so I stopped moving forward. A part of me was stupidly hopeful that I had somehow heard the wrong thing. But she was obviously blushing, giving away the distressing reality.

"Why would I ever do that?" I asked, completely scandalized.

She stopped as well, turning around to face my petrified state—not that she could see much of it, anyway. I could bet that her human sight still needed adjusting, even with the merciful light of the moon.

"I don't feel too sleepy," she responded.

"Ah, so you figured that seeing me maul animals and feast on their blood would help you sleep better."

"I mean, when you put it like that…"

"How else can I put it?"

Bella moved slowly, but surely, closer to me. It was so damn unsettling how she never seemed to fear me—even now, when she was aware that my appetite was revved up to an extreme. And so damn exciting too. "Well… hunting is part of who you are. I feel like you let me see every part of you but that. Can you blame me for being curious?"

I considered her words, quickly acknowledging that her curiosity was, at the very least, understandable. She was right. I had given her access to mostly every facet of myself. At this point in our relationship, there were few secrets left unspoken, few mysteries left unrevealed.

As for what remained untold and unseen? It was for her own good.

"There is a very simple and sensible reason why I don't let you see me in those moments," I explained, choosing to reason my way out of Bella's plea. "When I'm hunting, it's all about instinct. Logic goes out the window. So if you'd be there in those moments… all the self-control in the world wouldn't be enough to stop me from launching at you."

"And… I've told you before, you can do that." Fuck, no, no, no. I didn't want to imagine that. My teeth tearing through the limp body of a lifeless animal. Then meeting Bella's eyes as she watched me. Realizing that an infinitely better option awaited in front of me. "In fact, I want you to." Fuck, yes, yes, yes! Leaving the animal behind. Grabbing Bella. Attaching my mouth to her throat. Stealing her purity with my teeth. Taking everything she had. Blood and flesh and life. "All it takes is a small cut and—"

"You don't know what you're talking about," I snarled—a rude reaction on my part, but it didn't seem to faze her. "This is not a game for me. I'd kill you in a heartbeat."

"You wouldn't. Because you wouldn't be greedy. You'd know when to stop."

I breathed her in, enduring the magnificent pain of her scent and knowing how wrong she was.

"That's not why we're here, Bella," I reminded her.

"Right, sorry."

She looked around, squinting at the trees.

"Do you want to sit down?" I guessed, already eyeing a mossy log not too far away from us.

"Yes, please."

"Good. Then start walking to your right. And be careful with the first step, because there's a small boulder one foot away from you."

She followed my instructions without questioning them—this, too, was part of our routine. Since I couldn't take her in my arms and get it over with, I had to be creative and think of other ways to make sure she didn't hurt herself whenever she walked blindly in the dark. I followed her in stride, taking notice of how the wispy fabric of her nightgown clung tightly to her body; it made me think of how easily it would have been to lift it up and fall in love with what was underneath.

Bella ceased moving once I told her to. But instead of sitting down, she reached under the skirt of her nightgown.

Paralyzed, I watched as the soft material lifted up to reveal a portion of the indulgent curve of her bare buttocks.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking these off," as her fingers pushed down the sides of her hips, dragging the hem of her underwear along with them. "Since I won't be needing them."

The white garment fell to the grass and I had to admit it—I was mesmerized to the extreme. This was the first time when Bella was letting go of her underwear. Whether it was because her choice of clothing allowed for it or simply because she felt more daring than usual, I didn't know. But I also didn't care, because as soon as the momentousness of what she was doing dawned on me, I started functioning again.

Before Bella could bend down and grab her underwear from where it fell, I was already reaching down to take it. The air whooshed between us from my abrupt movement, which seemed to startle her. She turned around, her gaze confused.

"Don't worry, I've got you," I assured her.

I glanced down at my right hand, where Bella's underwear rested weightlessly, completely undisturbed. I allowed my hand to grip it tightly, exploring its undersides with my thumb, until I felt something different. Something wet and warm and slippery—the precise spot left by her arousal.

Oh, God. What was I doing?

There was no room for reason as my cock throbbed in response. What even got her to get so wet, so quickly? We had only discussed the highly implausible scenario of her becoming my food source, which was decidedly not the kind of thing that usually turned her on—at least not according to what I knew about her. But what if she hadn't told me everything?

What if… the thought of my tongue lapping at her blood was just as exciting to her as the thought of getting impaled by my cock?

I shuddered at the thought, wanting to chase away the excitement it created within me. Mixing up these kinds of fantasies was messed up. Despicable. Evil.

And unlawfully titillating too.

"Keep them," Bella offered in a hushed voice.

"Oh, you aren't getting them back," I decided. "Sit down."

And she did, albeit with wobbly knees.

I took a moment to quietly dote on her beauty. I was forever enamoured with how she looked right before we dove into sin. Eyes glimmering with promises, lips tinted with blood, entire body a wire ready to snap in half from the influx of desire. It almost felt like she was mine—really mine—when she looked at me like that. Like I was the only man to ever know this side of her. The only man who could get her to drop all defenses and be vulnerable.

I wanted to make sure I protected that vulnerability with my life.

Bella waited breathlessly while I made my next move. I made another step towards the log on which she was sitting, then knelt before her. I was still acutely aware of her underwear resting in my hand, painting my skin wet. The sensory spectacle of that was unreal. All I wanted to do was to lick off the wet trails from my fingers and taste Bella in the only way I could. Not doing so was a highly demanding endeavour, one that I achieved solely by reminding myself that Bella's eyes were probably starting to get used to the light deprivation.

She appeared to be particularly keyed up tonight, judging by how she kept rubbing her thighs together.

"You look eager," I noticed.

"I've been waiting all day for this."

"Mhmmm, I can tell." The only distance separating us was almost insignificant. If I dragged my knees one foot forward on the grass, she and I would be so close it would only be natural to lean in and kiss her. I clutched her delicate undergarment tighter in my palm. "You've soaked your underwear beyond repair."

"That always happens when I'm with you."

I smiled—it was reassuring to hear her say that. In fact, it fed into my egotistical delusions just enough to make me forget, for a while, that what I had with her was so transient.

"You drive me insane too," I confessed, finally caving and placing her underwear in the pocket of my jeans. "You can't possibly understand the torture of being so close to you and knowing I can't lay a finger on your body."

Proving my masochistic claims, I dragged my knees a few inches further, getting closer still.

"Do you miss it?" Her voice was a wild whisper. "Touching me?"

I could see that she was taunting me now; she was not only actively touching her nipples through her nightgown, so that I could see precisely what I was missing, but also staring at me with pleading eyes.

"You know damn well I do. And I miss everything I didn't do."

There was no shame in Bella's little moan of delight when her fingers caught her nipples in a tight hold. I barely held back a groan.

"I miss every single time I had you in my arms", I continued, "and how I always wanted to roll over you and trap you there." I could imagine it, even now. Had I been an even lesser man, I would have pulled Bella from the log and placed her gently on the ground. My lips would be all over hers in between two blinks of an eye—and perhaps for once, I would not be gentle. "To trap you there, where I would have kissed you for hours on end if I could…" I went on, yielding to the images in my head. The fantasy was undoing itself so quickly, I just had to let it out. "There, where my hands would not have left your perfect breasts alone, not even for a second." I watched as she allowed one strap of her nightgown to fall down her shoulder, dragging down the white fabric and revealing her plump breast. It was a sublime and exhilarating sight; I was still not used to the untamed mob of feelings it roused within me one bit—I most likely would never be. My erection throbbed in response, demanding to be freed, and my mouth watered upon seeing the veins underneath the surface tremble from Bella's out of control heartbeat. "There, where you could feel my cock pressing against you and know that I was hard and ready for you." I unzipped my jeans. "There." My palm traveled alongside the length of my shaft, wishing profoundly to be replaced by Bella's palm. Her touch would be much softer. Warmer. Better. "Never to escape my hold."

She appeared to be on the verge of exploding, even if the only thing she was doing was playing with her beautiful nipples. I longed to provide her with the relief she desperately needed. Even if we had done this so many times, it wasn't any less aggravating that all I was allowed to use to bring her over the edge were words—not my fingers, not my tongue, and certainly not my cock.

It was a frustration of the highest order to not make love to her properly, when she was so willing, so ready, so close.

"God, Edward… you don't know how it killed me that you never did any of that. You did everything to get me wet and absolutely nothing to break all that tension."

That was harrowing to hear, especially now that Bella was fidgeting, unable to stay put—even more proof that her excitement could not be contained for much longer. As for me, I was still deeply aware that she no longer had any underwear on. And Goddamn, I was so curious to unlock this revered portion on the map of her body. I had fantasized about it too long, wrecked my mind in far too many ways just trying to picture it.

There was one thing left to do—asking.

"Show me how wet, Bella," I whispered. "I want to see you."

I noticed her momentary shyness—brief and endearing, reminding me that this had the potential to be a pivotal first not just for me, but for her as well. Her reticence was completely different from the one I spotted from afar a while ago, when she refused Jacob's advances. It didn't seem to stem from fear or unreadiness, but rather from the thrilling anticipation of doing something that was so wrong, yet felt so right.

The shyness wasn't long-lived. It was easily surpassed by the increasing hunger for more. I watched Bella, feeling completely enthralled by what I was seeing. She lifted the hem of her nightgown up slowly, teasing me to the extreme. Then, between her frayed breaths and her undomesticated pulse, it happened.

She opened her legs.

In that very moment, I understood that heaven, in fact, existed. And it wasn't the biblical landscape where all angels roamed free. No. Heaven existed and it was the very place resting at the apex of Bella's thighs.

"Oh, fuck," I muttered, mesmerized like never before.

There had been so many instances in the past when I allowed my imagination to fill in the blanks for me when it came to this. But nothing could have prepared me for this paragon of art—because undoubtedly, Bella's pussy was art, and I couldn't be convinced otherwise. Soft and pink and exquisite art, carved out by the most skilled creator. Her small lips unfurled delicately, blossoming outwards and reminding me of the plump petals of a camellia. I instantly envisioned how incredibly pleasurable it would be for me to simply lick along their surface, trailing upwards until I reached the engorged clitoris that rested at the very top.

But even more incredible—if such a thing was even possible—was how wet Bella was. Not just glistening, not just dripping, but flowing. Thick rivers of her arousal were spilling out of her, painting her slit and thighs and sending my senses reeling. And the scent…

Fucking hell, the scent!

It was just as appealing as that of her blood, no doubt about it. It awoke the same violent impulses in me—only this time the violence had nothing to do with my thirst and everything to do with how I wanted to spear her cunt with my tongue, so that all of her juices could roll down my throat freely, blessing me with their sublime taste, instead of being wasted on her thighs.

"This is torture," I murmured. "You're perfect."

My erection thrummed in my hand, as the need to fuck grew even more excruciating, reaching heights I never would have thought possible.

"We should have done this sooner," she replied under her breath. Before she finished, one of her hands reached downwards to stroke her pussy. The touch was so gentle and precise—obviously a result of Bella having done this countless times before. But what was normal to her was utterly novel to me. Every detail opened up a new universe worth exploring: how the sap of her fervour seemed unending, how she trembled from head to toe when the tip of her index went over her sensitive clitoris, how glazed and edible everything looked.

"Way sooner," I managed to say in my hypnotized state.

My hand established a rhythm as it went up and down my member—decisive enough to tame the edges of my passion, slow enough to keep me away from the precipice of my orgasm. Bella seemed to be on a similar path, not rushing to get anywhere.

"Where's your mind at?" she queried.

"I can't wrap my head around how much I want you." It was, quite frankly, all I could think about. The escalation of my desire was unceasing, unable to ever reach a peak. It was a growing pile of more, more, more. "It takes everything I have to not touch you right now." The only thing I could do was watch, as she did all the touching herself. My appetite grew fiercer still, as I stared at her weeping entrance. "All I want to do is lean in and sink my tongue inside you." Ah, the sweet debauchery of a promise that would never be… "Swirl it around and really get a taste of you."

Bella moaned and instantly increased the pace of the finger she used to rub around her clitoris.

"I would come so quickly on your tongue if you did that…"

"You'd better," I hissed, hooked on the view in front of me. "But keep in mind that once wouldn't be enough for me. I'd keep at your clit until you could no longer take it. Until reaching another orgasm would become torture and you'd beg me to stop."

"Do you really think I'd reach that point?"

"Unlikely." She was wonderfully insatiable—I figured things would not be too different if it came to actual sex. "But maybe a good fucking would get you there."

"Not even then."

"The first few times? Certainly not." I forced myself to slow down, sensing that my unraveling was close. And as much as I needed to hunt tonight, I also didn't want this moment to end too soon. My eyes closed in on the treasure between Bella's thighs, loving how it flowed for me, drenching everything in its wake. "I see how you're dripping when I'm talking to you… making a mess out of that tree log under you. Your insatiable cunt would need more."

"Oh, yes…"

The other strap of her nightgown slipped from its place, uncovering both of Bella's breasts in the process. She didn't even seem to notice it—in fact, she had reached that state in which she couldn't really phrase her thoughts in a coherent manner. I, however, most definitely noticed. And I noticed not only how carnal the sight of her stout breasts quivering from the movement of her hand was, but also how the veins underneath the surface level seemed to pound all too frantically with blood.

And right now, even more than usual, tolerating the yearning evoked by that sight seemed unfeasible, like a battle that wasn't worth fighting.

But I fought nonetheless, knowing that it was the last shred of sanity I had.

"I would give you more, but on my own terms," I managed, picking my fantasy back up. "I'd keep you on edge for a while." For days, really, had she not been the fragile human that she was. "I'd fuck you slowly, to let you feel my cock stretching you really well. Inch by inch, with no real hope of release. And I might just let you come, if you get too greedy and desperate—kind of like you are right now."

She pushed her head backwards and moaned loudly, as her hand kept working at an ever-increasingly hectic rhythm between her legs.

"I want you inside me," Bella wailed. "Now… please…"

I didn't let myself get carried away. These pleas only held as much significance as we allowed them to, so I learned early on to not confuse wishes for invitations. But even with that knowledge intact, I could not help but notice the way Bella dragged herself forward on the log, closer to my willing body, as if she actually wanted me to listen to her.

"I need your cock deep," she insisted and I nearly died a second time.

Focus, focus, focus.

Not offering Bella what she wanted was the ultimate test of strength for me. I tried to alleviate my torment by reminding myself that we were probably seconds away from falling prey to our orgasms, so I only needed to remain tough for an insignificantly short amount of time.

I had done it before. I could do it again—even if it was a lot more complicated now, with Bella almost naked and essentially asking me to fuck her.

With my jaw clenched, I braced myself to resist until the end.

What I had not taken into account was the fact that Bella was, after all, human—which meant that her crumb of self-control was much more fragile than I would have guessed. A prisoner to the heat we both created, she went on to do something I had never seen her do—something that, as far as I knew, she had never tried before.

She plunged three fingers into herself.

All at once, the digits disappeared into her wet cunt, all the way to the knuckles. No preamble, no careful overture to get her used to the feeling of having her pussy stretched so thoroughly. She winced and cried out—and for the first time tonight, I knew that the sound she had just made was not a consequence of rapture.

But before I could really process the reality of Bella's pain, a new consequence emerged.

The worst one yet. All the hunting in the world couldn't have prepared me to face such a trial.

Because one blink of an eye later, the smell of freshly-spilled blood hit me. Poignant and no longer protected by the cover of veins and tissues that kept its potency subdued. Exposed and delicious and currently dribbling freely from Bella's entrance. The already existing embers in my throat turned to a raging firestorm without warning, getting me to snarl like an unleashed animal from the sudden onslaught of pure, excruciating need. My tongue was instantly immersed in flaming venom, and the incoming pain seared my frozen flesh like pure, concentrated acid.

This was the single most commanding temptation I had encountered in a century of existing. Nothing ever came close. Not the first time I met Bella—what a joke, really. Nor the time when I had to suck the poisoned venom out of her—that was child's play in comparison. Not even during the only birthday of hers we spent together, when my instincts almost got the better of me.

This was worse than all those times combined because my guard was already down. And for the first time, I had no one around to stop me if I caved and succumbed to the allure of finally having things my way. Bella trusted me, of course, but then again, her trust had always been misplaced. If I gave up fighting now… she would finally understand what I had been telling her. She would know, once and for all, that I was never truly stronger than the thirst that governed over my senses.

"Edward?" I heard my name sliding through her lips, but I couldn't be bothered to care. My mind was at the highest state of overwhelmed—something I had not even thought would be possible for my kind. The mere movement of the wind in my hair was too much of a stimulus to bear. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

Bella retreated her fingers, and the change threw me off even more.

I didn't know where to look. Her pussy was wet with blood and arousal, still bearing the remnants of her recklessness—a sight like no other. Appetizing and carnal, but at the same time still so pristine. But those fingers… they were completely coated in her slick juices and in infinitely more blood than the faint traces that still hung to the delicate folds of her cunt. The resulting scent was magnificent, triggering my lust and thirst in terrifyingly equal amounts.

My undisciplined thirst only expanded, as it stretched itself to accommodate my flaring excitement too. Coupled together, these hungers formed an inseparable set of forces, with the sole aim to persecute me into oblivion. I couldn't remember how to fight them—hell, at this point, I couldn't even remember where I was or what the right thing to do was anymore. Slowly, the last sliver of reason dissolved, leaving only the beastly impulses behind.

And under the reign of those impulses, I realized that this was my destiny. Blood and sex and Bella. The grandest feast of all. It would never get better than this.

"Edward." The word itself was so strange and nonsensical—as if it had no meaning whatsoever. "Do you wa—"

I shook my head, succumbing to the trance. "Come here. Now."

I barely recognized myself as I grabbed Bella's waist and pulled her to the ground, where I pinned her down and climbed on top, so that I could hold her body captive under mine.

What had I been telling her? Never to escape my hold.

Inevitably, there was no moment of clarity in between my actions. No divine force to stop my indulgence. Without hesitation, I seized Bella's wrist and brought her fingers to my face. I wanted to savour the heavenly bouquet for longer—to rightly revel in the otherworldly scent of life and crystalized lavender—but my composure was nowhere to be seen. Instead of prolonging the sweet anticipation, I leaned down and forced her wet fingers into my mouth.

When my taste buds were met with Bella's flavour, there was no coming back.

I moaned, staggered to discover that she tasted a million times better than she smelled—which had to be a sin in its own right. I immediately knew that I had never tried something even a fraction as exquisite as this. Bella's blood tasted like a dream from hell: honeyed, addicting, and utterly perfect. Paired with the sap of her desire, it was undoubtedly the most delirious drug to have ever existed.

The kind of drug that was worth killing for. Even dying for.

And for a short, improbable moment, my thirst no longer roared, it hummed. It was finally at peace with the small, but significant sacrifice it received. In fact, it quietened enough to remind me that my cock was still rock-hard and throbbing, its condition made worse by the knowledge that I was effectively tasting Bella's pussy. How long had I been dreaming of this? It seemed surreal that it was finally happening.

My tongue swirled around her fingers, in desperate search of more, disgruntled to discover that I had already licked them clean. Bella moaned too, and through a fog, I noticed that she used her free hand to reach back between her legs. And even if I couldn't see, I understood what she was doing. The next second, she presented me with her wandering hand, allowing me to see that every single finger was now glazed with a fresh coat of juices and blood. There wasn't any dithering in my mind when I left her clean hand behind and hurried to accept the new offer.

I licked Bella's fingers, one by one, struggling to be slow and gentle. There wasn't as much blood this time as before, but I didn't complain. My body was alive and thriving as I fed on her, burning in all the right ways—so much so, that I had to grab my cock and resume my stroking.

And it seemed that I wasn't alone. Bella's free hand returned between her thighs and started moving frantically too, causing a symphony of sloppy noises to flood the air.

"Don't stop, Edward, don't stop," she whispered. I closed my eyes and groaned, allowing one of her fingers to slip from my mouth. Once again, I had done a thorough cleaning job and there was nothing more left for me. But the closeness itself was so divine, that I refused to let the rest of her fingers escape. I sucked harder on them, quietly realizing that this was probably the first and last time I was going to do this.

The blow of that realization was heart-rending. This really was the best it was ever going to get for me.

Despaired by that knowledge, I kept my eyes closed and made my choice—I was certainly not stopping.

I continued to rub my strained member, feeling Bella's shaking body underneath me as she sought her own pleasure. We were both panting, groaning, taking what was ours to take. When she cried out my name, I felt the familiar crescendo of pleasure trickling through every limb, until there was no more space for it to fit inside my body and it finally exploded in a million pieces.

I might as well have died and accidentally gone to heaven—so paradisiacal was the feeling.

With my reflexes suddenly slowed down, I had no time to process what was happening. I opened my eyes and let her fingers slip away right as the sound of her orgasm unraveled along with mine. I came abundantly all over her, spilling load after load of cum on her bare breasts. No other sounds apart from those of our mutual satisfaction could be heard in the forest—they were louder than all the nocturnal creatures combined. I could almost hear the echo of guilt too, but it was too faint, too immaterial. It seemed that my mind had been fractured in such a way that I couldn't find a single thing wrong with what we were doing.

We remained there, lying on the grass, for what seemed like forever. Bella was struggling to catch her breath and so was I. I didn't want to move—all I wanted was more of her. More blood, more pleasure, more Bella. All of Bella, all the time, if possible.

She was the first to shift her position. Once her breathing stabilized, she lifted herself up, resting the weight of her upper body on her elbows. Her face was so close to mine now… close enough to easily reach for a kiss and turn it into a never-ending affair.

Also close enough to see that the wells of her eyes were glistening, ready to overflow.

That was the first time when I truly heard the call of reality. It was cold and cruel and ear-splitting, impossible to ignore.

"You're crying," I stated the obvious, suddenly terrified of what that meant.

"I'm not." But as she said that, the first tear fell.

"Bella." Panic. Horror. Fear that I had finally ruined everything. It was all coming down on me. "Have I hurt you in any way?"

I didn't really wait for an answer. I pulled back, analyzing her state. She was flushed and coated in my venom, but there were no signs of bruises. Not yet, I realized with terror, slowly remembering how harshly I had grabbed her before pulling her on the ground. How rough my tongue had been on her fingers.

"No, of course you haven't!" She frowned. "You've just… you've made me the happiest I've ever been. It's a completely new feeling." More tears flowed, and this time she didn't seem to fight them. Alarmingly, she smiled through them.

"No… no, no, no, you're crying," I repeated, growing increasingly scared. "I'm so sorry." It was a pathetic way to account for the weight of the crime I had committed tonight. The echo of guilt returned with a vengeance, starting to ring in my ears. As time passed ruthlessly, I began to acknowledge the awful truth. I desecrated far too many sanctified limits tonight, never stopping long enough to assess what the right choice was. "God, Bella, I can't tell you how sorry I am," I persisted, while the weight of culpability sank deeper and deeper inside my conscience, reminding me that I was arguably worse than the devil himself.

The phantom taste of Bella on my tongue was the finite proof of how exceptionally wicked, but also profoundly stupid, I was. How did I not see it before? How did I not guess that having my angel's blood on my permanent record was worse than enduring the thirst in perpetuity would have been?

And for the love of all things holy, why was my throat aching again, already craving a repeat?

There was no coming back from such a colossal mistake.

"Don't apologize. We both needed this."

I shook my head, knowing that I didn't deserve her mercy and wishing to disappear. "God, what have I done?"

"Are you even listening to me?"

"This can't happen again."

She protested, but I knew it was her martyr-like selflessness speaking. I pulled both of us up without warning, keeping my hands on her shoulders to keep her shaking form steady.

"I'm taking you back to your house. Now."

"Can we talk first? Please?"

"There's nothing to discuss. I should have never been so goddamn careless with you."

She looked confused and distraught, with tears continuing to cling to her eyelashes and her nightgown still hanging loosely down her shoulders. Needing some clarity, I pulled up the straps to cover her. The fabric instantly stuck to her wet chest, aided by the aftermath of my depravity. I hated how much I loved seeing her marked like this—how it intensified the feeling that she belonged to me and I to her, making it larger than life.

"Don't do this, Edward."

"I'm sorry."

The walk back dragged forever. Between Bella's attempts to get me to talk and my infinite shame, there was no room for peace for either of us. She kept clinging to me with her hands, giving her all to get me to be attentive. I could feel my own anguish reflected into her actions, but I couldn't, for the life of me, react in any way. My mind was petrified.

When we were finally back in her backyard, the misery was all-encompassing. I saw no escape from it. Not now, not ever from this point on.

"I need you to understand I really, really liked what happened tonight," she tried, and I could sense that somewhere deep down, her zeal was starting to fade. Her voice was exhausted.

I chose to ignore her pitiful words, because no amount of justification could atone for the gravest error in my existence. "Go get some rest," I said instead.

"I can't rest when I know you're so upset."

"I'm not upset with you."

"As if being upset with yourself makes it any better? Trust me, I'd rather you were mad at me right now."

"You know that's impossible."

Bella looked at me, her eyes pleading and almost impossible to refuse.

"Can I ask you one thing?"

I nodded, even if I didn't know what would come next—or if I even had an answer that would make her happy.

"Please," she started with a trembling voice, "I know I'm asking for a lot here, but please… just don't leave. Not without saying goodbye."

As Bella voiced her request, she grabbed my shirt tightly in her fists, pulling on it with laughable force, until I stepped forward. I barely resisted the urge to grab her and glue her against me, eliminating the frustrating distance. Compared to everything else I had done, this would be the tamest misdeed in my repertoire.

"Don't worry," I assured her bitterly. "You will know."

And with that, I walked away.

That night, I didn't return home. I spent hours upon hours losing my mind in the woods. A few unlucky deer that passed my way met their end at my hands—for nothing, since their gallons of blood were indistinct and vapid, in comparison to the decadence that the few drops of Bella's blood held. Still, I feasted on them, wishing to find the mirage of repleteness and never coming close to it.

When the morning came, I was clearly a mess. My clothes were crumpled beyond hope, stained by animal blood and dirt—something that never happened during my usual hunting forays. But then again, most of my huntings weren't prefaced by feeding on the concentrated ambrosia of Bella's blood. Feeling remorseful as ever, I made my way to the nearest pond of water, to wash off the remains of my disastrous night.

It wasn't until I leaned down over the silver mirror of the water that I finally saw myself.

My eyes were finally gold again, after gorging myself on the blood of those deer—that much was obvious in the morning light.

But at the very edge of my irises, there was something else. A ring of pigment that had not been there in decades.

Sharp and strange, as if it didn't belong there.

And also unmistakably red.

Ethical limits? Morals? Never heard of them!

Well, I did promise that this story will bring some bloody vampy goodness to the table, among other things, and this is only the beginning ;).

I am excited to read and respond to your reviews, so bring it on!

As mentioned a few chapters ago, August is an incredibly busy month for me, and I'll be away from my laptop for most of it. But don't worry, I have a nice surprise to make the wait worthwhile! I'll be sharing it in August on my Facebook group: "Twilight Fanfics: NightBloomingPeony & Friends Corner".

If all is well, I'll be back the first Sunday of September with a looong chapter and even more surprises :).

Until then, stay safe and happy!

TRIGGER WARNING: If graphic scenes involving blood are not something you enjoy, proceed with caution when reading this chapter.

Chapter Text

Hello, lovelies :)!

I've missed you all so much, I am truly happy to be back with a new chapter.

August was such a difficult time for me (starting with the cancelled Eras Tour concert in Vienna as a result of the terrorist threats and continuing with several unfortunate situations throughout the month), so returning here feels good. Truth be told, with August being such a pain in the ass, I didn't get to write as much as I wanted to. So while September will be a month of weekly updates, October might be a little different.

Huge thanks to my dear CoppertopJ for being the amazing beta that she is!

And thank you all—for reading, for reviewing, for having patience. Sending my love your way!

Now let's see what happened after Edward and Bella crossed some serious limits last chapter, shall we?

By the time I finally returned to the house, Forks had once again fallen prey to the night.

My eyes were an acceptable shade of gold at long last—thanks to one of the many pairs of contact lenses I had found in Port Angeles. I spent the better part of my day fending off my demons, although I found out soon enough that I wasn't any good at it. In my own masochistic way, I couldn't stop thinking about the events of the previous night and how they changed everything.

I still couldn't come to terms with how I came to cross the one uncrossable line I had always strayed away from. Letting my guard down in front of Bella led to the worst consequence. Worse than touching her, worse than kissing her, worse than loving her. My mind and tongue still smouldered at the memory of the debauchery. But there was still a sane enough part of my brain that was wrestling with the reality of having hurt Bella.

God, my one true mission in this world had always been to keep her safe—from the various dangers of the world, from monsters, from damnation, from myself.

And I failed.

I desecrated her body in the most perverse way, without giving her a choice. And while her arousal at the time blurred the lines long enough to trick her into believing she wanted the violation, I knew better than to trust that she didn't mind my monstrous attack—her tears alone were proof of that. If only I had been able to read her mind then… even if it would have crushed me.

Her thoughts had probably been a jumbled mess of fear—the fear that, at the end of the day, I really was as dangerous and wicked as I had always warned her I would be.

But also the fear that she had nowhere to escape. Her fragile form meant that she would always be vulnerable in front of me, but last night she proved to be at the very peak of defenselessness: alone with me in a dark forest where each step required guidance, most of her body unvarnished by useless pieces of clothing, and captivated by the guiltiest physical pleasure. A deer in headlights would have had a much better shot of surviving than she had.

It was borderline grotesque to think of Bella like that, sure, but after essentially treating her like my meal, was it my biggest crime?

Still, my problems did not stop there—oh, how I wish they did!

There was something more worrying brewing under the surface level of my angst. Beyond the crushing acknowledgement of my fallacy lay something different: the realization that I got a second type of thrill from the transgression of tasting Bella's blood. It didn't just nurture my thirst. It also fed the flame of my desire in a new, treacherous way, expanding its reach. It was lunacy to admit this—even if I was only admitting it to myself—but having Bella's blood on my tongue aroused me terribly.

I wasn't sure when exactly the overlap between hungers happened—in a way, they started their weaving journey of interconnection long ago, around the same time when I realized that the closer I got to Bella, the harder to bear my thirst became. And the more difficult it was to combat the impulse to drain her, the more frustrated I got with the fact that I couldn't ever get close enough. So I was never truly sated—not when each hunger fed the other in a vicious cycle.

What I was sure of, however, was the fact that now there was no going back after this. There was no way we could pretend that I hadn't gone completely and unforgivably overboard. I couldn't even imagine facing Bella again—how could I, when I could still vividly picture her wearing nothing but my venom and the flimsiest nightgown? When I was still so ashamed of myself?

When I secretly yearned to go astray again?

All of my questions remained unanswered. Throughout the day, Bella tried to get in touch with me again, sending me a string of texts.

'Hey! How was the rest of your night?'

'Are you feeling better?'

'I'm really sorry for upsetting you last night.'

'Edward?'

'I'm worried about you. Just tell me if you're okay.'

'I'd like to see you. And talk to you. Please?'

Not knowing how to proceed, I let Bella know through a single pathetic text that I needed some time for myself and that it would be best if we didn't talk for a while. She seemed to accept my rudeness rather gracefully, as she chose to respond to my request with radio silence.

Darkness danced in the summer air and in my heart when I returned home to face my mother's questions. She tried to downplay it, but I already knew she had talked to Alice over the phone—and either my sister had missed my egregious actions last night, or she chose to keep quiet about them in front of Esme.

Although I was willing to bet that if Alice knew, she would have certainly pestered me with her inquiries.

"You've been gone longer than usual," Esme offered. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes," I lied. "I just needed some time off."

"Any reason in particular?"

"No." More lies—I was surviving on them. "Sometimes I like to be alone, that is all."

"So you are telling me this is not about Bella."

I swallowed the knot in my chest. "Essentially."

"You know you can talk to me, right?

"Of course."

But I didn't talk to her—not that night, and not the following days and nights either. To be honest, talking to anyone who wasn't Bella seemed useless and like a waste of time. She was the only one whose words and thoughts I hungered for. But alas, that ship had sailed.

Eventually, Bella tried to contact me again, three days after I let her know that it would be best if we stopped talking for a while. And I responded, albeit in a laconic manner, gently letting her down once more. The thought of resuming our conversations—let alone our nightly habits—seemed almost impossible. Hell, I couldn't even dare to watch her at night at this point, such was the intensity of my guilt.

Flying too close to the sun most definitely had consequences. And as it turned out, I was not prepared to face them.

Alice no longer tried to intervene—maybe even she had her limits when it came to badgering me into being sane. Or maybe she knew something that I didn't, because lately she seemed less inclined to step in, for one reason or another—even when Esme wanted her to. I didn't mind it, but I could see how it drove Esme crazy, as she tried to make sense of the chaos that my life had become. She wanted to help me, but she was at a loss about where to begin, when every attempt at a deeper discussion was stopped in the tracks by me.

I knew I was blameworthy, but I also couldn't help it. I was biding my time, praying to find the courage to keep my promise and actually leave. However, I knew I was not one bit ready. I could not imagine the final moment that Bella and I would eventually share. What would I tell her? What would she tell me? Would we share an embrace, at the very least? Having her in my arms, for even a fleeting second, would turn my world to ruins, but the pain would be more than worth it.

The pain of kissing her just once—the last time ever, for good—would also be sublime, no doubt.

The more I thought about it, the more conflicted I became.

It was a cloudy Saturday afternoon and more than five agonizing days without Bella had passed when a new sound slid through the familiar chorus of forest noise and Esme's thoughts. A low, mechanical rumble, that was new and uncharacteristic. My mother was painting an abstract landscape when the sound started getting more noticeable.

"Are we expecting guests?"

I looked up from the book I was reading—Dark Harvest, a book that I had only bought after finding out that Bella liked it ironically—and listened intently, trying to distinguish a line of thought among the noise, with no success.

"Not exactly," I answered, perplexed by this fluctuation of an otherwise silent place.

The rumble was nearer, stronger, and easier to recognize. It was clearly coming from a motorcycle—an old, but reliable model, if I had to guess. And it was definitely close enough now for me to be able to pick out the mental chatter of whoever was getting close. And yet, there was nothing for me to hear.

That was when it hit me.

"Oh, no," I grumbled, jumping up from the couch. "No, no, no…"

Esme understood the source of my panic quickly, despite the fact that she had no clues other than my dramatic reaction to go by.

"Is that…?"

"Yes," I confirmed, because we both knew where that question was leading. "I… I may need some privacy."

She hesitated, maternal concern spread all over her features. As much as she wanted to respect my wish, she also wanted to stay—to reassure me that I was not alone, at the end of the day. But also to understand what was actually going on between me and Bella, beyond what I had been telling her.

"It's fine," I said, trying to ease her mind. "The two of us just need to talk. Alone."

"Of course. But you're worrying me. And I miss her so much, you know?"

"I know, but now's not a good time for any of that. I'm sorry."

My mother sighed, still at a crossroads. I wanted to thank her for being so caring, while also letting her know that it was a fruitless pursuit. There wasn't some grand divine plan that could ever make it possible for me and Bella to be together again—besides, she was already spoken for.

"I'm doing this because I love you." Just as that thought reached me, I could see that the decision had already been made; she was already thinking of the nearest pond she could run to—just far enough away to be unable to hear conversations in this house clearly. "But please, stop trying to push me away. We're not enemies, son."

I nodded, feeling another piece of my heart breaking and dangling from its place.

Esme was gone when the sound of the motorcycle finally stopped in front of the house. I stepped outside, scared to embrace what was coming next.

Bella had already got off the bike and she was currently taking her helmet off, struggling to untangle the mess made by her hair and the clasp. It didn't help that some strands seemed to be caught under the straps of the backpack she was carrying. She managed to set her hair free eventually, right as I was approaching her.

"You seriously shouldn't be on this thing," I commented.

"My ankle is healed, you know? It's been a month, not to mention that I've missed riding my motorcycle."

She shrugged, her eyes meeting mine. I noticed the dark circles underneath immediately—had she not been sleeping well since I last saw her? I felt at fault, knowing how our last interaction ended with me essentially bailing on her at a truly inopportune moment. I remembered her tears and pleas—how desperate they sounded, how difficult it was to turn my back and walk away that night. I also remembered how intense the red hue around my irises was, immediately after committing the deed. It was much better now, although not completely, as I was still wearing contacts to mask the truth from my mother.

But the contacts couldn't erase the past—nor the way that Bella's scent was still captivating me in the most extreme of ways, taunting me with the reminder that it tasted even better than it smelled. As I silently doted on her fragrance, I could not stop certain violent hordes of images from entering my head. Images of her naked in the grass… panting… ready… wet… and clothed only by my venom.

Images of me fucking her in that state. Hard and relentless.

"You also shouldn't be here," I added, still halfway lost in my fantasy.

"I know. But… July is coming to an end. And you said you'll probably be finished with the house by then." Bella eyed the intact building behind me, her brows furrowing. "Even if it doesn't look like it." She seemed to contemplate over something—maybe she was about to call me out on yet another lie; but just as quickly, she went on, erasing my brief worry. "But that's not the point right now. The point is… I miss you. I miss talking to you. I miss… spending time with you." She blushed and started fidgeting with the hem of her T-shirt as she admitted that. My body responded in obscene ways. "And it's not fair that you never gave me a choice when you decided we should just stop being friends."

"Bella," I started, a little unsure of what I actually wanted to say. It felt like nothing was good enough. No words could capture the magnitude of the war raging inside me. "We are friends. So it's not that I don't want to spend my time with you, because I do. Very much, to be honest. But I feel like I'm the worst friend you can possibly have."

"I happen to think you are the best friend I have. The best friend I've ever had, for what it's worth."

I laughed grimly at her questionable assessment of friendships.

Bella shook her head, not a hint of amusement on her face, and continued. "And since we're being friends on borrowed time, I'd like to make the most of it while I still can."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… Jacob is out of town. He left yesterday, 'cause he's got two clients in Seattle and wanted to save the money he would have spent on gas if he were to make two roundtrips there. He won't be back home until next Friday."

She stared at the house behind me again, curiosity swimming in her eyes, then back at me, waiting. Both of us knew what she was asking, even if she had not formulated any question in particular. And maybe if these circumstances had come about one week earlier, I would have seen the obvious blessing in them. I would have spent as much time with Bella as she desired—every morning, every evening, every night would have been ours, as long as she wanted me there. We could have talked for hours with no interruption. We also could have coerced several orgasms out of each other—taking our sweet time too, as there would have been no reason to hurry.

But the rift caused by my revolting nature—a rift that I allowed to happen—was too great. How could I trust myself around her now? How could she trust me enough to seek my company again?

"This is a bad idea," I told her.

"God, Edward, must everything be all gloom and doom with you?"

"Considering recent events? Yes. Yes, it must."

Bella rolled her eyes, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, as if she was getting impatient.

"Can you make an exception today, at the very least?"

I wanted to make all the exceptions for her, but I had to be wiser than that. "Why today?" I queried, treading carefully.

"Because… I was feeling like going for a hike." She pulled on the straps of her backpack. "Maybe all the way to our meadow."

I tried to not appear too shocked—to appear calm and not at all fazed by the fact that I had essentially been blindsided.

But it was admittedly challenging to act as if a certain part of my ice-cold heart had not just melted upon hearing Bella utter two simple words.

Our meadow.

The one place that remained locked in my mind as an oasis of tranquility and love. So many happy memories tied me to that place—most of them memories that I had learned to suppress, since holding on to them couldn't bring anything good. And to hear Bella refer to it as ours still…

What sublime torture that was.

"I haven't been there in so long," I admitted, tasting defeat on my tongue.

"That makes two of us, so maybe a change of pace is in order."

She smiled and I couldn't resist, I had to return it. The invitation was too good to be true, yet here it was—right in front of me, just waiting for me to grab it. Could I do this, without screwing things up? Could I be alone with Bella, so far away from civilization, and find it in me to do the right thing?

My internal clash of wills must have been apparent, because she spoke again—softer this time, real hope seeping into her voice. "Please, don't overthink it too much. All these days spent apart were so hard to endure. Can't we have this one day to just… hang out?"

She made it sound so simple—as if we could hang out without it meaning the world to me. I wanted things to be simpler, so that saying yes to Bella wouldn't be such a dangerous game of what if. If I hadn't allowed the barriers between us to bend and crack, my dilemma would not have existed at all.

Ah, I really shouldn't do this…

But Bella's eyes were filled with such endearing anticipation and her heart was beating so fast and I loved her all the more for not being afraid of me, even after what I had done, and fuck—how could I ever say no?

"I even brought a blanket," she added with a dim smirk, pointing a finger towards her backpack.

"Of course you did," I smiled back.

I knew that there was no point in continuing to fight what we both wanted. I wasn't strong enough to win anyway, since I didn't even want the prize of keeping away from Bella.

Pulling my gaze away from her, I glanced at the Harley behind her, remembering that she rode it here all alone. The thought of letting her be in charge of a death machine—when I was here and perfectly capable of making sure that she remained safe—was ridiculous.

"I have one condition," I said.

"Anything."

"You ride in the back. If you care about my peace of mind."

There was a short, evanescent moment when she almost protested. But it faded too quickly, making me wonder if I had imagined it, because immediately after she agreed. So we didn't lose time—no, any additional second spent thinking might have got me to realize how stupidly reckless I was being.

We hopped on the motorcycle as soon as Bella had her helmet back on. I propped myself in front, getting accustomed to the fine details of the hand grips and loving how they were still mildly warm from the way she held onto them on her way to my house. But then, an impossibly more pleasant feeling trickled through my limbs, once I felt Bella's heat right behind me, where she positioned herself in the backseat.

With a swift motion, I started the engine.

"Hold on to me," I told her, speaking loud enough so that she could hear my voice over the purr of the motor. She didn't hesitate. Her arms circled around my waist, pressing her mellow form against my back, and I thought I died a second death right there—only this time I didn't end up in some bizarre limbo of immortality, but in actual heaven. Her embrace was precisely that to me—pure, unbreakable heaven. I smiled to myself, while I registered the fact that this was the first instance of her touching me in a way that wasn't accidental, or temporary. This was a purposeful touch—something we hadn't shared after I broke up with her.

"Like this?" Bella checked.

"Yes. And don't let go."

"Don't worry. I won't."

And while we took off, I wanted those words to be true. I wanted more than anything for Bella to not let go.

Not now, nor ever.

The clouds were starting to scatter by the time we reached the end of the paved road. Their thickness was slowly dissolving, giving way to an impatient post-meridiem sun. For some strange reason, I was grateful for the fact that we were still protected by shadows. It wasn't like Bella would be surprised if she saw me under direct sunlight again—she had seen me so many times in the past—but it had been too long since it last happened. What if her old fascination would turn to repulsion this time?

Almost instinctively, I sunk myself deeper into the tentacle of shadow when Bella was finally done with the multiple locks on her motorcycle.

"So tell me," I began, "do you want the easy way out? Or are you up for some actual hiking?"

It was selfish of me to even ask her that. But I had to, because I was already missing the feeling of her soft body pressing itself against my back. Besides, she had always been partial to the idea of being carried by me while I ran; well, at least after she got over the initial dizziness.

My hope collapsed on itself faster than a dying star when Bella answered. "I'm up for hiking."

I nodded in agreement, hiding my disappointment, then proceeded to offer to carry her backpack. She accepted and, as she was handing it to me, I noticed that her T-shirt had fallen off her shoulder, revealing the black strap of the bra she was wearing—and along with it, the attractive contrast between the frantic blue veins and her pallid skin. That single glimpse caused a wave of repressed memories to crash at the very edge of my conscience.

Not one of those memories was bearable, but one in particular was more aggravating than the rest. In the back of my mind, the image was as clear as if I had seen it seconds ago: Bella, with her eyes drunk with desire, her breasts bare and my cum dripping over her nipples in torpid rivers.

I tried to tune the torment out, but the physical reminders of it were undeniable, as my throat ached with liquid pain and my cock twinged in anticipation of something impossible.

"Well, you lead the way," Bella said, gesturing vaguely with her hands.

I stepped forward, towards the curtain of leaves guarding the forest. Pushing the dense foliage away, I motioned her to follow me into the green shelter of the trees. It didn't matter that I hadn't been here in almost two years, because I knew the pathway like the back of my hand. The vegetation had expanded, overwhelming the place with its potency, but otherwise things were still the same—save for the older, slightly bulkier trees.

Bella studied everything with wide eyes. In return, I studied her.

Nothing about her attitude suggested that she felt uneasy. She appeared… curious, if anything. Her expression was even a little wistful, as if she was having a good dream and she wasn't ready to wake up just yet. To me, it was equal parts endearing and frightening that she willingly chose to be alone with me one more time—and that, by some peculiar happenstance, she actually enjoyed it.

We moved forward, once she seemed ready to do so.

In many ways, our hike felt like a hallucination. It was yet another thing that I knew I didn't deserve. Yet another thing that I was taking anyway. I wasn't sure what the consequences of my imprudent ways would be this time—beyond getting to listen to my mother's well-meaning advice once I would have to face her again and find a sensible explanation for why I disappeared; I had sent her a short text to let her know she should not be expecting me home anytime soon, but no other details. I had no idea if she even texted me back—I had already turned off my phone completely before she had the chance to do it.

As Bella and I made our way through the green chambers of the forest, I could faintly pretend that the hands of time had turned back and she was mine again. When we encountered uneven portions of terrain, she stared at me with imploring eyes and I knew what to do without her asking—I picked her up in my willing arms and helped her cross them. And when stray streams of water got in our way, my hands were already on her waist, lifting her from the ground, so that she didn't have to get her sneakers wet. These were all touches born out of necessity, of course, but that didn't mean I was treasuring them any less.

Besides, the meaning of each touch was doubled when Bella made me linger. When she was resting her head on my shoulder during a brief passing of a rivulet, how was I to let her go? When she was gripping my shirt in her small fists during the simplest of jumps, how could I not grip her closer in return?

It was understandably impossible.

So I drew out these moments, refusing to hurry, keeping my hands on her body longer than needed, relishing the feeling of her warm softness under my cold hardness. And I tried—oh, how I tried—to not think too deeply about how these touches that made me feel so guilty, but also undeniably happy, were practically innocent when I compared them to what I did to Bella the last time we saw each other.

But the feeling of her fingertips on my tongue was still fresh, just like the memory of tasting the ambrosiac blend of her blood and liquid arousal.

We didn't talk much, which was certainly out of the ordinary for us. But the silence wasn't uncomfortable—at least not in the usual, awkward, mundane way that could kill the connection between two people when they realized there was nothing left for them to discuss. On the contrary, it was a heavy silence, one that was filled with everything we didn't dare to say out loud. The air itself was charged with invisible electricity, as if the burden of the unsaid was too much. The molecules of nitrogen and oxygen were sizzling in my lungs, ready to trigger a lightning storm at any moment.

I kept wondering how Bella was handling everything, since the only clues I had were her human bearings: the fast, staccato dance of her heart, the jagged breaths, the tinted cheeks. But as usual, I was second-guessing what they meant. There was always a chance for them to mean something that had nothing to do with physical attraction and everything to do with basic fear. After all, she had had enough time on her hands to mull over my inexcusable, beastly intrusion and grow to despise it.

But then again, she was here. With me. Alone. Defenseless. Vulnerable. A prey so unchallenging there was no hunting necessary. And she knew it, but she chose to take a leap of faith and risk everything regardless.

My inner dispute was dispelled when the light around us started to change, as the forest ceiling became slightly thinner. That was when Bella glanced at my face and suddenly stopped.

"Wait a minute," she said. I stopped too, confused about what got her attention. She stared at me intently, her mien indecipherable.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. It's just… your eyes." Oh. Definitely not what I expected. And definitely not something I could have predicted, although I should have, my haste be damned. I had not changed my contacts in over six hours, which meant that more than enough time had passed for the venom to dissolve the artificial pigment in them and make the remaining crimson flecks apparent again. "I like them," Bella continued, an eerie nostalgia tainting her voice. "I like them a lot."

Immediately after, I noticed her heartbeat galloping, and I got the answer to my unspoken question: she was not afraid.

She was turned on.

"You shouldn't," I replied, hoping to crush her misplaced feelings with rudeness.

If she was hurt, she didn't show it. She just started walking again, turning her face away from me. I purposefully chose to remain one step behind, as the umbra of the forest started growing progressively weaker while we advanced. We were closer now, close enough for me to distinguish the sweet smell of wildflowers in the air—a scent that surely had the power to enthrall, although not nearly to the same level as Bella's blood.

I yearned to know what thoughts were pestering her mind while we continued our foray. Was she even remotely aware of how I was slowly losing my reason? And if she was, did she care? The answers to these questions remained a mystery to me.

The sun was still guarding the leftovers of the day when I noticed a familiar cluster of ferns. Beyond that cluster, there would only be light. With nowhere to run from it.

I wasn't ready for Bella to see me like this again.

But there was no time for getting over my nervousness, because as soon as she saw the hedge of ferns guarding the entrance, she recognized where we were. She shot me a single look—jubilation dancing in her eyes—then rushed her way through the lush greenery, into the meadow.

I followed.

"I can't believe it…" Bella's whisper was so delicate, it got lost in the breeze whirring around. "It's the same."

And she was right.

For the most part, this place that was once ours was pristine.

Daisies, buttercups, and bluebells rocked back and forth between undulating walls of grass, while insects hummed the wistful melodies of their short existence. The taller flowers were sturdier, refusing to succumb and dance to the rhythm of the wind, but just as arresting in their gracefulness as their smaller siblings.

The only noticeable change was the vegetation circling the meadow—thicker now than it ever was, a sign that nature kept its course, just as it should.

The second it had taken me to observe the charm of the place ended before it began, getting my attention back to what mattered the most: Bella. She was momentarily stunned, standing unmoved under the thin veil of light. I walked behind her, gathering up more courage as I went, knowing that I couldn't hide forever. I tried to ignore the way in which my bare forearms reflected the light in that abhorrent way I knew too well—I knew that was the least of my worries, considering that my face was on full display and arguably worse.

Lost in a pensive state, Bella seemed startled when I finally reached her side. She looked up at me, and her eyes went wide.

And reflected in her irises, I saw what I hated the most.

The bright flare of my skin was out of this world, almost grotesque. And right now, it was a burdensome reminder of all the reasons why Bella and I could not work. The web of motives was thick and complex, starting with how every second spent in my presence was a hazard to her very life and ramifying into all the little things she would have to give up for my sake: the sun's embrace, the nights of sleep, the possibility to create life.

And then, the heaviest sacrifice of all: her soul.

I shuddered, unable to comprehend the loss of a soul as pure as Bella's at my hands. It wasn't just wrong. It was evil.

It was all there, in her eyes—all the reasons why friendship was the end of the road for us.

"Wow," she whispered, still studying my face. "I… I forgot how much I loved seeing you in the sun."

My bitter smile got her to smile too. I was touched by how she loved the things I hated myself for, but also saddened. She deserved so much more than caring about a monster, yet I never really gave her much of a choice, since I made sure to sneak my way into her life not just once, but twice.

"Your instincts are backwards, as usual," I commented, keeping a light-hearted tone.

She huffed, clearly not in agreement. "Good thing you don't get to be in command of them then."

I had no smart rebuttal to that, so I simply stepped away, pushing the tall flowers out of my way. I heard Bella following in stride.

"So listen," she started, "I've been doing a lot of thinking these days."

"I bet you have."

"Haven't you done the same?"

Did getting progressively overwhelmed by guilt count as thinking? "I suppose."

Once we arrived on a patch of land where the flora was not so overwhelming in height, I stopped and reached behind me to grab the backpack I had been carrying and unzipped it. Inside it, an unfamiliar blue blanket, along with a bottle of water, rested peacefully. I took out the blanket and laid it on the ground, before placing the backpack on top of it.

"Well, I've been thinking about what we've been doing," she persisted. "About all the limits we've set up, all the barriers…"

Bella avoided my gaze as she talked—and I was willing to bet that her flushed cheeks had something to do with it. She sat down on the blanket, her pulse increasingly rabid.

"I mean, we've been so careful, right?"

If I willingly ignored what happened during our last nightly meeting, then yes, I could admit that she was right. But how could I possibly pretend that it didn't happen, knowing that it changed everything?

"That is… debatable," I said in the end, as I caved and joined her on the blanket. I purposefully chose the far end of the blanket, where the sweet temptation of her blood and body was not so easily within reach.

"Perhaps, but the thing is, the more I thought about these limits, the more convinced I became that they are probably pointless, when you consider everything."

She kept looking down, which made the struggle to decipher her immune mind even more obnoxious than usual.

"I'm not following," I admitted in frustration.

"What I'm trying to say is that you're leaving soon anyway, so everything will… go back to how it was, I guess. And I don't know about you, but if I don't ask you this now, I'll probably be left wondering for the rest of time." She was properly nervous now, her nails digging in her palms. I was just as nervous as her, but fortunately, I knew how to hide it. "So before we actually say goodbye, don't you think we should pretend that nothing matters for once?"

I felt my insides tying themselves up into tight knots of anticipation. "Bella, what are you asking me?"

She finally looked up, daring to confront my eyes. "You know what I'm asking."

I held up her gaze, as stupefaction took over me, trying to comprehend how I ever allowed things to slip so far out of my control. Was it the continuous chain of concupiscent meetings whose significance we denied time and time again? Was it the vulnerabilities we shared with each other? Or the long talks? Was it the way I got to get a taste of Bella in every possible way? While there were so many intricate reasons for why we ended up here, I knew that it was impossible to explain why the malleable tie between us shifted into something so highly unprincipled without showcasing how twisted I was.

And it was too late to do the right thing—the damage had already been done, Bella was already offering her last shred of innocence to me on a silver platter, as if it meant nothing at all to her.

"We can't," I uttered through tense lips.

"Please?" Her voice was wretched with hope. I watched her move from her spot on the blanket, dragging on her knees until she was closer to me, and I was utterly speechless. I felt her formidable warmth washing all over me, defrosting my dead body at an alarmingly fast rate. There had never been a temptation greater than this, nor a rapture harder to refuse. When Bella was close enough, she did the unthinkable and climbed on my lap, momentarily taking advantage of how lost in lust I was. With my mind racing in a million directions, my instinct took over and I grabbed her waist, in love with the way the flesh yielded under my grasp. But instead of moving her away, I pulled her many dangerous inches closer. "Make love to me, Edward."

"That is impossible," was all I said. But as the syllables rolled off my tongue, I couldn't help but notice how the veins on Bella's neck trembled. How her lips quivered. How the scent of her arousal was so thick it was competing with that of her blood. "Absolutely impossible," I repeated. And, against all sensibility, I pulled her down hard, my stiff cock crashing unashamedly against the enticing heat between her thighs.

The sudden contact—along with all the illicit scenarios it brought along—got us to moan in unison. The feeling was unfamiliar and so, so incredibly good. I couldn't even pretend that it lived up to the expectations I had built up inside my head, because it was endlessly better. It didn't even matter that the junction was toned down by the burden of clothes, not when we were flying so close to the sun.

I had to find a way back to the ground, to avoid burning altogether—but I couldn't seem to remember the most basic of movements.

"But it's killing me," she whimpered. "Can you honestly tell me you don't want the same thing?"

I couldn't lie. Not when she could feel the hard proof of my truth between her legs.

"Fucking hell, Bella," I grunted. "You know that I do."

She expired—a long, shaky exhale that enveloped my face in delectable heat—and pulled back for a second. I didn't get to wonder about what she was going to do next, because for once, her impulses seemed to be faster than my intuition. So when she took off her shirt, I was wholly off guard.

I had seen her like this before, but she had never been this close. If I leaned forward a few inches, I could easily tear away the black lace of her bra with my teeth and get to the tantalizing mounds of her breasts. And if I went higher up, I could brush my lips against her carotid… and drag my tongue all over its length… then graze it with my teeth, allowing the contents to spill right into my willing mouth.

"Fuck me," she begged under her breath.

God, yes, yes, yes!

"No," I forced myself to respond, even though I could see, reflected in her brown irises, that my eyes told a different story. Refusing her was made all the more difficult by the fact that I couldn't keep my eyes off of the ravishing vale of her cleavage. I needed to gain at least one ounce of my control back. "And put your shirt back on."

"You don't like it?"

That was an insane assumption—insulting really. I liked to believe that she knew, by now, that I was fully besotted with every part of her body, no exceptions. There wasn't a single inch of skin that I didn't love. Not a single curve that didn't drive me wild. Not one bit of flesh I wouldn't venerate if I had the chance. Out of some stupid masculine pride, I rolled us over, trapping her body under my own, and thrust my hips forward, allowing Bella to feel my throbbing erection once more. "You tell me."

She gasped at my audacity, but met my movement with a keen sway of her hips, pushing them upwards to meet me. "Then why are you—"

"Shhh," I pressed my finger on her lips, trying to put an end to the small avalanche of words struggling to get out. "I am not fucking you tonight. Or ever, for that matter."

My body wasn't that great at keeping up with my morale code, because my initial thrust turned into a slow dance of swaying and grinding back and forth, seeking the sweet friction that we both needed so badly. If I wanted to make a point out of the fact that I had no plans of caving, I was probably failing.

Bella's hands grabbed my shoulders and tried to get me to lean closer. I didn't budge. In fact, her laughable effort almost made me smile.

"Why not?"

"You know the answer. And I'm about to break a hundred different promises I made to you and myself if you keep insisting, so please stop."

And with that, I pulled back, finally offering Bella her space back. Parting from her made me feel hollow and incomplete. She rose up and threw me a defeated look when I handed her the T-shirt she had thrown in the grass.

"Well… this is not how things went in my head," she muttered.

"You had this all planned?"

"I wouldn't be wearing any kind of lace otherwise."

My eyes were already on her breasts when she said that. The contrast between the dark lace and her fair skin was sublime. The idea that she had chosen to wear something like this specifically for me was endearing. And arousing. And sad. "You should. You look quite irresistible in it."

"Funny you should say that, considering how you so easily resisted me."

"Resisting was anything but easy for me. You know why I stopped you."

She sighed and I watched the wonder of Bella wearing lace disappear as she put her T-shirt back on.

"Do I?"

"Don't do this, Bella. This is not about desire. My self-control is always one breath away from being blown to pieces when I am with you. I've almost taken you countless times in that forest behind your house."

"The key word here being almost."

"Your first time should be more special than this."

"It would have been plenty special for me," she countered.

"And your first time should not be with me. That ring on your finger should be reason enough."

We both glanced at the ruby ring weighing down her hand—yet another reason in a long list of reasons why we couldn't be together—and she touched it pensively. Seemingly without much thought, she pulled it off her finger and placed it in her back pocket. I didn't ask her why. I didn't stop her. I just let it happen, too scared to react anymore.

For a while, no other words were exchanged, we simply allowed the hum of the fauna to fill the void. It was a strange kind of silence, taking into account what transpired between us. But what else was there to say, when all of my mistakes had led to this?

Apparently, the quietude affected us in different ways. While I was stuck inaudibly regretting every step that led me down this path, Bella's emotions glissaded into something visceral and real.

The saline scent of tears reached me before the first tear was even shed.

The harrowing realization that I had made Bella cry again was the last straw for me. It was all so obvious—my darkness had reached too far into her soul, tainting it in the most foul of ways, and I had no one to blame but myself. I had been warned, time and time again, to keep my distance if I truly wanted to allow her to live her life in peace, and I never listened. Not once.

I had been clinging so closely to the idea that I knew better than everyone else—so convinced that I understood when to stop before hurting my beloved—that I ignored the telltale signs of the incoming disaster. And I could see them now, scattered all throughout the last weeks, obvious in their foretelling nature. I could see them, but it was all in vain, because I never stopped when I should have, despite all the warning signs.

There seemed to be no point in trying to right my wrongs now. No point in stopping. There were still fallacies I had not committed, but what I wanted to do couldn't possibly count as one.

So I reached after Bella, my arms circling her completely, and I pulled her in my embrace, until her weight was on my lap and her head rested underneath my chin. She felt so fragile and breakable in my granite hold that I felt compelled to be cautious to an extreme.

"Don't waste your tears for me, please," I whispered, my lips in her hair. "I don't deserve it."

"I can't, Edward… I can't…"

And in the hour that followed, I realized that she truly couldn't. Something inside her must have snapped, because she kept crying, letting it all out in a way I had never seen her do before. Her shoulders shook violently from the force of her tears, as if her body was on the brink of collapsing.

Throughout all this, I never stopped holding her. I held her close to my chest, my fingers trailing patterns on her back, no longer trying to suppress her emotions. If she needed this kind of liberation, I didn't want to be the one to bring it to a standstill before she was ready. It didn't matter that each new tear was burrowing new trenches of misery inside me—that was a mild comeuppance, when I factored in how I corrupted Bella's life right as she was rebuilding it.

The twilight shadows were setting in when her sobs started to grow scarcer. My shirt was properly soaked, but I didn't mind it.

"Are you tired?" I murmured. I felt the nodding movement under my chin, so I felt compelled to ask another question. "Do you want me to get you back home?"

"No… not really." Her voice had a new hoarseness to it. "Let's stay here."

If the circumstances had been different, I might have insisted on leaving—but doing so didn't feel right. These were probably some of our last moments together. I had run out of excuses to justify my actions.

"We'll stay here then," I said.

"Thank you." She grabbed a fistful of my shirt, using it as leverage to move away from me. Instead of grabbing her and pulling her right back into my arms—where she belonged—I mirrored her actions. When she laid down on her side, I did the same, facing her. Now that I could see her face, I noticed how the sclerotic coat of her eyes had reddened from the onslaught of tears. "Will you tell me something?"

"Yes."

"Did you really come back to Forks for that house? Will it even be demolished?"

I thought about it for a moment—about this lie and what it meant. I had clung to it so stupidly, so recklessly, as if it was going to save me. What I had failed to consider was that despite how lies ran faster than the truth, the truth was tremendously good at catching up. I knew that Bella's question was more of a formality—or rather her way of allowing me the chance to be honest without making a fool of myself.

I didn't want to screw up this chance. "No," I answered.

A profound sigh followed—if I had to guess, she was mad at me, rightfully so. However, it seemed that her priorities were different, because she pulled herself together a few seconds later, continuing with a different request. "Tell me why you did it."

Another chance. I had to take it. "I wanted to see you again."

"Why did you wait for so long to see me? I need the truth."

Bella moved, killing off more inches between us, and I did the same. Her hair was tangled up in the small space that kept us apart and its smell was intoxicatingly sweet to my senses. I wanted to sink my face into it and never come up for air. Impulsively, I caressed one strand with my hand, analyzing its impossible softness.

"The truth?" I picked up the strand I held between my fingers, staring at it. Without thinking, my free hand reached above my head, grazing the fresh grass, until I felt a change in texture. I pulled the small flower I had found away from its stem and brought it in front of my eyes. It was a small daisy, beautiful in its fragility. With great care, I placed it on the strand of hair that I was still caressing. "I found out about your engagement before I got here," I went on. "And when I heard you were getting married, I knew what the right thing to do was. I had to be happy for you, right? It would have been the height of hypocrisy not to be, since I had been praying you would eventually find love. But then this selfish part of me… this selfish part wanted to see that happiness. To convince itself that you were truly content. That you made the right choice."

"And do you think I'm happy now? Do you think I made the right choice?"

"That's not for me to say."

"I know, but what do you think?"

"I think you should know if you're happy without having someone else confirm it for you."

Bella closed her eyes and, for a few moments, the pain hiding inside them was nowhere to be seen. Her face looked deceptively peaceful, as if suffering was nothing but a distant memory. Without pondering too much, I grabbed another daisy from the grass and placed it in her hair, wanting to preserve this picture of illusory serenity. My fingers lingered in her hair, not ready to let go.

When she opened her eyes again, they were wet and glistening.

"You know what's funny?" she hummed. "I wouldn't have looked at him twice if you stayed. I wouldn't have needed anyone in this life but you."

Regret grew inside me, spreading like an invasive weed. It was one thing for me to mourn the tragedy of our past relationship, but for her to do the same? That was the kind of transgression that would have never happened had I acted in her best interest instead of mine.

"I would have never been enough," I replied, hoping to steer her conscience back to safer lands.

"No, you were enough. You were always enough for me…"

"Don't say that."

"You still are."

I was at a loss for words. I just shook my head back and forth in denial of the blasphemy she was implying. As tears escaped and ran across Bella's face, I felt my own eyes stinging too—with the torment of loving her so deeply, with the cleaver of my sins dangling over my head, with the forlorn need to cry and the sheer inability to do so.

This moment, right here, felt like dying all over again—only this time the death seemed finite, like the proverbial end of the road.

No doubt about it, this was the last night we would spend together, for I had contaminated enough of Bella's mind and soul to last her a lifetime. I couldn't spread the disease further. I could only relish the remains of this day that would forever live in my mind as the day when I lost the only love I had ever known for good.

Not that she had ever truly been mine.

So attempting to take one last grasp of what I was losing, I encircled Bella in my arms, getting her body to press against my own. I felt her breath—warm and shaking—on my chest, as acute sobs poured out of her. I didn't say anything, too afraid that if I opened my mouth now, I was going to say the wrong thing.

Like I love you.

I want you to be mine and I want to be yours.

Break up with your fiancé.

Give up your life for me.

Choose me now.

Love me forever.

I wanted to tell her everything, but instead, I kept my silence. And it was here, at this grand crossroad of my otherwise purposeless existence, that I felt truly human. Human enough to feel every crack in my heart reaching an end, finally crushing me to smithereens. Human enough to feel incapacitated by the unbearable load of my feelings, knowing that there was no escape from them.

So as Bella was drifting off to the uncertain land of dreams, I cried too, in my own way—without tears, my eyes hurting, and my mind falling to catastrophic depths of anguish.

The only way I was capable of, in all my demonic glory.

Now, before you reach through your screen and smack Edward over his angsty head, I'll tell you this: the night is only starting :).

I am super curious to find out your thoughts on this chapter, so bring them on!

And if you'd like to see sneak peeks for every chapter, you are welcome to join my Facebook group:  Twilight fanfics: "NightBloomingPeony & friends corner".

Until next Sunday, stay safe and happy!

Chapter Text

Hello, everyone!

I loved your reactions after last week's chapter, it was a delight to go through all the reviews.

Thank you all for taking the time to share your thoughts, it means a lot, and huge thanks to CoppertopJ for being an amazing beta!

Bella was having a bad dream.

I knew it because her breathing pattern had changed.

I couldn't see her face, as it was still buried in my chest, where she fell asleep crying. The night was unnervingly calm all around us, save for the suddenly shallow breaths she was taking. It had been a little longer than three hours since she dozed off, and midnight was getting closer and closer.

Throughout these hours, she remained still in my arms, never once moving. It had been too long since I was last able to hold her like this, so I had been reveling in this wonder while she was sleeping soundly, knowing it would not last. She felt so small and frangible against the firmness of my body, which made me all the more willing to keep her protected at all costs. Protected from the creatures that were awake late at night, protected from every soft gust of wind, protected from my desires.

But there was no protection in her dreams—that was the one place where I could not simply reach out and snatch her away.

So I listened anxiously, wishing to gain access to her mind.

It didn't take long for her hitched breaths to turn into ragged words.

"Not again…" she groaned. "No… not again…please… no."

A sense of panic started to spread through my limbs, hot and fierce. My fingers tangled in Bella's locks, as I tried to pull her away tenderly, to glance at her face.

"No… no… not again… no," she repeated, growing more restless in my embrace.

"Bella?" I whispered, unsure of the gentlest way to wake her up.

"Please, don't… not again…"

I managed to separate our bodies to an extent—enough to see her face again. Whatever she was dreaming of, it was causing her to frown intensely. Uncertain of my next steps, I tried to smooth out the dimple between her eyebrows, only to discover that it didn't work.

"Bella." My voice was firmer this time. She twitched, so I insisted. "Bella, wake up."

Her eyelids trembled, struggling between worlds, then finally opened. For several seconds, I recognized the sequence of emotions dancing in them: fear, confusion, and—the strangest of them all—relief.

"You're here."

"I'm here," I assured her.

"And… you haven't left."

"Of course I haven't." I brushed off a stray strand of hair that had fallen on her face, allowing my palm to overstay its welcome on her cheek. "You can go back to sleep now."

She leaned into my touch, her eyes wide and pleading. "Edward?"

"Yes?"

"Don't leave."

"I told you, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

"No… no, I mean don't leave. Ever."

There was an intensity in her tone that had not been there half a minute ago, which made me understand the weight of that last word in a different way.

The weight of what she was really asking.

My voice was defeated when I talked; I could already feel the incoming argument bubbling and I was convinced that neither of us was ready for it. "Bella… you know I can't do that."

"I need you here."

"No, you don't. You've got Jacob."

"Would you stop bringing him up already?"

"He is your fiancé."

"I know exactly what he is," she grumbled.

"Then this conversation is entirely pointless. And as far as I'm concerned, it's also over."

"The conversation is over because you say so?" She yanked herself away from my touch, raising on one elbow. And for the first time in a long time, I saw the wrong kind of fire dancing in her eyes. "Because that's how things go in your world, don't they? You make the decisions, no one else. Just as long as you're happy. Screw what anyone else might feel or want, right?"

"You don't know a single thing. If my decisions involved my potential happiness, my life would look a hell of a lot different right now."

Bella shook her head and she appeared to be considerably more awake now than she had been one minute ago.

"Believe me, you wouldn't know happiness if it hit you in the face, Edward."

My eyes narrowed upon hearing her spirited remark. The questions she uttered to me right before falling asleep came back to spite me. "At least I don't have to ask anyone whether I'm happy when I am perfectly capable of realizing on my own that I am not," I snapped back.

Bella squinted at me in return, but she didn't seem surprised that I chose such a dirty way to fight back. "Oh, no, I'd say you are pretty content with yourself."

"Do you think I'm content with myself? Bella, I've been alive for a century and I can tell you one thing for certain: I've never been more miserable in my entire life than I am right now. I've never wished for perdition the way that I've been wishing for it since our paths diverged. If there was a way for all these decades I've lived through to alter my brain in some capacity, at least there would be oblivion. The sweet bliss of lunacy that comes with old age and all that. But no, I am cursed to an existence of desolation, of never moving on, of—"

"You chose that damn curse! You chose it, no one else." She didn't understand. She didn't understand at all. Was it really all in vain? The pain, the break-up, the failed attempt to be friends and nothing more? It had to be since all of these things only contributed to carving a deeper wound in both of us. "You don't get to complain. I never had a choice, but you did and—"

"For God's sake, I made that choice for you!" My voice raised one octave and I instantly regretted it, but it was too late to take back my outburst.

"I never asked you to make choices for me."

I took a deep breath, this time making an actual effort to regulate my anger. "Of course you didn't, because you valued damnation more than you valued your soul. So between the two of us, someone had to be the sensible one."

"Do you even understand how fucked up that line of thinking is?"

"Quite frankly, I don't even understand why we're fighting at all."

"We're fighting because you're doing everything in your power to ruin this again."

"What is this? What is there to ruin? Our lives are set, Bella. We are where we should be."

"But I'm not," she retorted. "And I don't think you are either."

I sighed, desperate to get her to see things my way. "Listen to me. There is a reason why you and Jacob are together." Those words were hell, but I didn't stop. "He can never hurt you in the ways that I can."

"There is only one way in which you can hurt me—and that is by leaving again."

I shook my head in denial. "You know I can't stay."

"Please? For me?"

It was a crime to refuse Bella when my entire being was ready to do anything for her. To stay, to wait, to burn, to kill—truly, there were no earthly limits to what I was willing to do and endure if it meant keeping her happy. But keeping her happy also meant sacrificing the selfish part of me that wanted to never leave and keep her forever, because if I stayed, there was nothing but darkness ahead for her.

I had committed this crime once. I could do it again.

It was the only sensible thing I could do, even if it meant breaking my heart all over again.

"No," I said, managing to keep my voice firm through the avalanche of pain in my chest. "This is over."

There was no warning—that was simply the breaking point for her.

Before I got to gaze in the depths of her eyes, trying to guess how long the new wound would last, she rose from her spot on the blanket. She wobbled on her feet and scoured the darkness impatiently, as the daisies I had placed in her hair earlier fell on the blanket. Without thinking twice, I mirrored her decision, standing up and ready to stabilize her if she needed my help, but somehow, she had been faster—she was already walking away, stomping over the grass aimlessly.

I was by her side in no time.

"Bella, where are you going?"

"Home," she answered. "Where else?"

"It's the middle of the night."

"And?"

"At least let me take you back. You don't know the path down the mountain and it's too dark for your eyes."

"No, thanks, I'll manage."

Right as she refused, I heard the loud snapping of a twig under her foot. She flinched, clearly surprised, but didn't stop.

"Please, be reasonable and let me help you."

"I don't want your help, Edward. I just want to get out of here."

Soon enough, we were at the very edge of the meadow, right where the forest line began. If it had been too dark for human eyes before, there was no hope beyond that line.

So of course Bella crossed it.

I followed her in this nonsensical quest, not even entertaining the thought of letting her wander off alone. With no light to guide her eyes, every step was a hazard.

"Come on, you need to stop."

"I don't need to do anything. And neither do you, because apparently we're done."

She kept on walking blindly, evidently unaware of the dangers hiding in the night. I kept up with her, wanting very much to sweep her off her feet and run down the mountain, back to safety, with her. Alas, I had a bit more sense than that, so I tried to simply kick away the obstacles ahead of us before she could stumble upon them.

"Bella, you're not getting anywhere like this," I said. "Let me grab your things and get you home safely, at least."

"I don't want that." Her arms reached forward, checking for unforeseen hindrances. She seemed to involuntarily push away the twigs of a young sapling.

I let out a disheartened sigh, dying to find the right way to convince her to see things my way. The right way. "Look, I know you're upset with me, but that's not a reason to endanger yourself so stupidly." Bella didn't even try to glance my way, so I knew I had to fight harder—hard enough to stomp on my selfish needs. "If you'll let me take you back home, I won't be bothering you again. Ever."

"Because that worked out so well the last time, right?" The sarcasm in her voice was dry and bitter, no trace of the usual playfulness that came with it. It cut right through my pitiful attempts to reason with her because it made me realize that she was right. I had already promised to her to never interfere with her life, only to break that oath when my self-interest overrode my virtuous intentions. Why would she believe me now? What had I done to get her to trust that I meant what I said this time?

How could I even trust myself to follow through, when the temptation of remaining close—just an intrusive parasite in Bella's life—was so irresistible? And it was so easy to find excuses too… the weeks spent in Forks were direct proof of that. Each day had brought a new justification to linger, each week a new delusion to feed on, while clarity never came.

Frighteningly, I started to understand how complex the curse of loving her beyond any hope or reason was. I could leave—again and again and again—but I would always find a reason to return.

Unbeknownst to her, the unbreakable mate bond we shared would get her to still feel drawn to me, regardless of how many times I broke her heart.

Scared of all the new implications of this realization, I abandoned my manners and grabbed Bella's wrists, getting her to forcefully stop. I felt her risible resistance under my palms, but I ignored it—just like I ignored the short gasp that broke out of her chest.

If she had not been able to see what my staying meant for her, she surely would now.

"What do you want to hear, Bella?" I asked, fully at my wit's end. "Do you want me to stay with you until the day you die? Because I'd be damned if that isn't what I want." She didn't even blink when I asked her this. Her eyes glimmered with an indecipherable emotion. "But you will grow tired of me. It is natural to want more. And I can try to hang around while you continue to grow and have a family of your own, but can you? Because after these past few weeks, the answer is pretty damn clear to me."

"Stop that."

"No, I'm not stopping, because I need you to understand precisely what you would be signing up for if I stayed." She took a meek step back, towards a tree she didn't even know was there. In response, I took one step forward, facing the infernal blaze of her scent and daring to imagine a lifetime of breathing it in. It was masochism of the highest order—the kind of masochism I would be willing to tolerate in the name of love. I imagined Bella decades from now, with her features weighed down by the passing of time. Still as beautiful as ever. Still as much of a walking temptation as she had always been. What would I be to her, after so many years? Not a friend. Not a foe. Not a lover. Nothing.

Bella's lower lip trembled, as if she could see the depressing scenario in my head too.

"What kind of life will that be?" I kept on, really forcing myself to imagine the corrupt dynamic of our relationship if I didn't leave. I could see us falling deeper and deeper into sin, where even the fragile limits we had now would be a joke. I didn't like that image—particularly what it could mean for the integrity of Bella's soul if an afterlife actually existed. "Playing pretend during the day, sneaking around at night with me? Is that what you want?"

"No!"

"Raising kids with Jacob when the sun is up, then guilty sex with me when they're all asleep?"

"Stop!"

I didn't stop. I couldn't. "Just endlessly chasing illusions with me when the night falls. For the rest of your life. Is that really what you're dreaming of? "

"I don't want any of that, I want to be like you!" she erupted. My hold on her lessened, as my worst nightmare took the shape of her words. This was not part of the miserable future I had envisioned. This was worse. "That way, I can be with you today, tomorrow, and for the rest of eternity." So much worse for her… "No sneaking around." No. Impossible, as long as the cost was her soul. I had decided long ago to never make that trade—it was the very basis of why I slaughtered our relationship and left it for dead. "Just you and me, as it should be. As it should have always been."

Bella stared at me with an intensity that petrified me. She didn't have to say anything else, because, for the first time ever, I felt like I could almost read her mind—as clear as a glass, I could see not only that she meant every word, but also that this conviction was hardly new. She had been carrying it around, hiding it, pretending it wasn't there. Finding acceptable ways to move away from it. Convincing herself that it worked.

It was now that I realized that her suffering had been far greater than I ever dared to envision. I had had it so easy, in comparison—I never had to pretend that my will to live was still there. I never had to force myself out of the comatose state I had entered after leaving Forks. I had the luxury to drown and never swim to the surface just because the world expected me to.

She, on the other hand, had no choice but to revive.

I finally let go of her wrists, feeling tremendously powerless all of a sudden. "God, Bella…" I whispered. "You can't ask that of me."

"But I am. Because that's what I want."

She searched for me in the darkness, until her hands found mine. I didn't fight it, I just allowed the touch to happen. Our fingers interlaced carefully and our palms pressed together—a feeling so divine I felt ready to die.

"It's not what I want for you."

"But why don't I get a say in this, Edward? It should be my choice."

"Because you're only seeing the very surface of things," I told her, feeling emboldened by the way her warmth coursed through me. "When I came back… I didn't do it with the aim to cause a stir in your life, I swear. But it happened anyway and I am sorry. I'm so sorry I let things get so out of control, we never should have reached this point again."

"It was inevitable…"

"No, it could have been avoided so easily," I countered, even if my arguments were now pointless, as I was only stating the obvious. "If I had stayed in my lane, your life could have been so much simpler… so much better…"

"Simpler? Sure, but I don't know about it being better. Jacob and I… he's…" Bella hesitated, clearly at war with herself. "The only reason he and I are together is because I was left with no other choice. There was no one left for me. You were gone, my parents were gone, there was only loneliness. Everywhere I looked, just… absolutely nothing and no one. I mean… I wanted you to come back, but you never did. And… I don't know, I owed it to him. I had to fall in love with him, after how he saved me from myself, right?"

I shook my head, not knowing what to make of her loaded confession. "Did you fall in love?"

Her eyes trailed downwards, to where our hands were touching, and I wondered if she could discern the contrast between us, so visible to me even in the darkest night—my skin too white, too unyielding, too glacial… her skin the perfect opposite of that. Another disparity between us. Another reason to be the man that I should be and allow her life to unfold without me. "I wanted to believe that I did. I think I almost convinced myself that I did when I accepted his proposal. "

I breathed her in—that sweet smell that would never bring me peace—and tasted embers on my tongue.

"But when I saw you again," she continued—still not looking at me—her voice now shaking, "my life started to look like a joke. Like a bad parody of what it should actually look like. I didn't want to accept this new feeling, but it was there, haunting me. Haunting me every time you found your way back to me. Every time we talked. Every time we assured ourselves that we were friends. God, and when I fell asleep… I could not escape the hold of your presence, not even in my dreams. And it haunted me—you haunted me—until I realized that I could no longer take it. I wanted a piece of you—any piece you were willing to give me, really—just to indulge myself, since you were leaving anyway. And to remind myself that I was once so close to having everything."

I listened to her pained words, feeling my insides burn the longer she went on. It was such a tragic thing to hear her describe what I never allowed us to have as everything. There was no grandiosity in immortality. No profound beauty to fill all the pitfalls that Bella couldn't even see. The only good thing about it was the fact that it provided me with the chance to fall in love—but even this benefit faded when I considered how my falling in love led to breaking apart the life of the woman I loved.

"Having everything was never in the cards for us," I whispered, daring to hold her hands tighter. I felt so close to her. So close, yet worlds away. "And don't get me wrong, you are meant to have it all and more, just not with me."

"But you are my idea of everything."

"You'll grow out of it," I uttered through clenched teeth, although I wasn't sure of what I was saying, not at all. I had made the mistake of believing that Bella could forget me once. With that knowledge having taken root in my conscience, I was no longer certain that oblivion was an option for her.

Her eyes moved up, finally meeting mine again. I didn't know how much of my features she could distinguish, but it didn't matter now. What mattered was the look of pure betrayal on her face. It was something that had not been there one minute ago, but now it was unmissable. "You're being cruel, Edward," she accused.

"How am I cruel?"

"Because I am trying—I am holding on for dear life—to be what you need me to be, and all you do is push me away every chance you get. Just like you did the first time around. But it's never enough for you, is it? I'm never enough."

I stared at her, crushed to see her deformed perspective. She wasn't just enough for me. She was more. She was my every longing, my every need, my own form of oxygen. No one else had ever come close. No one ever would. "Bella, you don't have to try to be anything for me," I said, releasing her hands, only for my palms to reach upwards and cup her cheeks. They felt so soft—too soft, like they could burst if I wasn't careful. "Don't you see? That's precisely the tragedy—you are what I need, regardless of what happens, regardless of what you do. That was never a point of contention. Making you believe that you are not everything to me was the biggest lie I had ever told, because you are. You have always been and you will always be. The problem is that it doesn't go both ways. It can't, because there are only so many ways that fate can bend in our favour before I ruin everything and hurt you." As I spoke, I could vividly imagine all the things that could go wrong, just like I could remember all the things that did go wrong, all because I wasn't the safe creature that she needed me to be. "I can't tell you how sorry I am for reopening all these old wounds for both of us out of pure selfishness, but—"

"Well, at least you've got one thing right," she cut me off, frowning. "You are selfish."

I felt my insides churning with a new kind of agony. As much as I had fought for her to understand the simple truth of my self-serving actions, I was not prepared for the inevitable moment of being called out on them. And it hurt. God, how it hurt to see her finally understand.

"You can't just expect to walk back into my life without breaking my heart all over again," she continued, her anger slowly dissolving into tears. "You can't expect me to ever get over you! You knew what you were doing when you came back… and you knew what you were doing every night in that forest." Forlorn as ever, I started to wipe away the stream of tears with my fingers, but it was useless. They kept coming and coming, never-ending, and I suddenly realized I had lost count of how many times I had been the cause behind her crying in the past month. I could no longer see the boundary between Bella's anger and her misery; at this point, the two emotions were so entwined I could not find a difference between them. "You just had to prove to me that you own me, didn't you? You didn't even have to touch me for me to cry out your name and ask you for more."

"Bella…"

"No, you're kidding yourself if you even think about contradicting me! You knew what you were doing." Did I know? Was I ever fully aware that my return would lead to such a monumental mess? I shook my head back and forth, denying her accusations, but also wondering if there was any truth to them. "You knew that whether I'm married or not is not an issue, because, at the end of the day, I belong to you. My heart belongs to you."

"No… you are not mine," I countered weakly, no longer sure of anything. I was only sure of my love for her—the last standing remnant of my sanity. Everything else was dust in the wind.

"You don't get to decide that, I do," she said, her eyes piercing in the dark. I couldn't remember if I had ever seen her look as determined as she looked now. Her hands grabbed my shirt, pulling at the fabric, getting me to take another step towards her. I did, obliterating the last bit of distance between us. She allowed her back to rest against the tree behind her and I pressed myself against her, feverishly seeking her warmth and realizing that I was still not nearly as close as I wanted. I wanted to wrap myself around her every limb, around her heart, around her mind, like wisteria wrapping itself around its favourite tree and never letting go. "And I don't belong to Jake, nor any other man. For so many years, I felt like I didn't even belong to myself, like I was just… just some useless piece of a puzzle that no one cared about to even glance at twice. It felt like there was no place for me in this world. You have no idea how that crushed me."

I didn't know how to react. It seemed like such a cruel joke from whatever divinity was out there to convince a woman who was so beautiful inside and out that she was anything but an angel on earth.

"You are not useless," I stated what was already obvious to me, but seemingly not to her. "Don't ever say that."

"Not saying it doesn't make it any less true. It's how I felt. My heart never had a home, it never belonged." Her eyes never left mine, subjugating me with their unspeakable force. "But it does belong to you. I've grown so tired of pretending that it doesn't."

An alien gaiety touched my synapses, galvanizing them. Charging them with a longing so intense that I felt ready to go off. Greedily, my brain consumed Bella's sentences and turned them into something I had not dared to feel in ages.

Something that felt an awful lot like hope.

The taste of it was sweet and comforting, lulling me into a sense of mental peace that seemed too good to be true. I fought to get back to the surface, where some of my last noble thoughts still struggled to survive. But those thoughts were decrepit and so encumbered by everything that transpired in the past month that they could barely continue their existence without decaying completely, all the way to their root.

And in this moment that was half dream and half nightmare, Bella was bent on not letting go of me. Of us.

"I don't know if you realize this," she continued pleading, "but every cell of my body and every particle of my soul is yours and it will continue to be like this until I am dead in the ground. Maybe even after, if an afterlife exists." With our bodies pressed together as they were, the mental image of a non-breathing Bella was a debilitating punishment. "And what then? What would have been the point, if I am doomed to perish anyway? If neither you nor I can be happy, what is the point of everything? What will come of our lives?"

Sobs interrupted her questions, leaving me plenty of time to conclude that I had no answers for her. There was no explanation for why fate decided to let our paths merge, even though my nature was in complete dissonance with hers. It simply weaved this web of impossible dilemmas for us, where no answer was right and no solution was perfect.

Here, in kismet's grace, mercy from the gods above was barely a dream.

"Just… why can't you love me?" she sighed in the end, her nails leaving marks in my shirt from how deep they buried themselves into the fabric. "It's all I've ever wanted."

My jaw dropped and for several seconds I found myself unable to utter a sound. Led by instincts, my hands strayed away from her face and tangled in her hair, bringing her head to rest on my chest. Her fragrance washed over me—lavender blooming in inferno—but I didn't mind the heat it brought. To my senses, this was the scent of being home.

And if she hadn't comprehended the depths of my feelings for her by now, she was about to.

"Oh, Bella… my Bella…" I whispered in her hair, feeling her tears dampening my shirt. "I am so in love with you it wrecks me. If you want the whole truth, I am nothing without you. Just a shell of a man. I had never brought a more horrendous lie into this world than the one I told you when I left." Her heartbeat thrashed and echoed into the vast hollowness of my chest as if it was trying to get my heart to pump again. I could almost feel it—the iced tissues, slowly melting. The dormant veins, straining to breathe with life again. "There is nothing and no one for me in this world worth living for if you're not in it. Hell, being without you nearly killed me completely. It would have killed me if I were cut from the same cloth as you. But I'm not and I can't drag you back into a world that's not yours. A world that will steal your soul and condemn it to damnation. It'll dim your light forever."

"But my soul is perfectly safe in your world," she asserted. "It always has been. Don't you get it? The nature of what you are doesn't determine whether you have a soul or not. And you are proof of that, because you do, Edward. You do have a soul, and it's the most beautiful thing to ever exist in this world. Would you care so deeply about everything if you didn't?"

Bella made an effort to wrap her arms around my shoulders, ignoring my rigidity. It appeared that she too was looking to find a way to get closer still, even though our bodies were already tightly pressed against each other. Aiming to help her, I lifted her head from my chest and pulled her face closer towards mine, so that we could at least breathe each other in.

Each inhale was sublime. Painful. Delicious. Narcotic.

Each exhale was torture. No more thirst, no more Bella in my lungs.

"Answer me," she implored.

What she didn't know was that I was still all out of answers. What was there to say when, for the first time in over nine decades of being a blood-hungry creature, I was actually trying to consider the possibility of not being a monster to my core? That possibility seemed as soothing as it was insane.

"I don't know," I admitted.

She didn't capitulate. "Would everything hurt the way that it does?"

I tried to ponder over that inquiry, challenging myself to think about the actual markers of having a soul—a musing I had not had in ages. Long before Bella was even born, I had convinced myself that the biblical definitions of good and evil were the best way to separate the soulless beings from the rest, as there was no way that a beast condemned to eternal night could also access the quintessence of humanity.

It was a strange feeling to witness the very base of that belief shake. Because my beliefs had always made sense to me. It was black and white, with no shade of grey to disturb the balance. Surely, feelings alone couldn't guarantee the existence of a soul… right? It had to be more complex than that.

Knowing that Bella was waiting for an answer, I gathered myself.

"I'm… really not sure," I confessed again, conflicted.

"Would you have kept me alive for so long?"

Good Lord, she was so close I could taste her when she talked. Her full lips trembled appetizingly in the wake of her query, getting my attention. I missed the feeling of their downiness conceding defeat under my mouth.

I couldn't remember the argument she was trying to make, but I could remember the response dancing on my tongue. "Keeping you alive is my purpose."

Bella suspired and buried her face in my neck. Without warning, her lips pressed against my skin, moving frantically as she talked. "Then please… please… don't push me away."

Her plea metamorphosed into something else soon enough, as I felt her mouth tremble on the side of my neck, placing scared kisses all over it. I groaned, wanting more than ever to give up the fight. I was so tired. God, so tired of depriving my heart of what it wanted. So tired of denying the obvious.

How was I supposed to live like this for the remaining days of Bella's life?

The bite of tears that couldn't be shed hit the nerves in my eyes, leaving only agony behind.

"I can't…" I whispered, seeing the end of my battles and realizing that I had no idea what awaited beyond their death. Was it salvation? Was it perdition? I didn't know. But what I did know was that the bond I had with the fragile human in my arms was not something I was meant to let go of. She was heaven in the flesh—perhaps the only heaven I would ever know. "Oh, God, I can't…"

"Don't push me away…" Bella repeated. "Because it'll kill me… this time for good."

Using her hair as leverage, I made her face me again, staring her down. "You don't understand." The nighttime flickered in her pupils, dilating them and giving birth to new universes. "I can't push you away anymore. I don't know how I ever managed to, because nothing hurts the way that losing you at my own volition does. I love you more than life itself."

I watched as her mouth fell open—perhaps in shock at my admission, or perhaps in an attempt to say something in return. I couldn't know. And I wouldn't find out either, because I had run out of patience. Of excuses. Of control.

All sensibility lost, I leaned down and my lips found Bella's.

All the time spent depriving myself of this rapture seemed almost insignificant now, in this sacred moment when winter and summer bloomed right where our lips converged. My brain could not even process the pain of my thirst all the way. The taste of our union was the same as it ever was, but somehow so much better than what I remembered. It was the taste of being home. The taste of never having left in the first place. If the apocalypse struck now, I would have died a happy man.

Surrendering to the feeling, I groaned and allowed my mouth to open, seeking the great promise of more. Bella's whimper of delight evanesced when my tongue stroked hers. I was merely testing the waters—trying to peruse her reactions, reminding myself what she enjoyed the most—but I was quickly made aware that she was more than ready to swim. Her tongue slinked underneath mine, mirroring its movements as if it had been primed to do just that.

With our kiss deepening frighteningly fast, my control started slipping further and further away—and with it, so did my hands. I could no longer keep them in one place for long enough. They just kept descending and exploring, unable to stop. Lower and lower they went, from Bella's hair and onto her beautiful neck. Then trailing downwards, exploring the hollow space of her clavicles. And further down, sizzling with electricity as they grazed the hills of her breasts and the slope of her waist.

"I love you, Edward—only you," she murmured in the short moment that I allowed her time for a repose, using the little reserve of air she had in her lungs to speak. My cells caught on fire upon hearing those simple words, lit up by a sense of hope so pristine that I didn't know how to handle the sentiment.

Bella loves me, I realized to myself, letting the understanding of that truth sink in and take root.

Regardless of the pain I put her through, regardless of how I made her heart bleed, she loved me.

I was overwhelmed by how intense the feelings of reverence and gratitude in the pit of my stomach were. They made me want to be what she needed me to be. But above everything else, they made me want to repent.

"Please forgive me," I begged, even if it wasn't enough—not after the hell I had condemned her to go through when I decided to end it all.

Her breath quivered, but I was too ecstatic to let her talk again—or perhaps too scared to find out if she could ever truly forgive me. I went right back in, hungrier than ever, and Bella reciprocated my enthusiasm. Our mouths were two pieces of the same puzzle, as they worked fervently to caress and devour each other. This kiss was more than a gratifying caprice. For me, at the very least, it was a necessity that surpassed all others in magnitude—right now, not even my thirst could howl as loud as my desire could.

But judging from Bella's reactions, I was not alone in being swallowed whole by the perfection of what was happening. She too was grabbing everything that she could—my hair, my shoulders, my arms, my back—while her heartbeat wreaked havoc in the background of her delirium. At long last, the cruel anticipation of all the nights we spent together hiding and coming apart had a purpose.

As our frenzied kiss stretched, I got bolder with my touches. When my hands traversed her body again, they no longer roamed aimlessly. Their journey came to a halt when I felt the plump flesh of her breasts under my palms. It was disguised by the annoying fabrics of her T-shirt and bra, but that didn't stop me. Stirred as ever, I listened to my instincts as they dictated my actions and I squeezed the beguiling stoutness.

It took me no time at all to discover that all of my past fantasies couldn't have prepared me for the real thing—for how goddamn incredible her breasts felt in the shelter of my hands and how my body instantly demanded to find more points of contact. Using my knee, I pushed her thighs open and quickly moved myself in the space between them. Bella gasped as soon as my erection pushed against her, hard and demanding.

"Forgive me," I repeated, but I was once again too frightened to hear her response, so my lips sealed back around hers, while my hands did the rest of the talking. I just grabbed and grabbed and grabbed, increasingly spurred on by how much she seemed to enjoy it. I could not believe how I had been able to refrain myself from touching her for so long, because now it was obvious to me that exploring her body with my palms and fingers was the single greatest pleasure imaginable.

I couldn't even comprehend the idea of stopping. In fact, now that my wildest dreams were coming true in my arms, my mind was wired to hunt for more. And since I was aware of her heavy breaths and her helpless sighs, it was no secret that Bella wanted more too.

With every reverie we had ever shared with each other acutely clear in my mind, I finally ventured away from the paradise of her lips, seeking more of the promised land. I looked at her, in love with how swollen her lips looked after our kiss, and I knew what I wanted to do next. In my fervour, I wasn't as delicate as I should have been when I took off her shirt, ripping its hem as I pulled it up, but she didn't seem to mind. Her bra had an even more unfortunate fate. While I understood the logistics of unclasping it, I couldn't be bothered to go through with them. Preserving the lacey garment was truly the least of my worries, so I happily ripped it out of my way and threw it on the ground, on top of her T-shirt.

Our gazes sundered when my eyes fell on her partially unclothed form.

The fact that I had seen her like this before made no difference. It might as well have been the first time for me, because the sight of her nipples, sitting all rosy and erect on top of the plump globes of her breasts, got me to lose myself as soon as I realized that I was no longer under the curse of keeping my distance.

There was no warning when I launched. In the back of my mind, I was vaguely mindful of the fact that I could have been more gentle if I made an effort, but I had never anticipated the voraciousness which had been lying dormant in me all these years. With that chaos uncaged, something extraordinary was happening. For the first time in my life, I felt more man than vampire.

Leaning down, my lips started trailing ecstatic circles all over Bella's breasts and I felt her fingers knotting themselves in my hair, pulling so hard I was convinced it would have hurt if I had not been indestructible.

"I can't believe this is happening," she uttered in between two moans.

Willing to prove that what was happening was real, I took her right nipple in my mouth and sucked hard on it, coercing even more blood to rush to the surface and engorge it. It was safe to say that the embers of my thirst were hot and burning, but not enough to ruin everything else. I could live with them, at least for the time being, if they were the sacrifice required to turn my fantasies into something tangible.

Meanwhile, Bella's hips moved again, creating more friction where my cock pressed incessantly between her legs. I grunted in response, my own hips grinding forward—just a promise of my carnal intentions.

It took me many minutes to gather the will to part from her breasts. If I had it my way, I would have required several hours to map out every single inch of this part of her body—and then several days to worship it properly before I was truly ready to unlock a new one. But seeing that her perception of time didn't match mine, I interrupted my pleasurable mission sooner than intended, only to hungrily pursue a new one.

The urgency was building when I began my descent down her body. I kissed and licked my way over her ribcage and her abdomen, going back and forth several times and getting lost in the heat emanating from every pore. It almost felt like Bella's warmth was now mine too, making it more and more difficult to remember where the galaxy of atoms forming her body ended and where mine began.

Her jeans proved to be an obstacle when my kisses finally reached below her navel. I was quick to unzip them and push them off her hips. After I peeled them away and she made a quick step to help me get rid of them completely, I knelt in front of her, to get better access. And just like that, I was right where I was meant to be.

On my knees, ready to venerate her.

I noticed that the black lace of her underwear was a perfect match to the one adorning the bra that was currently resting in the grass, reminding me that Bella truly went above and beyond for my sake—not that my desire required any kind of artifice to go into overdrive. My eyes traveled upwards, taking in every beautiful characteristic of her body until they met hers again. My thoughts collapsed into the chocolate void of her irises. Soon enough, all that was left of those thoughts was a mass of gratitude and penitence.

"Can you ever forgive me, my love?" I murmured, because I was dying to know.

"Edward…"

With ardent hands, I caressed the curvature of her hips, grazing it up and down. Each time, I made the elastic of her underwear slide further down.

"I know I've ruined everything, but I'll do anything it takes for you to trust me again," I promised. "Anything you want." I went back to moving my mouth over her abdomen, only this time I kept my eyes locked on hers—I wanted her to know that I meant every word. "Anything, no questions asked."

I felt her fingers tracing the contour of my jaw, spilling even more heat into my frozen cells.

"I forgive you," she breathed.

I closed my eyes, absorbing her absolution in complete darkness. I wasn't worthy of Bella's clemency—not yet—but she offered it to me nonetheless.

Her heart on a silver platter—only this time I would make sure to protect it for the rest of my days.

A sense of total serendipity started to spread in my limbs, swathing them whole.

"And I trust you, Edward," she added. "With my life."

It was the avowal I needed.

With the echo of Bella's forgiveness still in my ears, I shoved the last remaining piece of fabric on her body down, until it fell at her feet, leaving her bare and exposed and entirely mine for the taking.

My senses short-circuited all at once.

The divine scent hit me like a meteor. It was a scent I was closely familiar with, but somehow it managed to get better and better each time, always teasing me with its increasingly maddening sweetness. I breathed it in, thanking every deity that it existed, as I watched in awe the wonder in front of me.

Bella's pussy was so wet that her juices had dribbled on her thighs, smearing them to perfection. It was the most beautiful testament to how much she wanted me—better than her rapid pulse and her erratic breaths. Better than the way she could not stand still, her entire body trembling in anticipation.

How had I gone a lifetime without this drug?

Carefully, I parted her glistening lips, revealing even more beauty. Pink, delicate, and dripping, there was nothing in this world that could compare to this work of art. To my eyes, it was the ultimate masterpiece, one that made my mouth water heavily, but not with venom. And to be able to touch it so freely, as if it belonged to me as much as it belonged to her…

"You're absolutely perfect," I declared in a trance.

Bella was heaving when my index finger slipped inside her slit, traversing the slick surface and coaxing her clitoris out of its hood. She shook violently when my fingertip went over her most sensitive spot; her hands quickly found their way back into my hair.

"I've dreamed of this for so long," she said. I repeated the previous motion, mesmerized by how gratifying it felt to play her like an instrument. All I had to do was strum and she trilled. "So, so long…"

"And now we can have it."

And with that, I surrendered completely.

I buried my face between Bella's legs, never wanting to come out. She cried out as soon as my tongue trailed across her cunt, collecting all the precious sap along the way. I groaned when the magnificent flavour struck my taste buds. This wasn't the first time I was savouring it, but it was the first time when it wasn't laced with blood—and somehow it tasted just as divine.

Having been starved for a brutal amount of time, my mouth opened wide, ravenous for the feast. I used my hands to seize Bella's legs and make them wrap around my shoulders like ivy. Once I had her in position, I grabbed her ass tightly and pushed my face deeper between her thighs, delighted to feel their pressure on my ears.

My cock ached and begged for attention, desperate to replace my lips, but it had to wait.

"Fuck, Bella, your taste…" I droned in between licks, caught in a state of adulation. "I can't stop." My lips locked around her clitoris and I sucked hard. Once. Twice. Three times. She groaned, feeding the new addiction forming inside my core. "I can't ever stop."

Unsated, my tongue slithered through the small ocean of Bella's arousal, until it reached her small folds. It unabashedly pushed its way through them, until it sunk into the warmest and tightest place to ever exist. Almost on command, more juice flowed at my intrusion and I made sure to swallow every drop.

"Oh, God, you're going to make me come," she wailed.

I couldn't speak, not now. I was infinitely happy exactly where I was: between her legs, tongue-deep in her pussy. There was no other place I wanted to be.

Possessed by my own zest, I started to move my tongue back and forth, initiating a slow rhythm. My eyes darted upwards, to see Bella's reaction, and I was immediately enraptured by how the pleasure affected her features, making them softer and more hedonistic. I kept my eyes locked on her face when my tongue retreated from her cunt, only to start trailing tiny circles around her clitoris.

I could feel the crescendo of her need in a way I was never able to back when I was a witness from afar. It was like a solid pulse, but different from the one of her heart. It rang in my ears and echoed in my chest, urging me to go on. In a way, it was almost like a separate entity inside my brain, whose encouragement kept me focused.

Go on.

Lick her good.

Don't you dare stop.

Have no mercy on her clit.

Look at her squirming.

Finish her.

Bella's orgasm came so quickly and erupted so violently, that it took us both by surprise. Her loud cry sent wonderful shivers down my spine.

"Fuck, Edward, yes! Oh, God, yes, fuck!"

More delightful obscenities rolled off her tongue and I felt her wetness exploding in my mouth, copious and luscious. I swallowed it, fully in love with its treacly taste, and demanded more with a groan. A second climatic wave rushed through her body and culminated right where my lips met her flesh, getting her pleasure to spill out again.

On and on it went—wet and sweet—until the apogee started to subside.

I remained on my knees, planting lazy kisses on her spent pussy, for several minutes. I loved how she quivered each time my lips grazed against her clitoris, as if the ghost of her orgasm was still haunting the intricate web of nerve endings. Deep down inside me, the flames were roaring, calling on me to appease their torment.

Ordering myself to remain good, I finally untangled myself from the embrace of Bella's legs and rose, so that I could face her again. Without a word, I leaned down to stroke her lips with mine. Softly at first, just to let her get a taste of her own climax, then fiercer, once I felt her tongue searching for mine.

As our kiss escalated, my aching member throbbed between us.

"I don't want to stop," Bella purred, once my lips moved to her earlobe.

"Mmmmm…" I sucked on the malleable flesh for a few seconds, finding it difficult, but not impossible, to convince myself to let it go and talk. "What makes you think I'm done with you?"

I went back to playing with her earlobe.

"Well, I… I… oh…" she tried to respond, but her train of thought seemed to derail when I lowered my mouth to her neck.

"I'm only getting started," I smiled against her throat. It was incredibly easy to mess with her mind—even more so than usual, now that she was so drunk on lust she could hardly think straight. Still keeping my face buried in the crook of her neck, I lowered my hands until they reached the imposing curvature of her ass and lifted her up, forcing her sodden pussy to mash against the hardness in my jeans. "Trust me, you'll beg me to stop."

"I can take it," she promised.

"Prove it."

Before Bella could voice any more thoughts, I was already whizzing through the forest with her in my arms, rushing back to our meadow.

And as I did so, I could see, at long last, that life had a purpose, after all.

My purpose just so happened to be the greatest of them all: to love and be loved by Bella in perpetuity. No other man had been blessed with a happier fate.

No other man ever would.

I think it's safe to say this chapter has been a long time coming!

My beta CoppertopJ did say that the chapter requires a NSFW warning, a tissue warning, and a cold shower alert, I just wanted to let you discover that on your own ;).

I can't wait to discover your thoughts on this chapter! Your reviews are definitely my own personal brand of heroin.

Until next Sunday, stay safe and happy!

Chapter Text

Hey, lovelies!

Thank you for all the incredible reviews you left on the last chapter—I know it was a long awaited one.

As a disclaimer, this particular chapter is extremely NSFW from start to finish. So, you know, proceed with caution ;).

Huge thanks to CoppertopJ for her amazing edits, as always!

Another lifetime ago, I feared that Bella's life might meet its end in the meadow that was now ours. The very first time I brought her here, the thread of her life was in my hands, ready to break at the slightest misstep. It took all of my willpower to keep her protected from the worst side of myself. I remembered how fragile she seemed then—as if my mere breath against her skin could break her if I weren't careful.

It was almost surreal how the tides had turned since then.

The meadow was the same as it ever was, but I was no longer the man who first brought Bella here.

I was a man who went through hell and back at his own volition.

A man who was only starting to learn that he might not know everything.

But I did know that I loved Bella beyond any reason or limit. And for once in my life, I had no plans to run away from all the possibilities that loving her created.

"Are you afraid?" I crooned in her ear, as I laid her weightless body on the blanket and positioned myself on top of her, between her legs. The daisies that fell earlier from her hair were still there, on the blanket, their fate having been spared by the balmy wind.

She shivered when my hands found her breasts, her chest pushing up to meet my palms fully.

"Not one bit."

In the hush of night, I leaned down to kiss her again—I had lost count of how many times our mouths collided tonight, as keeping track was becoming an increasingly futile task. We were certainly making up for every second spent not kissing each other. And it was such a heavenly feeling too—the contrasts that our lust created, the butterflies inside me coming back to life and multiplying, the mounting necessity to be closer, closer, closer.

Bella suspired under my avid lips and I felt her hands on me, trying to get me out of the shirt I was wearing with frenetic movements. I pulled back and smiled at her enthusiasm, deciding to help her out of her misery. It took me no time at all to get rid of my shirt and throw it in the grass, where it could no longer bother us. With that piece of fabric out of the way, I was free to dive in, but I decided to be patient and offer Bella the chance to peruse my form.

And while she had seen me shirtless before, she still blushed and heaved at the sight—probably more than usual, which fed my ego considerably.

"You'll drive me insane with how you look one day, I swear," she told me, stuttering halfway.

My smile had not faded—in fact, it lingered when my eyes traveled down her body and I noticed that her wetness was now pooling between her legs, threatening to stain the blanket. It was such an utterly compelling sight that I couldn't look elsewhere.

For a flawless second, our hands seemed to be in perfect sync, because right as Bella was reaching out to trace the shape of my chest with her fingers, I lowered my hand to stroke between her thighs, collecting her sap and spreading it all over her silken folds.

"You've made a total mess here," I teased her lovingly.

"That is entirely your fault," she countered, her hips pushing upwards to encourage my intrusion. Happy to oblige, I started massaging her hypersensitive heap of nerves in small, insistent circles. "Mmmmm, yes…"

"And you're getting wetter still," I observed.

Her touches turned into a manic affair the more I continued the rhythm between her legs. In turn, she kept exploring everything she could: my shoulders, my biceps, my pectorals, my abdomen—no area was left unattended. The feel of her hands on me revved my senses into high gear, reminding me more and more that, at least in a certain regard, I was as close to being human as possible. Being caressed by Bella made it considerably difficult for me to concentrate properly on what I wanted to do, but not impossible.

I doubled my efforts, looking to elicit even more whimpers and moans from her.

"Edward?"

My name escaped her throat in a half-groan—and what a magnificent sound that was!

"Yes?" I responded, slowing down the pace between her thighs, while still making sure that her clitoris received enough attention—enough to keep her on the edge without falling, I hoped.

It appeared that my relentlessness was affecting Bella's ability to speak because it took her a few tries to get out what she wanted. "I… ah… I just… I want you naked too."

I marveled at her, as she squirmed and panted in pleasure at my mercy. So beautiful, I thought to myself. She had always been remarkably gorgeous, of course, but it seemed that her beauty became completely otherworldly when she was lost in the deep abyss of concupiscence—now more than ever. My eyes could not get enough of the lines, textures, and colours that her nude form offered. She was visual poetry at its finest.

So lost in my act of reverence, I almost forgot that she was expecting something from me.

Distraught by the fact that I had to pause, but willing to tip the scales and make things even, I retreated. Then, trying my best to quench my urgency, I unzipped my jeans carefully, making sure that none of my movements came off as too abrupt. The relief of setting my cock free from the cramped space was immediate. Bella watched me as I stood up to take my jeans off, her eyes wide with wanton wonder. As soon as there were no more pieces of clothing left on me, she rose up and the rotation of the entire universe slowed down.

Nothing else mattered when she dragged her knees across the blanket, closer to where I was, until she was kneeling at my feet. I could still perfectly see her glistening thighs and her hardened nipples, but what drew me in the most was her face—the hunger changing it in unspeakable ways. Bella's eyes traveled upwards, but they never met mine. No, once they found what they wanted, there was no other fate for them than to remain transfixed.

And transfixed they remained as she stared at my cock, her lips parted in silent wonder.

"What's on your mind?" I asked.

"I'm thinking that if this is a dream, I don't want to ever wake up."

I smiled, in love with the feeling of having her eyes on me. It felt so natural, so right to be completely naked in front of Bella, as it erased all the usual mundane barriers that we took for granted. With no unnecessary garments restricting us, the purpose of our existence was almost palpable.

These revelations must have been just as incontestable to her, if the way she bit her lower lip was any indication.

"It's real," I promised. "We're real." I reached out to stroke her cheek with my fingers, which set off a chain reaction in her. At first, she closed her eyes. But then, when she opened them again, she drew in a long, griddy breath of air, as her pulse quickened. And with a passion that only seemed to escalate, she leaned in and stroked the very tip of my cock with her fingers.

That was when the universe stopped moving altogether.

The stars burned out and the planets stalled in wonder as Bella worked her curious fingers around the hefty head of my erection, making it twitch and yearn with each new nanosecond. It was an almost surreal sight—her hand learning to play with my cock, her lips impossibly close to it… something I had only dared to imagine, although the memory of that fantasy felt so shapeless and indistinct under the spectacular weight of reality.

I was completely speechless as Bella's touch lowered, dragging its warmth over my shaft. She was taking her sweet time, certainly enjoying the discovery process. The only gratification that was grander than this was the act of spoiling my beloved with pleasure—something that I had done just minutes ago, yet I was already dying for a repeat.

But Bella was not finished with her exploration. No—in fact, she was only starting.

I was anything but ready when the minimal distance between my cock and her lips closed. Her hand was beginning to feel my balls when she tilted her head and trailed a kiss around the tip of my shaft.

I about lost it.

"Fuck," was all I managed to say through gritted teeth.

Bella's eyes opened and instantly moved their piercing gaze to my face. Her mouth opened slightly and I felt the most sublime wet heat on my cock as she made sure to slowly take it in. I groaned, fully overpowered by what she was doing to me. It seemed that this kind of elation didn't belong to this world. It was too much, too good, too complex to comprehend.

How had I lasted a century without Bella's worshiping lips? Her passionate hands? Her willing body?

It seemed like a sacrilege to live without knowing this kind of ecstasy.

Still glancing at me—this time blushing in the most gorgeous way—she allowed my cock to slide deeper inside her mouth, welcoming it with a petulant swirl of her tongue.

I let out another moan. "Bella…" Daring as ever, she went deeper. "Dear God, Bella…"

Despaired by the euphoria she was subjecting me to, I twisted my fingers through her hair, making every effort to not pull too hard. She was so beautiful like this, with my cock submerged in her mouth. So beautiful… and too tempting for words. The way her blood had managed to stain the underside of her skin was enticing both of my longings.

Reality was slowly dissolving all around me, as my primal instincts kicked in. I was aware of my own needs in a way I had never been before.

I wanted to love, to fuck, to ravage, to never stop.

But just as badly, I wanted to bite, to drink, to gorge, to indulge myself like a beast.

It was truly astounding how my judgement flowed between realms without really falling into either one. It appeared that the need to protect my mate was so imbued in the subconscious layers of my mind that I could not let go of it for long enough to entertain my madness, not even when I was effectively high on Bella.

Seeking some clarity, I gently pulled her away, until the head of my cock rested on her lower lip.

"You're driving me crazy here," I told her.

"You didn't let me finish," she complained, her words a little distorted by the way I was dragging my cock from left to right on her waiting lip.

"Oh, you'll finish me." My voice was deliberately teasing, which got her already quickened pulse to go rogue. "All in good time." I smiled at how deliciously startled she looked and freed her hair from my hold. "Now lay down and part your legs, I want you on your back."

Bella listened with a dazzled look on her face, her movements hazy and slow as she did as told. Soon enough, she was splayed out on the blanket, the night breeze and her own elation causing her nipples to stand out. I was once again struck by how stunning she was. There were simply too many things I was enamoured with when I looked at her. The sweet vulnerability on her face… her curves creating shapes that reached beyond the land of perfection… her skin pulsing with the song and scent of life…

And God, her pussy weeping uncontrollably, so evidently unsated, so far from true relief.

In love and in lust, I kneeled between Bella's legs, parting them further with my hands just so that I could stare deeper into her glistening slit. She seemed to be more than happy to let me stare, reaching out to part her drenched lips with two fingers and reveal the luscious pearl of her clit.

All for my viewing pleasure.

"What a feast you are," I said in admiration, as my right palm drew a path from the underside of her knee to the inside of her thigh.

Bella was heaving heavily by the time my finger found her most sensitive spot again. I was starting to learn that this, too, had the potential to become an addiction for me. For many seconds, she got too lost in the sea of sensations to be able to speak again. She raised her arms above her head in sensual defeat, while her eyes kept dancing between my face and my erection, never settling in one place.

"Edward." She didn't look troubled in any way, but hearing my name got me to slow my pace nonetheless. I caressed her pussy with the gentlest touches while I waited for her to speak, making sure she understood that her needs were everything to me. "I was wondering…"

When she trailed off, I realized she needed some encouragement. "Yes, tell me."

"Do you think…" Her heart was beating so fast now, no other sound was remotely louder. "Do you think we'll fit?"

There it was—as untamable as her desire was, there were always reminders that what we were doing was just as new to Bella as it was to me. It was comforting to know that we were on equal footing; it made me even more motivated to fight to keep things even and not misuse my strength, not even by accident.

I could do this. We could do this.

"Bella," I said her name softly, like the sweetest prayer. "We are made for each other." With great care, I used my left hand to draw soothing circles on her belly. "And I'm not starting until I'm certain you are completely ready."

"Well, then… I am ready," she purred and thrashed, unable to remain still under my ministrations.

"That's for me to decide."

Bent on my goal, I let my fingers slide further down through the beautifully wet mess of Bella's arousal, outlining the small folds of her cunt and doing my utmost to memorize their shape—the minuscule creases, the unexpected plumpness, the slight asymmetry that made them all the more pleasant to the touch.

There truly were not enough lifetimes to tire of making these discoveries.

Between two hitched breaths—the first one hers, the second one mine—I pushed at her entrance with my index finger, coaxing her flesh to relent. There was the tiniest bit of resistance before the tip of my finger got engulfed by her pussy. If the rest of Bella's body was made from the flares that kept the sun bright, this was the core where everything melted. There was no temperature as scorching as the one inside her, nor a tightness as heavenly.

Spellbound by the way she moaned—loud and long, as if she could not contain this level of pleasure—I went deeper. I was admittedly caught in the best reconnaissance of my life, which meant that my sense of wonder could do nothing but grow and grow and grow. Greedy as I was, I ventured to add a second finger, pushing Bella's limits slowly, but surely.

Her eyes rolled back for a few moments, as more air left her lungs in the form of a lascivious sound.

"How does it feel?" I probed, even if the answer was obvious.

"Like I might come again if you keep this up."

I chuckled lightly, brushing my thumb against her clit as my two fingers commenced a gentle back and forth pace.

"Good, I want you to." I continued the slow fucking initiated by my digits as she watched me with helpless eyes. "You certainly look like you need it."

I leaned forward over her, until we were face to face and she could not move one inch. All she could do was take. She raised her chin—seeking, searching, wanting—and there was no finesse in the way I kissed her in response. It was pure, animalistic lust that drove my actions now. My lips were moving adamantly, while my tongue wrestled to overpower Bella's into submission. In the meantime, the fingers buried deep inside her never stopped working.

The part of me that was not set on exasperating her with pleasure was aware that I could not put up with the pressure building inside my balls for much longer. Despite all my supernatural prowess, I was not immune to the carnal call of needing to spill my load—ideally inside her cunt, ideally right this second.

Crushed under the demands of my body, I breathed into our kiss, letting the pain of her scent consume my airways.

I might as well go insane to the end.

The only reason I withdrew eventually wasn't to find repose, but to let her catch her breath. However, instead of replenishing her air reserve, she used the little oxygen she had to voice her plea.

"Please, Edward… you've teased me enough."

Even in my mania, I knew she was right. I had been a lucky spectator to her arousal-filled despair many times before, but this was different. Her entire body was writhing underneath mine, charged with so much electricity I was afraid she might just combust if I wasn't careful.

Sex was more than fundamental desire at this point.

It was a basic necessity, her system requiring it for survival as much as it required air.

And I was learning that I wasn't in any way stronger in this regard—I needed to fuck her as much as I needed to get her blood to spill on my tongue.

"I know, my love, I know," I muttered, battling the inner demon that wanted her served up as a meal.

I forced myself to pull back far enough to be able to face her glance, knowing that it was the one thing that could keep me under control. All of my worries fell into the dark ponds of her irises, reminding me of my ultimate purpose. The reason I was born into this world.

The reason I had not been allowed to die when my time came.

Keep Bella safe. Make her happy. Love her for evermore.

"If I hurt you in any way—"

"You won't," she said before I could finish my sentence. Her right palm raised to nuzzle my cheek. "No one in this world knows how to keep me safe better than you do."

Encouraged and deeply touched by her infinite trust, I could no longer preside over my breathing pattern—it was all over the place as I withdrew my fingers from her pussy and brought them to my mouth for another precious taste. It was like tasting drops of paradise and nothing less.

The novelty of it all started to matter less and less as I realized that our instincts spoke much louder than whatever first-time jitteriness we were supposed to feel. I didn't have to tell Bella to open her legs wider as I lowered myself between them, allowing my cock to slide along her wet slit. She knew. Just like she didn't have to tell me to grab her wrists and pin them on either side of her head to assure her that there truly was safety in vulnerability. I, too, knew.

We gazed at each other for many seconds, until—at long last—our worlds converged completely.

There was barely any struggle as the tip of my erection entered Bella, only the most seraphic tightness. My cock was instantly welcomed by the wonderful grip of her pulsing muscles, which got me to instantly push further—past the initial nirvana, deeper into what I knew was my home.

We moaned together, as our grandest dream came true, and in that moment I understood it all.

Why they fought the wars. Why religions were invented. Why art never died.

What I once considered to be existence was now life and it was the most beautiful thing in the universe.

Everything I once hated about myself—my past sins, my indestructible form, my inability to grow old—I was now thankful for, because without it, the blessing of loving Bella would have never even been possible. Suddenly, glorifying the idea of being human seemed like a farce. What would be the point of all that fragility, if it meant dying without my mate?

In the wake of my cognizance, I could clearly see that my thirst was happy to be tamed in its cage. It would always roar and demand more—that was the nature of the beast. But even if I ever went as far as to let it out for a walk, it would still be no match when faced with the force of my love. It would always return to its place of captivity, where it belonged. Truthfully, it would be like a grain of sand trying to fight the waves of the ocean on its own. Impossible and comically futile.

Relieved, I murmured Bella's name softly, in awe, not even knowing how to thank her for trusting me. For forgiving me. For taking me back. For granting me the privilege to be the first—and sure enough last—man to see her like this.

But above all else, for loving me.

With words abandoning me, I chose to show my gratitude in other ways.

Once I was inside her to the hilt, I started moving. My hips began a thrusting pace that was tender and unhurried at first, as we accommodated the feeling of our union, then faster and more demanding when she locked her legs around my hips and showed me that she could take it. We kept going back and forth between kissing whatever was within reach and simply watching each other, unable to find a balance.

"I'm never leaving you," I whispered between thrusts, fully aware of the implications. "Never. Again. Never. Ever."

Bella's eyes sparked at my admission, but she didn't say anything. She simply let out another rapturous cry and pushed her head back, revealing her neck. I accepted the invitation, leaning down to seal my lips on the side of her throat. With her pulse tremoring on my tongue and my cock burying its way through her cunt, playing with fire had never tasted sweeter.

In the end, she was the first to fall over the edge.

I felt her climax before I heard it, as soon as her inner muscles started spasming around me. Before I knew it, her wetness gushed all over my balls and she screamed so loud that a few animals woke up from their slumber. Bella's second orgasm of the night washed over her with a force that was nothing short of supernatural, shaking her to the very core.

She was still not finished when my own acme hit.

Her remaining screams were covered all at once when the roar of my liberation broke free into the night. I sunk completely inside her when I felt the first spurt of cold venom erupting out of me and into her torrid depths. That was when her pussy spasmed with another orgasmic wave, which wrung out a second load of cum—even more abundant than the first—out of me. For several interminable moments, Bella rolled in the aftershock of her zenith, while I continued to spill everything I had inside her.

By the time I was done, the mess we had made was considerable. The wet proof of our release had mixed and overflowed, leaving its mark everywhere: on her thighs, on my balls, on the poor blanket underneath us.

Minutes passed in supreme bliss, as our frenzy subsided enough to allow us to kiss and declare our adoration without ripping into each other.

It didn't take me long at all to realize that making love to Bella once barely scraped the surface of the boundless cosmos of lust that hid inside me. It didn't matter that I had just had the most spectacular orgasm of my life—my cock was still hard and willing as it moved at a leisurely rhythm inside her.

But even more mesmerizingly, it started to dawn on me that things might not be so different for Bella either. She wasn't just taking my slow fucking, she was actively responding to it with raised hips and fingers that pulled at my hair in all directions.

"More," she implored. "I want more of you, Edward."

Bewitched by the way our desire seemed to be one continuous string with no beginning and no end, I rolled us over, making sure not to exit her body, until she was on top of me, thighs spread wide so that she could straddle my hips. From this angle, I could see the way her messy waves framed her face beautifully, instantly making me believe that angels were real. And looking down, I could also perfectly see the way my shaft spread her folds to perfection, forcing them open. Our fusion glistened and it was a sight that aroused me beyond words.

"Move," I ordered her softly, stretching my arms upwards, to grab her breasts in my hands. "I want to see how your cunt stretches when I'm inside you."

Bella groaned—whether in response to the feeling of being filled so completely or as a way to encourage my salacious speech further, I couldn't know; but I was willing to bet on both. No additional incentives were required. She started riding me as if her life depended on it, swaying her hips up and down in a way that should have been illegal. I watched her in complete fascination, quietly fathoming that my second orgasm would still not fulfill my hunger for her.

Perhaps not even a third, or fourth, or fifth would, if I had to be honest.

There was seemingly no visible end in sight, nor a hope to find it—not for me. Not until my angel needed a break.

Until then, any breath spent not loving Bella was a breath wasted.

The longest night of my life happened to also be the best night of my life.

Bella didn't fall asleep until I fucked her straight into another three orgasms. She eventually became drowsy enough for her body to require a pause. As her eyes closed and her mind drifted away, I felt like I was holding a small furnace in my arms—such was the intensity of her heat after all the passion we had shared.

My conscience was floating on clouds as I held her at my chest and attempted to comprehend what had just happened. My mind had never felt lighter. It was such a peculiar sentiment—feeling so burdenless, so blissful, so unbothered, as if I had just been brought into the world and never witnessed its horrors.

Not even my thirst could ruin this profound blessing. As I breathed in and felt the pain, I was grateful for it—because the pain was the requisite of loving Bella all the way to the end, but also the proof that I could be safe for her, if I gave it my all.

I was particularly grateful for the balmy weather, as it allowed her to rest without shivering, despite my temperature. Her sleep seemed peaceful and deep, not a single muscle spasm betraying her rest.

However, not even two hours into Bella's slumber, something seemed to change.

The lack of motion began to morph into a string of fluctuating movements: first her delicate fingers, when they started to twitch, then her legs, when one of them shifted and draped over my hips. I witnessed these changes silently, not knowing what to make of them. One minute later, she was awake and looking up at me from my chest with a mystified look in her eyes.

I returned her gaze with a smile. "Hey," I whispered.

She shook her head, as if she was trying to chase away any remaining traces of fatigue.

"Everything all right?" I checked, dragging my palm over the small of her back and relishing in the way this seemed to make her heart beat faster.

With sluggish hands, she touched my face.

"Not a dream," she uttered—so faintly that I could swear she was speaking to herself. Almost in slow motion, her arms lifted to wrap around my neck. "Mmmmm, good."

I didn't know how to interpret this, so I kissed her, because kissing Bella seemed like such a natural response to anything and everything. Her lips were an open invitation as they bent under mine, while her tongue swayed lazily wherever mine guided it. We kept this up for a while, our breaths getting messier the more we refused to part and our hands getting more curious to get back to their avid exploration missions from earlier.

My hand was already descending between her thighs when Bella made an effort to speak under my mouth. "Make love to me again, Edward."

She didn't say anything else—she didn't need to, for I had been ready all along.

Several cries and wet explosions later, she managed to doze off once more. But our night of rabid insatiability didn't end there.

The second time around, it was me who got her to wake up, disregarding all hope of gentility when I pulled her from her dreams only to tell her that I could not last one second longer without tasting her again. Not thinking twice about it, Bella opened her legs wide, granting me full access to my favourite place in the world. I feasted on her pussy for a long time, compelled by the way her desire didn't seem to quieten down when she reached a new peak. No, it always seemed to return with a vengeance, and the only thing that was strong enough to hit pause on it was her human impossibility of staying awake through the night.

The dawn was barely starting to stain the sky with tiny splotches of pearly light when Bella's eyes opened again, instantly searching and meeting mine. We didn't even have to say anything this time, we simply knew. I rolled her over on her belly and climbed on top, entering her body in one fell swoop. I fucked her slowly and I didn't stop until her spent cunt overflowed with my venom and she cried out my name at the top of her lungs.

On and on it went, this never-ending night of blessings in which time dragged and stalled for us without asking for anything in return.

As the first rays of sun hit the meadow, finding our bodies and minds entwined, I was a new man. It felt like a monumental shift had occurred. Or perhaps it had always been like this and I had been too blinded by my own perspective to accept the weight of such an epiphany until now.

Regardless, I was pretty certain that the precise point where Bella's soul ended was also the point where my soul began.

May I offer you a cold glass of water after this chapter ;)?

As you got to see, Edward came to a very important realization after the night he spent with Bella—that he does, in fact, have a soul. For me, that realization was one of my favourite things to write about!

As always, your reviews are incredibly welcome. I love reading them and I love responding to them, they are the best reward EVER!

Until next Sunday, stay safe and happy!

Chapter Text

Hello, dears!

A special thank you to CoppertopJ for her amazing editing skills. A warning from her—you might need a fire extinguisher to get through this chapter!

And if you are sensitive to certain topics, there is a trigger warning at the end of the chapter.

Forgetting about Bella's human needs was something that usually never happened.

But as I got lost in the act of holding her close and guarding her tranquil sleep, I had also lost track of what the passing of time meant for her. It wasn't until she woke up with a panicked look on her face that I was reminded of her human fragility. She was more than a little flustered when she let me know that her bladder was full—and seconds later after that admission, her stomach growled with hunger, signaling yet another incoming necessity.

"This is embarrassing," she grumbled, hiding her face in the crook of my neck as if it was the most natural thing to do. "I'm sorry."

"Bella, you are only human, there is nothing embarrassing about that." A deep sigh followed on her end, while I waited for her to say something else. When I realized she had no plan of continuing—or coming out of her hiding—I found myself pulling her away gently, until my lips reached her forehead. "Come on, let's get you dressed."

There was a strange pleasure in the air as I helped Bella retrieve her clothes from the grass and put them back on. She was moving at a slower pace than usual, as if her limbs had forgotten how to function properly. It was endearing to observe her in these moments when she was so wonderfully vulnerable. She never even considered how my thirst was silently raging after having been forced into the background for so long, she simply trusted me enough to pay no mind to my nature—which was quite a good reason to keep my motivation of not hurting her intact.

As we left our meadow behind, I couldn't help but notice how calm the forest was—as if nature itself had its own way of marking this morning of improbabilities. With light sifting through the thin clouds and glazing us in its mellow embrace—offering some of Bella's strands an interesting hue of orange—I felt at peace with the world.

She accepted my offer to carry her down the mountain on my back, as she was no longer eager—or, at this point, capable—to show off her ability to hike. She held on to me so tightly that it would have easily suffocated me had I not been indestructible. Memories of carrying her like this in the past resurfaced, bringing along the reminder that she was not a fan of the speeds I could reach.

So I made a deliberate choice to keep a boring pace of fifty miles per hour. I felt held back, but I was happy to accept it if it meant more comfort for her.

As it turned out, fifty miles per hour was still far too fast for her.

"I love you, but you run like a complete maniac," Bella grumbled, leaning against the motorcycle for support, clearly a little dizzy after the ride. Now that we were back at the foothill of the mountain, the sun was hiding in the clouds above, bringing the usual earthy tones back to her hair.

I smiled, quietly learning that there wasn't a limit to how many times I could hear her telling me she loved me without my brain melting into a puddle. It happened so many times all throughout the night, yet here I was, in the late morning, my core as intensely ravaged by butterflies as the first time when I heard her utter those words.

Pleased, I leaned in to stroke her cheek with my fingers and stared her down. "That was me being slow, Bella."

"That was you almost giving me a heart attack."

"Far from me," I assured her, bringing my fingers down her chin and on her neck. Her pulse was maddeningly chaotic under my touch, picking up momentum with each nanosecond. "Your heart is the single most precious thing to me." Her breath hitched once I reached her clavicle, and so did mine. "It's my mission to protect it—at all costs."

The pools of her eyes deepened in the same way they did each time I professed my feelings for her last night—which was quite a lot of times. As always, I felt the irresistible pull to end any semblance of distance between us, because every inch that separated us was a sacrilege, a sin, a mistake that had to be remedied. I felt an acute sense of elation knowing that, unlike yesterday, I could listen to this instinct freely now, without having to torture myself with righteous justifications.

High on the feeling, I lowered my head right as she raised on her tiptoes, and our mouths met—hungry as jackals starving in the wild, not one bit satiated after everything that transpired between us.

"Edward." She uttered my name as soon as my lips traveled downwards to ravish her neck, rolling off her tongue so melodically that it sounded like music.

"Yes, love?"

"I wish this day could go on forever."

A smile blossomed at the corners of my lips as I moved them to the side of her throat. "It will. I'm coming home with you."

"And you're staying?"

"I can't imagine doing anything else."

With her house being completely empty, I couldn't find a single reason to return to my own.

Neither of us mentioned the obvious—that coming home with her was only possible because her fiancé was out of town, that his ring was still hiding in the back pocket of her jeans, that we officially ran out of convoluted excuses to explain that what we were doing wasn't cheating. For me, avoiding reality a little longer was a little more than a caprice. I wanted to have this morning with Bella without staining it with worries of any kind. There had been too much hurt, too much pain—for both of us—and I wasn't ready to go back to any of that. Not yet.

So with those thoughts safely tucked away, the ride to her house was a breeze. She held onto me tightly until I arrived and stopped the motorcycle in the driveway. A few cars passed us by as we got off, but the people inside them paid no mind to us—they were already caught in their own worlds, so far away from the one in which she and I lived.

Once inside the hallway of the house, I would have had no qualms about listening to the greedy part of myself that wanted to possess Bella again if I hadn't known that we had other priorities to take care of at first.

"What would you like for breakfast?" I asked, trying to keep a casual tone, as if such a question was normal for me. It hadn't been normal since I left Forks, yet I could clearly remember the summer when I went above and beyond to learn how to cook for her. I wasn't nearly as skilled as she was, but back then I managed to make quite a few meals that made her happy—and thanks to my infinite memory capacity, I remembered every ingredient list and every step.

"Oh, me?"

"Obviously you. I'd like to make sure your food is ready by the time you're done with your human moments."

A little frown wrinkled the space between her eyebrows as she pondered my offer. "Thank you, but you don't have to do this. Besides, it's not exactly your area of expertise, is it?"

"You're insulting me," I said, faking my indignation.

Bella rolled her eyes in stride. "You know what I mean. I can do it myself afterwards."

"Out of the question."

She sighed, undeniably unfamiliar with the idea of someone else taking care of her, but I saw the amused defeat in her eyes. "Fine then," she caved. "Scrambled eggs, please."

With that, she disappeared upstairs, miraculously not tripping over her own feet as she bolted.

I stood unmoved for a while, in disbelief of what was happening. For the past seven days, I had been so lost in my own confusion—so broken in my pursuit of trying to find the courage to leave—that being bombarded by such an immense amount of happiness seemed unreal. It made me question reality, as I kept looking for signs that this joy could shatter. And I could see the cracks, small and inconsequential, but nonetheless capable of disintegrating my world: Jacob's scent permeating the walls, the picture of him and her hanging on the wall, by the hanger, the metallic sound that the engagement ring made when Bella retrieved it from her pocket and placed it on the bathroom counter upstairs, right before turning on the shower. All of these things made up the irrefutable evidence that we were still so close to going off the deep end if we weren't careful.

With the weight of the night we spent together hanging on my shoulders, I knew that everything had changed. We were no longer dancing at the very edge of our feelings, we were peacefully aware of them—and of the fact that they were fully reciprocated.

Now that the truth was laid out on the table, it wasn't our love that scared me, but the possibility that coming to terms with it could be a dead end if we didn't make a mutual choice soon.

There weren't too many roads ahead for us. We could try and pursue the one road we were already familiar with—the one in which the nature of what she was remained unchanged. But the certainty that history would repeat itself, in one way or another, was daunting. I couldn't endure that kind of pain once more; but more than that, I didn't want to subject Bella to it ever again, not when I knew that true bliss was as impossible for her as it was for me when we were apart.

However, the other road… it was endlessly beguiling, but its darkness made me wary.

It would have been foolish to act as if I hadn't imagined it in the past—Bella, with skin as white as summer clouds and eyes as red as the inside of a rose. Bella, infrangible and undying. But the image of her longing for blood—begging for it, suffering for it—was torture. And yet… today was the first day in which I was finally as bold as to ask myself if going through that kind of torture was worth it. Even with the awareness of how selfish such a decision would be, I couldn't help myself. The temptation was too sweet, especially in the wake of the prodigious realization that I was not without a soul.

Because beyond the blackest parts of a vampiric existence, I knew now that there was also so much serendipitous light—not just flecks of luminescence barely gleaming in the night, but a flare so bright and unstoppable that I couldn't deny its power. There was more to the terrifying image of my Bella needing blood to sustain herself. As I looked deeper into it, I could see—just as clearly—the undeniable harmony that would come with the change. The promise of her being safe forever. The certitude of her being mine and me being hers until the end of time, with nothing getting in the way.

The blessing of having everything—as long as Bella paid for our happiness with her life.

Submerged in this state of rumination, I started moving again, finally heading to the kitchen. My task was simple enough, even if I hadn't done it in so long. I found butter and a carton of eggs in the fridge and I used my sense of smell to locate the salt and pepper in the cupboard. From that point on, I allowed my memory to take the lead as I started preparing the dish.

Upstairs, Bella was taking her time in the shower. A part of me felt particularly inclined to barge in because the mere thought of her being covered by a thin veil of hot water was rekindling all of my needs—after all, they were still so far from being fulfilled, even after hours of making love to her. But I compelled that part of me to be patient, wanting to offer Bella a much-deserved repose.

She remained in the bathroom long enough for me to toast some bread, find a small box of chamomile tea bags, and boil a pot of water.

Once everything was finished, I chose to sit down at the table and wait. The toasted bread and the scrambled eggs were precisely the right temperature and the tea was still steaming when Bella returned downstairs, with nothing but a towel wrapped around her body. I immediately noticed the fact that she was still not wearing her ring—a sight that thrilled me more than I was willing to let on.

We smiled as soon as our gazes touched.

"That smells incredible," she noticed. "And you made tea as well?"

"I figured you'd need some form of hydration."

I watched as Bella ignored the chair I was expecting her to sit on, endlessly content when she chose the much better option of sitting directly on my lap. It seemed like such an inconsequential thing, but to me, it was everything. I was fully in raptures, knowing that neither of us had any reasons to hold back now—at least not when we were alone. I circled her body with my arms and she leaned back, allowing her back to rest against my chest.

"So you enjoyed your shower?" I checked, while my lungs quietly filled with the formidable blaze of her fragrance.

"Mhmmm…"

With my lips and nose pressed to the top of her head, it was becoming more apparent that the week that passed since my last hunting—which happened to also be the time when I fell prey to the sin of tasting Bella's blood—was weighing down on me. There had been too many instances last night when I had to slow down purely because I was getting dangerously close to losing my last glimpse of control. There was something about the way the prohibited pleasure of Bella's blood made my need to fuck her go rabid—the connection between these two hungers was somewhat frightening. They both came from the deepest pits of my longing, yet satiating either one was impossible without rousing up the other to the extreme and going mad in the process.

I couldn't help but ask myself—was it normal? Was I normal?

The answers were a complete mystery to me. I theorized that the century I spent being uninterested in the idea of intimacy was the main culprit behind my difficulty in separating these two basic desires that battled within me. Their obsessive nature made them too similar on the surface, even if at their core they embodied two different beasts. Two different beasts that were somehow coexisting and thriving inside me, learning to dance together instead of consuming each other.

Bella made their existence that much more confusing when she leaned her head back to look up at me—revealing her throat in the process—and pushed her ass against the hardness in my pants.

I wanted to sink my teeth in her neck precisely as much as I wanted to make her ride me to a mutual orgasm right on this chair.

Conflicted, but aroused, I grabbed her hips and made her stop, keeping her ass pressed tightly against my erection.

"You need to eat," I reminded her.

"Do I really?"

From where she was sitting, it was incredibly easy for her to turn her head and reach the side of my neck. A second later, I felt her hot tongue on my skin, which caused my cock to throb.

I groaned, struggling to keep my focus. "Yes, you do. Unlike me, you need to recharge your batteries."

"But I want to do it later."

"No. You do it now."

With a petulant sigh, Bella gave up.

She had her breakfast right there, in the shelter of my embrace. It was difficult—but not entirely impossible—to keep my hands put while she ate. It was, after all, the only way to get her to really concentrate on her food. It took her less than ten minutes to finish everything. I was gently playing with her hair when she took one last sip of her tea.

"You're spoiling me," she hummed, the smile in her voice obvious.

"Not really, I'm just doing the bare minimum." I grabbed a handful of her hair and pushed it over her right shoulder, so that I could easily reach the left side of her neck with my lips. "I've been absent from your life long enough, I want to catch up."

Bella didn't contradict me, she just pushed her head to the side, offering me even better access to the elegant slant of her throat. I kissed her there, in love with how it made me ache to my core. My body tensed up, already on the brink of desperately needing another release.

Soon enough, I had her splayed out on the table, the towel that had been covering her now on the floor. With both of her legs resting on my shoulders and her breasts filling my palms to the brim, I was convinced that I was in heaven. At this point, I had learned quite a few things about what got her to lose herself completely—and one of them happened to be the way I allowed my cock to slide out of her pussy until only the tip was submerged, only to immediately thrust back inside, hard and deep, causing her body to tremble and melt into mine.

I didn't stop until we came together twice, making a wet mess on the dining table.

The first half of our day dragged in a beautiful haze, as we swung back and forth between fucking, having loving conversations, and basking in the occasional moments when words were futile. With neither conversation lasting too long—since we were constantly interrupting ourselves just to squeeze in another orgasm—we never really talked about anything too heavy.

But the more time we allowed to pass without addressing the obvious, the more restless my mind became.

The light of the day was still bright when I finally conceded defeat. We were on the couch and Bella was struggling to catch her breath after having ridden me for the better part of the last fifteen minutes. She was still on top of me, but I was no longer inside her. I could feel the amalgam of our liquids dripping slowly from her pussy, directly on my thigh, as proof that we were far from being done with each other.

"I really don't know how we've lived without this until now," she suspired, her head collapsing on my chest.

"Mmmmm, tell me about it."

"To be honest, I have no idea how I'll function tomorrow, at work. I'm pretty certain I need sex on an hourly basis now."

I smiled at her voraciousness, even if deep down my thoughts were swirling in a million directions. "I can get that arranged. The library does have a basement, correct?"

"It does." She chuckled lazily, the sound moving in pleasant waves across my chest. "With all the dust down there, it's not the most romantic place, but I don't care."

I didn't respond, I just wrapped one arm around her shoulders, wanting her closer. I could hear how her blood was still boiling in her veins, making my mouth water at the unspeakable fantasies that the noise evoked in me. It would have been so damn easy to roll us over, until Bella was underneath me, and make love to her again, in a bid to mask the thirst for a while.

But after denying our destiny for so long, I owed it to her—and to myself—to understand what kind of road awaited us.

Bracing myself, I tried to find the best way to begin. "Listen, I think there are some things we need to talk about."

"I was afraid you'd say that."

So I wasn't alone in my awareness of the big elephant in the room staring at us. "I don't want you to be afraid, love," I murmured and caressed her shoulder blades with the tips of my fingers, attempting to soothe her. "But I think it's important to know where we're at. Because this, right here… us… this is only possible because Jacob is not here. But he will return. Eventually."

"I know," she sighed. "It's not fair that I've been lying to him, he doesn't deserve it."

In the past few weeks, I had tried to find a saving grace in Jacob each time Bella brought him up—not because he deserved it, but because I wanted to respect and understand the choice she had made while I was away. But even I had my limits; and right now, the benefit of the doubt was no longer something I was willing to extend to him.

"I think he's mistreated you for long enough to justify a little lying on your part," I said, choosing to be more chivalrous with my words than I would have liked.

"I know how it seems, but it wasn't so bad."

"Look, I don't doubt that you had your reasons to stay with him, but nothing can excuse the way he's been acting towards you."

"Edward, I haven't exactly been a joy to be with either, trust me."

I shook my head, feeling an increasing sense of exasperation. I had heard excuses like that in the past—in the minds of women and men who had managed to invent and find countless flaws in them, just to account for the vile behaviour of their partners. There was a time when I didn't let those partners live for too long.

My hold on Bella tightened, as my mind reminded me of each instance in which Jacob overstepped her boundaries, each time he took her for granted, each time he made her cry.

"You are far too forgiving, but I can't be."

"Why does it even matter? I mean… it is what it is. He and I both made mistakes."

"It matters," I started, "because no one should dim your light like that. Not him, not me. No one."

She lifted her head from my chest to look up at me. The melancholy in her eyes took me by surprise. I could already feel my previous chagrin dissipating in a cloud of shame, but I wasn't quite sure what the new feeling taking its place was.

"You think it's so simple, don't you? Just this black and white picture, where what is wrong is so easily distinguishable from what is right." Bella sighed and I could tell she wasn't angry. Not one bit. "But trauma can tie some strange bonds between people. And for me and him, that was the very foundation of everything: just this endless pile of pain that we were learning to juggle and live with. It wasn't always pretty, but it was all we knew." She closed her eyes for a second, as if trying to suppress some unwanted memory. When she opened them again, I was already enraptured by their force. "Do you understand what I'm trying to say here?"

"I'm not sure I do," I confessed.

Another sad sigh. "All right, you know what? I think I need to show you something. Wait here."

I watched as she got up and sprinted across the room, her nude curves more pronounced in the light of the afternoon. Then she disappeared, only the sound of her footsteps on the stairs audible. Intrigued, I raised up from my lying position, passingly inhaling the delicious remnants of her perfume in the air.

Bella was back soon enough, this time carrying a crumpled manila envelope. I didn't get to analyze it properly, as the fact that she was still not wearing any clothes was distracting as ever.

"Do you remember that letter you found at your house? The one I told you to forget about?"

Not only did I remember it, but I could also recite its contents by heart, if she asked me to. "Of course I do," I answered.

"It wasn't the only letter. Well, it was the only one I had hoped would reach you, but when that didn't happen… I kind of started writing more, except that the new letters were never meant to see the light of day. They were mostly another coping mechanism, just… just something I wrote every once in a while, to get things off my chest."

She made a few steps forward and I opened my arms invitingly. She didn't hesitate when she sat down, snuggling herself into a ball against my bare torso. Once settled, she handed me the envelope. I studied it carefully, observing how certain wrinkles seemed to be deeper than others.

"Where did you keep this?"

"In the drawer by my desk, under a pile of biology notebooks."

Fleetingly, I was reminded of the day when Bella sprained her ankle—the day when our paths crossed again. Before that day ended, I remembered how I listened in complete confusion to the sounds of her suspiring, while paper rustled in the background. Was that the reason why? Was she writing another letter?

With hesitant movements, I opened the envelope, taking out the stack of papers inside it and studying their edges. Most of them had a slightly yellow hue on the surface, signaling that they were no longer young and fresh, but there were exceptions too.

I felt like I was intruding on sacred grounds.

"Bella… are you sure?"

"Yes, I am."

I carefully separated the first paper from the rest and dared to glance at it. There was no date on it, only Bella's messy handwriting scattered all over the surface.

With my heart so heavy I could have sworn it was struggling to beat again, I began to read.

"Edward,

I gave up. Giving up is the smart thing to do sometimes, right?

My birthday was not the worst thing in the world—not when I compare it to the one I had last year. As soon as I woke up, I started doubting that you would miraculously appear. By the time I had lunch, I had already lost my hope completely. Why did I ever think you would show up?

I feel like an idiot for not knowing how to let go of you when it was so obviously easy for you to do the same with me. If time is meant to heal all wounds, I'd like a refund, because my heart is very much in the same state that it was when you left. I've definitely learned to be better at hiding it, especially after Charlie and Reneé died, but that hardly makes a difference when I am alone at night with my thoughts.

It was a little better when Jacob spent the night here, after my birthday. He didn't exactly chase the ghosts away, but he got them to be quiet for long enough so that I could sleep, which is more than I could ask for. So I figured… this must be it. Maybe I can't shut your memory off, but I can lower its volume enough to learn to live again. It's not ideal, but it's all I've got.

It's probably why I let Jacob kiss me yesterday. I know he wanted to do it for a long time, but the timing was never right. So if not now, when I'm actively trying to conceal your memory, then when? At least now I know that when he kisses me, if I keep my eyes shut tight it gets dark enough to remind me of your lips and hands finding me in the night and for once not letting go.

This could work. I think."

I read the letter twice, allowing each word to incinerate my brain without mercy—it was what I deserved for how I pushed Bella into the most debilitating pain that a soul could endure. She felt so frail in my arms right now that I couldn't imagine how she ever managed to survive long enough for me to find my way back to her.

She refused to look when I pulled the second letter from the pile, choosing instead to turn around slightly and trail a soft path of kisses along my shoulder. Her kisses felt like liquid ice as I went through the second heartbreaking letter.

"Edward,

It's a little insane that I am addressing you as if you'd somehow be able to read this, but it makes me feel as if the part of you that once cared still exists somewhere, even if I cannot reach it. And in a way, it's nice to pretend that we're at least friends, if nothing else.

It's been a strange couple of months. Jacob moved in with me and I'm still getting used to it. I had not realized how much he's relying on drinking just to get through the day. I try not to pester him about it, because I know he's been through a lot after his mother's death and people cope with tragedy in different ways. But that doesn't change how sad it makes me to see him like this. I wish I could do something that would make a difference for him, but most of the time I'm barely holding on for myself.

In a weird, dysfunctional way, it works sometimes—when Jake is buzzed, I think he doesn't judge me as harshly for having loved you so obsessively. I don't know if I would go as far as to affirm that he understands, but the look in his eyes tells me that he is willing to accept it as part of my past. Maybe he's more confident, now that we are together—or maybe he's reconciled himself to believe that nothing is ever completely perfect.

These days, when the weight of everything gets too heavy and I can no longer suppress my tears, I can't tell why I'm even crying. Am I crying because of you? Am I crying because my parents died a most preventable death? Or am I crying because I can see how easy it would have been to be with Jacob, if only someone erased all memories of you? I wouldn't know, truthfully. But I've stopped trying to find the answer, because I don't know how it will help.

I hope I can heal enough to offer Jacob enough love to make him happy—he's already given me so much by not leaving me alone when anyone else would have done it just to get rid of the headache. I really don't think there is someone out there other than him who would be willing to tolerate half of the baggage I'm carrying.

Lately I've been thinking that if our souls bleed for long enough, there'll come a point when there is nothing left and the path behind us is no longer tainted red.

Until that happens, there is no escaping you."

I gazed at the paper, understanding everything she didn't know how to express out loud and feeling all the more guilty for it.

When I abandoned Bella, I had not only killed the only love that the two of us ever wanted—I had also forced her to find a new type of love and accept it for what it was, toxicity and all. It was no wonder that she was so ready to show Jacob clemency. For all his faults, he kept her afloat after I almost drowned her. And like a poisoned chalice, his love provided enough leverage to keep her grounded, but also enough bane to slowly wither her.

"Oh, Bella…" Her lips trembled on my neck when she heard my afflicted tone. "I'll never forgive myself for this."

"Don't say that," she protested softly, pulling away to look up at me. "I don't want you to punish yourself anymore. I think you've done that enough." My eyes flickered between her face and the letter in my hand. "But I don't want you to hang on to Jacob's misdeeds so much either, because it'll bring us nowhere."

"You're asking me to ignore it," I whispered. "Do you have any idea how difficult that is? Especially knowing how he hurt you…"

"I'm not asking you that. I think… I think I'm asking you to make peace with the past and see the obvious silver lining."

"Which is?"

"As difficult as it is to accept it, I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him. No chance for this…" Bella found a way to cling even tighter to me, rotating in my embrace until she managed to straddle my hips with her thighs. In response, I placed the stack of letters by my side—saving them for later—and wordlessly encouraged her to get closer, until the wet folds of her pussy glided over the tip of my cock and across its length. She moaned, but managed to keep her composure. "No chance for you and me, because I would've been long dead." I saw the silent despair in her irises at the mere mention of that scenario and felt it making its way into my bones. "I'd say whatever trouble preceded this is more than worth it to me."

"Hmmm." I smiled bitterly, using my hands to move the curtain of hair away from her breasts, so that I could admire their immaculate shape in peace. "Between the two of us, I thought that being masochistic was my métier."

"Then you don't know how much I'm willing to suffer for you."

"Oh, no, I know. Not that I'll give you the chance to prove it again though."

I saw a familiar spark flashing across her face and I quickly recognized it, because her eyes glimmered in the same way when I made love to her for the first time and admitted between thrusts that I had no plans to abandon her ever again. "That can only happen if you leave," she breathed the words fearfully. "So, I need to know—do you… do you really mean that?"

"Bella… how do I explain this to you? If push comes to shove, there are a million torturous things I would rather do instead." I grabbed her face between my palms and she ground her hips forward, teasing her highly tender clitoris against my cock. The intensity of the feeling—of how we managed to slowly lose our minds without yet fucking—got my already perfervid thoughts to combust. "Running straight into fire? I would do it. Throwing myself into a burning volcano? I'd be damned if I wouldn't do it in a heartbeat. Allowing myself to be ripped apart? I wouldn't even think twice about it. But being without you again? Now that is true death for me. Not oblivion, not hell, but life without you. And I'm not choosing that path ever again, as long as you want me."

"It's easy then," she smiled. "I want you. Forever."

I wanted to return her smile, but couldn't—not when the reminder of what forever meant rang so loudly in my head, a song as sweet as it was petrifying.

"Even if the price is your life," I stated, my voice cracking.

Bella's voice, however, had never sounded more secure. "Yes. I want to die for you."

I was spellbound by her raw admission—how unapologetic it sounded, but specifically what it meant for our future. In a way, it was what she had always wanted—making the utmost sacrifice, as long as it ensured our love could continue undisturbed into eternity—but I was only understanding it now, after we had already gone through hell and back. It was too late to prevent all the suffering, but not too late to turn things around.

"And then… live for you," she continued passionately. Her heat was rising rapidly, cloaking me in its wonderful prison. I was so smitten with what was happening, I had to grab her ass and force her grinding to come to a halt, just so that I could get back an ounce of control over my desire. She stopped, but her flesh was still trembling from head to toe and her clit was pulsing against the base of my erection. "But that can only happen if I die at your hands first."

She made it sound so seductive, as if ending her life and offering her a new one had the potential of being an endlessly pleasurable affair. Truthfully, the certitude that my teeth would need to be buried gum-deep into her throat in order for that to happen was… arousing in a way that made me feel ashamed.

I swallowed the superfluity of venom in my mouth before speaking again, but the way my cock twitched still gave me away. "And you are not scared at all." It wasn't really a question, more of an attempt to confirm out loud that my understanding was faultless. "Of the pain… the unknown… the intolerable thirst."

"Nothing can scare me when I am with you."

Her reassurance was a beautiful thing, but it didn't soothe the nightmares I had spent so long crafting inside my head—nor the ones that were completely realistic and important to consider.

"You may not be scared, but I am," I confessed, moving my hands from her buttocks to her waist, then her neck. I could feel how fragile it was under my palms, like fresh sea foam against the frigid rigidity of millennia-old cliffs. Much like the rest of her body, it inflamed both the monster and the man inside me, getting them to lament and roar at the fate I was subjecting them to on an incessant basis.

"Why?"

"You want me to be the one to do it," I reminded her. "But you have to understand I've never done this before. Nothing remotely close. And the fact that I know what I have to do in theory doesn't change the fact that practice itself is completely new territory for me. Changing you would… it would inevitably mean to have your blood on my tongue again. Not just a drop, not just a drizzle, but a guzzling, continuous flow." I gaped at her neck, imagining how it would look after I would allow my teeth to rip through it. Its white smooth surface destroyed. Blood splattered all over it, barely getting to coagulate before I licked it all away. I tried to blink that image away, choosing to focus on her face instead. "Do you have any idea what that would do to my mind? Any semblance of logic, of reason, of command over my own actions—they would all crumble. Stopping myself from doing the worst thing in the world would be a game of chance at that point."

"But… quite recently you found a way to stop. Remember?"

She blushed upon mentioning the memory, the pinkish glow permeating her skin in the most delectable manner. It was impossible to forget, considering that my eyes still bore small flecks of red inside them. "Bella, that is incomparable."

"Maybe, but it was a first. A successful first, actually. And I know you never wanted to talk about it after it happened, but… you liked it. I mean… really liked it, in more ways than one. You came all over me."

The recollection of my biggest depravity got me to grunt—and visualize once more the one part that I truly loved about that memory. "You came too, sweetheart. Hard."

Now that she was no longer held in place by me, she started undulating her hips again, seeking more friction for her overstimulated clit. We were both struggling to keep a normal breathing pace, as we watched each other with renewed hunger.

"Do you want to know what I'm thinking?" she heaved.

I finally let go of her neck and lowered my face to her breasts and started to draw shapes around her nipples with my mouth, aching to sink and drown in all that softness. "Always."

"I'm thinking… we should try that again. And again. And again. Until it no longer scares you."

Properly scandalized, I removed myself from my happy place, so that I could see if she was joking or not. However, there was no playfulness in her features. She was flushed from the increasing excitement, that much was obvious, but her intentions were completely serious.

I shook my head, fighting the thirst. "With all due respect, my love, you are insane."

"Being insane is better than being delusional. You know there are ways around it. A small enough cut would be a great starting point for you to drink my blood without hurting me."

"Bella, I can't fathom doing this to you. It's wrong."

"Why would it be, when we both want it so much?"

"Because you are not my prey. Not to mention that if I slip—"

"If you slip, I die for good," she stated matter-of-factly. "But I trust you won't let that happen." She bit her lower lip for a short second before allowing the rest of her argument out. "And as far as I'm concerned, I know I can't possibly be your prey if you had to do none of the usual hunting to get me. I'm here. I'm yours. Not because you tricked me or because I couldn't outrun you. I am yours because I want to be."

The way Bella was handing me her destiny, not caring one bit what happened to it once I got a hold of it—or rather having the faith that I would hand it back to her unscathed—was humbling me to pieces. In moments like these, I had this odd conviction that she knew me better than I had ever known myself.

I peered at her breasts again, noticing how the lattice of veins underneath lured me with its movement. Each inhale made her blood boil, while each exhale brought its essence deeper into my lungs and drove me closer to perdition.

How could I even pretend to deny the obvious? I wanted this. I wanted this badly. It was the first thing I ever wanted from her—the primal need that pulled me into this universe of loving her without ever stopping. And even with the fierce nature of this craving, Bella was still here. Alive. Safe. Mine.

Maybe I was stronger than I was giving myself credit for.

"Damn, you're such a stubborn little thing, aren't you?" I grumbled, even though my defeat was obvious.

"Only because you've got a gift for denying what we both want."

That was true—although the past day, along with all the weeks spent in Forks, had been more or less a pivotal lesson in learning how wrong I had been on that front all along.

I felt Bella's weight shift, as she made sure the head of my cock was nestled at the very entrance of her dripping cunt. I had to get a hold of her ass and keep her steady again, unsure if I could focus on feasting on her and fucking her at the same time. I didn't have many limits left, but this one seemed crucial for my mission of keeping her in one piece.

With my eyes sealed on hers, I started to embrace the inevitability of what I was about to do. "Do I seem like a man who would deny you anything?" I asked, pleased with how flustered my question made her—enough to get her to forget to answer. "You have got me utterly and completely obsessed with you." While I said those words, I leaned in to nestle my face in the side of her neck. Her perfume was inviting me to abandon all logic—and for once, that seemed like a reasonable crime to commit. "Addicted to you." I breathed her in, a flood of butterflies slowly replacing the neurons in my brain. "And God, so in love with you my mind might just crumble."

A happy sigh fled her lips and I felt her fingers getting lost in my hair. "Then own me, Edward. In every way."

My conscience danced in elation at her request, still scuffling to process the idea that tasting Bella's blood at my own volition didn't have to come wrapped in so many layers of fear and guilt. There was a good reason why she was putting all of her trust in me—and for me, that was the most powerful motive to ensure that she remained safe through the madness of what I had agreed to do.

Drunk on the promise of tasting heaven, I pulled back to look at her.

She is here. She is safe. She is here.

I repeated those words to myself like a mantra, training my mind to absorb them, to become one with them.

"Where, love?" I demanded to know.

She understood what I meant. "Anywhere. Every inch of my skin is as much yours as it is mine."

There was a solemn commitment in her features when she said that, which made my love and devotion for her grow and expand beyond the confines of my body, reaching to find shelter in hers. Did she realize that she was giving me everything? Could she see how the ecstasy of what we were doing got me to exult?

I surveyed her immaculate skin, longing to see the blood seep out from it. Her throat seemed like the obvious choice, but at the same time I didn't want to leave a mark in a place that could so easily be spotted by Jacob as soon as he returned. Then there were her collarbones—as enticing as ever, but also too obvious of a spot.

I found my answer lower down her body, where the highly vascularized tissue of her breasts invited me in.

With my right hand, using the lightest touch, I traced their round contours, feeling their pulse coming to life. My cock ached at the deviant idea, while my beastly instincts reacted by sending a fresh surge of venom down my tongue.

"Here," I whispered, hypnotized. "Here's where I want."

I ended up tracing a circle around her left nipple, sensing that this motion got Bella to become a little too excited not to stir. The one hand that I still had on her bottom squeezed her flesh, coaxing her to remain still. She stopped moving, but I could feel her juices dribbling in a thick stream all over my erection, as direct proof of how my actions were affecting her. It would have been so easy to enter her body now…

"Yes," she agreed. "There."

My eyes found their way back home—staring right into hers. Nothing could go wrong here, in their deep wells.

She is here. She is safe. She is here.

Slowly enough, the index finger that was busy dancing in circles stopped its rotation, finally focusing on a single precious spot located two inches above Bella's erect nipple. I hesitated, wanting to make this as painless as possible for her. She didn't seem scared—but then again, her skin was still intact.

"I need you to remain still," I told her. "Can you do that for me?"

She nodded and the fingers she had in my hair stopped their frolicking. "Anything for you."

Trusting her to comply, the palm that was still on her ass climbed up on her back, stopping only when it reached the nape of her neck.

At this precise moment, being thrown into a fire and being force-fed with embers would have hurt less than the flaming hot sensation that the thirst created within me. Somehow, the intensity of this need managed to double in the time it had taken me to make a definite choice.

And for once, I could see the grand escape from the conflagration.

My eyes never left Bella's when I allowed my nail to pierce through her skin. Her strained breaths mirrored mine perfectly, overlapping in such a way that I could no longer tell them apart—and then, at once, they stopped, right as I felt the tip of my thumb getting drenched in liquid warmth.

Enraptured, I looked down and was instantly smitten at the sight of her blood making its way out of the thin slit left behind by my nail. Red, perfect, and entirely mine to possess.

We started breathing again—and from that point on nothing was ever the same.

There was no hiding my true nature once the spectacle of her blood commenced. All of my senses were called into action, as my mind and body worked in unison to drown me into a frenzy. I couldn't decide what I adored more, because I was simply overwhelmed beyond capacity. Maybe the elegant texture? The splendid vermillion shade? The ethereal scent?

Or the fact that this was the first time when I was going to truly indulge myself?

If I had to be honest, it didn't really matter all that much when I leaned in and glued my mouth to Bella's left nipple—away from the paper-thin gash, where my venom would have easily slipped in—collecting the ribbon of blood that had already drizzled down on it. Heaven moved in that instant from its place high above in the sky and settled directly on my tongue, where my taste buds met her blood and kneeled in front of its undeniable perfection.

I had tasted it before, but it made no difference. Experiencing it a thousand different times wouldn't have prepared me for how insanely and devilishly luscious it was—even more powerful than the fragrance it created, even sweeter than my memories of it. Unlike anything in this world, it was a source of nourishment in which purity and sin accompanied each other in eerie harmony.

In any other circumstance, I would have been mortified by the profane, uninhibited groans that started spilling out of me, but not now. Not when the only one who could hear them was Bella. I had no more secrets, nor a single drop of shame left to share with her. There was an unexpected freedom flowing through my system, encouraging me to keep going. Like never before, I was myself all the way—and God, it felt right.

Riding this fantastic high, I swallowed and moved my tongue around, already feeling a new flaming stream of Bella's life landing on it. She moaned too and pulled on my hair, but otherwise remained unmoved, just like I had asked.

I, however, wasn't as well-behaved.

My hands were impatient and unable to withstand the urgency of wanting to drink and fuck and possess so badly. Attempting to find a cure for their anguish, I allowed myself to grab Bella's thighs and make them press even tighter against my hips. I didn't have enough time to ponder if I had been too harsh, because more blood trickled down my throat. At once, it managed to paralyze the fiery pain that had been plaguing it and bring peace over the vast garden of guilt where my mind usually rested.

In what was a complete turn of events for me, I realized that what I was doing was far from an act of preying. It was as much an act of love as everything else I had ever done for Bella. Feeding on her—as I was learning—was slowly obliterating the one impediment that had been driving a wedge between us from the moment our worlds collided.

I tried to domesticate my thirst in so many ways in the past few years—so convinced that leaning into it would have meant losing the battle—that I missed the obvious. Befriending the wild animal was ultimately better than keeping it locked away in a cage and denying its every howl, as that strategy meant that I was constantly one mistake away from ruining my entire fate. However, this unlikely friendship offered me the chance to prove that I could rise above the worst parts of myself—and even find a way to not let them govern me. But more than that, it allowed me to connect with my beloved in a manner so profound, so intimate, that it felt as if the thread tethering us as mates was ready to give birth to a new universe altogether.

Just like Bella wished, I was owning her. But just as equally, she was owning me—showing me that even now, as I was fulfilling this most dangerous fantasy, she was safe and happy in my darkness.

Absorbing this epiphany, I blissfully drank and drank and drank, all reason abandoned and fully replaced by the infinitely stronger force of my love.

Time was no longer a concept that I understood when my lips finally retreated and my index finger pressed against the wound to stop the bleeding. I felt so young and so old at the same time, suddenly unsure of my own age, and I was convinced that our souls had met long before we did.

With so many new certainties taking root in me, I knew what my destiny was.

Bella wasn't going to die. Ever. Not if I had any say in the matter.

"I'll change you," I said, once I licked the last drop of blood from my lips. My mouth continued to aimlessly move on her skin, arriving at the base of her neck.

"Right now?" Her voice was low, but it brimmed with eagerness. She was as ready as I was—truthfully, she had been ready all along, it was me who needed to catch up.

"No." I kissed the side of her throat lovingly. "Not right now."

"All right. When?"

There was one more loose end we had to take care of—the last hurdle before our forever, but quite possibly the most difficult for her, since it involved deliberately breaking a heart in half.

But it had to be done.

"After we tell Jacob about us."

Remember how I said from the beginning that this story will also lead to some bloody vampy goodness? Well... here we are, at long last :).

Although things might look well right now for Edward and Bella, there are still plenty of troubles waiting ahead, especially with Jacob's return getting closer and closer. I'm excited to know your thoughts on this chapter!

Also, a quick heads-up: there will be a bit of a delay in posting the next few chapters. I've got some big things happening in my life that will be keeping me busy for a while. But don't worry—I'll still be working hard to get the chapters up as soon as I can, because I love working on this story more than I can explain in mere words (the grip that these characters have on me is STRONG). I hope you can understand.

Until next time, I've got a really special concept video prepared that I will be sharing in my Facebook group, " Twilight fanfics: NightBloomingPeony & friends corner". I also post visual teasers for each chapter there, so if you are not already a member, you are welcome to join the fun!

Until next time, stay safe and happy!

TRIGGER WARNING: If graphic scenes containing blood are not your vibe, proceed carefully when reading the second half of the chapter.

Chapter Text

Hello and happy holiday season, dears! I hope the festive season brings you plenty of reasons to smile.

I want to start by expressing my heartfelt gratitude for your patience. I appreciate your understanding and hope you can forgive me for the long wait. This spring, when I began posting "In Kismet's Grace", I had no way of knowing that the summer would bring an avalanche of unforeseen challenges that took a toll on my mental health. Your kind messages have been such a comfort to me during this time, so thank you for that!

I have since turned my life around in many good ways. Along the way, I've regained the energy and passion to continue writing this story that means so much to me. I cannot stress enough that I've never once considered abandoning it—the characters and their arcs hold a very, very special place in my heart. While I may not be able to commit to weekly updates as I once did, please rest assured that I am fully committed to completing this journey.

So if you're still with me, thank you from the bottom of my heart :).

In the previous chapter, Edward and Bella returned to her house after rekindling their love in the meadow. Bella revealed that she had written letters to him during his absence, pouring out her feelings into words. Moved by her letters, Edward finally surrendered to his instincts and, at Bella's request, drank her blood. The experience deepened his love and commitment to her, and he realized he could never live without her again. In a moment of profound clarity, he promised to change her into a vampire after they tell Jacob the truth.

So let's see what happens now, shall we?

After the initial frenzy of drinking Bella's blood subsided, I was so overcome by the excitement of what I had done—but specifically of what I had promised her—that I fucked her for two hours straight afterwards, only stopping to go down on her or to watch my cock disappear in her welcoming mouth. It was beyond remarkable how she didn't seem to need much rest—her human body proved able to handle a lot more than I had initially expected.

And just as remarkable, but in a different way, was the fact that her scent was no longer a curse stalking my every train of thought. Now that her blood was actively flowing through my system, I could savour its bouquet without my senses boiling over. Of course, I still wanted more of it, but the urgency—the maniacal desire to consume it—was nowhere in sight.

Our minds were still riding the wave of euphoria left behind by all the rabid sex and my blood-drinking when, after having come inside her depths again, I stopped moving, wanting to cherish the way she was still spasming all around my cock. The fusion between my venom and the excessive wetness of her orgasm felt like warm velvet as it seeped out from her pussy onto my balls.

I gazed down at Bella, a part of me quietly wondering how I could ever be so damn lucky. I wasn't some saint—hell, I was not even an objectively good person—but somehow I had everything. She held my gaze for a long time, as she tried to regain control over her breaths—something that appeared to be distinctly difficult. Our bodies were still connected, on the thin edge between taking a break and starting over again with a vengeance.

"You know, I've never seen your eyes like this," she observed in the end. "There's so much red in them…" A small smile flowered on her face right as I was getting ready to decipher her true feelings, thus answering my question before I got to ask it. "I absolutely adore them."

"You do?"

"Mhmmm…" Bella sighed longingly when she felt me thrusting again—a slow, deep thrust, to assuage our pleasant interlude. "Because it means you are satisfied at long last. Well, as satisfied as you can be… I know you probably need way more than what I could give you."

"My love… you gave me precisely the right amount." I sheltered her cheeks in my palms as I retreated slowly from her body, only to push back deeper when she ground her hips upwards, seeking the union further. "Certainly enough to keep me sated. Of course, I'll always want more, but that's the greed in me speaking. And neither you nor I should listen to that particular monster."

"But I want to give you more. So much more. As much as I possibly can."

Pretending that I was not swayed by her confession would have been an unavailing effort. Here we were, bound in every way possible, and she still wanted to climb even higher up into the fabric of my being—and I wanted her to do it, just like I wanted to do the same with her. "Make no mistake, you will," I promised. "When you heal."

Our conversation easily dissolved into another round of making love—this was quickly turning into an addiction, as I had always expected would happen.

Not that I minded.

Eventually, the evening started weaving its threads through the thick windows of the house and I was reminded of the fact that this was usually the hour she preferred to have dinner.

We were in the kitchen—Bella enjoying a sandwich I had put together for her, while I silently read through the rest of her letters—when the unpleasant reality decided to knock us over.

Her phone started ringing, cutting through our peaceful silence.

A cold shiver ran down my spine when she picked it up from the table with trembling hands and I heard Jacob's voice on the other side, but I kept my composure.

This was the first time the two of them were talking since she and I dropped everything to visit our meadow. So much had changed in the meantime that it felt fantastically bizarre to hear another man using words like honey and baby to address my mate. My mate, alongside whom I had been fulfilling fantasy after fantasy and dream after dream in the past day. My mate, whose blood now flowed through both of us and whose cunt was dripping with my cum as she sat naked on the chair by my side. My mate, who would soon bear my venom in her veins.

My love, my angel. Not his honey, nor his baby.

I tried not to pry too much into their conversation, pouring my attention into the letter I had in my hands, more specifically the second paragraph—although I had re-read it so many times in the thirty seconds it had taken Jacob to greet Bella and tell her how much he missed her that I knew it by heart.

"I think I missed laughing the most. He's good at making me laugh. And it honestly doesn't require an awful lot for my days to be acceptable when he's around. Just a day at the beach or a ride into the sunset on our motorcycles and life feels substantially easier to go through. It even feels—dare I say?—worth living. Spending time with him makes my mind dissociate in a way that might not be healthy if you were to ask a professional, but at least it makes me feel hopeful."

I digested those words, deeply sorrowful over the mental image of Bella accepting a kind of happiness that offered her so much less than she deserved. Struggling, I continued.

"The days we spend at the beach are my favourite. Jacob is at his happiest there. I know that he needs solace just as much as I do, even if he needs it for different reasons. He never drinks on the days when we go there, so I try my best to make sure we do that at least three times a week.

That beach is also doing wonders for me, to be honest. When we are there, it feels more natural to kiss him. To let myself be wrapped in his embrace. Some days I even crave him to do it. After all, La Push is the only place in this hell hole that is not tainted with memories of you. I can go there without feeling the weight of your absence pressing so hard on my shoulders."

I was usually great at concentrating on several things at once, but Jacob's voice in the background was so annoyingly distracting that the words carved into paper were becoming harder and harder to process. Distraught as I was, I placed the letter on top of the pile waiting for me on the table.

Bella's eyes were already on me when I looked her way.

"Anyway, I was thinking we should make a trip to Port Angeles next week," he began, "and see that movie about the rat. Seth told me it's pretty good."

"Yes, we could do that."

"Throw in some dinner and it's a date."

"We'll see."

She was being evasive and I could tell that she wasn't feeling comfortable. Her heart was beating so fast it almost overrode the sound of their conversation. Wanting to help her calm down, I pulled her chair closer to where I was and grabbed her away from her spot, offering her a new seat on my lap.

"You're usually more excited about these things," he noticed.

"I know, it's just that today was such a long day and… I'm tired."

"Then you better find your energy for when I get back, baby."

She rested her head on my chest, sighing before she talked again. "I will, don't worry."

"So, listen… I know I've been a pain in the ass about this throughout the last week, but I have to know, so bear with me. You're still keeping your distance from him, right?"

My fingers moved in small circles on her skin while she talked. "Yes, Jake, I am."

"And he hasn't tried to contact you again? Not once?"

Her heart was pounding at full speed now, clearly bracing for another lie. "Not even once."

"Good. He was getting way too close."

He couldn't even comprehend how close. I kissed the top of her head with great care, patiently waiting as their discussion slowly, awkwardly, finally died. After she hung up, we sat in silence for a while.

She was the first to talk.

"I wish I could teleport there and break up with him right this second," she muttered. "He needs to know."

"We'll do it together," I reminded her. "After he's back."

"I don't know if he'll like that."

"You need to consider that he will get mad either way. I don't trust his temper, so I'd much rather be there when it happens, in case he gets out of hand."

"He wouldn't hurt me."

"Bella, your safety is everything to me, so that's one chance I'm not willing to take."

She didn't contradict me on that, but it was obvious that her mood had taken a hit.

As the evening stretched its tendrils all over the house, we found ourselves back on the sofa, with Bella taking a nap in my arms. I was reading the remaining letters, making sure to soak up as much information from them as I could.

While I read, I learned more things.

I learned that there had been better times in her relationship with Jacob—times she clung to too tightly for the sake of her mental sanity. Late evenings spent at the beach, quiet nights watching a movie, him enjoying the meals she prepared—simple things, but enough to get her to dream of a world in which loving him all the way was actually within reach.

But there were so many contradictions in her writing too; for each long-winded paragraph about how their relationship was growing into something better, there was always a paragraph at the end of it all in which the memories she had of me managed to cast a shadow of doubt over her life. And sometimes, vague trails of fantasies she once had of me also made their way into the letters. Still, the acute fear of loneliness, coupled with the sentiment that she owed it to Jacob to stay with him after the way he managed to keep her afloat after my leaving, made for quite an easy decision when he asked her to marry him.

The words she used to describe that sent me on a new path of pain: "There was nothing left for me if I said no. It would have broken his heart, but also mine. It's not worth it to go through all that trouble when saying yes is so simple".

That was a deeply sad conclusion and it made me hold Bella a little tighter in response. She felt so incredibly precious and I couldn't possibly forgive myself for what I did to her—not even now after she had already offered me the gift of absolution. But in a way, I was also content, because having her safe in the home of my embrace meant that she would never know that kind of suffering again, as long as I had a say in it.

For better or for worse, my mistakes had taught me the lesson of a lifetime.

The last letter was the only letter she wrote after my return. The first few words alerted me that she wrote it on the same day when she and I met again.

My mind quickly flipped through recent memories, bringing forward one that never held much significance—until now. It was a memory from the day when I collected a wounded Bella from the forest floor and brought her back inside, to safety. That night, she told Jacob she was too tired and that she needed to go to sleep early. However, as soon as she was alone in the bedroom, the sound of paper rustling became obvious.

It intrigued me then, but I never would have guessed the actual reason behind those sounds.

"Edward,

I saw you today—which is impossible. Unreal. A dream.

But at the same time, it isn't—and I don't know if I should be thrilled or scared.

I don't understand how or why, but you were here. It's like you materialized from the depths of my conscience just for the hell of it. I touched your face and you felt real. And then I was in your arms and I couldn't remember the last time my emotions had been so out of sync with my mind.

Because a part of me wanted to confront you properly, to ask you every question you had left unanswered on the day you decided to abandon me. But another part was so impossibly thrilled by your touch, your face, your presence. So thrilled that I realized I didn't have it in me to be as firm as I would have liked to be.

It didn't matter anyway, because you disappeared before I got the chance to properly comprehend what was happening. In a stupid, nonsensical way, it feels as if you've found all of my letters, read them, and decided not to spend another minute by my side since you knew just how warped my mind had become. Otherwise, why would you have left so quickly, as if lingering just a little longer would have ruined your day?

I've been thinking all day about you and it's driving me crazy. I want to know if we're going to see each other again. If this meeting stirred you as much as it stirred me. If I should even tell Jacob about you—he knows more than enough about what you meant to me, so would he be upset about this chance encounter? Would he even believe me if I told him how you managed to find me? I'm not entirely sure I believe it myself, although I don't see why you would lie to me.

God, my mind is a mess right now. I wish there was a way to reach you. If this stupid ankle worked, I wouldn't have thought twice about driving all the way to your old home to see if you were there. But as it is, I'm stuck.

I want to see you again, even if I have no idea what I would tell you if we were face to face. I guess that after writing all these letters to you, I almost feel like we're friends now, so I am hoping things won't be too awkward. It sounds delusional, but I think there was this writer whose name I can't remember who was convinced that no human is happy without a delusion of some kind. I'd be happy if my delusion was you.

So I could be your friend, if you let me.

But I'm so scared I might also want more—not that I would ever tell you that… or do anything about it if it happened. And not that it matters anyway, since you've disappeared.

Again."

Pure confusion radiated from each sentence—a confusion that I knew now had its roots in the splintered fragments of her longings. I felt like a total fool, no longer understanding how I had ever managed to convince myself that she would be able to get over me. It was so obvious now, when I was no longer blinded by the fatuous conviction that I knew what was best for her.

After reading the letter enough times, I ended up letting go of it, returning it to the pile that was now on the floor, and sensing that an important piece of the puzzle of my love's mind had been found. My movement had been deliberately smooth, but somehow it managed to startle Bella enough to get her to shift slightly and awake with a lazy sigh.

"Sorry," I whispered, kissing the top of her head. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Mhmmm… have I been asleep for long?"

"Not longer than two hours."

She stretched, her form soft and pleasant against my bare skin. "Just two hours? I feel… weirdly rested."

"You should go back to sleep, it's getting late."

"How late?"

"Only two hours left until midnight."

Bella huffed. "That's nothing. I'm not an amateur."

"Never would've thought you were. But I expect you to need plenty of sleep after a day like this."

"Well, good, because I just got my fill."

She repositioned herself until her lips reached mine. I kissed her without much thought, eager to inundate my senses with her taste. My thirst simmered, but didn't boil over. Unlike before, I felt fully in control of it now, as our mouths moved languidly together. It couldn't wreck me—not while the miracle of Bella's blood was circulating through my limbs, soothing and reassuring me in unspeakable ways.

"At this rate, this day might just go on forever, as you wished," I offered, once my lips ventured sideways, to find her earlobe.

"That sounds like my idea of heaven."

She made beautiful little noises as my kisses traveled along her neck, down her shoulders, over her clavicles—and then, at long last, across the small indentation left behind by my nail above her nipple.

"Does it hurt if I do this?" I checked, as my lips brushed gingerly over her skin.

"No. You feel absolutely incredible."

"And… if I do this?"

She trembled when she felt my tongue tracing the edges of the small wound. "Not at all." A little moan escaped her. "Please, don't stop."

We explored that particular thread of pleasure for a while, no longer exchanging words. Bella was happily receiving my ministrations, all the while trying to offer me some of her own in return. I enjoyed how her hands were unable to focus on a single part of my body for too long, as she constantly got distracted by what I was doing. This made for a terribly exciting journey for me, as I tried to guess where she was going to touch me next.

Eventually, we got so fired up that I had to stop my teasing. My cock had been in a constant state of being stiff and ready throughout the day, while Bella's pussy had become increasingly wet, as the combined sap of our orgasms soaked her folds and smeared on her thighs. It was so easy to find our way back into each other—two pieces of the same puzzle, fusing so naturally together that it was a great wonder that we could ever endure being separated.

The splendid miracle of making love to Bella was the effortlessness with which our specific needs and desires synced. When she craved the sensual act of protraction, my body was in no hurry to get anywhere fast. I wanted to extend the length of each second and dilate time, to harmonize the pace of the world with the pace of our inner universe. And when my fierce appetite demanded me to douse its urgent hunger by fucking Bella hard and fast, her ravenousness screamed even louder, encouraging me to go ahead. To allow my carnal impulses to win. To fuck my way to our mutual serendipity.

We came together twice, shamelessly crying out each other's names as we rode those peaks of delight.

Once we were done, whatever traces of sleep had been left in Bella's eyes when we began were now long gone. She was alert and energetic, showing no signs of needing to go back to sleep anytime soon.

As for me, I knew better than to convince Bella to do what was theoretically right for her when she had completely different plans.

"You know what we should do?" she asked, jumping up from the couch. Her voice was so vibrant and zealous that it almost sounded like she was high on a particularly delirious drug. I had to make an effort to look at her face and not stare at how appealing her naked curves were. "We should go for a walk."

I couldn't help but laugh—it was thrilling to see her so carefree, even when she was coming up with highly questionable ideas. "Now?"

"Yes. It wouldn't be the first time we took a walk late at night, right?"

"Certainly not the first time," I confirmed, my arousal brewing at the memory of why we took those long walks in the past. "But how are you so seemingly tireless?"

"I'm pretty sure you are the cause."

"Oh, so I'm giving you insomnia?"

"Not insomnia. Just the most intense happiness I could possibly imagine. I feel like I can barely contain it in my bones."

Her clarification softened me instantly. My Bella was happy. Happy because of me. That realization was as simple as it was profound. Before she could blink, I stood up and joined her, circling her body with my arms and leaning down to kiss her forehead.

"You are my entire life," I reminded her. "Always."

Her lips pressed against my chest and I refused to move, wanting to absorb the sublimity of the moment: how her heat was enough to make me warm, how the hardness of my form made the softness of hers submit. Even now—as different as we were, with the fabrics of our being still so polarizing—we felt right, like all the pieces had fallen into place and we were precisely where we were supposed to be.

And more than that, I could see how everything made sense at long last. Every twist and turn of my fate, every suffering, every existential crisis that had ever haunted my sleepless nights, every mistake I had made with Bella, every act of boundless insanity—everything converged into a deep pool of meaning.

The more my conscience submerged into this pool, the stronger my desire to shout my happiness from the rooftops grew. I wanted the world to know that I was the happiest man on earth—to spread the word so far that even the smallest grain of sand in the Namib Desert and even the ghost orchids in India would know, without a doubt, that no man had ever loved as deeply or as wildly as I loved Bella.

Passingly, it dawned on me that I would have to let my family know at first. Shamefully, I had not thought about them at all in over a day. My mind had been entirely occupied with thoughts of Bella, leaving no room for anything else. I wondered if they knew by now. Esme must have guessed that there was an important reason behind my long absence—and even if she hadn't, Alice must have seen enough by now.

There would be so many phone calls to make…

But for once, that thought didn't seem daunting at all. I wanted to make those phone calls. I wanted my family to know that I was happier than I had ever been and that there was no going back. And in my manic pursuit of wanting to let them know, I realized that they deserved more than that—they also deserved an apology from me. I was aware of how my choice to become a recluse after leaving Forks had hurt them—my parents especially. And even if I had never intended to bring them pain, that didn't lessen the effect.

Suddenly, the thought of Esme waiting for me at home, quietly pondering if I was making the right choices with Bella, got me to feel remorseful. Maybe Alice had told her what she knew, but what if that wasn't enough? She had worried enough, it had to end.

Just like that, what I wanted was clear to me. "If I were to tell you we should go to my place instead of taking that walk, what would you say?"

My proposal got her to raise her head from my chest and look up at me. Her eyes were filled with genuine, child-like wonder.

"Your place? Do you mean that?"

The caution behind her tone didn't escape me. I wasn't surprised by it—after all, the only time she dared to ask me to go there was also the time when I cowardly decided to take the rude way out and tell her that she wasn't welcome. Even if I apologized to her immediately after, letting her know that the real issue was my inability to deal with the traumatic events that had transpired when she and I last spent time together in that house, I knew that wasn't enough.

Eager to remedy my mistake, I rushed to tell her more. "Yes. I didn't tell you this before, but Esme joined me there a little while after I arrived in Forks. She was… quite worried about my mental state."

"Esme is there?"

Excitement always made her voice go one octave higher—which was precisely what was happening now.

"Yes," I smiled. "She is. She's been staying with me for a while—it was her way of making sure I didn't go completely insane. And I imagine she would be more than delighted to see you again."

"I want to see her too!" Bella was downright ecstatic, going by how tightly she was holding on to me, using all her puny force. "Does she know about us?"

"She certainly knows enough about how I feel about you. I suspect she figured out the rest when I took off with you and didn't return for over a day."

She blushed at my choice of phrasing. I had to admit that I found it wonderfully endearing how she could still get flushed so easily, even after spending the better part of the last twenty-four hours engaging with me in a passionate and shameless streak of depravities.

"That's good. I miss her. I miss all of them."

"We'll tell all of them," I promised. "Let's just start with small steps, I don't want to overwhelm you."

In the peacefully quiet house, Bella dressed up for what was going to be a momentous meeting for both of us; well, she tried to dress up, because as soon as she put on one of the few dresses she owned, I was already pulling the skirt up and her underwear down, sinking tongue-deep between her legs and not coming up until I had the juices of three consecutive orgasms splattered all over my lips. That wasn't nearly as much as I actually needed, but it had to be enough to keep my appetite in check for a couple of hours.

She looked so beautiful and full of life when we got inside her truck. Looking at her now—seeing that she looked positively vibrant even though she was supposed to be sleeping—I was convinced that I could see the future with as much clarity as Alice could. I could see us, years from now, spending every single second of each day together, never once letting go of each other—we already knew how unbearable the pain of being apart was; soon enough there would be no reason to endure it again. And I could see us, driving late at night, heading to all the places that we only ever talked about, and fully knowing that there were no obstacles hindering the natural path of our fate. We would travel together and we would laugh together and we would drown in each other's minds and we would fuck whenever and for however long we damn well pleased.

That vision was so clear, I might as well have lived through it.

"Do I look decent enough?" she asked impatiently—probably because I had been staring like a lunatic at her for the last few minutes instead of starting the engine. "Be honest."

To be fair, that dress on its own was an abomination—shapeless, green, and sad. I didn't have to possess Alice's aesthetic skills to see the obvious. But on Bella? It was a transformed garment. The fabric couldn't help but yield to her spectacular shape, revealing round contours and enticing swells that I now knew like the back of my hand. "My angel, you couldn't look decent if you tried."

"Come on, you know what I mean. Should I have picked something else to wear? I just think that this dress is—"

"Bella, you wanted the truth. The truth is that you look so beautiful that any man would invent a religion just to worship you." I knew that better than anyone—after all, she was my religion. She didn't seem as sure when she looked down and bit her bottom lip hard. Unable to remain sane for long when she was behaving like this, I leaned over the stick shift and used my fingers to grab her chin and make her face me directly. "They'd do it simply to justify killing for you, do you understand what that means?"

"You're certainly overselling me," she giggled nervously.

"Trust me when I say this—this is me underselling you."

"Yeah, right."

Ravenous—and quite annoyed by how she dared to contradict me on such an important matter—I swiftly pulled her face towards mine and kissed her. My tongue easily domesticated hers in seconds, but I didn't let up. It wasn't enough to get her to submit in front of the pleasurable onslaught—it never was. In fact, it wasn't enough until every neuron inside my brain was set aflame and the taste of Bella overpowered everything else.

I was just getting started when I felt her pulling away, gasping for air. I only allowed her face to retreat one inch, setting her in place with my hands and my gaze.

"Too much?" I checked, even if I knew the answer already.

"God, no," she purred. "I was only afraid I might end up looking like a crazy person if you kept doing that right before I'm supposed to meet your mother."

I laughed at her silly worry and pressed my lips once more against hers—delicately this time, knowing how worked up she would get by the teasing. In fact, I sought to get her in that state.

"You just love torturing me, don't you?" she moaned under my slow-moving mouth.

"You know it."

And with that, I broke all the rules and pulled her on top of me in the driver's seat, ripping off her underwear and sliding my entire length inside her molten core in one fell swoop, with no preamble.

We cried out together at the familiar feeling—the only feeling that made us whole—and in the far distance, I could hear clocks all around the world slowing down their ticking for us.

My mother can wait, I thought passingly.

The entire world could wait indefinitely, for all I cared. After all, nothing stopped time quite the way making love to Bella managed to.

Things might be looking good for these two, but the clock of Jacob's return is ticking in the background ;).

Until then, how do you think the meeting with Esme will go?

I would absolutely love to read and respond to your reviews.

And in the meantime, if you want to see the visual sneak peeks and the special videos I make for this story, you are welcome to join my Facebook group, " Twilight fanfics: NightBloomingPeony & friends corner" .

Until next time, stay safe and happy!

Chapter Text

Hello, dears!

Before anything else, I just want to say how much I appreciate you. The wait for this chapter has been longer than I intended, and I truly can't thank you enough for your patience. Life has kept me on my toes these past few months, but through all of it, your support, your messages, and your reviews have meant the world to me.

No matter how chaotic things get, this story refuses to loosen its grip on me—it is actively living in my mind, demanding to be told. And knowing that it has found a place in your hearts too makes it all the more special. So, from the bottom of my heart—thank you!

And special thanks to my dear CoppertopJ and her beta magic, as always, she is just incredible!

The last chapter ended with Edward and Bella getting ready to pay Esme a late-night visit, so let's see how that goes :).

Happy reading!

It was way past midnight when I pulled up into the driveway. The air was heavy with humidity, even if there were no storm clouds in sight—so much so that I could almost taste the balmy sweetness staining the atmosphere.

The house breathed and lived right in front of us. It was alive with Esme's thoughts and every crease exuded a strong smell that reminded me of almonds.

It didn't take me long to understand what was happening. As expected, my mother knew. Whether she had figured it out on her own or with a little help from Alice, I couldn't figure out; right now, her thoughts were all over the place, as she prepared for what appeared to be an anticipated visit.

"They're here. They're here. The cookies are still too hot. They'll cool down. Is the bed the right size? It should be."

My mother had certainly been busy in my absence.

I opened the door for Bella right after she managed to unbuckle her seatbelt. She blinked fast, clearly confused when she realized I was outside. That was the only clue that she would eventually need to get some sleep tonight, because usually there were few—if any—supernatural behaviours that actually startled her.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, helping her get outside from the confines of the truck.

"Excited. Nervous."

"Why nervous?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen Esme in so long and… these are unusual circumstances, to say the least."

I smiled. "If it helps, just know that she adores you. She always has."

I took her small hand in mine, encouraging her to follow my lead and step forward. She did, but her accelerated heart rate gave away how skittish she still was. I, on the other hand, felt a restored sense of strength deep inside me as we walked towards the house hand in hand. I knew that whatever agonizing memories resided behind its walls, their power over me could no longer make me a prisoner—not when Bella held the key that could set me free.

"Did my dress get too wrinkly?" she muttered conspicuously.

"Yes," I grinned, remembering with delectable clarity how not that long ago I kept grabbing fistfuls of her dress while I fucked her in the car, making the material crinkle in wild patterns. "But it doesn't matter."

"Oh, God!" Bella hid her face behind her left palm, slowing down her pace. "What will she think?"

I peeled her hand away with patience. "There is no need to be embarrassed. Being judgemental is not Esme's specialty. It never has been."

She nodded but still tried to smooth out the wrinkled fabric—all in vain.

By the time we reached the steps of the house, Bella's heart was fluttering so wildly that I was convinced it wanted to escape from her chest. I heard Esme's steps approaching the door from the other side—slow, calculated steps, as she tried her best to mimic a human's rhythm.

Her thoughts revealed that she was nervous too. She had seen me suffer extensively as a result of my dalliance with the human world, so she was apprehensive of the possibility of seeing me go down a dark path of my own making again. But more than that, she also didn't want to see me crush Bella's spirit again; even if the time they spent together had been limited, it was easy for Esme to feel a motherly type of love for my mate. It was no wonder that she couldn't bear the idea of history repeating itself.

These maternal worries interfered with the joy of knowing that her son was, at long last, happily in love.

It was my mission tonight to prove to her that she never had to dwell on that again.

I tightened my grip on Bella's hand when the door handle clicked, hoping to get her heart to calm down a little.

"You're all right," I whispered reassuringly, leaning down to place a small kiss on the top of her head. "We're all right."

Before she could absorb my words, the door opened.

When my eyes—now a shameless red with stripes of gold scattered throughout, no longer hidden by contact lenses—met Esme's, a new kind of understanding dawned on her.

Not wearing anything to mask the colour of my eyes had been a choice born out of necessity. When I took off with Bella on Saturday, I didn't even think to bring an additional pair of contact lenses with me. By the time I finished feeding on her, I no longer cared about the scarlet pigment of my irises, I was already in heaven. Once the decision to visit Esme was made, I knew that there were no options for me other than to quit trying to mask reality. There was no place where I could get quality contacts so late at night, so I accepted the fact that my mother would find out about the kind of limit I had crossed.

Coming to terms with such a thing was a strange experience. On one hand, I was not ashamed of what I had done. The act itself had not been born out of malignant intentions and it only happened because Bella consented to it. The fact that she allowed me to drink from her had been the ultimate show of trust on her part. As for me, the fact that I stopped was definitive proof that the force of my love far surpassed any other animalistic pursuit. My feeding ended up weaving a new thread of intimacy between us, now that the same essence of life circulated through our veins.

She was mine in a way that transcended the limits of time and space. And I was hers too—no other soul had come close to bringing me to my knees like that.

On the other hand, what I had done also went against one of the most cherished values shared by my family.

Do not consume human blood.

I knew how tasting it once could make you crave more and seek more lives to drain—I had been there myself so many decades ago. But this time it was different. I didn't want anyone else's blood. In fact, if someone were to offer me the choice between satiating my appetite with as many humans as needed with no repercussions and getting to taste just a single drop of Bella once more, the answer was so simple I wouldn't even have to consider it. This wasn't the kind of mindless addiction created by a cycle of foolish feedings. No, this addiction was a different creature—stronger, more meaningful, and intrinsically better.

After all, the dogma of not drinking human blood had its roots in a much simpler belief—that of not hurting other people. Could my actions be qualified as wrong, even though Bella was perfectly safe and content in their wake?

At the end of the day, the barrier between right and wrong was so feeble. I didn't want to disappoint Esme, but I also didn't want to keep lying to her—so instead of moving my gaze away, I faced her head-on, letting my eyes tell the truth for me.

Her confusion wasn't long-lived. After the first second of surprise passed, her thoughts floated in a new direction: "He wouldn't have done it if it wasn't the right thing for them. He is too good to do something that would endanger her life."

She smiled, the joy floating to fill her eyes, and she was the first to speak. "Welcome home, kids!"

My mother opened her arms and Bella gladly accepted the offer, letting go of my hand so that she could hug Esme too. I watched their embrace in silent contemplation, comprehending with awe that the two most important women in my life were officially reunited. In my haste to break up with Bella the first time around, I had not taken into consideration that the black hole of our pain wasn't the only fatality. There was also a galaxy of various levels of emotional lesions—all collateral damage, of course—that I inadvertently created.

Such as the bond between my beloved and my mother.

Their personalities clicked from the moment they first met. And then, with each new occasion in which they got to interact, their connection grew deeper. The wonder only lasted for a short while; too soon, its life was cut off abruptly by none other than me.

Esme never got to say goodbye, and neither did Bella. And up until this particular point in time, I never pondered too much about how that affected either of them. Witnessing their reunion—my mother's arms wrapping Bella with love, the scent of tears fresh in the air—I understood what I had taken from them

"I missed you so much, beautiful girl," Esme crooned.

"I missed you more."

Their embrace lasted for a long, wholesome minute. In a strange, unexpected way, the mere sight of it seemed to heal something within me—perhaps the part of my subconscious that never really stopped feeling guilty for forcing so many people to accept my decisions regardless if they agreed with them or not.

Eventually, we stepped inside the house and I closed the door behind us. Esme still had one arm wrapped around Bella's waist, keeping her close.

"I forgot how warm she is. Like there's a small sun hidden inside her."

I smiled at the imagery evoked by my mother's thoughts, fully agreeing with it. There was a sun hidden inside Bella, and it burned so brightly that it illuminated the entire dark firmament of my life, making it a million times more scintillating than a summer's day azure sky.

"If I didn't know any better, I would have thought that Edward got lost after he left home yesterday," Esme snickered.

"Not really. He's just mind-blowingly stubborn. But then again, so am I."

"And thank God you are, dear. This moment right here has been a long time coming."

"You two are aware that I am here, right?" I intervened, faking my indignation.

They giggled and started walking forward, so I followed them. Looking around, I could see that the living room was decidedly different now. For instance, the wooden table in front of the couch no longer had a vase of flowers on it, but several plates of freshly-baked cookies. Then, on the wall that connected this area to Esme's painting corner, I could see several racks filled with books.

But more importantly, in the middle of all this, there was something far more imposing: a grand piano that looked like it had lived a long life, resting on top of a sand-coloured rug.

I didn't say anything, but as soon as my mother eyed the piano she was instantly reminded of the fact that she owed me an explanation.

"I got it this morning from a music outlet in Port Angeles. It's missing a black key, but your sister saw you playing it anyway."

Once she said that, I could see more fragments of what Esme had been doing throughout the day, as a direct result of Alice's visions. It seemed that she had been terribly busy visiting stores and making last-minute arrangements to get everything she needed: from fresh sets of clothes and various toiletries for Bella to a king-size bed and an electric oven for the kitchen.

All of these were fleeting images in her mind, but they were enough to make me realize that what I thought would be an impromptu visit was actually a highly expected event.

Touched by all the care that went into this, I motioned Bella to sit down on the couch. We made ourselves comfortable, while my mother chose the armchair on the right.

"These smell amazing, but you didn't have to," Bella said, quickly leaning down to grab a large cookie and bite into it. "And they taste amazing too, wow!"

"Well, Alice predicted you would be pretty hungry, so I figured that a midnight snack might be in order."

"Thank you so much."

In other circumstances, I might have been content just holding Bella's hand, knowing that we were not alone, but right now that was not enough. So, I wrapped one arm around her shoulder and brought her as close to me as possible. She leaned into the closeness, resting her head on my chest while she ate her cookie.

As I held her like this and looked around the room, it was pleasant to realize that being here with Bella again, despite the loaded history of this place, did not affect me. I knew things now—things that would have changed everything a couple of years ago, had I known them then too.

Her perfume was swimming freely in my lungs, creating a cloud of pained desire within me, and for once I was not hopelessly tortured by it. Oh, no, quite the contrary—I was high on it. I felt a sublime sense of euphoria—one that was not infected by the fear that I might kill her. Killing was a choice. And as long as her life was in my hands, the choice to keep it protected would always come before any vicious instincts.

Besides, I had started taming those instincts.

"This place looks different," she noticed.

"Oh, you should have seen it a few weeks ago. It was completely empty. Our dear Edward was more than content with keeping it that way."

I shrugged. "I was never here for the house. I was here for Bella."

As if to prove a point, I held her just a little bit tighter, allowing my fingers to dig into her flesh.

"And the piano?" she went on. "I don't think I recognize it."

"It's not exactly mine," I explained.

"Really? Then how—"

"I figured it wouldn't hurt to have it," Esme intervened. "Alice's vision was clear enough," she added in her mind.

"But is anyone playing it? I mean"—she raised her head to look up at me—are you playing it?"

I shook my head. "No, I haven't done that in a long while."

"But why?"

"I lost the will to do it somewhere along the way."

Even if I didn't say it out loud, I was confident that Bella could see the soft underbelly of my motives—namely the fact that the reason I stopped playing was the cruel separation from her. In her absence, the things that I once loved had stopped bringing me a sense of joy and purpose. And because it had only been a day since we allowed the natural course of our destiny to run freely, I hadn't had enough time to discover what changed.

My inspiration to enjoy life had certainly been directed in entirely different directions. Much, much better directions, considering all the different ways I discovered I could make Bella come.

"Well," she murmured, "I would love to hear you play again. It's been forever."

At that moment, I understood why my sister's vision of the piano had been so clear that it got my mother to invest in the last-minute contraption reigning in our living room. It wasn't because I had been missing the art of playing the piano, nor because I had somehow miraculously found the desire to do it again—far from it. In fact, the clarity boiled down to one simple certainty: what Bella wanted, Bella got.

"Now how can you possibly refuse her? I know I couldn't."

I half-smiled at how well my mother knew me.

"I might be a little rusty," I warned.

"And I'm pretty certain you could still fill stadiums if you wanted to, even at your rustiest."

Her faith in me both humbled and excited me. I wanted to make her happy in every way that I knew how—and more, if possible. It didn't matter that I had not played the piano in so long, not when she wanted to hear me.

"All right," I said, "you asked for it."

I got off the couch—not before kissing the top of her head in passing—and made my way to the strange-looking piano, assessing it.

The keys were covered in a sheen of ivorine that was past its prime—I could tell that it wasn't real ivory from the complete lack of a grainy appearance. It wasn't ideal, as I took delight in the smooth, glacial feeling of the real deal, but it also could have been plastic or acrylic, which were arguably worse options. The one missing black key was a D flat—not the worst sin, since I much preferred to use a good old C sharp major instead.

I traced my fingers over the keys, feeling the slow vibration humming from within, as the soundboard anticipated my next move. I thought about all the songs I knew that Bella loved, wondering how much her preferences had changed in this regard. She had always loved my renditions of Chopin and Debussy, but she also had a soft spot for composers that were still alive—Danny Elfman used to be her favourite, but I wasn't sure if he still was.

Quietly, I sat down on the bench in front of the piano, swallowed by the feeling that this was the first time I was doing this. The instrument wasn't imposing—not by itself. But the meaning behind playing it—the knowledge that the music would set free a part of me that had already resigned itself to a lifetime of hiding in a cage of my own making—was quite remarkable.

I had not thought much about it until this very moment, but I actually missed my music.

With a new sense of tranquility overtaking me, I started playing Chopin's Spring Waltz.

"There you go. You have no idea how much I missed listening to you, son. That's beautiful. She always knew how to bring the best of you to the surface."

I smiled, because my mother was completely right. Even though I could not see her from where I was sitting, I could guess that she was smiling too.

There was silence for a while, as the sound of the piano filled the room. The notes twirled in the air, forming patterns that I was highly familiar with. They came naturally to me, as my mind and fingers remembered every detail that my soul had forgotten. Slowly and surely, I was learning that my love for music was still there; it had been hibernating up until this point, waiting for a signal to open its fragile eyes again, but hibernation wasn't death.

When I heard Bella's words of adoration in the background—barely a whisper, as if she was afraid to overtake the sound of the piano—my decision was made: I wasn't stopping. I would play for her—and for my mother, and for myself—for as long as it felt right to do so. I was taking back what had always been mine, making peace with my inner world.

Around the time I started playing a fourth song—Schubert's Serenade—Esme joined Bella on the couch and they started to talk again, allowing the music to accompany their words.

"It's a good thing you returned, Esme. For so long, I thought I would never come back here, let alone see you again. In a way, this almost feels like a dream."

"I am still getting used to it myself, dear. It's strange to not have all of my children in one place. But I have to admit that having you and Edward here, under the same roof, makes this house feel like home." Her mind took her back to the one summer that Bella and I shared—how I used to bring her here, how complete the family felt then. Things never felt quite right after that. "And I haven't seen you in so long, but you're as beautiful as ever! How has life been treating you?"

Bella didn't answer right away. She hesitated in front of this question and, even if I couldn't read her mind, I could imagine the wheels in her brain spinning, as she tried to come up with an answer that wouldn't alert my mother too much.

"Life has had plenty of ups and downs, I guess. But that's neither here, nor there, since everyone's life follows a similar path."

"Your path was quite different though, was it not?"

"It wasn't exactly the easiest," she admitted. "But I cannot complain, knowing that it led me back to Edward in the end."

The sweet relief of hearing her say that was shaken by the reminder of what I had put her through. So much unnecessary pain… so much anguish in the name of what I used to think was right.

I shuddered. Never again.

"That it did, my dear. Although that should not negate whatever experiences you faced before you two reunited."

"Perhaps, but it feels like… like none of those experiences even matter."

It was still frustrating that Bella was so content with keeping Jacob's misconducts in a safe chamber inside her mind, refusing to let them escape. To me, there was no erasing them. Not even now, when I was actively aware of the fact that she wanted me. She chose me. That choice made no difference when I thought about each time he had made a wrong move with her.

Why couldn't she see the obvious?

"Do they not matter? Or do you simply want to forget them?"

"Maybe… maybe a little bit of both. It's hard to explain."

"I am a patient listener, as you may remember."

"Well… how much do you already know?"

Before responding, my mother silently went through the small pieces of information she had managed to gather from me and Alice—how Bella lost her parents, how her friendship with Jacob turned into something more—but also through the conclusions she had reached on her own—specifically how she feared that Bella's meek responses could mean something else.

Something that reminded Esme of an awful lot of things that had happened to her in her past life.

"I know the surface level of things," she answered. "Edward hasn't shared too much."

Bella sighed and, with a voice that was suddenly softer, started talking. At first, there were only fragments of stories—like the day when Jacob tried to make her day better by attempting and failing to bake a cake for her or the night when they stayed up late to watch old episodes of The Simpsons.

But then, the fragments grew and took on lives of their own, as my beloved recalled them, and the cracks started to show. Some of the stories I already knew. But others managed to surprise me.

"I don't think he was always temperamental. Maybe a little bit—the normal amount that resides in all of us, you know—but nothing unusual. I think losing his mother so tragically is what rewired his brain. Not that I blame him. Such a loss changes who you are in ways you don't even anticipate. I probably realized he was no longer the same Jacob the night when he got upset with me over carrot cake."

I frowned, my confusion doubled by my mother's stupefaction.

"Carrot cake?"

"Yes, carrot cake. I got one from the bakery shop but I forgot to place it in the fridge when I got home. However, I'd made the mistake of telling Jacob about it as soon as I got it, which… in hindsight, was not the best thing to do. He got excited, as he had been out of town for three days and he was eager to return home. So when he returned, we both realized that the cake had gone bad and he got upset."

"Upset how?"

"He was… a bit mean. Saying some things that he shouldn't… raising his voice, then refusing to talk to me when I told him I would get a new cake the day after, since I still had so many chores to do that day, and… actually, no, I think it sounds worse than it was. I don't know… looking back, it was just one of those days when one insignificant disappointment just adds to the pile and tips it over. I've had those too."

There she went again, trying to make Jacob's impulsive behaviour seem normal. The frustration this evoked in me was unmatched. I had to make a conscious effort to be delicate with the piano keys, lest I risked breaking them.

Esme chose her next words carefully, a part of her afraid of the possibility that basic common sense might get Bella to build an even stronger wall of denial. "We all have them, but it's how we choose to act in the midst of those raging outbursts that defines us. At least if you ask me."

"No, I agree. I guess what I'm trying to say is he's not a bad person. He's just had a rough couple of years."

"You've had them too. And yet I see the same kind of kindness in you that I observed the day we met." Her mind took her back to that day—how deliriously happy she felt to watch me fall deeper in love every passing second. How she wanted it to last. "And sure, pain is always a great explanation for why someone might cause someone else to hurt, but it is never an excuse. That is a lesson I never learned back in my human days."

A moment of quiet settled over them after that, as those last words sank in. My hands were tense now, as they went over the keyboard. The resounding notes had a sharp bite to them—somewhere along the way, I had managed to turn Schubert's Serenade into a melody that had stopped resembling the original. The new tunes were no longer a reverberation of melancholia, but rather a queer vibration of anxiety.

"He has his faults, I can admit that," Bella muttered after a while. "And yes, being with him hasn't exactly been a walk in the park, but… but there is so much worse out there. You have to know what I mean."

Esme knew, even if the remaining particles of her memory were too indistinct. She wordlessly went through them, knowing precisely what happened to her, but no longer having the visual remembrance to torment her.

I, too, remembered. Perhaps more than she did.

Almost ninety years ago, in the throes of her transformation, my mother's life flashed before her eyes in several excruciating ways. Although I didn't know then what she would grow to mean to me, getting to witness the horrors of her human life got me to feel something I had never felt until then—protectiveness. I still remembered how urgent that feeling had been—how I wanted to make her pain disappear forever without wasting any more time. How I wanted to punish the man who had inflicted it on her with such malevolency. How Carlisle found a temporary way to keep the wrath inside me from exploding.

"She is safe now," he told me then, as I watched powerlessly. "By God's grace, he will get his comeuppance."

Ironically, he did find his comeuppance, but not by God's grace. No, by my grace.

I shook the memory away, focusing on the instrument again. The song sounded awfully repetitive now, picking up momentum with each note only to lose it immediately after. I didn't know where I was going with it, but I didn't stop.

"There are many types of bad in the world, sweetie," Esme replied after a while. "That doesn't make the lesser evil acceptable. Besides, with certain people, it is a crescendo. They take something away from you today—something small, so small that you're even happy to give it to them… because you love them and no request seems too extraordinary. But tomorrow comes and, sure enough, they want something else. Then some more the day after tomorrow—not too much, just enough to not make you think twice about whether you should. Before long, they have more of you than you have of yourself. And the worst thing about it? They already made you believe that you gave them everything on your own terms, so you don't even think you have the right to complain."

Bella didn't contradict her, but she didn't express her agreement either.

What in the world is she thinking now?

I was dying to reach into her mind and bury myself deep beneath the intricate webs of neurons, where I could live surrounded by her thoughts. The idea of being able to do that was demented and exciting in equal amounts. It sent new jolts of movement to my fingers, getting them to better understand where the melody was heading.

"I still have myself," Bella offered eventually. "Nobody's taking that away from me."

"Then nobody should take away your right to be angry either. It is yours alone, especially if you've been wronged—and you have. The fact that there is worse out there does not change that. Do you understand?"

The moment of hesitation was long enough to get my uneasiness to hurt. But when it ended, so did my ache. "I… I think I do."

I didn't have to turn around to understand what the sudden sound of bodies shifting and the couch croaking meant. They were hugging—an embrace that didn't stop for many minutes. I listened to the remaining sounds, trying to make sense of how it was possible for my mother to make a more compelling argument regarding Jacob's poisonous ways than I ever could. Perhaps it was the way their afflictions were, at the end of the day, pieces of the same sad puzzle, which made it easier for Bella to see the obvious truth that she had been missing. Or maybe it was the fact that Bella had been missing her parents for so long that having a maternal figure actively care for her got her to be more malleable. More willing to accept that there were still things she had not learned yet.

One thing was certain: I was grateful to my mother in a way I wished I had predicted earlier.

A few conversations later, Bella ended up falling asleep on the couch, in Esme's loving arms. I was still stuck on the same song, playing it on repeat, refining it with each soft inhale of my love and making it better with each sweet exhale, until it finally sounded exactly how I wanted. It was different from the lullaby I once composed for her—looking back, that one was a single leaf in an old tree.

The melody that had been born in the past two hours held novel meanings, as what began as repetitive anxious tunes that drowned each other out morphed into an ode to the very meaning of my life: my love for Bella—unending and stronger than the forces that held the universe together—but also her love for me—just as powerful, despite her mortal form. Each jingle made complete sense, rendering my feelings with such accuracy that it felt as if my thoughts had become perfectly readable.

"Is this a new lullaby for her?" Esme didn't allow the question to escape out loud, not wanting to risk waking Bella up.

I thought about it for a second, not stopping. And then, I decided. "No, it's for her and me. Our lullaby, I suppose."

"It is the most beautiful song I have ever heard, son. Listening to it feels right. Being here feels right. I was so scared you'd get both of your hearts broken all over again when you came here, but I was wrong. You're saving each other. I know the circumstances are not ideal, with Bella still being engaged, but you will figure it out. I trust that you will make the best decision for both of you."

I smiled to myself, before telling my mother something I had not told her in years—something that not only she needed to hear, but was also true. "You are right."

And even though I had not admitted it out loud to anyone else but Bella, Esme knew that my decision to let my mate join me in immortality had already been made.

The thought of that—of having another daughter, of seeing her troubled son at peace—made her hold Bella just a little tighter, as the realization that this was the happiest she had been since she left Forks settled over her mind and erased all traces of past worries.

All traces, with one exception.

Sooo, is anyone curious about how the lullaby that Edward composed sounds :)?

Because I certainly was back when I was writing this chapter!  If you're in my Facebook group (Twilight Fanfics: NightBloomingPeony & Friends Corner), keep an eye out—I'll be posting the lullaby in a couple of weeks! And if you're not in the group yet, you're more than welcome to join us!

Until then, I would love to know your thoughts on this chapter!

The next chapter will be out on the first Sunday of April. In the meantime, stay safe and happy!

Chapter Text

Hey, lovelies!

Thank you so much for your patience and your amazing reviews—I truly appreciate each and every one of you. And special thanks to my dear CoppertopJ, whose friendship and editing skills are simply invaluable.

Life doesn't always let me post as often as I'd like, but please know that I'm absolutely committed to finishing this story. So hang in there with me ;).

As you might recall, Jacob's return is drawing closer, which means the quiet, tender moments Edward and Bella have been sharing won't last much longer…

Now, let's dive in!

Esme didn’t stay through the night. She left a few hours before sunrise, gently letting me know that she wanted to give Bella and me all the privacy that we needed for the upcoming days. Besides, she had been missing Carlisle for long enough. After all embraces had been shared and I reassured her that we would see each other again soon, I found myself alone at the piano, idly stroking the keys to accompany the sounds of Bella’s sleeping breaths.

I was only halfway focused on what I was doing, as I was still unable to escape a certain string of thoughts.

The talks I had been having with Bella before coming here had clarified what the road ahead of us looked like. On paper, it all seemed so simple—once Jacob returned, we were going to tell him the truth together. The technicalities of how that would work were still unclear, as we had not been able to reach a conclusion regarding the precise moment when the confession was going to happen. Bella wanted to do it on Friday—the very night of his return, giving him no time whatsoever to adjust to being back. I, however, was convinced that waiting until Saturday was the better option, as I had a feeling that receiving such a monumental piece of news after a long week of being away from home was going to bring out the worst in Jacob.

Not that I wanted to give him the grace to be civil and gallant—if he could even be that. My single concern was the possibility of his reaction upsetting Bella more than necessary. She had suffered more than enough, I didn't want his potential rage to add to that.

But now… my concern extended, gathering additional ramifications. Because waiting also meant exposing Bella to another night of having to deal with Jacob. And with my mother's thoughts still haunting me, that possibility frightened me for a reason I had not properly considered until now.

What if he hurts her?

Sure, he had never gone as far as to physically harm her—he would not have lived to see another day if he had. But then again, the road between sharp words and sharp actions could be very narrow, hence Esme's unspoken worry. She didn't have to voice it out loud for me to pick up on it. It was enough for her to conjure the awful scenario once in her mind—as nothing more than a passing concern—for me to play it on repeat. A single, harrowing image—Bella, unable to hide how everything had changed in Jacob's absence. Her fiancé, putting together the pieces of her puzzling mood. Her, trying to defend her ground. Him, losing sight of the fragile thread that kept his temper bound and under control. Snapping. Doing something terrible.

No, no, no, no, no! I would kill him if he tried. Unglue his skin from his face. Rip his muscles to shreds. Crush his bones to powder. Spit on his grave. And yet none of it would be enough if he had already done something to Bella.

No. Breathe in. He did not harm her. It is only my imagination.

Only my imagination. Only my imagination. Only my imagination.

I had to repeat this mantra, just to keep myself grounded. After all, that obsessive thought was a product of my overly vivid mind. It wasn't real. It wasn't a direct threat. It was only a repercussion of my neurons firing up and creating electrical storms between them, which meant that I really had no reason to fantasize so intensely about murdering Jacob.

I looked over my shoulder, where Bella was sleeping, to find another anchor to keep my emotional outburst from escalating. I could only see the top of her head, as the rest of her was still safely tucked underneath the blanket that my mother had brought. The longer I stared, the more I realized I simply could not fathom the possibility of ever having to part from Bella again, not even for a minute. She was a vital part of me, being forced away was the equivalent of having my legs ripped off and being made to walk—impossible.

And undoubtedly, I would kill a human for her, if it came to that.

I was not averse to punishing people who had it coming, even if I hadn't done it in almost eighty years. For Bella's sake, no limit was too severe to cross, no ethical boundary strong enough to become unbreakable.

Besides… it would not be the first time I took a human soul in the name of someone I loved. It had happened before—only once, and it was not exactly a memory I cherished. Most times, I kept it locked in a faraway chamber of my brain. But tonight, the lock to that chamber had been successfully broken.

I was young when it happened—young and petulant to a fault. Only seventeen years of being human and less than a decade of being a vampire. I had no real grip on my emotions; back then, every musing I had was governed by the demands of the new hunger, but also by the fact that my feelings were stuck in this impossible place where their volume rang so much louder than the volume of my reason.

More than that, I was not ready to consider the possibility that I didn't know everything there was to know. For me, getting to discover what I thought I was missing under Carlisle's guidance trumped any other curiosity. I knew that there was another way—a more pleasant way—to live, one that didn't involve gorging on animal blood to barely scrape the surface level of my thirst. I was convinced that I could appease the vicious need for human blood in a way that felt right, so that I could finally be sated.

It took me many months until I finally gathered the courage to do it—months of second-guessing my method, of losing my mind over the idea of Carlisle and Esme suffering as a direct result of my decision, of assuring myself that I was somehow doing the right thing. Still, I was not one bit at peace with my choice when I decided to leave. In fact, I didn't even stick to my initial schedule. I kept telling myself that I was going to leave after Christmas was over, wanting to offer my parents one last chance at spending the holidays together. But when the first days of December rolled in and Esme started making her own ornaments, I knew that I didn't have it in me to continue the charade.

So one night, when they were out hunting, my cowardice won. I left, aware that I could not possibly face them right before proceeding with my mad plan. It had to happen then, when my mother's loving eyes were far away and my father's kind mind was nowhere near. That way, I didn't have to think twice before jumping into the abyss.

The December sleet was getting thick and crisp, walking the line between ice and snow, when I stepped outside the house we had been sharing for the better part of the late twenties in Cold Bay. The air was saturated with the pungent scent of my betrayal—as if a grander force had strangled the night and left it to rot. Winter had never smelled so bitter until then—nor since then.

Once outside, I didn't dare to linger longer than the moment it had taken me to taste the sad flavour of my surroundings. Immediately after, I started running—and I didn't stop for two days.

I ran like never before—through hibernating forests, across frozen lands, away from snow-ridden towns, until civilization became a distant memory. I could feel my conscience slipping further and further away from my reach, giving way to long-repressed urges and whims to take the reins. Strangely, I could feel my mind closing in on itself, allowing my thoughts to fold in incomprehensible ways until it no longer felt like they belonged to me. If before I had enough patience to sort through the good and the bad in my head, now I no longer cared enough to try.

Truthfully, I had had enough of being good. Of doing the right thing. Of feigning calmness when my core boiled with rage. I yearned to overflow like a dormant volcano barely straining to keep its magma contained within its vents and chambers. There was so much fury in me I had learned to bury—fury over having my past life uprooted, over not having the privilege of choosing my future, over being kind when I did not want to be kind.

I could see Carlisle's face behind my frustrations—how, in a way, he was the reason behind each one of them, even if his intentions had always been nothing short of noble. I convinced myself that I was angry with him—with his way of life, which I then considered a farce—instead of facing the reality that I had grown to deeply hate myself. I despised the eerily white figure I saw in the mirror, the way my eyes were never to be trusted, the constant fire flaming down my throat—always too hot, always too overwhelming—and the sheer ugliness of mankind through the mirror of their thoughts—an ugliness I had started to unwillingly absorb into my own mind.

But more than anything else, I hated how my life looked nothing like what I had once envisioned for myself. I wasn't a soldier, I wasn't a pianist, I wasn't anything worthy of walking the earth.

Through the mist of that great dejection, I figured that the least I could be was an avenging shadow. For better or for worse, the gift of my new nature allowed me to fulfill my purpose without killing the innocent, only the scum. Only the evil. Only the kind worth killing.

And there was a particular kind of evil I had never got over— his name was Charles Evenson.

The reason why I could not quite accept the idea that his comeuppance would eventually come was that, from my limited experience, such a thing never happened. I had read enough minds to realize that the most wicked people could roam the streets freely, without paying a price for their mistakes. Where was their punishment? Where was God when men harmed just because they could? Where was he when women did the same, so self-assured that no one would ever point a finger at them? Where was he when lovers hit their lovers, when the rich tortured the poor, when mothers abandoned babies, or when fathers abandoned mothers?

Where was he when a woman as brilliant and as loving as Esme was driven to become a shell of herself as a result of her former husband's repeated beatings?

If God existed, he was far too forgiving for my liking.

So soon enough, my running came to a halt on the frozen outskirts of Columbus. For a while, all I did was observe—and once I had read enough minds to get a glimpse into where Charles might have been, my observing turned into searching. And once I found what I wanted, the search morphed into stalking.

Dissolving into the darkest corners was a new type of hunting for me—unlike my previous experiences with animals, hunting humans required finesse, attention, and godly amounts of concentration. I could not afford to be seen, nor to lose the element of surprise.

Charles made it exceedingly easy for me. From the first moment I laid eyes on him through the window of his home, I understood that he was the type to live his life in a constantly drunken state. Maybe the horrors he had witnessed during the First World War—or the appalling void of his soul—got him to find his refuge in cheap spirits; whatever reasons he might have had, I didn't actually care.

He lived alone, but he rarely spent time at home. More often than not, he preferred to spend his nights at unnamed speakeasies, where the liquor ignited his putrid mind enough to keep him on a constant loop of swearing and getting into fights with other fools. The only hours of sobriety that he had went into visiting a brothel—a different type of hideout from his ghastly self.

As he waited in a stale room on the top floor, reminiscing about how aroused he got the last time he was there, when he almost strangled to death the woman he had paid to possess, I knew that my hunting had finally reached its end, after more than a week of being on the outside looking in.

I snuck into the facility through an opening that led into the basement. Sneaking past the pimps and the madam of the place was an easy enough job, as they were too busy guarding the main entrance to occupy their minds with the stranger who had surfaced from underground and who was finding his way to the last floor.

Charles was still eagerly waiting alone when I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. The room was filled with his scent—dense and sour, but strangely intoxicating. The level of alcohol in his blood made him less appetizing than a regular human, but not so much that it didn't make my mouth water with a magnitude so intense that it scared me.

"It took you long enough, whore," he groused. His eyes were closed and he had a demented grin on his face. "You'd better make it worth it."

I didn't bother to offer him an answer. Once I was by the bedside, he opened his eyes and a sheen of confusion settled over his blue irises. He didn't understand why there was another man in the same room with him. For a passing moment, he wondered if I was a client who had entered the wrong room.

"Who the fuck are you?"

I continued to stare, unblinking, never breaking eye contact with the brute in front of me.

For a strange reason, I wanted him to think of Esme—to realize how much he had wronged her, to understand in his final moments that hurting her had been his worst fallacy; a fallacy he would pay for until the end of time, if hell existed and it wasn't just some imaginary landscape that good people used as a mellow consolation in the face of sin. It was an odd wish on my part, but a strong one regardless.

But no, his mind could not have been further away from where I wanted it to be. He was overly preoccupied with the fact that the effect of the cocktail of pills he had taken in hopes of inducing an erection was starting to wear off the more he looked at me. In the faint background of that thought, he was also annoyed that the woman he had paid for was still late, which increased his fear that he would be unable to perform when she finally arrived.

Charles was on his deathbed and all he could think about was his damned ill-functioning cock.

Still unblinking, I offered him the answer he was waiting for. "I'm Death."

There was no more time for him to process the reality of what was happening to him. One second later, my teeth were submerged into his jugular, ripping into it and discovering the taste of what I had been missing all those years. But as the sense of true physical satisfaction started to settle in, something different bloomed in the deepest chambers of my brain—a darkness so grave that it seemed to take over everything it encountered.

The more I drank, the less pain I felt. Yet the more I drank, the deeper the nothingness reached into me, creating a numbness that made me forget who I was, as if the price for the withering of Charles' soul was the wilting of my psyche.

Looking back, I knew that I never wanted to go to that place again. Not because there weren't still millions of people who deserved the punishment, but because the agony of chasing after them—of living inside their poisonous head up until the moment it all turned to black—was too much of a burden. Playing judge, jury, and executioner held as much charm as being caught in a night terror with no chance of escaping.

Taking a human life—even the life of someone who was wasting it away—was far from the easy task I had once believed it could be. It wasn't enough to simply be strong; you also had to be willing to give up a part of your soul to see it through.

And yet… I knew that I would not think twice about doing it again if Jacob dared to lay a finger on my mate and cause her pain.

I forced myself to blink and face the present moment properly—Bella was safe, still sleeping soundly just two dozen feet away from me. Jacob had played with her feelings in cruel ways—which was awful, but not enough of a reason to kill him. He had overstepped her boundaries a few times, but stopped before going too far—which was even more gruesome, but still not enough leverage to warrant the final verdict of death. He also apologized—at least according to her.

That had to be enough to keep me in check.

Enough for now.

The sunrise was still one hour away when an incessant flurry of rain started pattering against the window. Slow and tame, but impossible to ignore. There was a new chill in the air, as the temperature in the house dropped slightly—not enough to be noticeable by a human if they were awake, but enough to be distinguishable if they were sleeping and their body had already lowered its temperature in a bid to allow for better energy allocation.

Not wanting to risk Bella feeling any type of cold, I raised up from the piano bench and went to bring another blanket from upstairs, where my mother seemingly deposited more than enough basic home commodities. I was touched to see the bed she had purchased, already imagining how ecstatic Bella would be to eventually get the chance to sleep in an actual bedroom in this house.

Once I was back downstairs, I tried my best to be as silent and as gentle as possible when I unfurled the blanket and placed it on top of her. But as soon as the new layer of warmth settled over her, Bella's eyelids began to flicker.

Damn it.

I waited motionlessly while her eyes opened with great effort, blinking fast between sleep and reality. She liberated one arm from the shelter of blankets and searched aimlessly in the semi-dark room.

"Mmmmm, what's going on?"

"I just wanted to make sure you're not cold," I whispered, grabbing her restless arm and planting a kiss on the wrist before guiding it back under the covers.

"But… I'm warm?" Bella sounded confused. As if to prove her point, she pulled the top half of the blankets away, so that now she had both arms outside. "I'm warm," she continued, this time more sure of her words.

"My mistake then."

She made a small sound whose meaning I could not quite decode and her arms stretched upwards, searching. I understood the invitation and didn't hesitate to honour it. A moment later, I was kneeling by the couch, pulling her away from her spot, right into my embrace.

"I'm sorry I woke you up," I murmured into her throat, breathing in the fragrance of the life I cherished the most.

"I'm not."

Bella allowed her palms to rest on the nape of my neck, generously sharing her angelic warmth with me.

"You should go back to sleep. I'll be here."

"And… Esme?"

"She left a few hours ago."

"But… why?"

"For the sake of giving us some privacy in this house," I explained.

"Oh."

For a while, we remained there, not budging. Bella's breaths were so soft and calm I would have thought she had fallen back asleep if it weren't for the way her fingers moved idly on my skin. I took in their tempo, observing how out of sync they were with the beat of her heart.

"Edward?"

"Hm?"

"I really loved listening to your music earlier."

I smiled. "I loved playing it for you."

A small sigh of content slipped from her, as she kept caressing me. Not one to fall behind, I traced the faint contour of her jugular vein with my lips, eliciting more lovely sounds to roll off her lips. The closeness was slowly getting me into a drunken state—the more it went on, the more difficult it was for me to remember that Bella still needed to sleep.

"There was this song," she began lazily, her voice just barely louder than her breath, "the one you kept playing."

"What about it?"

"I've never heard it before."

"It's new," I clarified. "I got a little carried away last night."

"Hmmm… you get carried away and you compose the most incredible song to have ever existed." Her fingers found my hair, weaving themselves between the strands. "Of course you do. Why am I not surprised?"

I laughed, the vibration making her skin quiver in return.

"You're a bit too generous with your compliments, love."

"I'm so not," she disagreed, clearly still too drowsy to come up with a stronger comeback. "Tell me what the song is about."

I moved up with my kisses, leaving her throat behind until my mouth brushed against her earlobe.

"It's about you…" I whispered. "And me… about us…" Delicately, I sucked the doughy flesh into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it a few times and feeling the dance of the tiny blood vessels inside it as they went crazy with movement, before letting go. "About how we're tethered in love…" I inhaled, seeking to get drunker still. "It's about everything."

Outside, I could hear the rain becoming harsher, more ardent in the way its droplets fell on the house and died upon impact. It only made me pull Bella closer to me, as my hands worked to move the blanket further down her body.

"You're the best," was all she managed to say in the split second I allowed her to breathe before crushing my lips onto hers. I could still taste the sweetness of the dreams I had interrupted, fresh and hot on her tongue. It bathed my taste buds in the most glorious way, firing them up with a pleasure so splendid it felt surreal.

Bella's suddenly eager hands climbed down from my hair and onto the collar of my shirt, tugging at it with what I could imagine was the full strength she could muster at the moment. I could hear the fabric starting to give way, but it didn't rip—after all, she wasn't that strong. I responded in accordance with my instincts, pushing her deeper into the sofa as our kiss grew wilder, reaching maniacal heights.

Our teasing foray went on for a while, as we pushed the precise buttons that fed our delirium. Even now, after having kissed her hundreds of times for the better part of the last two days, I was not fulfilled in the slightest. With Bella, it was all about excess—about constantly wanting more and acknowledging that the concept of too much simply did not apply to us. I wanted to burrow under her skin, past the tissues that made her whole, submerge myself into her soul, and live there for my remaining days, surrounded by nothing but love.

I had no intention of stopping when I sensed she was attempting to pull away to talk, but I did nonetheless. I retreated, barely refraining from launching back at her.

"I was thinking…" she started weakly, her breath too inconsistent to allow her to talk at a normal pace. "I… I want you to play again." Her pink cheeks turned pinker still. "The song, I mean." Flushed as she was, she didn't let up. "Please."

Unable to resist—especially when she seemed so enamoured with this one melody that mirrored my feelings for what we had so clearly—I kissed her once more.

"I keep ruining your sleep," I said afterwards, highlighting the obvious.

"I keep letting you, so we're even," she replied with a smile. "Besides… sleep is overrated when I've got you."

I didn't fight back against that thread of logic; in all fairness, I enjoyed it a little too much. I helped her get up, making sure the residues of drowsiness left in her bones didn't cause her to trip over her own feet.

We walked together to the piano, quiet while the fall of rain welcomed the dawn. With one arm wrapped around her waist, the wonder of Bella belonging to me and me belonging to her was something I still could not fathom. Mere days ago, I was losing my wits as I kept avoiding her, too ashamed after having broken an inordinate amount of rules. To me, those days seemed to belong to a different lifetime—one that felt a hundred times stranger than my life as a human.

Remembering that we still had the obstacle of her being engaged didn't come naturally in moments like these, when she had no ring on her finger and her heart thrashed so melodically in her chest as a direct result of being touched by me.

My sense of possessiveness surged at the annoying reminder, all too ready to detonate.

I took a deep breath in, allowing the low-boiling thirst to quieten my anger, since this was not the time for such matters. The embers were unspeakably calming—something I never would have believed to be even possible.

Commanding myself to behave, I sat down on the bench and guided Bella to find her place beside me in the dimness. She sat down, her fingers brushing against the piano keys in passing, sending eerie notes spinning in the air.

"Is it weird that sometimes I'm not sure that what is happening is entirely real?" she asked.

I looked at her, trying to decipher her expression, but her gaze was stuck on the piano in front of us.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean being with you feels so, so right, but… there are these moments when I think a part of me might still be stuck in the world I knew before you came back. And I'm so scared of that world… of what it means. These moments almost make me feel like… I made you up. Like I made you up and I'm actually going insane and everybody knows it but me."

My automatic response was to grab her hand in mine and squeeze it with as much force as I could muster to use—a small effort to guarantee that she was not dreaming.

"Sweetheart, you are not going insane," I assured her. "That world that you're so afraid of? The one in which we're apart? It terrifies me beyond reason. I've told you before—I don't know how I ever managed to live through it once and survive to tell the tale. But I'd be damned if I'll allow either of us to endure it again."

"I know, I know, it's… it's probably that my mind has this self-destructive habit of playing tricks on me when I'm happy." She peeked at me, her mien almost embarrassed. "I'm sorry if it sounds ridiculous, being in my head is difficult sometimes."

"It doesn't sound ridiculous." I used my free hand to brush my palm against her cheek. "And being in your head is still the only place where I'd rather be, if I had the power to choose."

That seemed to assuage Bella's inner battle to some extent; she leaned into my touch, closing her eyes. Not knowing how to forgo the lure of her beauty glimmering so close to me, I kissed her softly.

"Thank you," she whispered, seeking to brush her lips against mine once more when she felt me retreating.

"For?"

"For bearing with me."

I chuckled. "Now you're ridiculous." My lips found hers again, lingering one second longer this time. "Don't you dare thank me for doing what I love most."

She laughed and I knew that, at least for the time being, the conflict inside her was over.

Soon enough, my hands were once again on the piano keys, recreating the song that Bella had requested—a song that I now knew by heart.

The melody made more sense in the indistinct promise of the daybreak to come. It was almost like the sensual dalliance between night and morning gave the notes the power to rise higher, to a realm where they never ventured before. I followed their path, longing to be a witness as they meddled with the rhythmic tapping of the rain against the house.

I was astutely aware that Bella was now actively listening to my creation, which made the act of playing it all the more exciting. I went through the familiar melodic loops—those peaks that created tension, only to be followed by comforting bouts of decrescendo—with great enthusiasm. Getting enamoured with their dance was so easy, since it reminded me of what inspired it in the first place.

Every inflection, every intersection of sounds—it was yet another way through which the story of us unfolded.

Halfway through the song, Bella's arms enfolded my waist. I gladly welcomed her hug, even if it meant less mobility to perform. The outro didn't get her to budge one bit. In fact, she demanded more with endearing impatience.

"Again, please?"

Her wish was my command.

I replayed the song, pouring everything I had in it. This time, I was more aware of how certain cadences made her heartbeat oscillate. How a particular tune made her hold her breath. How certain notes made her embrace me tighter. I couldn't help but fall head over heels in love with all these reactions.

Pleasingly, Bella's reactions did not stop there.

It seemed as if the more I went on, the more passionate her zealousness became. At one point, her arms broke the circle around my waist, so that she could use her hands to travel over my biceps, my shoulders, my hair—over and over again, tireless in their quest. By the time I was almost done with the second replay, her lips found their way in the mix too, drawing unruly lines on my shoulder, too unassuming to care about the layer of cotton that marred the contact.

"If you're getting bored, my love, I can stop anytime," I said, finding it impossible to suppress a smile.

"No way." Her breath was slowly getting out of control as she spoke. "I can't remember the last time I enjoyed music so much, you can't stop."

She made an effort to climb higher with her kisses, managing to reach the base of my neck. Once there, her mouth opened and bestowed me with a swell of wet heat. Flames sprouted in my core at the feeling, creating a foundation for my anticipation to flourish.

"You're testing my limits here," I warned, feeling the throb of my erection as it strained the zipper of my jeans.

"Oh, don't mind me."

The hand she still had in my hair plunged to my thigh, gliding passingly across my cock. I held back my less honourable thoughts, desirous to play with the temptation that Bella was dangling in front of me a little longer.

With a renewed sense of ambition that I could withstand the magnetism, I started the song all over again.

It was bearable—at first. She was patient in her endeavour of keeping me on the very edge of my lust, careful not to throw me into the enchanting void too soon. She sensed exactly what to do to get me to tense up in delicious waiting—a lesson she had started to learn long before we got to make love—without snapping. However, neither of us had enough experience to know how far the reins of our desire could be stretched without our minds eventually melting, which meant that we were, in all honesty, frolicking with a ticking time bomb.

When the wistful motif of the composition began, Bella upped the ante.

The hand she had previously used to caress my thigh moved up, landing directly on my hardness. A restrained groan trembled on my lips, but I refused to let it out completely. Aware of my weakness, she grabbed my cock—tightly, maddeningly—and stroked me through my jeans. The instant urge to seize her by the waist and make her ride me right on the bench just to get the teasing out of the way was kept in check solely by my stubbornness to see how much longer I could endure her seduction.

"Just so you know," I breathed out the words with effort, "I can do this all day."

"Sure you can," she purred and I almost missed a key when she pulled down the zipper of my jeans, my erection springing out effortlessly, without her even having to intervene. "I'm certain nothing can distract you."

She was certifiably asylum-level insane—and I adored her for it.

I expected—and, in fact, needed—her hand to return to my cock and stroke it properly, now that there were no physical impediments in the way, but that didn't happen. Bella had an entirely different plan.

Using the slowest of movements, her body trickled down the bench, until her knees landed softly on the rug underneath us. I allowed my left hand to abolish the sustained background notes, continuing to play only with my right one, so that I could trace the curve of Bella's cheekbone as she looked up at me.

"All day, my little tease," I reminded her.

She dragged herself forward on the rug, so I pushed the bench backwards a half a foot and opened my knees, to make room for her wicked plans. She easily found a resting spot on the ground, positioning herself right in front of me. Her eyes sparked when they met mine, evidently in disbelief at my bravado.

"Liar."

She didn't sustain my gaze for too long; promptly after, the sight of my rock-hard member—waiting in pulsing impatience just inches away from her face—caught her attention and made it difficult for her to look anywhere else.

It took all of my strength to return to playing the song accurately, with both hands, instead of giving up and knotting my fingers in a fist around her thick hair, so that I could guide her mouth right where I wanted it.

Bella delayed the inevitable, leaning forward and barely sweeping her lips against the tip of my cock. The moment of junction stopped before it began, leaving me frustrated and in high demand for more.

In the far distance of the house, a thunder rolled its lamentation, mirroring the inciting exasperation inside me. The sound deliquesced into the echo of my lullaby, until the valley where the rumble ended and the hill where the next note began became impossible to discern.

If I didn't have the supernatural ability to focus on several things at once, I would have been a dead man by now.

I looked down, only to get lost in the yawning springs of her eyes right as she leaned down again, this time to take a deliberate lick—starting at the base of my shaft and going all the way to the top, where she lingered. My body was much quicker than my will, as a jolt of pleasure made me tremble and groan before I could stop myself.

"All day you say?" she taunted and, without breaking eye contact, repeated the previous motion once. Then a second time, slower. And then, when a low string of profanities escaped me, a third—except this time she didn't stop as soon as she reached the end. Instead, her mouth opened wider, to wrap tightly around the swollen head.

"Bella…" I struggled to get her name out. She moaned, going deeper, and my body happily absorbed the humming from her throat. I had no doubt that this was affecting her just as much as it was affecting me because each passing second revealed new facets of her impetuosity.

She could merely maintain the charade of languidness, her lips moving up and down at a pace that didn't match her previous prelude at all. All the insatiable hunger that I knew rested inside her was now channeled into this—into making sure that I received an inordinate load of rapture and nothing less. And more than that, I could distinctly recognize the intoxicating scent of her arousal in the air—too luscious for words and currently overtaking the temptation posed by her blood.

It was a wonder that she had enough restraint to not already beg me to fuck her.

My crumb of control was falling apart so rapidly that I could not keep up with it. Whatever motivation I had had five seconds ago to play her game a little longer was nowhere to be seen now. I wanted her and I wanted her badly. The necessity was simply intolerable, wailing its pain in my bones, muscles, and organs, demanding to be freed.

Completely desperate, I butchered the song right as its pinnacle commenced, deciding that I wasn't as strong as I had thought—but also that I didn't mind at all.

No longer touching the keys of the piano, my hands couldn't find Bella's hair fast enough. They were too frantic, too overcharged with electricity from the pent-up yearning to function normally. I grunted once I managed to get a fistful of her hair. My other hand caressed her cheek, holding back the full potential force of that touch.

"Oh, fuck, Bella… you win," I whispered. "You always win."

I encouraged her to go deeper with a push of my hips, wanting to explore her mouth as thoroughly as possible. She didn't need further instructions, her mind and body were fantastically attuned to what I wanted. She sucked me with incredible verve, making sure her tongue moved in all the right places each time she moved her head. It rendered me powerless—all I could do was pant and groan and drown in the glee.

"That's it, you know how to do it…" It was an effort to keep my words discernable enough for her ears, but it was worth it—it seemed to send even more determination down her spine, as she looked up at me and increased her pace with a confidence that made me weak. "Oh, God… you really love this, don't you?" Her eyes and lips did the answering for her—she most certainly did. Through gritted teeth, I managed to let more of my thoughts out. "Look at you, my love… you couldn't get enough of my cock if you tried. You couldn't get enough of it if your very life depended on it." A muffled moan fled her throat, which only added more to the entrancing sensations she was lavishing me with, essentially sending me to another realm of madness.

No, she couldn't get enough—but then again, neither could I.

The last scrap of rationality abandoned me around the same time I heard Bella struggling to catch her breath. It was a small sound—so easy to miss if I didn't pay enough attention—but it was enough to enter my notice. Wanting to give her the chance to properly breathe in before she could continue, I moved her head away from me. What I didn't account for was the fact that she was still as hungry as ever. Naturally, she immediately went back in to take a long lick from the base of my cock, reaching upwards.

That single motion did me in faster than I could process.

I only had time to pull Bella's face back a few inches before the first spurt of cum erupted from me, landing directly on her lips. I cried out her name and the second shot followed immediately after, denser and more abundant, reaching her neck and dripping on the collar of her dress. By the time the third wave gushed in her hair, she was already licking her lips avidly, making sure to not let a single drop go to waste.

The expression of pure adoration on her face struck me soon after. She was glowing, as if she had just taken a trip to heaven and the seraphic light in there was now a part of her.

The pandemonium of emotions that was starting to build inside me at the sight of Bella glazed by my venom had to take a back seat when I realized that even now, with my release glistening all over her, I didn't feel one bit gorged. Euphoric? Sure. Ecstatic? No doubt. But truly satisfied? Not even close. My cock was just as hard as it had been seconds ago, my mind still wired to seek elation, except now I was painfully aware of the fact that Bella was yet to have her orgasm—an unacceptable notion that needed to be rectified.

"Edward…" Her voice was laced with dark longings that perfectly matched my own. "I'm dying to have you inside me… please…"

Before she got to finish her plea, I was already on the floor with her, pushing the bench further away from us, so that we didn't have to worry about not having enough space. I grabbed her hips and moved her on the rug until I was behind her and she was no longer facing the piano. She still had the shapeless dress on, but I knew for a fact that her underwear was very much missing, courtesy of how I ripped it to shreds the previous evening, when I made love to her in the car.

I pinched the hem of the skirt, rolling it up on her thighs. The material moved in vexing ways, almost resisting my touch, which made me remember how much I had hated its lack of flexibility when we were together in my car. The only reason the garment survived then was my common sense—after all, Bella had to wear something when meeting Esme.

But now? Common sense wasn't really on the table and there was no one in the house but us.

"You know, this dress is getting on my last nerve," I grumbled. "You have exactly three seconds to take it off or I rip it off you."

Her heart scampered in response. "Yes, let me just—"

"One."

I watched as she fumbled with the zipper on the back, knowing that it was an impossible mission. "I think I need you to—"

"Two."

I pushed the hem over her hips, revealing the irresistible sight of her bare buttocks. She managed to pull the zipper down—only one inch, an endearingly hilarious effort on her part.

"All right, I've got it."

"Too late, angel," I smiled. "Time's up."

Skipping another warning, my fingers sunk into the fabric and tore it open right in the middle, sending the zipper flying through the air. The sudden commotion stole a gasp from Bella, so I made sure to caress her newly uncovered waist with the tips of my fingers once the dress fell down—my intention to soothe her appeared to have the opposite effect, as she moaned and pushed her ass backwards, grazing against my ready erection.

Incapable of enduring the temptation, one of my hands greedily descended between her legs, searching and finding precisely what I wanted. Her pussy was a flooded, heated, perfect paradise, more than willing to be conquered.

"I need you," she sobbed helplessly when I traced a circle around her clitoris, pulling the small hood back with as much gentleness as I could muster.

"Mmmmm, I know. Having my cock in your mouth made your pussy a dripping mess." I easily sunk two fingers inside her depths, proving what was already obvious. Her juices splashed at the invasion, dribbling down her thighs in new streams, and my mouth started feeling awfully parched from the fact that it wasn't already drowning in all that liquid lusciousness. "Look at the state of it… so wet it's spilling out—and I haven't even fucked you."

Bella whimpered in response and tried to grab onto the rug, ripping away some of the surface fuzz.

"Fuck me," was all she managed to say.

I swirled my fingers inside her, in love with how her body trembled with the need to push things further. Her impatience was the only thing keeping my composure functional.

"Ask nicely."

"Please…" She stopped to let out a new cry when she felt my digits curling up inside her, taunting a particular spot I had discovered she enjoyed tremendously. I kept that up, which got her to abandon her train of thought altogether.

"You were saying?"

"Edward, please…"

I smiled—doting on her complete abandon of control—and kept my fingers moving intently. "Full sentences, love."

"Oh, God," she gasped, "please fuck me… I'm begging you…"

I was thoroughly adoring how little it took to get her into this delightful state of complete powerlessness. All she wanted right now was to take, take, take—which was absolutely formidable, considering that all I wanted was to give, give, give.

Seeking my mission, I thrust my fingers back and forth a few more times—not quite enough to get her to come, but just enough to keep her teetering on the edge half a minute longer, wailing and pleading with me to cease the teasing. As she neared the inevitable, I stopped and retreated; however, I didn't allow her to feel the loss of my fingers for too long. With my hands quickly finding themselves clinging to Bella's buttocks, I plunged into her, letting loose a swell of expletives once I felt the flaming embrace of her cunt welcoming my cock in its vice.

Hot and wet and tight—I was home.

As soon as we were one, the world started to deliquesce in a way that was now familiar, yet so wonderfully mind-altering that I knew it would forever cause me to marvel and float in awe. Time and time again, the feeling of making love to Bella would be recognizable, yet new. And it went beyond regular fulfillment—it was my impetus to live. My proof that the abode of heaven was more than the product of a hyper-active human imagination.

It was my purpose.

With all my senses a slave to the ineffable rapture, I pulled back a few inches, only to feel Bella's tightness immediately calling me back inside. I happily answered, ramming my cock harder into her, which drew out the most incredible symphony of moans from her throat. Elated by those sounds, I started to build a pace that would get them to multiply—faster, fiercer, with an overtly sinful intention behind each push of my hips.

I could feel the tension rising with each thrust, picking up momentum and building. And building. And building. Like waves of stardust traversing the galaxy and always finding a higher way up, we were quickly getting lost in an extreme upsurge of sensations, their little death awaiting just around the corner.

Bella couldn't utter any coherent words other than 'yes' and 'more' and 'harder'—making it all the more thrilling for me to model my movements after her wishes. What she wanted, I offered. And what I offered, she received with so much ardour, her body starved and greedy after having been denied its calling for a cruel amount of time.

When her knees started to shake, I knew we had just reached the tipping point. I briefly noticed her knuckles losing their colour from how tightly she was grabbing onto the rug while she was taking my relentless pounding.

"Yes, Bella…" I hissed. "Let go… let go for me…"

I was willing to bet she didn't need any added incentives, but my words seemed to set her off nonetheless. I watched and listened, my eyes and ears completely enraptured by the spectacle beneath me.

There really was no show on earth like this—no opera, no theatrical play, no symphonic orchestra could hope to enthrall me in the same way that Bella's orgasm could. The fact that I got to witness it before it even began made everything even better.

The trembling always came first—starting from outside and radiating profoundly into her cunt, making it pulse and tighten and drool around my cock. And like a river pouring itself into the sea, rapidly and naturally, those tiny motions dissolved into larger movements, as Bella's hips danced and sought to merge with mine.

And God, the sounds she made…

I hadn't been close to coming, not until I heard Bella scream my name. Along with her cry, I felt a rush of wetness exploding out of her, and that was the breaking point for me. In a daze, I thrust forward through her climax, finding my own release right in the middle of hers. I came copiously, filling her up until the excess fluids of our shared pleasure started to gush out uncontrollably, splattering on my balls when each new push of mine forced more liquified satisfaction to spill out.

Neither of us stopped moving when the madness started to disperse. We continued to anticipate and meet with tenderness each other's actions, unwilling to put an end to our fucking just yet. We weren't actively chasing a new high, just merely relishing in the afterglow of the last.

With careful hands, I gathered her hair and wrapped it around my palm, pulling on it until she let out a spoiled moan.

"Oh, sweetheart…" I whispered, finding a strange delight in discovering that the strands of her hair were soft and slippery from the cum left behind by my previous orgasm. "You really needed this one, didn't you?"

"God, you have no idea…"

"Mmmmm, I think I do," I smiled. "You made such a lovely mess when you came…" To prove my point, I ground myself deeper into her, knowing it would get the flood inside her to burst out again. Her pussy clenched around me, intemperate in the best way. "Fuck, you feel divine."

I went on, refusing to give up the slow pace. I could feel every soft ridge and crease inside her—still vibrating, still on the edge of insatiability. And in the sublime alchemy created by our union, my recent appeasement seemed futile. How was I supposed to find any of this sufficient, when Bella was groaning with renewed fever? When her body showed no signs of needing a repose?

My own febrility doubled upon pondering those questions—I had to have her again.

"I don't think I can stop yet," I confessed. "Can you handle more?"

She gasped at my proposal, instantly pushing herself back to welcome my cock deeper. "Always," she responded. "Always more, Edward."

That was the final assurance I needed to continue.

I let go of her hair and used my hands to move her away from the position we were locked in, briefly kissing the top of her head as I exited her body and pulled her up. The sudden separation got us to cry in unison, but the cruel severance didn't last long; one moment later, I was on my back, bringing Bella on top of me—ensuring that her mouth could reach my cock as easily as my tongue could reach her pussy.

There was no prelude or teasing this time around.

We both dove right into each other, too hungry to allow for delays. She swallowed me whole and I pounced on her clit unforgivingly, my taste buds instantly blasted by the taste of us—flaming and wintry and honeyed, a sumptuous celebration of the contrasts that made us whole.

We devoured each other as if it was simultaneously the first and last time we were going to do it. By the time we took a moment to breathe again, the rain had almost stopped and the early morning light was slowly insinuating through the large windows. We had reached several new pinnacles of delight—enough to get Bella to soften and melt on top of me eventually.

"I'm so not going to work today," she mumbled. "Lack of sick days be damned."

I smiled as I traced irregular shapes with my lips on her buttocks. "I figured."

Her heart was slowly finding a calmer functioning pace—one that I was familiar with, as it usually preceded her sleep. After the last two days, I had no doubt that she probably needed many, many hours to properly rest.

Not long after, I found myself putting an end to the entanglement of arms and legs in which we had been stuck. I was mildly aware that there was now a bed upstairs, as well as fresh, comfortable clothes for Bella—thanks to Esme's careful preparations.

I raised up from the floor, easily picking Bella up in my arms in the process.

"Why don't we get some sleep?" I suggested, knowing that her batteries required an appropriate amount of recharging, unlike mine.

Her arms lifted lazily to wrap around my shoulders so that she could cuddle her head closer to my chest.

"No, don't let me fall asleep," she protested, but it was too late; I was already moving fast up the stairs, towards the only room where the scent of cotton called distinctly—my old bedroom. "I am not done with you."

"I don't think we'll ever be done with each other, love," I told her.

We were in my room in no time. Bella didn't get to see the large bed with pale blue sheets, nor the string of faint fairy lights my mother had put up around the transparent canopy. Despite her best intentions, her human form could only get her so far through a constantly interrupted sleep schedule. She fell asleep in my arms before I even got to let go.

Soon enough, the weaknesses she despised so much would no longer weigh down on her. No more reasons for the balance scales to constantly tip in her detriment. No more divergences to keep us on uneven footing.

A few days left now, I told myself when I placed Bella on the bed and slipped under the covers with her—the thought was as thrilling as it was terrifying. A few days didn't seem too long compared to the eternity together that awaited us, yet my distress had no logical bounds.

Especially when the reminder of Jacob's acrimonious temper was waiting just around the corner, making sure that my love for Bella was not the only emotion taking command of my mind as I held her through her sleep.

It was fear too.

The clock is ticking :)...

In case you'd like to listen to the lullaby that Edward composed (and watch the video that goes with it), you can find it on my Facebook group, " Twilight fanfics: NightBloomingPeony & friends corner". Everyone is welcome!

As always, I would love to know your thoughts on this chapter. As you got to see, E dward’s been tapping into an older, more dangerous part of himself lately—one he hasn’t let surface in a long time. But there’s also been a shift in how he sees his own nature, specifically the way he realized he has a soul. So if it ever came down to it—do you think he'd still go as far as he once might have?

The next chapter will most likely be out in the last week of April.

Until then, stay safe and happy!

Chapter Text

Hello, dears!

I want to start by saying thank you—for being here, for waiting, for caring.

I know it’s been a long time since the last chapter. I’d intended to update at the end of April, but soon after, my grandfather fell ill, and everything shifted. My days filled with worry and care, and writing had to take a break for a while. My grandpa is doing better now, and I’m so grateful—but the weight of those weeks lingered longer than I expected.

I still care deeply about this story—and about you, the readers who’ve stayed with me. 

So, to be absolutely clear: this story is not, and will not be, abandoned. Life has been throwing a lot my way, but even in the chaos, I carry this story with me. I want to see it through—to the very end.

So just like Bella with Edward… thank you for waiting for me while I find my way back :).

There had to be a term for what was happening to me and Bella. Was it craze? Mania? Delirium?

Regardless of the name, it was so much more than I was used to. There had always been a sharp edge of obsession to my love for Bella—an edge finely honed by how addicting and irresistible she was. Yet I never quite allowed that blade to pierce through me. I always kept one-third of an inch away from it, careful not to make contact.

But now, after I had blown Bella's heart to pieces and she had allowed me right back in to mend the ruins? After I had learned the map of her body like the back of my hand? After I had willingly and happily drunk her blood right before promising her immortality by my side? The blade was sunk to the root, having carved its way into me and tethering our souls together in ways that went beyond the understanding I had gathered in over a century of being alive. And there was no pulling the blade back—I would have been a hollow, empty man if I gave it up.

Monday passed by in a blur. After Bella woke up and her basic human needs were met, our priorities became evident. Falling back into the cycle of fucking was easy—stopping for long enough to break it… not so much. Unexpectedly, being under the influence of her blood still in my system helped me focus on sex in a way I would not have thought possible days ago. I could zero in on the details that I adored the most: how each of Bella's reactions was wonderfully distinct, how she lost control over the muscles of her face when my tongue hit the right spot between her legs, how wonderful it was that she could never stop at one orgasm once my cock was submerged inside her to the hilt. Over and over again, I could appreciate the gift of making love to her for the blessing that it was, instead of driving myself into a pit of despair from the intensity of denying my thirst.

Of course, the thirst, while subdued, was still there. But it was not there to torment me. No, it now existed only as a reminder of how sweet and achievable it was to fix it. I knew that I didn't need a cascade of Bella's blood to relish in its deific nature. But I also didn't want to inflict unnecessary pain on her, even if she had sworn to me that the bite of my nail piercing her skin was nothing. I had to be more patient—and more selfless—than that.

I tried, but it really wasn't easy—not when Bella was constantly finding new means to let me know that she wanted me to drink from her again.

"Maybe you could do it right now," she whispered sometime in the afternoon, pushing her head back to present her neck to me while I moved slowly inside her.

I closed my eyes in front of the temptation, but the scent was inescapable. Yes, yes, I wanted it again; there was no denying my appetite.

"Not yet," I managed to say before picking up the pace.

"Or… right when you make me come."

A grunt broke loose from my throat in the minuscule moment I allowed myself to picture the decadence she was describing. My nail would not be the only thing puncturing her skin in that scenario—my teeth would follow immediately after. "Keep talking like that and I won't let you come anytime soon, my love."

Naturally, she kept talking like that. And naturally, I stuck to my promise, bringing her to the edge of the precipice and keeping her there for an extremely pleasurable and completely merciless hour—enough to get her to eventually give up and forget about her insane seduction mission.

We didn't make it back to Bella's house until the evening had fully settled in. After we showered together, she fell prey to a deep slumber. And for once, she managed to sleep through the entire night, her body finally demanding the rest it deserved.

She returned to work on Tuesday—and because we were in no condition to remain separated for long stretches of time, I spent my time in the basement of Gossamer Grove swinging back and forth between reading books I had never heard about and listening to Bella's heartbeats getting louder each time she was done with a new customer—knowing how excited she got moments before she could climb down the stairs and find her way back into my arms.

It was hardly the ideal setting, but we made the best of it.

The piles of boxes stacked with books proved to be more than helpful when we realized that they were sturdy enough to support her weight comfortably while I immersed myself inside her. The various chairs scattered throughout the basement were also helpful—they made it all the more effortless for Bella to ride me while I sat down on them. And the old dusty loveseat that had once been a part of the reading area upstairs had become the place where I would have gladly held Bella in my embrace for hours, if her schedule allowed it—God bless that atrocious piece of junk.

The constant calls she received from Jacob throughout all of this fit strangely into the puzzle that was now our lives.

Curiously enough, he didn't ask her about me again. In fact, he seemed to have found a fresh sense of confidence as he made her promises that would never come true. Promises of him building a new house for them one day, of them spending Christmas away from Forks, of the next summer being the first summer they would visit Europe together.

All fragments of impossibility, of course.

Bella listened to those promises with her face hidden in the crook of my neck, her tears soaking the collar of my shirt during and after every single call. As for me, I was at a loss each time it happened. More than once, I had to make sure I understood the cause behind her crying.

"If you need more time to decide, angel, I can wait for you," I assured her on Tuesday evening, right after she wished Jacob good night. "I can wait however long you want me to wait."

"Don't even think that, my decision is made."

"But it's making you suffer far too much."

"Edward, it's not my decision itself that causes the suffering. I know what I want. More important than that, I know who I want to share my life with. I'm simply scared of the collateral damage I'll be leaving behind. Jacob is not particularly great at regulating his emotions in a way that doesn't actively harm him, not when he is sure he can rely on alcohol."

"I know," I sighed. "But at the end of the day, how he chooses to react is not your responsibility, but his. You shouldn't carry that burden."

"That's easy for you to say. I don't function like that. I've witnessed Jake lose himself to alcohol several times and it takes him a while to get back on track. Each time it gets worse and it breaks my heart."

She was kind to a fault, but I could not rule over the complicated feelings she had for Jacob. As strong as my despise for him had grown, it could not come above her beliefs. She was already leaving him for me, the least I could was be gracious enough to let her do it on her own terms.

"Then maybe we should postpone our plan," I suggested.

"What?" The revolt in her voice reached a peak. "How is that the conclusion to what I've just said?"

"Is it not obvious? You don't want to hurt him more than you have to. I can understand that, if it's important for you."

"That doesn't cancel out the fact that I still want a clean break as soon as possible. Dragging it out won't solve the issue. Both things can be true simultaneously, even if they sound insane when said out loud, all right?"

"All right. But still, if you're not ready for the consequences, I can be patient."

"Well, good for you, but I can't. I've had to be patient for almost two years. Never again."

That remark stung—not because Bella meant it in a hurtful way, but because it clearly indicated that I was too close to reverting to my old ways and repeating the same mistakes. I had to step back and put a leash on my bad habits.

By Wednesday morning, we had reached an agreement—we were going to tell Jacob the truth on the second day of his return. Even if Bella had stuck to her argument of telling him on Friday, she eventually came to empathize with my reasoning more. While she wanted to get it over with, she also understood that dealing with Jacob when he was well rested was far better than to catch him off guard the very moment he walked through the door, because him having a clear mind could potentially mean that his first reaction to the news would not be to drink the shock away.

Thursday was the day when Bella became restless with guilt. With each passing hour, the seed of her unease evolved into a sapling, then into a tree of anxiety. Throughout the day, I tried to find out what it was specifically that got her into this state, but she seemed to have a mission of distracting herself—and me—with sex.

It mostly worked. However, after dinner, the thin lining that kept her emotions in place burst.

"I think I'm not a very good person."

She was leaning against the counter, facing the cupboard, when she said those words. I was right by her side, drying off the plate I had just washed with a paper towel; needless to say, I abandoned the plate immediately, leaving it on the drying rack, so that I could grab Bella's wrists and make her turn around to face me.

"That's not true," I promised, trying to catch a glimpse of her eyes, but to no avail—she was set on looking at the floor. "Why would you say that?"

"Because I've been lying to Jacob daily for too long. Way before you got here, if we're being honest. And I don't know, it's… I guess it's getting to me."

As she talked, she pressed her forehead to my chest, making sure I could not see her face.

"Bella, most people lie with some sort of malicious intent. That was never the case for you."

"I don't think the intent matters that much here."

"It matters when you want to shoulder all the blame. If you want to point fingers and find the bad guy, I am right here. What I did to you, what Victoria did to your parents… everything sent you straight into Jacob's arms when you were at your loneliest. You were lost, my love, but it was never your choice to be lost."

"That's not an excuse to hurt people, you know?" she argued, her voice muffled by my shirt. "Besides, no one forced me to walk the paths I have after you left. I have free will."

"That you do," I agreed, letting go of her wrists so that I could pull her closer to me. I circled my arms around her shoulders and she did the same with my waist, albeit reluctantly. "Yet it doesn't make you a bad person. Not in my book. Especially if you look at the full picture of how he's been treating you. I know you've barely started coming to terms with the reality of it, but he has not been a good partner to you. Purely from what I've witnessed, he has belittled you, taken you for granted, trivialized your feelings, and—worst of all, if you ask me—touched you when you didn't want to be touched. So, cheating on a man like him? Hardly a capital sin. In fact, if I had somehow met you eighty years ago, I would have deeply pondered whether to keep him alive or not."

She shook her head, but didn't come up to face me. "Come on, don't say that. Don't ever say that."

"No, I'll say it, because you don't have the faintest clue how difficult it is for me to watch you question your integrity as a human being for a man like Jacob. If you were a bad person, you wouldn't have cried over the inevitability of him getting hurt. Why? Because you wouldn't have cared, as long as you got what you wanted. Hell, if you were a bad person, you would have wanted to drag this on for an inordinate amount of time, just because you couldn't own up to your decisions."

The more I talked, the more I felt her softening in my arms. She listened to my words and, at long last, didn't find a reason to contradict me.

Later on, while I was kneeling in front of the couch where I had her splayed out, lapping hungrily at her pussy while she dangled between orgasms, I also didn't find a reason to contradict her when, with heavy breaths, she asked me to drink her blood again.

Perhaps it was the fact that she had been an emotional wreck all day that made me more inclined to give her what she wanted, but—if I had to take a deep, honest dive within myself—I knew that my thirst rearing its head back was the deciding factor.

The problem was that this was no ordinary thirst. Physically, I was more than pleasantly fulfilled by my usual standards. My eyes were still golden with splotches of red in them, not even close to being dark. What I was feeling in the pit of my stomach had more to do with raw, self-serving craving than basic, objective need. I coveted the silky sweetness of Bella's blood on my tongue again, trickling down in the thinnest, most desirable stream, but I was also desirous of the emotional ataraxy that was sure to follow. Nothing in this world could make me feel simultaneously so in control, yet so defenseless, as the act of making a full meal out of Bella could. It was nothing short of a miracle—how the thing that used to scare me was now the thing that brought our bond to ultimate heights.

I imagined that, in a way, this was also how addicts felt at the very beginning of their enslavement to drugs. Right before they took a step too far. Right before they strayed from normalcy—when they still sought the high for the sake of it, not because without it they would not have been whole.

So while my Bella was riding the coattails of a new, wet apogee, I opened the door to more pleasure for both of us. Frenzied, I allowed my nail to find the path of least resistance and sink deeply into the flesh of her left thigh. I made sure to be quick and to keep my tongue moving in indolent circles around her clit, in order to create a distraction from any potential pain. Once the blood started drizzling, my mouth was already on her thigh, right below the cut, eager for the sumptuous repast.

I could not repress a groan when indulging in her taste sent me into a trance.

My senses were all too delirious to become slaves to the feeling taking over me. Bella was trembling from head to toe, moaning and encouraging my mania with intemperate whispers of my name. But an even greater marvel unraveled—close to my ear, I could decipher the distinctly wet sounds of her fingers teasing her clitoris. Determined to fuel the mutual euphoria, I didn't think twice when, without moving my mouth from its happy place, I plunged two fingers inside Bella. Then, when she pleaded with me for more, a third, getting her flooded cunt to spill in rivers around my knuckles. And then, when I felt her walls spasming in anticipation from the unbearable crescendo of delight, a fourth.

What was happening was concupiscence of the highest order—depraved and scrumptious and disordered and absolutely perfect. My vice was a match made in heaven for her deviance. They fed into each other, ensuring that none of them went extinct. Like fireplaces and winter storms, morning dew and young grass, cumulus clouds and azure skies—they existed simply to coexist. To complete and refine each other.

"You are my world," she murmured softly through the aftermath of an orgasm that seemed to have shattered everything inside her.

At the end of it all, Bella fell into the deepest slumber, her conscience slowly vanishing while the last bead of blood coagulated under my pressing finger. The muscles in her body were relaxed as I picked her up and brought her upstairs, into the bedroom.

For the better half of the night, I held her in my arms while she slept, cherishing the feeling of having her safe and sound at my chest, where she belonged. However, each passing minute also dragged me closer and closer to the reality of what Friday would bring. Jacob was supposed to arrive in the evening, which meant that I would have to suffer through an entire night of being separated from Bella. Objectively, it wasn't a lot, considering the endless string of days and nights I had spent away from her. But the prospect of it felt like a proper piece of eternity, seeing that we had spent every second of the last five days together, having embraced our destiny completely. To hit pause on that felt like a heresy.

I needed some kind of reassurance that nothing bad was going to happen.

Before the dawn could cast the shadows in the room away, I snuck out of bed, heading downstairs and turning my phone back on. It had been a while since I last talked to anyone in my family apart from my mother, but right now I could use Alice's inspiring words—which was a new feeling after spending so much time closed off.

"Now that's a surprise," she chimed, her tone off enough to make it impossible for me to construe whether she was happy or not about my phone call. Seeing that I had not been the greatest brother, I could not blame her one bit. "Hi, Edward."

"I take it you've completely eased up on monitoring me?"

"Not completely. I figured it was for the best to let you do your thing. Mingling too much would have delayed you and Bella by at least another year. And I really couldn't have that, since I miss her too."

"Another year? Really?"

"There were at least three different potential futures in which you left again if I tried to talk you into being more direct about what you truly wanted. You got awfully scared in each of those visions. Scared enough to disappear for one year at the minimum."

I shuddered upon imagining that, aware of how close I had been to repeating the same mistake twice. Upstairs, Bella sighed ever so softly and tossed in the bed—probably shifting her sleeping position. That string of sounds was as trivial as it was comforting.

"I am never leaving her," I said; it felt remarkably great to admit that out loud to someone other than her.

"It's good to know you've come to your senses."

"But I am afraid. I don't know how much of what has been happening lately you already know—"

"A bit more than I want to know," she interrupted. "I tried to tune out some of the latest visions of you and Bella, because they all predictably boil down to… well, one thing. And it's the last thing I want to visualize my brother doing. Ever."

"Trust me, no one understands better than I do how incredibly unpleasant it is to unwillingly intrude on other people's intimacy. Nevertheless, that wasn't what I was referring to. Jacob is coming back."

"Oh… he is?"

"Well, yes. Why does it sound like this is news to you?"

"I… I am a bit confused. He was hardly a part of the latest things I've seen."

That gave me pause. "But… he should have been," I dissented. "He is returning tonight. And the decision that Bella and I made is set in stone. We want to tell him the truth together tomorrow. In fact, that is mostly why I called—I needed to know if anything ominous is waiting for us in the immediate future." There was a distinct break on her end. I felt compelled to continue. "Alice, what did you see?"

"It's… it's tough to say, actually. Because beyond the… well, you know, the predictable stuff involving you and Bella… there wasn't much else."

"What do you mean there wasn't much else? That's impossible! You have to focus properly, for God's sake."

Another lull, this time longer—waiting for it to end felt brutally long. "No, for some reason I cannot see his return specifically," my sister said after a while, "yet… I can see the two of them. It's not clear though, it's more like… looking through frosted glass. Or a keyhole. I see them moving, but… I don't get the bigger picture of what's happening. I think they're having a conversation. They are…on the edge, if I had to guess. Or tired. It's so hard to tell."

"What else?"

"It keeps changing from them to you. You're there too, but in the shadows. So still. Also blurry. Wait, no, maybe this is a different vision and they're overlapping."

In the distance, I heard Bella moving between the sheets again, but her heartbeat remained steady and slow—she had not sensed my absence yet. Still, the tossing and turning was starting to agitate me.

"Alice, with all due respect, what you're saying makes little to no sense," I grumbled.

"It's not like I can help it, smartass!"

"What is causing this? And why now?" Now, when I so desperately needed to know that everything was going to be all right. Was it a sick joke from the providence? Or was it some kind of overdue comeuppance for violating my inner pact to only drink the blood of animals?

I yearned for an explanation. Any explanation.

"I don't have the faintest idea," she answered, her voice as confused as it was annoyed. Much like me, Alice had never been a fan of not being in control. I could understand the frustration behind your own power failing you better than most—for me, it was a daily occurrence when it came to Bella and her impenetrable thoughts. "I've had foggy visions before, but none quite like this. Besides, those were usually caused by people being undecided. This one feels different, as if… as if the lack of decisiveness is not the issue, but the lack of access."

"And the rest of your visions? Do they work properly?"

"Yes, they are perfectly functional. I'm… Edward, look, I'm sorry. Really sorry."

I sighed, feeling the daunting weight of powerlessness pressing down on me. "It's not your fault that your software is malfunctioning. But I have to say that this could not have come at a worse time."

"I understand. I wish I had the answers you were looking for."

"It's fine," I lied.

"I will keep trying, I promise you. I have to find my way to the right frequency."

"Listen, whatever the cause behind this glitch might be, it is not changing anything in the end. I know what I want. More importantly, I know that Bella wants it too, and just as much as me. There is no changing that."

Our discussion stretched further without going anywhere, until the first sliver of the daybreak's ashen light slipped through the windows. My angel was still asleep—albeit in a much more bemusing position than the one I had left her in. There was a calm serenity on her features, one that worked to reconcile my concerns. Perhaps all of my worries were, in fact, in vain. So what if Alice's visions were marred by defects? That was no reason to hold back. If anything, the unexplainable errors only deepened my resolution of making Bella mine forever. Time was the only thing separating us from embracing eternity in its fullest—and both of us had endured far worse afflictions than mere waiting.

"One day," I whispered in her hair as she snuggled up at my chest, clearly closer to waking up now. "Only one day and we're free."

When I felt the familiar movements of her limbs properly waking up to life, I refused to lessen my hold on her. The smell of us was everywhere on her and the early light made her skin look like snow and her softness felt better than usual—I wanted to capture this exact moment in my mind, with all its small details.

These precious minutes of our last morning together, before everything was going to change.

These endless seconds that proved to me that anticipation could be both the sweetest relief known to man and a harbinger of dread like no other.

I bid my farewell to Bella later that day, in the library. We were both aware the separation was only something temporary and we were going to see each other again soon, yet parting proved to be nearly impossible. Her pleading eyes when she heard my goodbye made me turn right back around and take her to the basement.

"I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart, you know this," I reminded her with a heavy breath while I worked to get her out of her clothes as fast as I could without causing rips and tears in the fabric.

"I know…"

"And I'll be right outside your window all night, I promise."

"You better be… but just once more, Edward."

Just once more—there was no invitation more alluring than that. It was also the lie we lovingly told each other as we returned to the basement three more times to make love, until a customer walked in the library upstairs and I had to force myself to leave.

Our day began to drift in different directions after that. As Bella continued with her late afternoon tasks, she started getting calls from Jacob—he found it important to update her about his car journey every half an hour. On and on he went about how much he had been missing her, about the great weekend ahead, about how he wished to bring her with him the next time he would be out of town.

Hearing his words struck various chords in me. Jealousy, overprotectiveness, greed, rage—no emotion was off limits when it came to acknowledging another man's hold over Bella. It had been easier to accept the degenerate notion of him being with her when I was still fighting against my fate. But now… every word that came out of his mouth was a wicked dagger that stirred the very worst in me.

Of course, his words proved to be child's play compared to what his actions were capable of rousing in my psyche—something I found out soon enough, once he parked his car on the other side of the road and got out.

His mind was a cesspool of thoughts I had not missed. They pealed louder than anything else, in all their lewd glory, and I wished there was a way to liquidate them for good. He was overly joyous as he walked into the library, taking advantage of the fact that Bella was getting ready to close and no one else was inside. I could not see them from my vantage point, as my car was parked far enough away to be unable to glance inside.

But I could hear them all too well.

"There's my baby! Come here, you gorgeous."

Suddenly, I was grateful for the dead viewing angle—I would not have been able to handle the sound of his arms wrapping around her without bursting in and peeling him off her otherwise. Or the soggy squelching of his lips covering hers. Or her small gasp of revolt when he deliberately chose to press his erection against her for a brief, but tragic second.

My hand grabbed the closest object it could find—which happened to be a phone charger that Bella had forgotten on the passenger seat a few days ago—and squeezed it tightly. The fragile transistors and capacitors inside snapped under my grip, much like Jacob's bones would have cracked if I applied the same pressure.

The fantasy of listening to his carcass cracking lingered for a bit, interrupted only by Bella's voice.

"Hi, Jake," she whispered tentatively.

"Happy to see me?"

"Yes."

"This week has been too long without you."

"Well… you're back now," she stated the obvious. Her attempt at sounding happy did not sound convincing at all, which pleased and worried me in equal amounts. She was supposed to keep up a certain facade until the time to tell the truth came.

Jacob, on the other hand, was far too elated to pick up on the small cues that would have given Bella away. There was, however, something that seemed to nag him—something he did not know how to bring up without offending her.

"Should I even ask? No, maybe she's decided to try on some perfume, I don't want to upset her if she actually likes it. But it feels… off. Like flowers decaying. Who would actively choose to smell like that?"

I frowned, staring at the broken down phone charger in the palm of my hand. How could he dare compare the sweet ambrosia of her fragrance to that of dying flowers? Could he not pick out the blooming lavender buds in her scent? Or the warm caramel melting and fusing the petals together, at the very least? Bella's scent was a banquet to be savoured day in and night out, not an unpleasantry to run away from.

I sank my fingertips in the sad remnants of the charger, breaking them apart further and allowing the bitter redolence of the dead device to fill up the car.

"So how about pancakes tonight?" he asked afterwards, deciding to keep his insane apprehension to himself.

"Sure, I don't see why not."

"And a movie? Your choice. I can even do whatever period drama you're obsessing over this week."

She laughed—a short, inconclusive chortle. "Don't worry, I have no preference this week."

The two of them exchanged more trivialities that made my stomach turn and it didn't take long until they exited the building together, his arm draping across her shoulders like a cleaver. I watched them from my seat, powerless as ever. They walked away to where Bella's truck was parked, their heartbeats singing an out of sync tune. I took a deep breath, in a hopeless bid to mitigate the scalding fury running through me—which worked, but also didn't.

I could sense, even from the inside of my car, that the air was fantastically blessed with the ever inviting molecules of Bella's fragrance, making me feel equally thankful and ravenous. However, there was something else in the background of it—an amber so intense it was almost indolic and so salty I could taste the idea of it on the roof of my mouth, like the sea had folded in on itself and forced every lifeform to fit, live, die, and rot within its constrained waves. This potent layer was not something I was used to. Sure, for better or for worse I was familiar with Jacob's scent, but this was something different and much, much more potent than his usual smell.

Ironically, now I was starting to wonder if it was Jacob who had decided to use an unfortunate perfume, even though I had never witnessed him caring about this particular frivolousness.

The evening was giving birth to new kinds of shadows and the pleasant weather was slowly deteriorating by the time I stowed away in the tree next to Bella's house. I could not see what was happening downstairs, where they were, but the sounds alone were enough to get me to picture everything clearly.

At first, they made pancakes together. Soon after, they watched a movie together. As the laughing tracks of the movie rolled, he told her about his week in Seattle and she lied about how she spent hers. Every once in a while, he lavished her with physical attention that got her heart to stammer with what I knew was anxiety and unease. It was killing me—softly, surely—to be nothing but a bystander while my love was showered with kisses and touches she did not want.

And the worst part was how he was misinterpreting every signal.

When she retreated too soon from his embrace? "She's teasing me, she knows I've waited almost an entire week for this."

When he kissed her shoulder in passing, expecting a soft moan from her, and no reaction came? "She's holding herself so well."

When he felt her mouth getting closed shut right as his tongue tried to find hers? "Playing hard to get again, but she'll cave. She has to."

It was the most fucked up tango—with Bella subtly drawing back at every movement, yet Jacob finding a way to force new steps. More daring steps. More infuriating steps that hindered my challenge of not interceding.

At some point, I started breaking apart the small twigs above my head, once again indulging in the fantasy that I was actually fracturing Jacob's bones instead of the unassuming branchlets of the tree.

A part of me was convinced that the torturous evening would go on forever, like a fever-fueled nightmare meant to never meet the light of day. I suffered through its absurdity in silence, praying that Bella's heart was stronger than mine and consoling myself with one single promise.

The pain ends tomorrow.

That was the avowal I was holding onto when I was reminded that I had forgotten to silence my phone after talking to Alice in the early morning. The device began to buzz in the pocket of my jeans, demanding to be noticed. I took it out, nonplussed to notice my father's name flashing on the dark screen.

The last time he and I talked, he saw me at my lowest: miserable, wretched by the guilt of wanting Bella and verklempt by the denial that kept me in place. I did not feel ready to face him then, knowing that I was undeserving of all the empathy he was showing me—and a part of him must have understood my reticence, because he never insisted on talking to me after. Carlisle was exceptionally great at offering me and my siblings time and space when we needed to figure things out on our own, respecting our boundaries without questioning them.

So if he was calling me now…

He must have a good reason to do it, I realized, a sudden chill crossing my spine at the unknown ahead of me.

Apprehensive, I answered.

"Son, I apologize for calling you without warning," were his first words.

"Don't apologize. Are you all right?"

He hesitated for such a short second that, if I had not known him any better, I would not have even noticed. "I am, there is no need to worry about me."

"What is it then? Did Alice have a vision? Can she see Bella clearly again?"

"No, it is something different. It concerns your mother."

I frowned, disconcerted by the last sentence. "What happened?" I queried.

"There has been… an accident."

My mind felt heavier with each exchange, refusing to cooperate. I heard the words, but I refused to attribute the correct meaning to them. "I don't understand," I said, refusing to accept what he was telling me.

"She slipped."

I shook my head in disbelief, staring at the ground below and saying nothing.

The silence on my end made him talk again. "Listen, there is no gentle way to put this, but I am certain you understand the meaning of my words. Sadly, the truth is that your mother took the life of an innocent man."

No. No, no, no.

That was not the piece of news I had expected or needed to hear. Three decades had passed since our family had shouldered such an unfortunate incident. Three decades since Emmett passed by a widower's house and lost himself. Three decades since we all had to uproot our lives, quietly contribute to—and attend—the funeral of a stranger. A difficult, but necessary lesson.

Beyond the obvious tragedy of a lost life and of Esme's inevitable pain over having been the root cause of it, there was something else that proved to be a challenge. The obvious consequence that we all had to face all those years ago.

"Edward," he began carefully, "I know that she would never ask this of you, especially not now, with everything that is happening with you and Bella. But… it is my duty to let you know that it would do her a tremendous amount of good to have you here for the funeral and everything that comes with it. Perhaps more than anyone else in our family."

There went my hope for tomorrow.

There went my entire world.

Well, things aren’t looking too promising…

How do you think this new hurdle will affect Edward and Bella? Will he find it in himself to postpone their plan for a few days, to be by his family’s side in their time of need? Or will he see it through—and let them face Esme’s mess without him?

I’d love to read your theories!

If all is well, you’ll find out what he decides during the second week of June ;).

Until then, stay safe and stay happy!

Chapter Text

Hello, dears!

The last chapter ended with a shocking revelation for Edward, as he learned about the tragic incident that led Esme to take a human life. So now, the question remains: will he honor his family's tradition of standing by one another through the darkest moments—or will he follow the pull of his own heart?

As usual, special thanks to the wonderful CoppertopJ for carefully editing this chapter!

I was in a distressed and troubled state when I hung up on Carlisle.

The conversation did not last long—just long enough to make me question everything about what I was going to do next.

Sure enough, my mother had made the most tragic mistake one could make in our family—she killed an innocent human. That morning, she found herself out in the woods while Carlisle was working on finishing his night shift. She was set on hunting a few small animals—her intention, however, went out the window as soon as she encountered a middle-aged man who was trailing through the forest, carrying a load of photography equipment with him. In normal circumstances, she would have avoided him. But when the wind carried his scent to her, she understood that the circumstances were far from ordinary—for his blood sang to her the same irresistible song that caused sailors to throw themselves into the sea in search of their beloved mermaids.

The man stood no chance when she lost herself.

The reality of what she had done came crashing down soon after, when his heart fluttered its last beat.

There was a specific protocol that our family followed in such situations, of course. It was not something we did often, courtesy of the self-control we had all practiced and perfected over the years.

But when push came to shove, catastrophes had a way of bringing us together. No one was forced into it; the shared sense of responsibility had always been the binding force that caused us to act as a whole.

Carlisle was the stoic, yet kind voice of reason in the middle of the chaos, who served to remind the guilty party of the importance of continuing to cherish and protect human lives, despite the drawback. Rosalie was there to offer a healthy dose of tough love, while Emmett softened the blow when she got too harsh. In the meantime, Alice, Jasper, and I were busy running the essential errands in the background, making sure that the family of the victim didn't spend a dime on the funeral. Under the guise of a mysterious foundation that donated to the families of those who had suffered tragic deaths, we carried the heavy load of trying to perform a good deed without raising suspicions—a mission that would not have been possible if it weren't for the combination of gifts that Alice and I had.

As for Esme—she was the listener. The listener who had no interest in passing judgement, nor in creating a false sense of positivity when the one responsible for such an accident was still reeling, still processing what they had done.

We were like a perfectly functional machine, each piece serving a distinct purpose in the face of tragic events. It was enough for one piece to be pulled away—without it, the structural integrity wobbled.

When the conversation with my father ended, I had the most selfish thought.

This is really bad timing.

This thought paid no respect to anyone—not to the deceased man who had met his end far too soon and far too violently, nor to my mother's time of need, nor to my siblings who were already by my mother's side. It was purely egotistical, yet I could not help but think that this unfortunate series of events came at the least opportune moment.

Because tomorrow I was not supposed to grieve for a stranger and start the necessary procedures for aiding the funeral and helping the mourning family.

Tomorrow, I was supposed to stay by Bella's side when she broke up with Jacob, making sure that she was safe in case his temper overflowed with anger. The following days, I was supposed to help her pack and move her things, since she was looking forward to escaping the house that was filled with too much history—good and bad. I was supposed to find a when and a where for her transformation, alongside her.

The mere idea of considering not going through with my plan felt like a supreme sacrilege. I did not want to postpone a single thing. My entire life had been lived on the sidelines until recently, so I desperately wanted to start living it properly. The way I wanted.

My mind was spinning out of control when I grabbed my phone and started typing a text for Bella. I deleted it and rephrased it a few dozen times, unsure of how I wanted to proceed. There was no proper way of explaining my worries in just a few words. In the end, when Jacob excused himself to go to the bathroom, I sent the one text that did not sound completely unhinged.

'Bella, I need to see you tonight. It is important.'

Her response did not make me wait at all.

'Of course, but what happened?'

'I cannot explain over text, I am sorry. Meet me in the backyard when Jacob is asleep.'

'I'll be there as soon as I can, I promise.'

We did not have time to exchange more details, because the sound of the toilet flushing was the sign that Bella had to erase our small interaction from her phone's history. He was back in no time, pulling her into what sounded like yet another unwanted embrace.

"Are you all right, Bells? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"Yes, I'm just tired. Aren't you tired?"

"Now that I'm here with you? Not a chance in hell."

Sadly, he meant it fully.

More than three agonizing hours passed before Jacob finally declared he wanted to go to sleep. Three hours of Bella accepting his various forms of affection and of me losing my mind at the chaos of it all. Then another full hour had to drag lazily until he fell asleep. Once his snores became prominent, I knew we were in the clear.

Midnight had long passed when Bella started tiptoeing down the hallway. She was fast for a human of her clumsy calibre and her breath was all out of order—either from the excitement of our upcoming meeting, or the disquiet that my texts might have awakened inside her. It was difficult to tell, but my mood was not that far off from hers. The certainty that I would see her again was the root cause of the most immaculate happiness; still, that feeling was stained by the news I knew I had to bring to the table.

I was hiding where the light of the crescent moon could not reach when she stepped outside wearing a sleeveless nightgown that was too large for her body, trying to find her way through the tar-coloured night.

There was no preamble as I stalked across the yard to where she stood, swept her off her feet, and carried her back into my corner of supreme darkness—all in the span of one second.

"Hey, angel," I crooned, gently letting her feet back down on the ground.

Naturally, as my arms created a safe mantle for her, she reached to run her fingers through my hair, finding a grounding place there. I felt the warm current of her breathing on my chest and it made me want to be closer still. I leaned down slowly, but she had been faster—her lips crushed into mine before I got to process her disposition. In an instant, my windpipe filled with her fragrance, but also his. And as unpleasant as it was to feel his mark on her, I ignored it and chose instead to keep up with her frantic attack.

My mouth opened to make room for her eager tongue, but it didn't seem to be enough. Bella let out a frustrated moan and her hands descended from my hair to my shirt. She tugged on it with enough force to make the cotton fibers croak, so I complied, responding to her vicious kiss the way I knew she wanted me to—and, in all honesty, the only way I knew how: with reckless abandon. While my tongue began to work on taming hers, my teeth ached to participate in the battle too, their impulse to bite into the fullness of her lower lip barely contained by my common sense.

She, however, had no such limits—she bit down my lip with a hunger that was terrifyingly exciting.

Our violent kiss lasted until it became obvious that she had run out of air. I had to force her away, because in her momentary insanity, it seemed like she would have gladly continued to eventual hypoxia.

"Hi," she replied to my earlier salutation, the word trembling between us almost comically after what had just happened.

I moved my hands on her cheeks, keeping her face a few inches from mine. "If I didn't know any better, I would have sworn you were trying to hurt yourself with that greeting. What got into you, love?"

"I've been progressively losing my mind in the past few hours between trying to guess what happened to you and praying that Jacob would fall asleep. Can you blame me?"

"Not at all," I responded and kissed her again–long and soft, keeping the pathos of her movements under control with my hands. "Mmmmm, but I do love how fired up you get." I leaned in to brush my lips over her earlobe. "Just absolutely…"—my lips traveled on a downward trajectory to her throat as I spoke—"zero…"—I opened my mouth to utter the last word against her skin—"control."

"Control is overrated," she countered. "Besides, you're already obsessed with it enough for the both of us."

I laughed into her neck, knowing that it was futile to contradict her on what we both knew was pure truth. The air flow between my mouth and her skin swirled her scent around, corrupting me to covet her taste on my tongue again.

Damn, not again, I'd already had her blood the night prior.

My voice of reason was certainly there, but listening to it did not seem like a feasible idea when Bella's veins sent undulating waves of hunger straight into the pit of my stomach.

"I do adore it," I muttered in admission. "Although you have a way of getting me to relinquish it."

There was a halt in her heartbeat when I licked down her jugular. "Took me long enough to get you to do that," she sobbed.

Her fingers pulled on my hair and I retreated so that I could get a good look at her. Her eyes flickered, their pupils so dilated that the brown of her irises was only a thin ring.

We stared at each other for a few seconds—although I was willing to bet she could not see much of my face, considering the blackness engulfing us—before I talked again. "You know I love you, right? More than anything, more than anyone, more than I ever thought I was capable of. You do know this, right?"

The sharp edge that desire added to her features softened, melting her expression into one of vulnerable adoration. "Of course I do," she assured me.

"And you know I want us to get out of here as soon as possible, right?"

"Right." A frown deepened the space between her eyebrows. "Why are you telling me this now? What exactly happened?"

My hold on her lessened until my palms barely brushed against her cheeks. I thought about the best way to explain what had happened, only to realize there was none. "An unexpected roadblock," I answered in earnest. "Esme killed a man."

Bella's eyes went wide with surprise. She tried to blink the shock away, but I could see its lingering presence still. "Esme?"

She sounded incredulous—and it was easy to understand why. Apart from Carlisle, no one else in my family seemed as gentle and as kind as my mother—and for good reason. She was gentle and kind to her core, so much so that it was the simplest thing to omit the true basis of her nature.

But even the best were prone to errors.

"Yes," I confirmed. "Her path crossed with that of a photographer who was alone in the woods."

"That's… wow, I never would have guessed. I'm so sorry." There was a brief pause on her end. "How is she coping?"

"She is as devastated as you can imagine, that much I gathered from Carlisle. He is the one who gave me the news earlier."

Bella nodded, her face full of worry. "Did you get to talk to her too?"

"Not yet. She is too upset to handle phone calls currently."

"Ah, I bet she is." Sighing, she looked down. "I don't know how to help. Is there something I can do for her?"

"My love, no one expects you to do anything. You've got enough to handle without adding to the pile. Besides, there isn't much you can do anyway."

She kept her gaze down—and even if her brain was as inaccessible as it had always been, I could almost see the wheels spinning relentlessly, as a new realization was falling over her mind—slowly and firmly, like early spring rain melting the last remnants of snow. "But you can," she said. "You have to be there for her, Edward."

The strangest pain pierced through me when I heard those words coming from her—because as much as I loved her for being altruistic and understanding, the cowardly part of me had secretly been hoping that Bella would do everything in her power to get me to have no choice but to stay with her. Because it would have been acceptable, right? Staying in Forks and seeing our plan through all the way to the end—despite everything else—would have been wonderfully justifiable if she were not willing to wait any longer… right?

I did not dare to voice those spineless questions out loud, aware of how sick it was to even think about them.

"This is how it usually works for us," I offered, aware that years ago I mentioned our grim family tradition to her. "When one of us falls, the rest are there to pick up the pieces—every last one of them."

"Yes, I remember." She finally looked at me again, rendering me a pile of shame with how much understanding her glance held. "Tell me more about how it works."

So I told her.

I told her how these tragic accidents made us all take a step back from everything, so that we could honour the lives lost and remind ourselves why keeping humans safe was more than a choice—it was a fundamental belief we shared, even when things went wrong. Especially when things went wrong.

And as I unraveled these stories that had remained buried for far too long, she offered me the most clement understanding—her caressing hands humbling me each time they passed over my face, my neck, my chest. I hung onto her touches, urging them to last longer by grabbing her wrists every once in a while and freezing them in place.

I felt utterly depleted when I finished the story, as if a part of me had been ripped open and left to rot.

"So, it's settled," she concluded in the end. "You are going."

Pain. As real and as tangible as having Bella in my arms. So much pain. "I don't have to," I replied, deciding that throwing myself into a pit of indignity was worth it—after all, she had already seen me in my vilest of moments. It would not be the first time she witnessed how formidably selfish I could get. "Going would mean spending way too many days away from you. They would eventually understand if I refused."

"They probably would," she agreed, "but I can't even think about that scenario. It would break your mother's heart, Edward."

"I know it would," I confessed—a cruel admission, but if I was willing to share it with anyone, it was her. "But it's a risk I would be willing to take. Not failing you is infinitely more important to me."

"Failing me? You can't be serious."

"I am, you and I both know what tomorrow is supposed to be about."

"Yes, we do. And if you had told me earlier today that tomorrow would not go according to our plan, I would've lost my mind. You know that I am the one who wanted to end things with Jacob as soon as possible. But what happened with Esme… I get it. It's not something either of us could have predicted."

Her lack of fighting spurred me. Was she not enraged by the unfairness of it all?

"Bella," I started, my voice a low growl, "you are allowed to get mad. You are allowed to say that this is not how you want things to go."

Her bottom lip quivered as she seemed to struggle to find what to say next. I decided to make that easier for her and kissed her—hard, long, unapologetically.

Guided by my fever, I gently pushed her body forward through the darkness until her back was pressed against the wall of the house.

"Tell me to stay," I demanded over her lips.

"I… I can't," she gasped into my mouth, right before giving up and entering the twirling dance created by my tongue. I tasted her with the gluttony of a man who had never known true gratification, dreaming of a reality in which biting right now and feeling her blood explode and flow inside my mouth was possible without sending her into a world of pain.

When I had to offer her a few seconds to breathe again, I talked once more. "Tell me you don't want me to go."

I swept a trail of kisses along her jaw, down her neck, and then—lifting her from the ground and getting her legs to wrap around my hips for better support—into her cleavage.

"You won't go anywhere if I say that," Bella countered with the obvious argument.

Exasperated, I ground myself against her, letting her feel the throb of my erection through the layers that separated us. She moaned with impetuosity, clearly not one bit caring about keeping up a strong front, and responded to my shamelessness with a forward push of her hips that made me burrow further into her heat. I peeled away the right strap of her nightgown with my kisses, allowing it to fall and expose her. "That is," I began, "precisely"—my mouth was already traversing the slope of her bare breast as I talked—"the fucking"—my reconnaissance mission got her nipple so unbelievably hard I just had to brush my lips over its tip—"point."

I could see that it was a struggle for Bella to find it in her to talk when I was lavishing her with such a hedonistic onslaught, but she made the effort anyway, letting the sentence slip through her strained breaths. "You have to go, Edward. I…" She stopped to sob when my mouth opened wide, to take in as much of her breast as it could. "I want you to."

Receiving her blessing made me delirious—with love, with lust, with rage. I was hankering for an excuse—any excuse—to not be parted from her, but I couldn't find any apart from simply not wanting to.

"I cannot leave you here," I managed to say in the short second I moved from her right breast to her left, ripping the material that was still covering it with my teeth. Immediately after, my mouth was busy again.

"You're not leaving me," she whimpered. "You're coming back."

The certitude with which she uttered that truth would have made me mad with joy if I hadn't been in a frenzied trance of ever-mounting desire. I sucked on her nipple, treasuring the way my action made all the blood gallop to the surface—only a scratch away from being mine. She reacted in all the beautifully predictable ways I had grown to adore: creating a fusion of sounds meant only for my ears, thrashing from the pent-up energy that needed release, barely holding herself from bursting into a spontaneous combustion.

"Still can't," I grunted in protest, once my mouth was back on her throat. Loathing the way the anticipation only added to my consternation, I turned around with her in my arms and only managed to take a few steps before losing control and landing on the ground, on top of her. "Fuck all that nonsense, Bella, I can't!"

I heard a low thunder rolling somewhere not far away from us, but I could not care less. I had no patience to be careful with her underwear—I simply tore it off with one hand and shoved it in the pocket of my jeans, while my other hand made sure to unbuckle my pants and set my cock free. Immediately after, my fingertips were already between her legs, dipping into the bountiful wetness that had gathered at her entrance.

Fascinating, I thought to myself. Despite everything—the unfortunate news I had brought to the table, my highly manic state, the inevitability of the next few days—it seemed that arousal worked in wicked ways not just for me, but for her as well.

Before long, the aching feeling of needing to be one with her was trounced. I entered her all at once, feeling the stretch of her pussy as it grappled to accommodate my girth and accept my length. I had to drown out her cry of pleasure with a kiss, not wanting to risk making excessive noise when we were so close to the house.

She yielded under my mouth, melting into our union effortlessly, and I started moving.

I tried to be slow—I did. But there was no hope for me when her nails clawed down my back and tried with all their might to sink into my unpliable flesh.

"You'll be the death of me," I groaned.

The pace I wanted and the pace she needed were, amazingly, one and the same. With each craving of mine reflecting one of hers, it appeared that nothing was too much for either of us.

The sky above gurgled again, which aided my despair. I hastened my rhythm, searching for solace in the crazed fucking and finding it each time Bella's back arched from the ground and the peaks of her nipples crushed against my chest, each time she panted my name and begged me to have no mercy on her, each time her needy cunt squeezed around me and ushered me back into its depths, where I could fill every ridge of emptiness.

The downright wildness of what we were doing ignited my thirst like a burning match thrown into a pool of gasoline, inviting it to come out and play—not that it needed special summons. I had already stopped fighting against it with every weapon in my arsenal, convinced that befriending the beast was the only way to keep it in check. But somehow, the repeated feedings made it more audacious than it had ever dared to be. A little more than twenty-four hours had passed since I had last drunk Bella's blood, yet here I was, salivating at the fantasy of doing it again.

It was alarming and thrilling to realize that the amount of time that had passed made no difference—if anything, it proved that at this point, I was not just spellbound by her blood. I was utterly hooked on it.

Could my kind even know true addiction? The crippling enslavement that gouged out any rationality and replaced it with animalistic impulse? With the fire of hunger swaying in my chest with a force that felt impossible to tame and my body building its way to bliss, it certainly felt possible.

Our end came abruptly and violently, much like the genesis of it all. I came, spilling everything I had in her: my venom, my cares, my very soul. Not long after, it was her turn to burst apart, adding to the spectacle with her own orgasm. I kept one hand clamped around her mouth as she unraveled, muffling her vocal delight purely for the sake of not taking the risk of waking up Jacob.

"One more, love, one more," I encouraged her softly through the afterwaves, continuing to move back and forth in the wet mess I had created. Her muscles were still vibrating around me, stuck between satisfaction and the need to go further, a frail suggestion away from going back into overdrive. "Don't fight it, it's still there, just let go."

Another thrust—long and bold—sent her over the precipice again. And when I insinuated one hand between our conjoined bodies, to massage her swollen clitoris, again.

I continued to fuck her through these rolling orgasms, watching as concentrated euphoria clouded her gaze and feeding on the sheer high caused by that sight. Her scent was made moreish by the storming of oxytocin and dopamine that coursed through her system—which did nothing to appease the torment of my thirst.

Fully aware of what it would do to me, I breathed in as deeply as possible.

The memory of how easy it could be to extinguish this particular conflagration hit me with no mercy. I tried to face its duress, to rise above it, but I only sank deeper under its weight.

"Oh, God," I grumbled, realizing that Bella's string of continued pleasure had come to an end and she was now undulating her hips with restored longing under me. Her readiness did not help my resolve, it just made me more voracious. I moved with her, but half of my mind was slowly becoming useless, incapacitated by thoughts of feasting on my angel.

Thoughts of getting more blood to spill this time around.

Thoughts of stopping the bleeding later.

I shook my head, hazed by her fragrance and the scenarios in my brain.

"I need you…" I whispered, powerless in the trance I was in. "So, so badly…"

"You have me."

She reached upwards, searching for my mouth. I gave her what she wanted, narrowly stopping myself from lowering my teeth into her lower lip.

I had to pull away—too soon, but it was better than the alternative. "You don't understand," I said. "I need your blood again." I rammed my cock inside her and stopped moving, letting her feel it thrum at the prospect of making a complete depravity out of tonight. "Please, Bella." There it was—I was officially imploring for a new hit of my favourite drug in the world. The only drug I ever needed. "Please, let me have it…"

I didn't get to see her astonishment—but as I leaned in to lick the side of her neck, I could hear that very emotion pulsing out of control as the valves of her heart worked harder than usual.

"It is yours to have," she consented to my dementedness. "Take as much as you need."

That encouragement sent the most delicious chills down my spine. I could feel in real time how much this aroused her as well—her wetness was rapidly turning into a continuous, interminable flow. I realized then and there that I could not put an end to what I was doing just to make peace with the beast. I needed both: blood and sex. At the same time.

Nothing less.

"I want to fuck you while I do it," I murmured close to her ear, before returning to dragging my tongue all over her throat. "Nice and slow, my love…"

To prove what I meant, I resumed moving in and out of her, taking my sweet time before each new plunge.

"Oh, yes… you feel so good… go deeper, I can take it…"

I moved at an unrushed pace, probing the deepest parts of her while I analyzed my options. I had already left a mark above her nipple and one inside her thigh, so my aim was to steer clear of those areas. Her wrists could be a fantastic option, considering the dense vascularization hidden just underneath the surface. I could see the shoulders being a viable alternative too, but the wound had to be deeper in order to get enough blood to the surface, which would have meant more pain for her—a non-negotiable hard limit that I was not willing to cross.

But the more I mulled over the possibilities, the faster it dawned on me that they were all wrong. Wrong and inferior and in vain.

After all… her throat was right there.

Vibrating with so much life under my insistent kisses.

My voice was filled with morbid anticipation when I opened my mouth to talk. "Your neck this time." I breathed against it with greed, counting the heartbeats emanating from within and loving their tempestuous pace. "God, you make me so unbelievably hungry… I wish I could just sink my teeth inside you right now."

"I wish you would…"

I dared to imagine that and instantly felt the echoes of a fast-approaching orgasm reaching me.

"Tell me if it hurts…" I requested, forcing myself to keep my lips away from the temptation of baring my teeth and plunging them into her flesh. "Or if you get scared…" Carefully, I brought my left hand up to caress her throat with the tips of my fingers. "Or if you want me to stop, for any reason…" Please, please, please don't ask me to stop.

Bella was too busy moaning and taking my sedate fucking to bother responding. Her palms were hot like burning coal in their journey over my back, their movement as wild and primal as that of the vegetation shuddering all around us. Once again, I was in complete awe over how she didn't just accept and tolerate the darkest angles of my nature; she was as intricately in love with them as she was with the good parts.

The good and the bad and the ugly—I was unapologetically hers.

The feeling of being loved so completely—beyond any concept of conditionality or mutability—was paradisiacal. I never wanted to find an end to it.

Using as much force as I would have used to crack open the vines on a leaf, I eased my nail into her skin, right above the place where her jugular rested, and took in a deep, valiant breath.

The next moment, I was no longer there, in the backyard.

I was way above the clouds. Higher than the birds, higher than the exosphere, higher than the wispy limits of the galaxy.

Bella's blood streamed to the surface and landed on my ardent tongue. On command, my lips locked around her neck, right below the fresh wound, making sure that every single drop reached its second home instead of going to waste. I swallowed the lavish elixir with gratitude and sighed contentedly as solace started to sheathe my senses. If perfection had a definition, it resided at this precise juncture where all fears died and hope bloomed.

Below me, Bella was in a heaven of her own making, her body following the slothful flow established by me. With each new push, her pussy gripped around me tighter, as if it was trying with all its might to get me to become one with it—and at this rate, with the same fluid quintessence fueling our tissues, we were not far off from that point.

In my pursuit to give and take as much as I could, my zeal expanded. When a new, thicker, better surge of blood filled my mouth, my left hand went to grab Bella's wrists and pin them above her head. And once the caprice of fucking her harder won, I found a leverage spot directly on the ground, digging the fingers of my free hand directly into the dirt.

The marriage of hungers being indulged simultaneously made every sensation swell tenfold. If I had not been imperishable, I was certain that the overstimulation—when paired with my hypersensitivity—would have sent me to my grave. The excessive level of pleasure would have woven a sturdy thread of insanity through the lobes of my brain, eventually breaking it in half and rendering me unstable for the rest of my days.

But as it was, I was as much a master of my longings as I was a slave to them—a fate that fully delighted me, as long as it meant having every part of Bella all to myself.

Her love—the grandest blessing of my life.

Her body—the one marvel that would never cease to fascinate me.

Her blood—my jailor and my saviour.

Bella. Mine, mine, mine, through every chamber of eternity.

Bella. My love, my vice, my sustenance.

I kept feeding on her with a rapacity that would have mortified me weeks ago, allowing more and more of my soul to seep into hers as I went on. And I didn't stop making love to her—not when she came undone for the fourth time that night, nor when the first warm droplets of rain started to land soundlessly on my back.

It wasn't until my own zenith hit that I had to pull away. I buried my cock as deep as her body allowed and exploded right there, flooding her cunt to the brim. She cried softly at the feeling, making me let go of her wrists at long last and press my fingers to the small gash that was still bleeding—a gesture that had become sweetly familiar to both of us.

After a while, summoning all the gentleness that I was capable of, I removed my hand and licked off all the remaining traces of blood from her skin and my fingers. She waited patiently for me to finish, letting out the sweetest sounds whenever my wet kisses lingered.

When there was nothing else left for me to feed on, only one truth remained. "I cannot go anywhere," I sobbed. "Not without you."

Bella didn't reply immediately. She struggled for a while between the sensations created by our still-entwined bodies and the necessity to speak, but she didn't give up. "Running away with you right now would be so easy, Edward. And we both crave an easy way out, I know that. But… I need to do things right. I don't want to disappear in the night with no warning."

"He would deserve it," I groused.

"He might. But I don't. More than anything in this world, I want to start my life with you. But I have to make amends with my past, too—to end things properly, just like we've been discussing. And yes, maybe Jacob isn't the most deserving of closure, but if I don't offer him that, it'll haunt me. I just… I just don't want to step over dead bodies in my pursuit of happiness."

Exasperated—by how I understood what she wanted even if I didn't agree with it, by the implication of what agreeing to go alone meant—I hid my face in the crook of her neck, refusing to come out.

"I… can't… go," I managed to say, repeating myself like a broken record.

"No, you can. Your mother needs you there. Your family needs you there."

"I know they do, but I need you."

"And I need you more—but with forever ahead, I think we are both strong enough to survive a few more days."

I groaned, hating how much sense that made. "This is a bad time to be wise, sweetheart. A really, really bad time."

She laughed gingerly. "It's all right, we've got to take turns when one of us is being unreasonable."

I did not want to admit it out loud, but I agreed. I was, to a certain extent, aware that my desperation to never leave Bella's side again had taken full command over my actions tonight. But even without that particular devil calling the shots, I did not want to leave her alone—and especially not alone with Jacob, whom I simply could not trust.

"You will go," she continued, "and you will call me every single day when he is asleep. And you will text me every single moment he's not." I felt the drizzle of rain getting slightly thicker as she painted that picture. Calling and texting were simply not enough to encompass what we both needed from each other. The very idea of it sounded like torture. "And when you're back next week, we'll tell him together, just like we've planned."

Even if the prospect of distance between us was revolting, I was impressed by her poised perspective—mostly because it was yet another way through which she proved that her trust in me was inestimable.

"How do I know you're safe?" I asked. "Alice's visions have been uncharacteristically unclear lately, so I cannot rely on her."

That new information gave her pause, but it didn't last long. "You will know, because I will not do anything reckless while you're away. I plan to have some very, very, very boring days. And you and I will talk, I promise."

I was still mulling over what I wanted to do and what I had to do when the rain's tempo got angrier. Displeased by the fact that I had to move, I retreated from her body, letting the sap of our orgasms well out and seep into the ground, and helped her get up and walk to where the eave of the roof protected her form from the moisture coming from above.

"This will be hell," I exhaled the words through my teeth, starting to pick small grains of dirt left in her hair from earlier, "but so be it. We've made it through worse, we'll manage."

"Of course we will."

"And I am coming back to get you."

"I know you are."

Bella rose on her tiptoes in the same way she always did when she wanted to kiss me, but this time she stumbled backwards before she could do that, her knees trembling unexpectedly. I caught her by the waist before she could bump into the wall behind her, bringing her back into an upright position.

"Easy," I murmured. "What happened?"

"Just dizzy," she answered nonchalantly. "It's nothing, really."

Alarm bells started ringing, connecting the dots before she could blink again. "I overdid it, didn't I?" was my conclusion. "God, I am so incredibly sorry, I—"

"Shhh, you didn't do anything, believe me. It's not the first time this is happening."

"When else did it happen?"

"I don't know, just… the past few days. Usually, if I stand up too fast."

My years of medical studies screamed at me at once: orthostatic hypotension—essentially the type of low blood pressure that followed the act of standing up from a lying position. Its causes were as varied as the ailment itself was incurable. Anaemia, heart conditions, endocrine problems, nervous system disorders—the sky was the limit.

As far as I was aware, Bella had no such issues. However, she had been the repast of a starved vampire several times in the last week. And even if I had never taken enough blood to endanger her, it seemed that I might have taken just enough to get her to feel abnormally weak.

A throng of rough reproaches towards myself was starting to form inside my chest. I was ready to let them all out when she intervened. "Before you start, it is no big deal. It's got nothing to do with what you and I have been doing. This happens sometimes before my period." She wrinkled her nose. "Or after. It is quite chaotic actually, since my period has been an unpredictable mess for over a year."

I frowned, realizing that this was the first time she was sharing this private matter with me. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, several months can pass without me getting my period. And then there are months when it comes and just… ugh, I don't know, it just lasts and lasts. The dizziness is just part of the fun, although it doesn't always happen."

I reached to stroke her cheek delicately, pained by her revelation. "Have you seen a doctor about this?"

"I kept shelving it, so… no."

I shook my head. "If I didn't know this would stop being a problem for you soon, we would go to the emergency room right this second."

"Edward, getting dizzy is definitely not an emergency. Nor is having an irregular period. Besides, I am fine now. It only lasted a few seconds."

She did seem fine, but a part of me still wanted to drop everything, grab her, and head to the nearest hospital.

My anxiety was undeniably working overtime tonight.

"So," she added, perhaps trying to distract me. "I will see you again next week, correct?"

"Yes, the moment that fiasco is over, I am headed back to Forks, I promise."

"I'll be waiting for you." She made a new attempt to raise up on her tiptoes to kiss me, and this time she succeeded without becoming light-headed. "And dreaming of you..." Her breath on my lips drove me wild. "Every night until you return."

"Good." I smiled wistfully. "Because I'll be drowning in thoughts of you every moment I'm away. Just… promise me you'll be careful."

She didn't even have to think twice before replying. "I promise."

Soon after we parted ways, the rain's rage grew louder, eventually swathing the entirety of the town in its cage. With July reaching its fated end, it felt downright phantasmagorical that just a month ago, Bella and I were only starting to learn to be friends again. How little it took us to fall back into each other's arms! Back where we belonged, where the deepest kind of love awaited. In all honesty, neither of us could have stopped the progression of things once our gazes met again.

We had always been inevitable—I was her destiny as much as she was mine.

So it was no wonder that hitting pause on that destiny, even if it was for a noble cause, caused me to feel as if my chest had been ripped open and torn to shreds by a beast fiercer than my kind.

When I left the sleeping town behind, my heart was no longer there, in the ruined cavity that was once my chest.

It lay somewhere far away, beneath the covers of Bella's bed, where she dreamed of me.

Try as he might, Edward cannot let go of his moral compass—even when he really, really wants to.  Not now, with Bella encouraging his selflessness and fully trusting that he won’t abandon her again.

Do you think he made the right decision?

As always, I would love to know your thoughts on this chapter :).  Your reviews mean a lot to me—they’re truly a gift, and I’m so grateful for every one of them.

Until next time, stay safe and happy!