Vanity and Patience (28/30), Chapter 27: Celeberation

achelle1317

Vanity and Patience (28/30), Chapter 27: Celeberation - Part II of II

Jun 03, 2010 18:46

Title: Vanity and Patience
Author: Achelle
Category: Books, FanFiction - Twilight
Rated: NC-17 or MA
Genre: Romance, angst, smut, Pre-Twilight/Midnight Sun
Status: In Progress
Characters/Pairings: Emmett/Rosalie Canon Pairings
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, and its characters, or plot. The characters, books, and plot are property of Stephenie Meyer. I make no money from writing this. I just love Twilight.
Warnings: Rated NC-17/MA for a reason. Some chapters may contain adult language, violence, assault, and sexual content. Lemons in future chapters

Table of Contents:

Chapter 27: Celebration, Part II of II

(Continued from Part I)

He couldn’t hide that we were on a flight to Spain as they announced our decent into Madrid, even though he tried to keep me away during our flight check-in. I grew with anticipation, expecting a European honeymoon, until I realized we had a connecting flight to another country. It wasn’t a surprise to me that at our connecting flight I saw that we were headed to another destination, and another country, maybe even another continent. I struggled to suppress my disappointment; as such a choice in any unique destination was far from traditional... and it made me a bit nervous.

The flight attendant made an announcement, and I heard where we were headed to. Tanzania, a British protectorate, was our destination. I should’ve guessed we were going to Africa. I was full of skepticism. I didn’t have any idea what Africa was like, or if I’d enjoy it here.

After landing in the Kilimanjaro International Airport, we took a shuttle to the coast. It was a few hours long, passing by small villages, and plains wooded with trees, plants, and wildlife I’d never seen before. My jaw dropped in amazement as we neared the coast.

I'd never seen the tropical rainforest, living most of my life in the northern part of the east coast. I'd only seen the tropics in photo books and magazines, all of which of course, were not in color. The photos of different palm tree beaches didn't do the island justice, and the lush green of these palm trees and other exotic plants were a shock as well as a treat for my eyes.

We hopped onto a small, motorized boat with a sail, operated by a young man of smooth ebony skin. He looked rather petrified of us, but Emmett made a point to be kind to him, which seemed to ease him somewhat. It shocked the boy, as well as me, that Emmett could speak in their foreign tongue. I made note to ask him later when he had the time to pick up Swahili.

However, I still sensed that the young man watched us from the corner of his eyes, skeptical of whom we were, possibly what we were. It was cloudy, which we were thankful for, but we still kept ourselves in long sleeves, a hat and gloves to hide our skin from the sun's rays, regardless of the blistering heat.

I stared in amazement at the large island that we were approaching.

I'd never seen sand this white and powdery before, or water this bright and blue. Below us the water was clear as glass. Through the crystal blue water you could see the blue-tinged white sand, fish swimming by, and dark patches of what Emmett explained were coral reefs and seaweed. Nothing could compare to it. I realized then that I had lived a very sheltered, limited life. I turned once again to my husband, who was just as enamored by the view as I was.

"Are we here?" I asked, wondering if this was our final destination. It had to be; there couldn't be anything better than this little heaven on earth.

Feeling my eyes on him, he switched his gaze to me. He gave me that infamous half-smile, before pressing his lips to my forehead, a confirmation to my question. "Welcome to Zanzibar, babe," he whispered under his breath.

We stepped out of the boat and into the water, the boy holding his hand out to me to assist me out of the boat. Any other time I would be upset to get my clothing dirty and wet, but with such a gorgeous setting, I welcomed it, happily splashing with my legs through the water to the shore with some of my luggage.

I felt Emmett’s thrilled eyes watching me, hearing his animated chuckle at my excitement. He was energized by my reaction.

The boy helped Emmett and I unload our luggage -well, my luggage, really- out of the boat before Emmett slipped him a wad of Tanzanian shillings. The boy's eyes grew wide, and Emmett thanked him quickly in their native tongue before turning to me.

"I can't believe you learned Swahili so quickly," I mused.

He winked at me. "Guess I'm just extraordinary," he sighed, nonchalantly

"I guess you are."

I took another look at the stretch of beach and the nature around it.

I immediately fell in love with the gorgeous white sand beaches overlooking the bright, turquoise blue waters of the Indian Ocean. With Carlisle’s help through his extensive travel connections, Emmett had been able to rent out a secluded piece of wilderness that extended to our own private beach and authentic wooden bungalow. My eyes took in the view of the majestic waters, different shades of blue and green that indicated its various depths, kissing the sugary soft beach, with palm trees in the foreground.

“How do you like paradise?” he whispered in my ear, his lips lightly tickling my earlobes.

He scooped me up in his arms, swinging my legs around so that he could catch them on his forearm as he carried me effortlessly over the threshold. My arms wrapped around his neck instinctively as my eyes studied his face, full of excitement as he showed me into the bungalow, a very modest structure made of wood-the roof covered in leaves and branches of an indigenous plant.

I managed to pull my eyes away from him to look around as he placed me gently on my feet. In the bungalow was a large, king-sized bed with netting flowing down on it from the ceiling, to ward away mosquitoes, I supposed. Two rattan chairs on the opposite end with a small rattan coffee table served as a conversation area.

I noticed as I glanced back at Emmett that he studied me with worry now rather than excitement. “So… uh… what do you think?”

I realized that he was concerned that I may not like how humble of a space this was, but as I considered it right there, this would be all we needed, considering we would hunt and do other activities far away from here. “It’s just fine.”

He arched a brow in question. “Really?”

“Yes, Emmett,” I assured him, “really. This is just right… just what we needed.” And it was. We were only here for thirteen days. Had it been for longer I’m sure my demands would be much higher, but as it was, I recognized that this was a temporary vacation.

“Good,” he smiled, stepping to close the distance between us and wrapping his arms around my frame. “I’m glad.”

I laughed. “And what if I wasn’t pleased?”

“Hmm.” He considered it for a moment, his eyes turning up to the ceiling before switching back to me. “Then I’d have to please you myself.” There was a palpable longing just beneath the playfulness in his voice.

I brushed my lips against his teasingly, pulling away to leaving him hanging, just as his mouth responded to part my lips with his. I arched a brow at him in a challenging expression. “Does that mean you won’t do that for me now?”

The question barely left my lips before he lunged at me, picking me up by my ribcage with his hands, and lifting me to throw me on the bed lightly. I squealed with delight and laughter as he approached me like a tiger with a devilish grin.

I was a bit surprised that he didn’t throw himself on me like I expected him to. He sat behind me on the bed instead, his lips tenderly caressing the skin on my nape as his fingers worked to unbutton the front of my dress.

His hands gently cupped my breasts over my slip and brassiere as our mouths fought to win over the other. Ever so slowly, he turned me to face him.

He pulled off a strap of my slip over one shoulder, slowly revealing one of my breasts. He let the back of his hand glide up and down my mound of flesh, and almost immediately, my nipple stiffened at the light friction of his skin on mine. Between the knuckles of his index and middle fingers, he pinched the small peak that formed, as his mouth placed small, languid strokes along my neck and shoulders.

“No,” he ordered, gently. “Lay down.” He took two steps back, his eyes never leaving me. “I want to look at you.”

I had always known that I was beautiful, and that my body was just so, but his stare at me with utter devotion and a burning desire just beneath it threw me for a loop. My breathing became labored as every part of my body ached with keenness of what was to come next.

His hands made a thorough examination of my torso, his fingertips lightly caressing at my skin. I shivered at his touch. His eyes switched to my face with every movement or sound I made before falling back low to watch where his hands worked on my body. He leaned forward once in a while, letting his lips follow the trail of his fingers. He lead himself to my nipple, pinching, rubbing, licking gently before switching to the other.

His fingers traced at the scars that framed my nipple from the bite he once bestowed upon me. Months ago, I would have shied away from him paying attention to them, furious at him for ruining my perfection. Months ago, he would’ve avoided them as well, remorseful for hurting me.

Now, however, I wasn’t ashamed anymore. My mind held no ounce of fury. I didn’t believe that they were imperfections on my body that tarnished me forever. They were now his markings, like a tattoo, not only forever etched onto my flesh, but into my soul. I had grown in our love that much, to acknowledge such a now minor detail in our fairytale.

His growth and confidence in us was just as strong. Emmett was no longer remorseful. I was sure that he was secure that he was forgiven, and that I had accepted all that had happened. Much like he had with me, I accepted him completely. He kissed each scar gently, his eyes lovingly flickering to me as he did so. He then continued his adamant exploration of my chest.

My lips parted with every pass of his tongue over the most erogenous zones of my skin, a gasp of air escaping me. His mischievous yet adoring eyes would look up to me, and I could almost make out his half-smile even as his mouth was busy, pressed against my skin.

He trailed down to and past my navel, settling at the apex right between my thighs. I shivered and groaned as I felt a flood of moisture escape from below, my body reacting excitedly at was about to happen. He teasingly encircled my sex with his mouth and hands, kissing the inside of my thighs and the curve of my pubic bone.

“Emmett,” I groaned, my clitoris twitching. After weeks of celibacy, I was putty under his touch, a slave to his every caress.

But it wasn’t just me who felt this way. The hypnotic look in his hooded eyes told me that he was just as mesmerized by my body, his hands just as eager and willing as every aching part of me. This was why I loved him so much-that we were even in every way that we desired each other. We were equally, wholeheartedly, lustful and in love with one another.

He finally dipped his head between my thighs, his lips lightly grazing the area that I wanted him to touch the most. My fingers curled into his hair, my other hand grabbing a hold of the bed sheets. His lips and tongue moved slowly, light at first. He tortured me, only to entice another flood of moisture that he dutifully lapped up with his tongue and swallowed like he was quenching his thirst. I groaned, gasped, and with one sudden movement, his tongue was like a tornado, swirling at an inhuman velocity on my swollen, aching bundle of nerves.

A small scream made its way from my lips, one that I had to use a pillow to muffle in case there were fishing boats nearby. I continued to yelp, whimper, and cry into the pillow as he determinedly rode out my climax, his mouth finding its speedy rhythm on my clitoris until I was a quivering heap on the bed.

He pulled himself close to me, tenderly taking my face into his hands, stroking my cheek with the back of his fingers. I was surprised at how gentle he was tonight, but I quickly picked up that not only was he not in a rush, but he wanted to take his time- to actually make love to me.

He pulled my right leg up on his shoulder, while the other lay pinned against the bed. I was basically doing the splits beneath him, something he was amazed that I could do. “My own little gymnast,” he whispered lustfully against my skin. I giggled in response to his playfulness. It was something I’d always loved about him.

He positioned himself at my entrance, his heavy lidded eyes locking into mine with just as much adulation as his own desire. I wasn’t sure what the change was, whether it was the fact that we were married, or that he knew there was nothing holding us back in our relationship, or both, but I welcomed the adoring looks and caresses he bestowed upon me at the moment. With one, excruciating languid thrust, he pushed himself into my core. We both moaned in unison, our combined pleasurable sensation palpable in our voices.

My center was extended by the enormity of his length, and crammed ridiculously full by its girth. My body enveloped his length so perfectly that I fit around him like a glove. We were like each other's missing puzzle piece, and I concluded it was only right in nature that he and I be connected this way.

My fingers curled around his scalp, threading through his dark locks as he began to move, slowly at first, but picked up the pace with every stroke. His eyes slowly shut in pleasure, and I watched him eagerly. His pleasure was my own, and knowing he enjoyed my body helped me enjoy our intimacy much more than my own pleasure. It was strange what love did to you, and the unselfish ways in which it taught you to be. I owed my generosity and kindness to this man who moved above me, pushing me to my ecstasy as I mewled below him.

I lifted my head up to his mouth, open from the moaning and groaning he was making as he plunged in and out of me. I kissed him feverishly.

He sat up from me, keeping our bodies connected. He moved my left leg above my right so that I was lying on my side. He began to thrust into me, and my mouth flew open in shocked pleasure. I gasped and moaned over and over as he repeatedly shoved his thick erection into my all too willing core. I crooned at the feeling, the new sideways position just as delicious as the first. Judging from the sounds of his own moaning, he was enjoying himself as well.

It wasn’t long before he wanted to switch positions again, deciding to lie on his side behind me. He plunged in and out of me hard and fast, and this time it was sending me further into bliss.

“Yes,” I growled. I squeezed my thighs together as I felt my legs begin to quake, but that only encouraged him more as it increased the friction on his length.

He pulled my hair into a ponytail with one hand, the other reaching around my face to shove two fingers in my mouth. My crooning was muffled against his fingers as he grunted with every powerful thrust of his pelvis against my rear.

I could feel the muscles below my waist begin to contract with an impending release. “Oh my god, Emmett, yes!” I screamed, and just like that I spilled my pleasure all over his.

He rode out my orgasm encouragingly, completely enthralled by the way he gave me pleasure, and I felt his lips smother themselves against my neck and my earlobe. And when I had climbed down from my release he pulled himself out.

"Sit up," he instructed. I sat facing him, my legs straddling his body. He grabbed me by the hips, pulling me towards him before lifting me above him. He lowered me slowly, impaling my core onto his steel erection. We both groaned at the sensation, watching our bodies connect in the most intimate way again, before our eyes switched to each other.

I watched as his eyes rolled to the back of his head in utter pleasure. He guided my hips up and away, and downward towards his pelvis until I found my own rhythm.

"Yes," he encouraged in a guttural moan.

I smiled evilly, using his encouragement as inspiration to rock my pelvis against his, gaining more friction.

He reached with a free hand to fondle my breasts, while keeping the other hand on the back of my hip. He pulled his lower lip between his teeth, desire smoldering just beneath his somewhat composed expression. I loved it when he worshipped me with his hands.

I found that when I leaned back a bit, I was able to get his length to strum against the most sensitive area of my walls. My face fell as my body weakened with such a sensation, and I whimpered.

"Incredibly sexy," he growled. Suddenly, he slipped his hand between us. He found my swollen nub of flesh with the pad of his fingers, and began strumming and plucking it like strings on a guitar.

"Oh, God," I gasped.

"Yes, I know I am," he chortled through panting breaths. He was confident, and rightfully so, but I managed to chuckle with him in between my own panting and whimpering, though I was losing my composure quickly.

The pressure was building within me. The muscles in my nether regions contracted, my stomach rolling in anticipation for an impending climax.

I could tell by the hazy look in his own eyes and the constant trembling of his own body that he was ready to release his own pleasure as well. And just like clockwork, as my inner walls began to convulse all over his length, he twitched within me, and we both lost ourselves in utter bliss, as we were always meant to do as husband and wife.

We stayed in the last position, exhausted and leaning onto each other as we were trapped into each other’s embrace.

“I like this,” he admitted as his breath caught up with the rest of him.

“I do, too,” I agreed.

I felt his breath as he chuckled against my forehead before he planted a loving kiss against it. “I love you, my wife.”

I smiled against his shoulder, rubbing my cheek against his cinnamon-cedar-scented flesh. “I love you, too, my husband.”

We spent the next morning repairing the bed and the wall of the bungalow that our headboard leaned against. It seemed we couldn’t touch anything without destroying it, no matter how careful we were.

The next few days were filled with all sorts of activities the land could offer. We took a lovely hot balloon safari ride over the gorgeous Serengeti planes. We experienced a dirt safari ride across Lake Manyara national park, and then another day we headed on foot to the Ngorongoro crater.

One evening, I lay with him on the porch of our bungalow, on a rattan lounge chair. We had just made love underneath the stars with only a blanket between our bodies and the sand, before Emmett scooped me up to place me on the lounger with him. We’d spent a long day running the Serengeti plains, exploring on foot to hunt and just to see the sights, and now it was our time just to breathe and enjoy the tropical ambiance. There was no sound but our breathing, palm tree leaves brushing against each other in the breeze, and the hiss of the calm ocean waves kissing the sand on the beach.

I lay on my hand with my head buried in the nook created by the dip between his arm and chest. His forearm was lifted and hovering above me, ever so lightly letting his fingers draw a lazy line back and forth from my elbow to my shoulder. The feel of his nails grazing softly against my skin was soothing.

I had a question to ask, however, out of my own curiosity; one last question that stemmed from an earlier insecurity. “A question,” I murmured against his heavenly scented skin. I felt his cheek flex against my forehead, sure that his face changed into a smile.

“I’m sure I’ve got an answer,” he prompted me.

“Did you ever feel any sort of… resentment towards me?” I worded it carefully, knowing I’d need to explain further. It was the best way I could describe it.

“Resentment?” he echoed.

I took a deep breath. “That I was selfish enough to change you-without giving you a choice.”

A sound escaped from his lips, like a flabbergasted scoff. “No,” he breathed, bewilderment in his whisper. “What made you think of that?”

I was quiet, thoughtful. He wasn’t me-I knew that-but being that I always minded that I’d never been given a choice, couldn’t be too sure he’d ever felt the same. Though I was almost sure what his answer would be, I could never be completely positive. I wanted to make certain there were no secrets between us, especially starting a life together. “I’m just curious. In all this time, were you ever upset with me, angry that I wasn’t strong enough to not take you? Honestly.”

I felt his lips press against my forehead before he inhaled, placing his nose into my hair. “No. Never.” He sternly responded, his voice reverberating through my locks. The force in his tone gave his answer finality. He took his opposite hand to my chin as he turned slightly to meet my gaze. “You can be a silly broad, you know that?”

A breathy chuckle spilled from my lips.

He furrowed his brow in disbelief. “How could I ever resent you for bringing me into this world? Into this life with you? Really? Haven’t we had this discussion before?”

“Not exactly this discussion, no. Just what I thought about this life is all we discussed. I just want to make sure I’ve left no stone unturned. I know we’ve discussed plenty, but never exactly this.”

He scoffed lightly. “Be upset with you? Not at all. Not about this. How else would I know how good life can be?”

“But not given a choice, for you to even say yes. For you to even know what you’re getting yourself into. Didn’t you say you were prepared to die that night, with the bear, if you had?” I’d known this from the first night we both confessed our love to each other. Among the many things we revealed, I knew that right before I found him that he was prepared to die with the full life he’d lived up to that point. He would have been all right to reunite with his nana and his mother.

His eyes held a far-away look at my statement, unfocused. They sharpened quickly, darting to my eyes. “Maybe, but that doesn’t change anything,” His features turned tender as he gazed at me for longer. “That feeling was beside the point, and it wasn’t how I felt after my human eyes laid on this face right here.” He lifted his hand to caress my cheek. “I am and always have been grateful that you found me. Changed me. Gave me a second chance at life.”

A corner of my mouth curled up into a crooked smile.

“And I don’t think you were selfish at all,” he amended.

My gaze fell past him as I stared at his shoulder, but he took my chin into his hand again to keep me looking at him. He was being too generous again. It was selfish. I could admit it. Out loud even.

Reading my expression, he sighed. “Hey, look at me. Not selfish, you hear?”

I switched my eyes to his, and I pressed my lips into a hard line.

“Why?” he asked, cocking a brow. “Do you resent your decision?”

“No, of course not,” I answered immediately. “Now who’s the silly one?”

“You started it,” he chuckled.

My eyes closed at the sound of his laugh. It was the sound I lived for now.

“Look at me, Rose,” he insisted.

I opened my eyes slowly, and did not regret the sight of the man before me. His look of adoration was every bit the reward of all of my struggles in the past year to get him to notice me.

“You were not selfish,” he urged. “I think… I think you were just being human.”

My eyes tightened at his words.

“Well, you know what I mean,” he corrected himself, reading the tiny change in my expression.

My lips twitched. He was so perceptive.

“Human, but certainly not selfish,” he continued. “I’d gladly lie with you here for as long as the earth stood. I can’t imagine living without looking to your eyes again, or breathing your scent. I’ve felt that since you found me. If I died after seeing you, it would’ve been a waste. Just look what’d I’d be missing. I need to smell the scent of your hair every now and again or else I’d go crazy.”

“Roses and vanilla,” I whispered in a giggle. He’d told me once what I’d smelled like to him, much like his cinnamon and cedar was to me.

“Yes,” he breathed, leaning into me. “Roses and vanilla,” he barely echoed in a soft sigh. “My heaven on earth.”

I watched his blissful expression as he breathed the scent of my hair, and didn’t question him any further. I’d realized at that moment that this would be the last of my questions… of my questioning anything about him-or about us for the matter-ever. There were no more stones left unturned, and I would live this immortal life beside the love of my existence without any more insecurities. At that moment, I suddenly felt that I could sit up straight, and no matter how exposed I and vulnerable I was to this man, he would be strong enough to be my rock, my hero. With that, I put my questions to rest, for the rest of the honeymoon trip, and most likely for the rest of eternity.

In the evenings we hunted on the mainland well into other surrounding countries of Tanzania, in order to keep our anonymity. The fierce, determined, yet gratified look on his face as we hunted after cheetahs, gazelles, and game we’d never seen before was inspiring to me, as well as the call of new blood intriguing to our diet. Whatever fun he was having was radiating from within him, flowing out around him; infectious. I couldn’t help but enjoy every minute of it in both ways.

It was another evening just a few days before our departure.

We’d just swam to the Zanzibar shore, our bellies full and happy with lion blood. The moonlight cast over the beach, giving it a bluish white glow. Emmet laid himself across the sand, relaxing and gazing at the stars. I came in from the water, deciding to take a nice swim after the hunt.

I stood above him, his eyes shut like he was sleeping. Water dripped from my hair and onto his face, and his eyes squeezed shut in reaction, his mouth stretching into a grin as he wiped the drops away.

“Sorry,” I breathed. “Don’t you want to swim anymore?” I asked him.

He shook his head silently, eyes still shut.

My eyes narrowed, and I leaned closer to study him.

Emmett was normally the active one, begging me to do things with him. “Are you well?” I asked.

His lips twitched and just as one eye lifted open, his arm grabbed mine to pull me toward him with such force that I fell on top of him.

I quickly scrambled to straddle him, my knees on either side of his hips.

“I’m fine now,” he answered in a raspy voice.

I squirmed to sit up from him, but his arms curled around mine, like a steel trap. The movement caused me to press my warmth against him, and I could feel his nature begin to rise beneath his short pants.

One look from him and I knew that in this moment I was doomed to a wicked, naughty fate.

I didn’t complain. In fact, I welcomed the challenge. “Let’s make you better than fine, then,” I growled, wiggling my brows at him.

I laughed as shock crossed his features before they turned back to an openly delighted expression.

He welcomed my lips onto his, and in seconds, our clothes were history.

****

We returned to our new home, our flight back arriving in the Seattle-Tacoma Airport. We came bearing small gifts for all three members of our family, as well as a few pieces of decorative accents for the new Hoquiam house that we knew Esme and Carlisle would appreciate. My eyes feasted on the gorgeous new Cullen home. Esme told me that she had modeled the structure after Falling Water, by Frank Lloyd Wright. She even placed beside a small stream, minus the waterfall from Wright’s original structure.

It was yet another house that seemed out of place in the forest of squishy green, and far from our Art Deco style estate in Appalachia. Instead of round corners, they were all straight, constructed with reinforced concrete and slab. It was organic, marrying nature and man, very sleek and ultra modern with obvious influences from Japanese Architecture. You had to admire the cantilevered terraces and quarried stone walls that just added the best touches that no one could master like Esme, or Mr. Wright himself.

We had loaded our luggage into the living room and were ready to take it into our new bedroom, but Carlisle and Esme insisted that we go for a hunt before that. I wondered why they exchanged glances with each other the way they did. It was like they were all in on a secret that neither I nor Emmett knew about-like they were hiding something. They did the same with Edward, but then I decided I didn’t care since I saw they had smiles on their faces and dismissed it quickly. Smiles didn’t equal bad news, so I wasn’t worried.

Esme had decided to stay behind, so Carlisle, Edward, Emmett and I decided to hunt in the nearby forest, heading northwest, along the grey Pacific coast. The forest was certainly different here, the trees three times as tall as the forests on the east coast. The bases of such trees as well as the grass and rock on the floor were covered in a squishy, spongy green. The cliffs were decidedly rockier, with beaches covered in massive city like patches of driftwood. The clouds were consistently overcast, and the water of the ocean was a rolling grey, green, and white.

We’d found a herd of elk to feast on, and I hadn’t realized how famished I was until I had one’s neck underneath my teeth.

As we drank, there was a disturbance in the air.

There was a stench-one that was putrid enough to burn nose hairs if it were possible. It reeked of something like… a wet dog.

At that moment, Edward halted, growing completely rigid before hissing and crouching into a defensive position.

His reaction set all of us off into the same position, Emmett immediately jumping protectively in front of me, and then we heard it.

The rumbling of feet… I analyzed the sound, that there had to be several four-legged creatures, and grizzly snarling. I would’ve thought it was a grizzly, but the scent was far too foul.

As many as seven mammoth sized creatures emerged from the trees, detaching themselves from the shadows, inching towards us. They were huge, decidedly canine but standing taller than horses on all four legs.

I’d never seen creatures quite like these, but something was different, and terribly wrong.

We crouched lower, anxious, expecting. Emmett growled lowly, but Carlisle moved to place himself before all of us, holding his arm out to us.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as my senses and sudden instinct for survival took hold of me. Something was horribly out of place with these approaching animals, and every cell in my body seemed to be programmed to feel hostility and animosity towards them.

The sudden hatred was like second nature-as innate as my feelings for Emmett.

“Wolves,” Edward murmured underneath his breath.

“That can’t be,” Carlisle whispered.

As they edged closer, Edward grew stiff. “Werewolves,” he corrected himself.

The word sent an automatic growl through all of our teeth. I knew of folklore and vampire books that werewolves were our enemies, but I regarded it as folklore. However, right at this second-to see this in real life, right in front of me-I believed it.

Every cell in my body felt the oncoming battle that was about to occur. My lips curled behind my teeth, exposing the perfect, tiny, white razors, ready to rip flesh to shreds. A hiss escaped from my lips as I regarded the approaching animals.

With all of crouched defensively, we waited eagerly to meet an end-but whether it was theirs or ours, we weren’t too sure.

We would just have to see…

Author's End Notes:

Thank you so much for your patience! I apologize for how long it’s taken to get this chapter out. I was in Asia for a bit, and I also had to move, as well as planning my wedding. Real life has gotten the best of both me and my beta.

Please review and let me know what you think, as each review feed my creative soul, and inspires me to keep writing.

Follow me on Twitter @achelle131

And if you like the story and want to discuss that or anything further, please come by and play on the Vanity and Patience Thread on the Twilighted.net Forum.

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