Fic: "The Heart of Darkness," chapter 2
So college has this way of totally consuming your life. I've been swamped with newspaper deadlines, homework, and the general hullabaloo of campus life. I'm afraid that I haven't been online much (or, more accurately, at all) this past week, so if you've written something or posted something I've probably missed it. I'll try my best to catch up this weekend, but don't be shy about letting me know if I've missed your fic! :)
For future reference, I plan to update about once every week or so.
Title: The Heart of Darkness
Rating: Hard R, Eventually NC-17
Genre: Romance, Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama
Word Count: Approx. 7,780
Characters/Pairings: Edward/Bella, canon couples
Summary: Set post-Eclipse. Getting married without tripping her way down the aisle was supposed to be Bella’s biggest worry before she and Edward began eternity together. But the Volturi, an unforseen friend, and an unexpected enemy create more complications than even Alice could have predicted. Bella thought being dead would make things easier, but for once there’s more at stake than simply staying alive. And somehow, Forks is still at the heart of it all....
Warnings: Spoilers for Eclipse. Eventually graphic sex and violence; subsequent chapters will have more specific warnings when applicable.
Disclaimer: If I was Stephenie, this would be the plot of Breaking Dawn. Since I’m not, this fanfic is being posted without profit, but with smut. ;)
Author's Note 1: If this chapter is at all readable, then it is due to the efforts of the world's most amazing beta, snuggle_muggle. I cannot begin to convey the depths of my gratitude; she not only read every draft of this chapter, but provided insight, commentary, and, of course, the ever-watchful second pair of eyes I so desperately needed. She is truly the loveliest person ever, and I cannot thank her enough. It should also be noted that all remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone.
Author's Note 2: I also want to say thanks to all the kind people who left absolutely lovely feedback on the last chapter. This one's for you! :D
Chapter 1
The next day I found myself being forcibly taken to Seattle in Alice’s yellow Porsche.
“You do realize you were asking for trouble dragging me along, right?” I grumbled, though I found it hard to sound as stern as I’d meant to; I hadn’t noticed when we were bribing our way through Volterra’s streets, but these leather seats really were quite comfortable. Almost comfortable enough to put me at ease with this bizarre shopping expedition.
Almost.
“We won’t have any trouble,” Alice chirped, downshifting into third gear as she passed a few more cars. She turned and grinned at me, not paying the slightest attention to the road as she slid deftly back into the left lane. The cars twenty feet in front of us hurriedly put on their turn signals and moved out of her way. She was still laughing her tinkling laugh as she zoomed along the interstate, the entire left lane now devoid of law-abiding vehicles. “I happen to know that today’s shopping trip will be a tremendous success.”
“You should be using your superpowers for good, not evil,” I said, and Alice laughed again. To my surprise, so did Rosalie.
When Edward told me last night that Alice had plans for me, I had expected something like this. What I hadn’t expected was for Rosalie to tag along.
Rosalie had even insisted that she take the back seat so I could sit up front with Alice.
Of course, I’d protested. “You’re about a foot taller than me!” I’d said, craning my neck to meet her gaze. I thought it emphasized my point nicely.
But she had simply smiled and said, “Today is for you.”
I didn’t know what was more worrying: Alice’s driving or Rosalie’s friendliness.
But maybe I was being too hard on her… she did come to my room that night and try to convince me to stay human, not because she didn’t want me with Edward (well, not mostly, anyway), but because of her own experiences and regrets. I couldn’t help but feel extremely sympathetic towards her. Just when she thought she’d had it all-a successful fiancé, wealth, popularity, and children on the horizon-she had been raped by a man she’d trusted and left to die.
It was hard not to cut her some slack.
“So we’ll be stopping by a spa first,” Alice said, turning off the highway. I blinked; the car had moved so quickly that I had barely noticed we were getting off. I was momentarily distracted by the directional change, so it took a few moments for her words to register.
“Oh, good,” said Rosalie. “I’ve been wanting to get my nails painted for ages.”
“A spa?” I said, incredulous. “I am not going to a spa.”
“Oh yes, you are,” said Alice. “If you’re going to become one of us you need to have your hair cut, your nails shaped and painted, and your skin exfoliated. You might also want to get your legs and bikini line waxed,” she added. “We can do that today, and again right before the wedding.”
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I stared at her in abject horror, wondering for the first time if Edward had known all about Alice’s plan-he had definitely mentioned something about torture.
“It’s a good idea, Bella,” Rosalie said, leaning from the back seat so that she was sitting closer to the front. She was able to do this because she wasn’t wearing a seat belt. “Once you transform, your hair, nails, and skin will stop growing and become nearly indestructible. Then you can’t make any changes. Think about it: stuck for eternity with split ends.” She ran a hand through her blonde hair-which was styled curly today-as if to make sure her strands were still in perfect condition, though of course their condition hadn’t changed for decades.
“That’s one thing I really regret,” Alice said, her dark eyes flashing to the rearview mirror to examine her reflection. “I don’t know how long my hair was before they shaved it off at the asylum, but there are only so many ways to style hair that’s two inches long.”
When they put it like that, I realized that my own hair, which now fell to the middle of my back, could definitely use a trim. I suddenly had a better idea of why Rosalie was coming along. It was much harder to ignore two voices advising me to succumb to one day at the spa in exchange for an eternity with a hairstyle I could live with-or rather, a hairstyle I could die with.
“Okay, you’ve convinced me,” I said wearily, though it didn’t really matter what I thought; Alice had already parked the Porsche in front of large modern building with a sign reading Lotus Lake Spa in sophisticated lettering.
Rosalie hopped out of the backseat and reached the door first, her three-inch stilettos making clicking noises on the spa’s tile floors.
“May I help you?” asked the woman behind the reception desk. Her voice was husky, and traces of a Spanish accent colored her words so that, coupled with her almond skin and toffee eyes, she was beautifully foreign-looking.
I thought fleetingly that she would make a stunning vampire, and then wondered if I hadn’t developed preemptory symptoms-like vampire PMS.
“Are you okay?” Alice asked me, eyeing me as Rosalie gave the exotic receptionist our appointment time. “You look a little strange.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Just nervous about hot wax being dripped in extremely private places.”
“You’ll thank me for this over the next few centuries,” Alice said confidently, and smiled as we followed the receptionist into the next room.
This room was evidently the hair salon. Several women had their hair wrapped in foil and turbans, while others were chatting animatedly to men in tight black pants as they made precarious-looking swipes at their hair with flashing scissors. The smell of hair dye competed for dominance with something that might have been floral.
“Hi, my name’s Regina. Welcome to my salon!” a high voice sang out, and all three of us turned as a woman with short grey hair came walking up to us, her heels almost as high as Rosalie’s. “Who’s the lucky bride-to-be?”
Despite her grey hair Regina didn’t look a day older than 35, an impression that was reinforced by a skintight black dress that showcased her décolletage and fell just above her knees, so that her tanned calves were visible. I wondered how much plastic surgery and fake tanner had gone into the improbable vision standing before us.
I was so absorbed in my efforts to approximate Regina’s age that I almost didn’t notice she’d directed her question to Alice and Rosalie. Apparently, my plain appearance didn’t make me a likely contender in the fiancée category.
“Bella is going to be married in a few weeks,” Alice said, gesturing to me. The woman’s smile froze as her gaze slid over my face, taking in my chocolate brown eyes, pin-straight dark hair, and translucent skin. I could practically see her cataloguing the many changes she’d have to make in order for the makeover to be complete.
“I just want my hair trimmed,” I said hurriedly, trying to stave off any thoughts she had of blonde highlights or perms.
“And a full facial treatment, manicure and pedicure, and bikini wax,” Alice added. I turned to glare at her, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment, but Alice ignored me.
“I’m sure we can fix her up,” Regina said, sounding as though she hadn’t given up hope on the highlights yet. I sighed and followed her to the chair farthest from the entrance to the room.
“Maximilian!” Regina called, pushing me into the chair and throwing a long black apron around my front. “Your afternoon appointment is here!”
A tall, slender man with spiky pink hair and a silver eyebrow ring walked toward us, crossing his lightly toned arms in front of his muscled chest. His form-fitting black t-shirt and pants made his bubblegum hair stand out even more than it would have normally. Overall, I thought he looked like a very gay guitarist in a punk band. I was half right.
“You’re Bella Swan?” he asked, and his melodic voice surprised me; I’d expected something throatier.
“Yes,” I replied, trying to smile at him. I think I mostly failed-I was too busy wondering where he was hiding his cutting shears.
Alice gave me a quick peck on the cheek before leaving with Regina on a private tour of the spa. I worried about what ideas Regina might give Alice without me present to run interference.
“Congratulations on your engagement!” Maximilian said, interrupting my dark musings on Alice’s plans. He swiveled me in my chair so that we both faced the mirror, and for the first time he caught a glimpse of Rosalie.
His eyes grew almost comically round. “Wow, aren’t you perfectly delish!” he said, stunned.
Heads turned towards us and the mouths of several people dropped. Rosalie would have attracted less attention if she was Jessica Simpson
Rosalie granted him a small smile, though that might have been because of his choice of words-after all, she \was probably thinking the same thing about him. Of course, she meant it in the literal sense.
“Call me Max, by the way,” he added conspiratorially to both me and Rosalie. “Regina thinks Maximilian sounds more fashionable, but nobody’s called me that since before I lost my virginity.”
He gave a self-deprecating laugh and I giggled, though I my face still felt hot. I thought again about how nice it would be when my embarrassment would no longer be advertised to the whole world.
“So what look are you going for?” he said, holding up strands of my hair and eyeing them critically. “Your hair’s in remarkably good condition-what products do you use?”
“Um…” I stalled, not wanting to admit that I used generic shampoo and conditioner from the grocery store.
“She uses Sisley, from Saks,” Rosalie said, saving me from further embarrassment. Max turned to her and smiled, nodding enthusiastically.
“It’s not cheap, but I find it’s so worth it,” he said, running a comb through my hair. “Of course, it doesn’t look like you style it at all. Have you ever tried loose curls? Or do you prefer it straight?”
“I never really thought about it,” I admitted. I also never thought about nail polish or my bikini line, but I kept that to myself.
“Well you have a great facial structure-really nice cheekbones,” Max said, parting my hair on the left so that a sweep fell over my right eye. “You have a widow’s peak, which really accentuates your heart-shaped face… you should probably stay away from bangs, as a rule. But I think some nice long layers in the front would really make your eyes pop.”
I nodded, not bothering to question how my hair cut would make my nondescript brown eyes any more interesting. They wouldn’t be that shade of brown much longer anyway. At least a few layers wouldn’t be that noticeable, and they’d make Alice happy-a win-win situation.
Max led me over to the sink where he began washing my hair, his big hands massaging my scalp in the warm water. It was such a pleasant feeling that I nearly forgot about the impending horrors of hot wax.
“Now, tell me about this man of yours,” Max said, winking at me as he toweled my hair. I sat back in the chair and tried to avoid looking at my reflection in the mirror-with my hair dripping wet and the black apron draped over me I looked like a drowned cat.
“He’s… beyond description,” I said, struggling to find a way to convey to a stranger the perfection that is Edward Cullen.
“Do you have a picture?” Max asked, combing out my hair once more. He pulled a pair of scissors from his back pocket and began snipping.
“I do,” Rosalie answered him, pulling out a snapshot from her pocketbook. I stared open-mouthed at her-I would have pinned her as the least likely of the Cullens to be sentimental enough to carry around photographs.
“He’s the shorter one with brown hair,” she said to Max, pointing him out. I couldn’t see the picture, though of course I knew exactly what Edward would look like-calm, with a small smile playing around his lips, and a lock of bronze hair sweeping across his forehead. I watched as Max’s eyes threatened to pop out of his head.
“He’s gorgeous,” Max said finally, still staring at the photo. “Are all of them part of a modeling agency?”
“No, they just have really fortunate genetics,” I said dryly.
“I’ll say!” Max said, just barely managing to tear himself away from the photo long enough to resume trimming my hair. “I can’t believe you let him out of your sight-if he was mine I’d drag him everywhere, just for the eye candy!”
The way Max said it wasn’t insulting, and I liked him even more for not giving me the obvious double-take most people did when they realized a guy like Edward had chosen a girl like me.
“So is he really amazing in bed?” Max asked casually, his hands flying as he pulled long strands of hair up with his comb before snipping away miniscule amounts. For what felt like the hundredth time that day I blushed.
Rosalie and Max both laughed at my tight-lipped expression, and despite the unreality of the conversation I found I was actually enjoying myself. Max seemed like someone who, had we met in another lifetime-a lifetime that didn’t include my imminent death-I would have been good friends with. Rosalie just seemed content to be around someone as concerned with style as she was.
He and Rosalie continued to chat about wedding dresses and the year’s best and worst fashion trends, and I chimed in occasionally until the drone from the blow dryer made conversation impossible.
Max had turned my chair away from the mirror so I couldn’t see while he was styling my hair, but once he declared my hair finished, he quickly whirled me around.
“Perfect,” Rosalie said, smiling at him and giving me an approving look. I could hardly take my eyes off the stranger in the mirror: my hair was still long-and thankfully still the same shade of dark brown-but the subtle layers really did frame my face, and it looked much shinier than usual.
“I just used a shine serum,” Max explained, running his hands through the glossy strands. “I kept the style simple-it shouldn’t take you more than five minutes in the morning.”
“Thanks,” I said, genuinely awed that my hair had turned out so well.
“Let me know if you need a stylist for the wedding,” Max said, unbuttoning the apron and helping me to my feet-I’d nearly tripped over the chair’s footrest climbing out. “I’d love an opportunity to meet your Edward.” He gave me a final wink before sticking his scissors in his back pocket and leaving to see Regina, who was greeting more customers at the front desk.
“Bella!” Alice said, startling me as she appeared by my side. She smiled radiantly, inspecting my freshly styled hair. “This is perfect!”
“Where were you?” I asked curiously, hoping that she hadn’t thought of any more treatments for me
“Oh, sorry about that. Tanya called,” she said, frowning.
“What did she say?”
Alice sighed and her shoulders slumped. “Tanya isn’t coming to the wedding,” she said. “Since Irina’s still upset about Laurent, Tanya’s going to stay with her in Denali. So only Kate is coming.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, though I found it difficult to muster up too much concern for Irina-Laurent had tried to eat me, after all.
“Well, that leaves the guest count at only eighteen.”
“It’s going to be a beautiful wedding, no matter how many people show up,” I said, giving her a hug. “Edward and I are just happy you’re planning it.”
“You’re getting married?!” a voice shrieked, causing me to jump. A few feet away Jessica Stanley and Lauren Mallory were staring at us, and Jessica’s curly hair gave her an even more shocked look, as though the coils were standing on end in surprise.
“Jessica, Lauren,” I greeted them, trying to smile. I felt my heart rate increase as I imagined the thoughts that must be running through their minds-- How did she trap him into that? Cullen must have knocked her up, and now they’re having a shotgun wedding…
It was probably a good thing Edward wasn’t here so he couldn’t read their thoughts. I would never want his happiness over our wedding ruined over their pettiness.
And just as suddenly as Jessica and Lauren appeared, reminding me of all the reasons why I was originally reluctant to marry Edward, it hit me: I had absolutely no reason in the world to give in to my fears about other people’s prejudices, whether they were my mom’s or Jessica’s or the Pope’s.
“Yes, Edward and I are getting married in August,” I said loudly, attracting the attention of several people in various stages of hair styling
“Oh, Ms. Mallory! Getting ready for another modeling appointment?” Regina said, swooping down on Lauren and fingering her cornsilk hair, which was barely long enough to reach her chin. “I think Geoffrey could manage to squeeze you in today!”
“We changed our minds,” Lauren said. Regina’s smile slipped slightly and she walked away to attend to another client. I noticed Lauren avoided the question about modeling-maybe her big break hadn’t happened yet.
“It was nice seeing you,” Rosalie said, staring down Lauren and Jessica in the way only gorgeous women can, simultaneously dismissing you and making you wonder when your self-esteem had taken its leave of absence.
Jessica and Lauren left, pausing to look back before they walked out the door, talking in whispers the whole time. As soon as they were gone Alice turned to me, her expression apologetic.
“I’m so sorry, Bella. I didn’t see that happen.”
“It’s okay, Alice,” I said, smiling at her.
“You sure you’re all right? I know you didn’t want the whole town to know, and Jessica and Lauren are bound to call everyone…”
“It’s okay,” I repeated. “It doesn’t matter to me anymore. Really,” I reassured her when she continued to look at me skeptically.
“You’re handling this very well,” Rosalie observed, considering me thoughtfully.
“Maybe I’ve done a bit more growing up,” I said, smiling at Rosalie. I could tell by the way she smiled back that she understood what I meant.
“Now, I hear there’s more torture lined up for me today.” I gave a mock groan and Alice finally grinned back.
“You’ll forgive me before the century is out,” she assured me. I managed to laugh, though I had a feeling I would probably do a lot of yelling and crying very soon. But any tears I shed wouldn’t be over what people in Forks thought of my plans to marry Edward Cullen.
*
Alice and Rosalie dropped me off at home and carried in several hundred pounds of clothes from the car before they waved good-bye. My room, which was small enough to be called cozy, was bursting with shopping bags. I eyed the hot pink Victoria’s Secret bag with a mix of anticipation and nerves.
I still couldn’t believe Rosalie and Alice had managed to convince me to shop there. I had protested at first, but they had arguments ready.
“If you don’t buy lingerie here, Alice will just order you something French and expensive,” Rosalie said. She examined her newly-painted nails as she spoke, appearing utterly indifferent to the argument. But she didn’t fool me for a second. She was enjoying this just as much as Alice was, though probably her enjoyment had more to do with watching me squirm.
“Please, Bella?” Alice pleaded, long eyelashes fluttering as her porcelain doll lips pouted. “Think about what Edward wants, too. This isn’t just your wedding. Don’t you want to make him happy?”
“That’s not fair!” I snapped, starting to get angry. “Edward doesn’t care about what I’m wearing!”
“Of course he will, once he sees you in it,” Rosalie argued. “Bella, if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s what men want. And trust me, just because Edward’s a gentleman doesn’t mean he’s not a man.”
Heat crept up my neck as her words reminded me of Edward’s response that day in the meadow, when I asked if he found me my body attractive, or just the blood pumping through it. I may not be human, but I’m still a man.
“You can either have a say in what we buy now, or I’ll make Edward pick out lingerie from La Perle,” Alice threatened. I didn’t know what La Perle was, but I could guess from Alice’s tone that it would be my worst conception of lingerie, and pricey as well.
“This is such a waste,” I said, desperate now. “I am not wearing lingerie!”
“You want to go to bed in white cotton panties and a ratty t-shirt on your wedding night?” Rosalie said, arching her eyebrows.
“Think of it this way, Bella: any clothes you buy today will fit you forever, so it’s not wasting money,” Alice wheedled. A clique of high-school girls eyed Alice curiously. They probably wanted to know what miracle diet could accomplish such a feat. But Alice continued, oblivious-or, more likely, indifferent-to the odd looks she’d received. “Besides, if you don’t shop now you’ll have to wait years until you can go out in public again.”
“And it’ll be an inconvenience for everyone to shop for you until you adjust. You’ll go through clothes much faster as a newborn-you’ll rip things all the time until you get used to your strength,” Rosalie added. Like Alice, she didn’t bother to lower her voice. Strangers stared as they passed by, though that was probably inevitable as Alice and Rosalie were bound to attract attention regardless of what they said.
I sighed and pushed my hair away from my forehead while Alice and Rosalie waited. I was tempted to give in just to prevent bystanders from overhearing any more of our strange conversation. Reluctantly, I admitted they were probably right about me ruining my clothes as I adjusted to my body’s new strength and speed, not to mention all the additional damage I’d cause just from being so accident prone. Instead of getting battered by vans, breaking glass, and rushing water, I’d be the one doing all the damage to inanimate objects.
And what if Rosalie and Alice were right about Edward expecting something nicer than Hanes on our wedding night? Steeling myself, I nodded once and walked into the store and straight to the nearest panty table.
“Ugh, it’s like an atomic bomb when off,” a saleswoman was saying as she sorted through heaps of underwear. “How do people mess them up so quickly?”
“They should call them WMD’s-Women of Mass Destruction,” a second worker joked.
“Excuse me,” I’d said, and the two women looked up with the same vapid smiles on their faces. “Where can I find your bridal collection?”
Which was how I’d come to possess a full shopping bag’s worth of white lacy panties, bras, and babydolls.
I took the Victoria’s Secret bag and stuffed it under my bed, hoping no one would have cause to look there. It seemed unlikely that Charlie would find it, and I hoped my hiding place would spare us both that embarrassment. I don’t think I could stand another attempt at a sex talk.
Downstairs I heard the door slam, and I jumped.
“Bella!” Charlie yelled. “Something came in the mail for you!”
“Coming!” I called back. Mobilized into action, I gathered all the shopping bags and piled them into my closet.
I went downstairs and saw Charlie sitting at the table. A large brown package was on the counter behind him.
“Hey Bells,” Charlie said, his smile turning into a look of confusion. “Are you wearing makeup? You look different today.”
“No, I just had my hair cut,” I explained. “Alice and Rosalie made me.”
“Rosalie? I didn’t know you hung around with her.”
“I usually don’t, but today she made an exception.”
“Huh. Guess she’s getting used to you being around,” Charlie shrugged. “Anyway, a package came for you. It’s from your mother.” The way he said it was so casual it had to be deliberate.
The last time I’d spoken to my mother was the night Edward told her we were getting married. Sudden fear stabbed at me-what if she was sending my stuff back because she never wanted to see me again? A panicky voice in my head wondered if this box contained my Victoria’s Secret silk pajama set. Wouldn’t that be ironic? I picked the box up from the counter, and the sight of my mother’s handwriting on the address label made my throat dry.
“I’ll open this upstairs,” I said, my voice barely louder than a whisper.
“I’ll be down here if you need me, Bells,” Charlie said, and I could feel him watching me as I carried the package back upstairs to my room.
I figured there was no sense in prolonging the torture. I grabbed a pair of scissors and sliced through the packing tape, the sound of ripping cardboard somehow amplified by my trepidation. An envelope rested on a layer of old newspapers and my hands shook slightly as I opened it, unfolding the notebook paper to read my mother’s note.
Dear Bella,
I know I said a lot of things out of shock during our last conversation. I never wanted to hurt you, but I feel responsible for your happiness. I only want what’s best for you. I’m sending you a few things that I hope will help you make the right decision.
Please think about what I said. Don’t repeat my mistakes.
I love you,
Mom
I blinked back tears as I folded the letter, though I couldn’t say whether they were mostly tears of anger or sadness. I blindly grabbed wads of newspaper, eager to empty the box and get it over with.
To my surprise, the box was already mostly empty. I fished around the bottom until I had pulled out the only two objects in the package-Rusty, my old stuffed kangaroo, and my diary from sixth grade.
It was a plain black journal with the word “Diary” spelled across the front. I remembered buying this during my mom’s infamous Self-Help phase. One of the books she read recommended keeping a diary of all your hopes, dreams, and goals. The self-help gurus loved saying you couldn’t move forward until you knew where you wanted to go, so she’d encouraged me to write down everything I wanted to accomplish.
I unceremoniously packed Rusty back into the cardboard box, more angry at Renee’s transparent attempt to manipulate me than sentimental about seeing my childhood companion. I didn’t put the diary back, though. I sat down on my bed and opened it to the first page, curious to see what my sixth-grade self had envisioned for the future.
My penmanship was, if possible, even sloppier than the handwriting in my Biology notes from junior year I squinted to make out the loopy letters, which were all but illegible:
Dear Diary,
Today Mom bought you for me, and said I should write down ten things I want to do in my life before I turn thirty (I asked why thirty, but she just shrugged). I told her I just want to read and go to school and hang out with my best friend Mary, but Mom’s unstoppable when she gets like this. So, here’s my list of goals:
Ten Things I’ll Do Before I’m Thirty
1. Survive sixth grade. And sixth-period gym.
2. Talk to Jeremy Houston without blushing
3. Finish Anna Karenina
4. Go to college (someplace tropical with plenty of beaches-Miami maybe?)
5. Have successful career (journalism?)
6. Find and marry Mr. Darcy
7. Buy a blue Victorian house with a wrap-around porch and dusty attic (but not haunted like Mary’s)
8. Travel to Australia
9. Get my ears pierced
10. Make a difference in the world
I flipped through the rest of the pages, but there were only a few entries after the first. I remember making it a New Year’s resolution to write regularly, but recording everyday minutiae was just too depressing. Once Renee got over the Self-Help fad she stopped insisting I make lists of goals and dreams, and my diary became one of the few books on my shelf to gather dust.
The sound of distant thunder interrupted my thoughts. “Hi,” a voice said, and my heart leapt.
“Edward!”
He finished climbing through my window and closed it, the sounds of the coming storm muffled once again. Edward sat next to me on the bed and examined my face carefully.
“Charlie’s worried about you,” he said finally, a slight crease between his eyes.
“I’m fine,” I said, glancing down at the diary still in my lap. It was open to my list on the first page.
“What’s this?” he asked, following my gaze. I handed it to him wordlessly, slightly embarrassed about my sixth-grade fantasies.
“It’s just something my mom wanted me to remember,” I said, trying to sound dismissive. Edward read quickly, then turned back to me slowly.
“Are you upset?” he asked finally.
“Sort of,” I answered honestly.
“Would you like to postpone the wedding so you can do some of these things?” he said, his amber eyes softening as he regarded me seriously. “I don’t know about college or a successful career, but the house and Australia are definitely possible. And you’ve already made a difference in my world.”
I blinked at him before realizing the miscommunication.
“I’m not upset about the list,” I said, smiling slightly. “Those were just silly ideas my mom made me write down. I’m just upset about the reason Renee sent it to me.”
“Ah,” was all Edward said.
“I can’t believe I considered journalism as a career,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood. “I would have hated being a reporter. I’d get so nervous I’d stammer through every interview.”
“You will be wonderful at anything you choose to do,” Edward said, leaning over to kiss the top of my head. “Though I would worry about your propensity for attracting danger. You’d be reporting on a wildfire and probably get burned.”
“Or blown away if I was covering a hurricane,” I agreed, laughing softly.
Edward laughed with me, then took my diary and a pen from my desk. He opened the book to a new page and wrote something at the top, then handed it to me.
At the top of the page, written in script so elegant it might have been calligraphy, were the words, “Ten Things I’ll Do Before I’m Nineteen.”
I felt the mood between us change, as if the storm had entered my room. Electricity buzzed in the air and an imaginary breeze raised goose bumps along my arms. I was the weathervane, spinning in the wake of Edward’s storm.
I took the pen from him and carefully wrote out, 1. Lose my virginity. I handed the pen and paper back to Edward. “You have to write ten, too,” I said softly.
“But I’m already over nineteen,” he said, his lips ghosting across my cheek as he kissed me.
I took the pen and wrote below Edward’s title, “Ten Things We’ll Do After We’re Married.”
“Here,” I said.
He nodded and, underneath my entry, wrote, 2. Make love to Bella Cullen. I blushed furiously but thrilled at his words.
3. See the world, I wrote next, thinking of a likely visit to Antarctica as well as my earlier desire to visit Australia.
“We’ll have the longest honeymoon in history,” Edward murmured as he read my words. He squeezed my hand before taking the pen from me and writing, 4. Teach Bella how to play baseball.
“I already know how to play baseball,” I said, remembering my first evening with the Cullens.
“You thought baseball had half-time, and that the season began in fall,” Edward pointed out.
I did not dignify that with a response, except to write 5. Beat Edward and Emmett in an arm-wrestling match. I smiled, imagining how nice it would be to finally be better than Edward at something-even if it was only for a year.
Edward laughed, then penned, 6. Buy Bella a really fast car and challenge her to a race.
“I’m not abandoning my truck,” I huffed, though secretly I thought the idea of Edward drag racing was sort of hot. It might even be worth it to let him buy me a car just to see the intense, joyous look on his face as he attempted to break the sound barrier.
“Once you can walk faster than the speed limit you’ll be begging me for a car,” Edward teased, tracing an ice-cold finger down my neck. The image of Edward and me speeding along an abandoned road made me shiver as his skin touched mine.
Who said discretion was the better part of valor, I thought, and muttered, “We’ll see who’s begging who.” Edward raised his eyebrows at me. I flushed as I slowly wrote 7. Learn to give amazing blow jobs.
I handed the diary to Edward and he studied it passively. I knew he was perfectly aware of my heart fluttering in my chest and I wondered, briefly, if he would miss this one insight into my thoughts and feelings.
Edward didn’t look at me as he wrote a response to my entry. A part of me-a very large part of me-was terrified that I was doing this wrong. Even as I felt my body responding to fantasies of Edward, even as I sensed the heat rising along my skin and making me hunger for Edward’s touch, I wondered if I seemed terribly naïve. Although Edward was as virginal as me, he still had a century of human experiences to work with, plus an unobstructed view into every person’s most intimate thoughts. What did I know about being sexy? No matter how much lingerie Rosalie and Alice made me buy, I would still be uncoordinated and tomato-red once it came off.
I was so busy fighting the simultaneous urges to jump Edward and jump out the window that it took me a second to comprehend what Edward had written.
8. Make Bella scream my name.
I looked at him looking at me. His head was tilted towards the bed, so that he gazed at me through his dark eyelashes. I knew intuitively that, if he was capable of it, he’d be just as flushed as I was.
My heart beat faster as I placed the diary on my nightstand and climbed onto Edward’s lap, straddling him.
“Nine,” I whispered, letting my warm breath ghost against his ear. “Make Edward’s every fantasy come true.”
I felt sick with lust; my head was literally buzzing, and I was unable to stop myself from kissing along his jaw line. My hands clenched his shoulders tightly, as though I was trying to anchor myself to him.
“Bella,” he said, and while he’d probably meant it as a warning, the way the words came out sounded more like a moan. The thought of Edward losing his self-control-the self-control he wore like a shield every moment of every day-undid me. I pushed my hands underneath his shirt and rocked against him. I felt the pressure of his erection pushing against my jeans, and the jolts of pleasure made my thighs shake.
“Please,” I gasped, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and moved my hips back and forth, putting as much force into the motion as I could. I felt myself getting sweaty, and my cotton underwear becoming damp. I imagined him entering me… if only I didn’t have these clothes on…
Edward’s only answer was to flip me onto my back and continue the frantic rhythm I’d started, holding his upper body erect and thrusting against me.
I tugged him down so that his chest was flush with mine as we moved our hips in tandem. Even through two layers of clothing his body mimicked the sensation of stepping into an air-conditioned room after hours spent lying in the sun. The coolness swept over me, and I wanted to dig my fingernails into his skin, rake my hands through his hair, pant into his mouth how much I loved him, wanted him, needed him inside me.
“Edward,” I whispered against his throat, and I angled my hips so that his thrusts were hitting that same pleasurable spot every time-
Then Edward kissed me, his bottom lip just barely grazing mine.
The contrast between the friction of our bodies and the soft pressure of his mouth made me gasp, and even Edward’s cold skin couldn’t keep the rush of heat from overtaking me. My legs shook and I could no longer keep up with Edward’s rhythm. I just lifted my hips and pushed against him as hard as I could as my muscles contracted, spreading waves of pleasure through my body. My breath left me entirely and my heart beat louder, as if to compensate for the other organ’s failure.
My uncontrollable shaking lasted for a few seconds as I finally recovered my breath. Strands of hair were sticking to my forehead, but my body felt boneless, so I didn’t attempt to brush the sweaty locks aside. I lay beneath Edward, panting as the rush of my orgasm subsided.
“Ten,” Edward said, sounding hoarse. “Spend every day making you look like this.”
*
I sighed, reluctant to move from my position curled against Edward. My head fit perfectly in the crook of his arm, and the lush leather sofa was immensely comfortable. Edward heard my sigh and shifted, disentangling his arm from around my shoulders.
“Time to go?” he asked.
I nodded and stood up, trying to remind myself that I was happy for the opportunity to make Charlie dinner. It was harder than I thought it would be, especially since bodily contact with Edward was even more tempting than usual. I wondered if the smell of my blood was changing with all the additional hormones that had undoubtedly been released in the past few days.
I waved good-bye to Alice and Jasper, who were both watching the weather report on T.V. Alice had already scheduled the wedding for the one clear night this month, so I knew she only watched it because she thought the meteorologist’s predictions were funny.
Edward picked up his car keys from the kitchen counter and I smiled, thinking about his proposed race.
“What are you thinking?” Edward asked as he led me into the garage.
“Just remembering something,” I said, trying to will myself not to blush.
Edward sensed the flow of blood to my cheeks and chuckled as he opened the passenger door for me.
“Can I drive?” I asked abruptly, suddenly inspired to see how well I could handle a sports car. Before I’d been terrified by the prospect of driving faster than 55 mph, but after feeling the rush of riding on a motorcycle, completely freeing myself to the wind and the pavement and the grip of my hands on the handlebars, I realized how much fun it could be. And while I felt a pang for Jacob, I knew that this was something I could share with Edward. Of course, it also helped that there was no real danger in my driving at high velocity with him; his reflexes were so honed that he could easily prevent an accident. Compared to his plan to save me from a jet plummeting to Earth, rescuing me from crashing into a deer in the road would be laughably easy.
Edward smiled, apparently delighted. “Of course,” he said, and faster than I could see he opened the driver’s door and waited for me to walk over to him.
At first I thought I was going to feel intimidated by his Volvo’s sleek dashboard and smooth handling, but I was beginning to understand the temptation to drive so fast. With a car like this, 70 miles an hour was as calm as a stroll through the park.
Not that I’d admit it to him.
“So, do you like it?” he said, grinning and adjusting the rearview mirror for me.
“It’s okay,” I hedged, pumping the gas pedal. The speedometer inched its way to 75 mph, but it still felt more like 20. Amazing.
“So, I have a question for you,” Edward said. “It’s about your list.”
The feeling of ease quickly vanished and was replaced by something akin to an adrenaline rush that was entirely unrelated to my driving at dangerously high speeds.
Edward smiled, correctly interpreting my reaction. “Not that list. The one you wrote as a child.”
“Oh,” I said, struggling to remember what I’d written. The list that followed was so much more powerful than the first that it eclipsed it entirely. “What about it?”
“Did you ever finish Anna Karenina?”
I laughed, the tension that had been building in my shoulders easing slightly. “No, I didn’t. I tried very hard but I just couldn’t get through it. I kept getting the different characters mixed up, or forgetting who said what to whom. It was a New Year’s resolution every year for a while until I finally admitted defeat.”
“Death by Russian literature,” Edward said solemnly.
“How about you? Have you read it?”
“No, actually,” Edward replied. “Tolstoy was supposed to be the world’s greatest novelist, but I was always afraid I would read it and be disappointed by-Bella, slow down!”
I eased my foot off the gas but I was miffed; I was only going 75, and Edward routinely went over 100.
“Slower!” Edward said, and it was then I realized something was wrong. There was a desperate edge to Edward’s voice and his words came out much sharper than usual. His eyes were scanning the road in front of us, as though he was expecting something-
And then a giant wolf leapt into the road directly in front of us.
I didn’t have time to react. I didn’t even have time to brake.
Edward ripped my seatbelt in half and yanked me from my seat, drawing me toward the passenger’s side of the car. I felt his arms reach around me like a cage, and heard a sound like a drain being pulled from a bathtub full of water. A suctioning roar filled my ears and I finally understood: Edward had removed the car door.
The next thing I knew we were flying through the air, but it wasn’t in a graceful arc. I felt myself tumbling, jostled from side to side as if I was on a roller coaster. It was then I realized we weren’t flying through the air-we were hurtling across the pavement at 75 miles per hour, and the only thing protecting me from becoming road kill was the granite arms locking me in place.
I think I screamed, but the sound of Edward’s body hitting the pavement was like a gong inside my head, so loud that I couldn’t hear my own voice. I felt rather than simply heard the reverberations, and my body shook with each impact.
After what felt like several terrifying hours, but what must have actually been seconds, we came to a stop. I looked up into Edward’s face, too dazed to do much more than blink at him, my mouth open in shock.
He gave me an agonized look before standing up and turning away from me to face the wolf that had run us off the road.
“Paul,” Edward said, and his voice was so cold, so lethal, that it reminded me of Edward’s fight against Victoria. This time, however, he wasn’t facing an unpredictable vampire-he was facing an unpredictable werewolf who had the power to forever banish the Cullens from Forks.
Edward snarled, but it must have been in response to Paul’s thoughts because there was no change in Paul’s stance. His teeth were bared, the long canines on level with Edward’s eyesight. From my position lying sprawled on the ground, Paul looked gargantuan. It was easy to see now why Jacob had thought himself a monster.
“I’ll tell her,” Edward snapped, and it looked like he was frozen. He hadn’t moved an centimeter, his body locked in a protective stance between me and the wolf.
“Leave now, or damn the consequences,” Edward said, enunciating every syllable with murderous precision. I hadn’t known it was possible for his voice to get so cold.
Paul gave a snap of his jaws and left, disappearing into the trees on the side of the road.
Edward remained still, presumably waiting until he could be sure Paul had truly gone.
“Edward?” I asked, trying to sit up. The world tilted, so I lay back down again.
“You’re going into shock,” Edward said, instantly lowering himself into a crouch beside me. “I’m taking you straight to Carlisle.”
“What did he want?” I asked, trying to remember what I’d just overheard, but it was like water slipping through my hands and sluicing off my skin. Even my vision was watery; Edward’s beautiful face was hazy, like an impressionist painter’s portrait.
“He had a warning, that’s all,” Edward said. I didn’t feel him lift my body, but my hair was swirling around my face and trees were moving, so I supposed that meant we were on our way back to his house.
“You’re so beautiful,” I said, closing my eyes. I thought I might even be asleep. “You’re like a painting, or a statue, or a tree.”
There was silence, and then a huff of breath that might have been a shadow of laughter. “A tree?”
“With roots, and sunlight and green, like your eyes were,” I said. I was very sure this made perfect sense. “I love trees,” I added, and opened my eyes again so I could see the trees flashing by.
This was a bad idea. The last thing I saw was a blur of mossy green before I blacked out.
*
Chapter 3
For future reference, I plan to update about once every week or so.
Title: The Heart of Darkness
Rating: Hard R, Eventually NC-17
Genre: Romance, Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama
Word Count: Approx. 7,780
Characters/Pairings: Edward/Bella, canon couples
Summary: Set post-Eclipse. Getting married without tripping her way down the aisle was supposed to be Bella’s biggest worry before she and Edward began eternity together. But the Volturi, an unforseen friend, and an unexpected enemy create more complications than even Alice could have predicted. Bella thought being dead would make things easier, but for once there’s more at stake than simply staying alive. And somehow, Forks is still at the heart of it all....
Warnings: Spoilers for Eclipse. Eventually graphic sex and violence; subsequent chapters will have more specific warnings when applicable.
Disclaimer: If I was Stephenie, this would be the plot of Breaking Dawn. Since I’m not, this fanfic is being posted without profit, but with smut. ;)
Author's Note 1: If this chapter is at all readable, then it is due to the efforts of the world's most amazing beta, snuggle_muggle. I cannot begin to convey the depths of my gratitude; she not only read every draft of this chapter, but provided insight, commentary, and, of course, the ever-watchful second pair of eyes I so desperately needed. She is truly the loveliest person ever, and I cannot thank her enough. It should also be noted that all remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone.
Author's Note 2: I also want to say thanks to all the kind people who left absolutely lovely feedback on the last chapter. This one's for you! :D
Chapter 1
The next day I found myself being forcibly taken to Seattle in Alice’s yellow Porsche.
“You do realize you were asking for trouble dragging me along, right?” I grumbled, though I found it hard to sound as stern as I’d meant to; I hadn’t noticed when we were bribing our way through Volterra’s streets, but these leather seats really were quite comfortable. Almost comfortable enough to put me at ease with this bizarre shopping expedition.
Almost.
“We won’t have any trouble,” Alice chirped, downshifting into third gear as she passed a few more cars. She turned and grinned at me, not paying the slightest attention to the road as she slid deftly back into the left lane. The cars twenty feet in front of us hurriedly put on their turn signals and moved out of her way. She was still laughing her tinkling laugh as she zoomed along the interstate, the entire left lane now devoid of law-abiding vehicles. “I happen to know that today’s shopping trip will be a tremendous success.”
“You should be using your superpowers for good, not evil,” I said, and Alice laughed again. To my surprise, so did Rosalie.
When Edward told me last night that Alice had plans for me, I had expected something like this. What I hadn’t expected was for Rosalie to tag along.
Rosalie had even insisted that she take the back seat so I could sit up front with Alice.
Of course, I’d protested. “You’re about a foot taller than me!” I’d said, craning my neck to meet her gaze. I thought it emphasized my point nicely.
But she had simply smiled and said, “Today is for you.”
I didn’t know what was more worrying: Alice’s driving or Rosalie’s friendliness.
But maybe I was being too hard on her… she did come to my room that night and try to convince me to stay human, not because she didn’t want me with Edward (well, not mostly, anyway), but because of her own experiences and regrets. I couldn’t help but feel extremely sympathetic towards her. Just when she thought she’d had it all-a successful fiancé, wealth, popularity, and children on the horizon-she had been raped by a man she’d trusted and left to die.
It was hard not to cut her some slack.
“So we’ll be stopping by a spa first,” Alice said, turning off the highway. I blinked; the car had moved so quickly that I had barely noticed we were getting off. I was momentarily distracted by the directional change, so it took a few moments for her words to register.
“Oh, good,” said Rosalie. “I’ve been wanting to get my nails painted for ages.”
“A spa?” I said, incredulous. “I am not going to a spa.”
“Oh yes, you are,” said Alice. “If you’re going to become one of us you need to have your hair cut, your nails shaped and painted, and your skin exfoliated. You might also want to get your legs and bikini line waxed,” she added. “We can do that today, and again right before the wedding.”
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I stared at her in abject horror, wondering for the first time if Edward had known all about Alice’s plan-he had definitely mentioned something about torture.
“It’s a good idea, Bella,” Rosalie said, leaning from the back seat so that she was sitting closer to the front. She was able to do this because she wasn’t wearing a seat belt. “Once you transform, your hair, nails, and skin will stop growing and become nearly indestructible. Then you can’t make any changes. Think about it: stuck for eternity with split ends.” She ran a hand through her blonde hair-which was styled curly today-as if to make sure her strands were still in perfect condition, though of course their condition hadn’t changed for decades.
“That’s one thing I really regret,” Alice said, her dark eyes flashing to the rearview mirror to examine her reflection. “I don’t know how long my hair was before they shaved it off at the asylum, but there are only so many ways to style hair that’s two inches long.”
When they put it like that, I realized that my own hair, which now fell to the middle of my back, could definitely use a trim. I suddenly had a better idea of why Rosalie was coming along. It was much harder to ignore two voices advising me to succumb to one day at the spa in exchange for an eternity with a hairstyle I could live with-or rather, a hairstyle I could die with.
“Okay, you’ve convinced me,” I said wearily, though it didn’t really matter what I thought; Alice had already parked the Porsche in front of large modern building with a sign reading Lotus Lake Spa in sophisticated lettering.
Rosalie hopped out of the backseat and reached the door first, her three-inch stilettos making clicking noises on the spa’s tile floors.
“May I help you?” asked the woman behind the reception desk. Her voice was husky, and traces of a Spanish accent colored her words so that, coupled with her almond skin and toffee eyes, she was beautifully foreign-looking.
I thought fleetingly that she would make a stunning vampire, and then wondered if I hadn’t developed preemptory symptoms-like vampire PMS.
“Are you okay?” Alice asked me, eyeing me as Rosalie gave the exotic receptionist our appointment time. “You look a little strange.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Just nervous about hot wax being dripped in extremely private places.”
“You’ll thank me for this over the next few centuries,” Alice said confidently, and smiled as we followed the receptionist into the next room.
This room was evidently the hair salon. Several women had their hair wrapped in foil and turbans, while others were chatting animatedly to men in tight black pants as they made precarious-looking swipes at their hair with flashing scissors. The smell of hair dye competed for dominance with something that might have been floral.
“Hi, my name’s Regina. Welcome to my salon!” a high voice sang out, and all three of us turned as a woman with short grey hair came walking up to us, her heels almost as high as Rosalie’s. “Who’s the lucky bride-to-be?”
Despite her grey hair Regina didn’t look a day older than 35, an impression that was reinforced by a skintight black dress that showcased her décolletage and fell just above her knees, so that her tanned calves were visible. I wondered how much plastic surgery and fake tanner had gone into the improbable vision standing before us.
I was so absorbed in my efforts to approximate Regina’s age that I almost didn’t notice she’d directed her question to Alice and Rosalie. Apparently, my plain appearance didn’t make me a likely contender in the fiancée category.
“Bella is going to be married in a few weeks,” Alice said, gesturing to me. The woman’s smile froze as her gaze slid over my face, taking in my chocolate brown eyes, pin-straight dark hair, and translucent skin. I could practically see her cataloguing the many changes she’d have to make in order for the makeover to be complete.
“I just want my hair trimmed,” I said hurriedly, trying to stave off any thoughts she had of blonde highlights or perms.
“And a full facial treatment, manicure and pedicure, and bikini wax,” Alice added. I turned to glare at her, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment, but Alice ignored me.
“I’m sure we can fix her up,” Regina said, sounding as though she hadn’t given up hope on the highlights yet. I sighed and followed her to the chair farthest from the entrance to the room.
“Maximilian!” Regina called, pushing me into the chair and throwing a long black apron around my front. “Your afternoon appointment is here!”
A tall, slender man with spiky pink hair and a silver eyebrow ring walked toward us, crossing his lightly toned arms in front of his muscled chest. His form-fitting black t-shirt and pants made his bubblegum hair stand out even more than it would have normally. Overall, I thought he looked like a very gay guitarist in a punk band. I was half right.
“You’re Bella Swan?” he asked, and his melodic voice surprised me; I’d expected something throatier.
“Yes,” I replied, trying to smile at him. I think I mostly failed-I was too busy wondering where he was hiding his cutting shears.
Alice gave me a quick peck on the cheek before leaving with Regina on a private tour of the spa. I worried about what ideas Regina might give Alice without me present to run interference.
“Congratulations on your engagement!” Maximilian said, interrupting my dark musings on Alice’s plans. He swiveled me in my chair so that we both faced the mirror, and for the first time he caught a glimpse of Rosalie.
His eyes grew almost comically round. “Wow, aren’t you perfectly delish!” he said, stunned.
Heads turned towards us and the mouths of several people dropped. Rosalie would have attracted less attention if she was Jessica Simpson
Rosalie granted him a small smile, though that might have been because of his choice of words-after all, she \was probably thinking the same thing about him. Of course, she meant it in the literal sense.
“Call me Max, by the way,” he added conspiratorially to both me and Rosalie. “Regina thinks Maximilian sounds more fashionable, but nobody’s called me that since before I lost my virginity.”
He gave a self-deprecating laugh and I giggled, though I my face still felt hot. I thought again about how nice it would be when my embarrassment would no longer be advertised to the whole world.
“So what look are you going for?” he said, holding up strands of my hair and eyeing them critically. “Your hair’s in remarkably good condition-what products do you use?”
“Um…” I stalled, not wanting to admit that I used generic shampoo and conditioner from the grocery store.
“She uses Sisley, from Saks,” Rosalie said, saving me from further embarrassment. Max turned to her and smiled, nodding enthusiastically.
“It’s not cheap, but I find it’s so worth it,” he said, running a comb through my hair. “Of course, it doesn’t look like you style it at all. Have you ever tried loose curls? Or do you prefer it straight?”
“I never really thought about it,” I admitted. I also never thought about nail polish or my bikini line, but I kept that to myself.
“Well you have a great facial structure-really nice cheekbones,” Max said, parting my hair on the left so that a sweep fell over my right eye. “You have a widow’s peak, which really accentuates your heart-shaped face… you should probably stay away from bangs, as a rule. But I think some nice long layers in the front would really make your eyes pop.”
I nodded, not bothering to question how my hair cut would make my nondescript brown eyes any more interesting. They wouldn’t be that shade of brown much longer anyway. At least a few layers wouldn’t be that noticeable, and they’d make Alice happy-a win-win situation.
Max led me over to the sink where he began washing my hair, his big hands massaging my scalp in the warm water. It was such a pleasant feeling that I nearly forgot about the impending horrors of hot wax.
“Now, tell me about this man of yours,” Max said, winking at me as he toweled my hair. I sat back in the chair and tried to avoid looking at my reflection in the mirror-with my hair dripping wet and the black apron draped over me I looked like a drowned cat.
“He’s… beyond description,” I said, struggling to find a way to convey to a stranger the perfection that is Edward Cullen.
“Do you have a picture?” Max asked, combing out my hair once more. He pulled a pair of scissors from his back pocket and began snipping.
“I do,” Rosalie answered him, pulling out a snapshot from her pocketbook. I stared open-mouthed at her-I would have pinned her as the least likely of the Cullens to be sentimental enough to carry around photographs.
“He’s the shorter one with brown hair,” she said to Max, pointing him out. I couldn’t see the picture, though of course I knew exactly what Edward would look like-calm, with a small smile playing around his lips, and a lock of bronze hair sweeping across his forehead. I watched as Max’s eyes threatened to pop out of his head.
“He’s gorgeous,” Max said finally, still staring at the photo. “Are all of them part of a modeling agency?”
“No, they just have really fortunate genetics,” I said dryly.
“I’ll say!” Max said, just barely managing to tear himself away from the photo long enough to resume trimming my hair. “I can’t believe you let him out of your sight-if he was mine I’d drag him everywhere, just for the eye candy!”
The way Max said it wasn’t insulting, and I liked him even more for not giving me the obvious double-take most people did when they realized a guy like Edward had chosen a girl like me.
“So is he really amazing in bed?” Max asked casually, his hands flying as he pulled long strands of hair up with his comb before snipping away miniscule amounts. For what felt like the hundredth time that day I blushed.
Rosalie and Max both laughed at my tight-lipped expression, and despite the unreality of the conversation I found I was actually enjoying myself. Max seemed like someone who, had we met in another lifetime-a lifetime that didn’t include my imminent death-I would have been good friends with. Rosalie just seemed content to be around someone as concerned with style as she was.
He and Rosalie continued to chat about wedding dresses and the year’s best and worst fashion trends, and I chimed in occasionally until the drone from the blow dryer made conversation impossible.
Max had turned my chair away from the mirror so I couldn’t see while he was styling my hair, but once he declared my hair finished, he quickly whirled me around.
“Perfect,” Rosalie said, smiling at him and giving me an approving look. I could hardly take my eyes off the stranger in the mirror: my hair was still long-and thankfully still the same shade of dark brown-but the subtle layers really did frame my face, and it looked much shinier than usual.
“I just used a shine serum,” Max explained, running his hands through the glossy strands. “I kept the style simple-it shouldn’t take you more than five minutes in the morning.”
“Thanks,” I said, genuinely awed that my hair had turned out so well.
“Let me know if you need a stylist for the wedding,” Max said, unbuttoning the apron and helping me to my feet-I’d nearly tripped over the chair’s footrest climbing out. “I’d love an opportunity to meet your Edward.” He gave me a final wink before sticking his scissors in his back pocket and leaving to see Regina, who was greeting more customers at the front desk.
“Bella!” Alice said, startling me as she appeared by my side. She smiled radiantly, inspecting my freshly styled hair. “This is perfect!”
“Where were you?” I asked curiously, hoping that she hadn’t thought of any more treatments for me
“Oh, sorry about that. Tanya called,” she said, frowning.
“What did she say?”
Alice sighed and her shoulders slumped. “Tanya isn’t coming to the wedding,” she said. “Since Irina’s still upset about Laurent, Tanya’s going to stay with her in Denali. So only Kate is coming.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, though I found it difficult to muster up too much concern for Irina-Laurent had tried to eat me, after all.
“Well, that leaves the guest count at only eighteen.”
“It’s going to be a beautiful wedding, no matter how many people show up,” I said, giving her a hug. “Edward and I are just happy you’re planning it.”
“You’re getting married?!” a voice shrieked, causing me to jump. A few feet away Jessica Stanley and Lauren Mallory were staring at us, and Jessica’s curly hair gave her an even more shocked look, as though the coils were standing on end in surprise.
“Jessica, Lauren,” I greeted them, trying to smile. I felt my heart rate increase as I imagined the thoughts that must be running through their minds-- How did she trap him into that? Cullen must have knocked her up, and now they’re having a shotgun wedding…
It was probably a good thing Edward wasn’t here so he couldn’t read their thoughts. I would never want his happiness over our wedding ruined over their pettiness.
And just as suddenly as Jessica and Lauren appeared, reminding me of all the reasons why I was originally reluctant to marry Edward, it hit me: I had absolutely no reason in the world to give in to my fears about other people’s prejudices, whether they were my mom’s or Jessica’s or the Pope’s.
“Yes, Edward and I are getting married in August,” I said loudly, attracting the attention of several people in various stages of hair styling
“Oh, Ms. Mallory! Getting ready for another modeling appointment?” Regina said, swooping down on Lauren and fingering her cornsilk hair, which was barely long enough to reach her chin. “I think Geoffrey could manage to squeeze you in today!”
“We changed our minds,” Lauren said. Regina’s smile slipped slightly and she walked away to attend to another client. I noticed Lauren avoided the question about modeling-maybe her big break hadn’t happened yet.
“It was nice seeing you,” Rosalie said, staring down Lauren and Jessica in the way only gorgeous women can, simultaneously dismissing you and making you wonder when your self-esteem had taken its leave of absence.
Jessica and Lauren left, pausing to look back before they walked out the door, talking in whispers the whole time. As soon as they were gone Alice turned to me, her expression apologetic.
“I’m so sorry, Bella. I didn’t see that happen.”
“It’s okay, Alice,” I said, smiling at her.
“You sure you’re all right? I know you didn’t want the whole town to know, and Jessica and Lauren are bound to call everyone…”
“It’s okay,” I repeated. “It doesn’t matter to me anymore. Really,” I reassured her when she continued to look at me skeptically.
“You’re handling this very well,” Rosalie observed, considering me thoughtfully.
“Maybe I’ve done a bit more growing up,” I said, smiling at Rosalie. I could tell by the way she smiled back that she understood what I meant.
“Now, I hear there’s more torture lined up for me today.” I gave a mock groan and Alice finally grinned back.
“You’ll forgive me before the century is out,” she assured me. I managed to laugh, though I had a feeling I would probably do a lot of yelling and crying very soon. But any tears I shed wouldn’t be over what people in Forks thought of my plans to marry Edward Cullen.
*
Alice and Rosalie dropped me off at home and carried in several hundred pounds of clothes from the car before they waved good-bye. My room, which was small enough to be called cozy, was bursting with shopping bags. I eyed the hot pink Victoria’s Secret bag with a mix of anticipation and nerves.
I still couldn’t believe Rosalie and Alice had managed to convince me to shop there. I had protested at first, but they had arguments ready.
“If you don’t buy lingerie here, Alice will just order you something French and expensive,” Rosalie said. She examined her newly-painted nails as she spoke, appearing utterly indifferent to the argument. But she didn’t fool me for a second. She was enjoying this just as much as Alice was, though probably her enjoyment had more to do with watching me squirm.
“Please, Bella?” Alice pleaded, long eyelashes fluttering as her porcelain doll lips pouted. “Think about what Edward wants, too. This isn’t just your wedding. Don’t you want to make him happy?”
“That’s not fair!” I snapped, starting to get angry. “Edward doesn’t care about what I’m wearing!”
“Of course he will, once he sees you in it,” Rosalie argued. “Bella, if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s what men want. And trust me, just because Edward’s a gentleman doesn’t mean he’s not a man.”
Heat crept up my neck as her words reminded me of Edward’s response that day in the meadow, when I asked if he found me my body attractive, or just the blood pumping through it. I may not be human, but I’m still a man.
“You can either have a say in what we buy now, or I’ll make Edward pick out lingerie from La Perle,” Alice threatened. I didn’t know what La Perle was, but I could guess from Alice’s tone that it would be my worst conception of lingerie, and pricey as well.
“This is such a waste,” I said, desperate now. “I am not wearing lingerie!”
“You want to go to bed in white cotton panties and a ratty t-shirt on your wedding night?” Rosalie said, arching her eyebrows.
“Think of it this way, Bella: any clothes you buy today will fit you forever, so it’s not wasting money,” Alice wheedled. A clique of high-school girls eyed Alice curiously. They probably wanted to know what miracle diet could accomplish such a feat. But Alice continued, oblivious-or, more likely, indifferent-to the odd looks she’d received. “Besides, if you don’t shop now you’ll have to wait years until you can go out in public again.”
“And it’ll be an inconvenience for everyone to shop for you until you adjust. You’ll go through clothes much faster as a newborn-you’ll rip things all the time until you get used to your strength,” Rosalie added. Like Alice, she didn’t bother to lower her voice. Strangers stared as they passed by, though that was probably inevitable as Alice and Rosalie were bound to attract attention regardless of what they said.
I sighed and pushed my hair away from my forehead while Alice and Rosalie waited. I was tempted to give in just to prevent bystanders from overhearing any more of our strange conversation. Reluctantly, I admitted they were probably right about me ruining my clothes as I adjusted to my body’s new strength and speed, not to mention all the additional damage I’d cause just from being so accident prone. Instead of getting battered by vans, breaking glass, and rushing water, I’d be the one doing all the damage to inanimate objects.
And what if Rosalie and Alice were right about Edward expecting something nicer than Hanes on our wedding night? Steeling myself, I nodded once and walked into the store and straight to the nearest panty table.
“Ugh, it’s like an atomic bomb when off,” a saleswoman was saying as she sorted through heaps of underwear. “How do people mess them up so quickly?”
“They should call them WMD’s-Women of Mass Destruction,” a second worker joked.
“Excuse me,” I’d said, and the two women looked up with the same vapid smiles on their faces. “Where can I find your bridal collection?”
Which was how I’d come to possess a full shopping bag’s worth of white lacy panties, bras, and babydolls.
I took the Victoria’s Secret bag and stuffed it under my bed, hoping no one would have cause to look there. It seemed unlikely that Charlie would find it, and I hoped my hiding place would spare us both that embarrassment. I don’t think I could stand another attempt at a sex talk.
Downstairs I heard the door slam, and I jumped.
“Bella!” Charlie yelled. “Something came in the mail for you!”
“Coming!” I called back. Mobilized into action, I gathered all the shopping bags and piled them into my closet.
I went downstairs and saw Charlie sitting at the table. A large brown package was on the counter behind him.
“Hey Bells,” Charlie said, his smile turning into a look of confusion. “Are you wearing makeup? You look different today.”
“No, I just had my hair cut,” I explained. “Alice and Rosalie made me.”
“Rosalie? I didn’t know you hung around with her.”
“I usually don’t, but today she made an exception.”
“Huh. Guess she’s getting used to you being around,” Charlie shrugged. “Anyway, a package came for you. It’s from your mother.” The way he said it was so casual it had to be deliberate.
The last time I’d spoken to my mother was the night Edward told her we were getting married. Sudden fear stabbed at me-what if she was sending my stuff back because she never wanted to see me again? A panicky voice in my head wondered if this box contained my Victoria’s Secret silk pajama set. Wouldn’t that be ironic? I picked the box up from the counter, and the sight of my mother’s handwriting on the address label made my throat dry.
“I’ll open this upstairs,” I said, my voice barely louder than a whisper.
“I’ll be down here if you need me, Bells,” Charlie said, and I could feel him watching me as I carried the package back upstairs to my room.
I figured there was no sense in prolonging the torture. I grabbed a pair of scissors and sliced through the packing tape, the sound of ripping cardboard somehow amplified by my trepidation. An envelope rested on a layer of old newspapers and my hands shook slightly as I opened it, unfolding the notebook paper to read my mother’s note.
Dear Bella,
I know I said a lot of things out of shock during our last conversation. I never wanted to hurt you, but I feel responsible for your happiness. I only want what’s best for you. I’m sending you a few things that I hope will help you make the right decision.
Please think about what I said. Don’t repeat my mistakes.
I love you,
Mom
I blinked back tears as I folded the letter, though I couldn’t say whether they were mostly tears of anger or sadness. I blindly grabbed wads of newspaper, eager to empty the box and get it over with.
To my surprise, the box was already mostly empty. I fished around the bottom until I had pulled out the only two objects in the package-Rusty, my old stuffed kangaroo, and my diary from sixth grade.
It was a plain black journal with the word “Diary” spelled across the front. I remembered buying this during my mom’s infamous Self-Help phase. One of the books she read recommended keeping a diary of all your hopes, dreams, and goals. The self-help gurus loved saying you couldn’t move forward until you knew where you wanted to go, so she’d encouraged me to write down everything I wanted to accomplish.
I unceremoniously packed Rusty back into the cardboard box, more angry at Renee’s transparent attempt to manipulate me than sentimental about seeing my childhood companion. I didn’t put the diary back, though. I sat down on my bed and opened it to the first page, curious to see what my sixth-grade self had envisioned for the future.
My penmanship was, if possible, even sloppier than the handwriting in my Biology notes from junior year I squinted to make out the loopy letters, which were all but illegible:
Dear Diary,
Today Mom bought you for me, and said I should write down ten things I want to do in my life before I turn thirty (I asked why thirty, but she just shrugged). I told her I just want to read and go to school and hang out with my best friend Mary, but Mom’s unstoppable when she gets like this. So, here’s my list of goals:
Ten Things I’ll Do Before I’m Thirty
1. Survive sixth grade. And sixth-period gym.
2. Talk to Jeremy Houston without blushing
3. Finish Anna Karenina
4. Go to college (someplace tropical with plenty of beaches-Miami maybe?)
5. Have successful career (journalism?)
6. Find and marry Mr. Darcy
7. Buy a blue Victorian house with a wrap-around porch and dusty attic (but not haunted like Mary’s)
8. Travel to Australia
9. Get my ears pierced
10. Make a difference in the world
I flipped through the rest of the pages, but there were only a few entries after the first. I remember making it a New Year’s resolution to write regularly, but recording everyday minutiae was just too depressing. Once Renee got over the Self-Help fad she stopped insisting I make lists of goals and dreams, and my diary became one of the few books on my shelf to gather dust.
The sound of distant thunder interrupted my thoughts. “Hi,” a voice said, and my heart leapt.
“Edward!”
He finished climbing through my window and closed it, the sounds of the coming storm muffled once again. Edward sat next to me on the bed and examined my face carefully.
“Charlie’s worried about you,” he said finally, a slight crease between his eyes.
“I’m fine,” I said, glancing down at the diary still in my lap. It was open to my list on the first page.
“What’s this?” he asked, following my gaze. I handed it to him wordlessly, slightly embarrassed about my sixth-grade fantasies.
“It’s just something my mom wanted me to remember,” I said, trying to sound dismissive. Edward read quickly, then turned back to me slowly.
“Are you upset?” he asked finally.
“Sort of,” I answered honestly.
“Would you like to postpone the wedding so you can do some of these things?” he said, his amber eyes softening as he regarded me seriously. “I don’t know about college or a successful career, but the house and Australia are definitely possible. And you’ve already made a difference in my world.”
I blinked at him before realizing the miscommunication.
“I’m not upset about the list,” I said, smiling slightly. “Those were just silly ideas my mom made me write down. I’m just upset about the reason Renee sent it to me.”
“Ah,” was all Edward said.
“I can’t believe I considered journalism as a career,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood. “I would have hated being a reporter. I’d get so nervous I’d stammer through every interview.”
“You will be wonderful at anything you choose to do,” Edward said, leaning over to kiss the top of my head. “Though I would worry about your propensity for attracting danger. You’d be reporting on a wildfire and probably get burned.”
“Or blown away if I was covering a hurricane,” I agreed, laughing softly.
Edward laughed with me, then took my diary and a pen from my desk. He opened the book to a new page and wrote something at the top, then handed it to me.
At the top of the page, written in script so elegant it might have been calligraphy, were the words, “Ten Things I’ll Do Before I’m Nineteen.”
I felt the mood between us change, as if the storm had entered my room. Electricity buzzed in the air and an imaginary breeze raised goose bumps along my arms. I was the weathervane, spinning in the wake of Edward’s storm.
I took the pen from him and carefully wrote out, 1. Lose my virginity. I handed the pen and paper back to Edward. “You have to write ten, too,” I said softly.
“But I’m already over nineteen,” he said, his lips ghosting across my cheek as he kissed me.
I took the pen and wrote below Edward’s title, “Ten Things We’ll Do After We’re Married.”
“Here,” I said.
He nodded and, underneath my entry, wrote, 2. Make love to Bella Cullen. I blushed furiously but thrilled at his words.
3. See the world, I wrote next, thinking of a likely visit to Antarctica as well as my earlier desire to visit Australia.
“We’ll have the longest honeymoon in history,” Edward murmured as he read my words. He squeezed my hand before taking the pen from me and writing, 4. Teach Bella how to play baseball.
“I already know how to play baseball,” I said, remembering my first evening with the Cullens.
“You thought baseball had half-time, and that the season began in fall,” Edward pointed out.
I did not dignify that with a response, except to write 5. Beat Edward and Emmett in an arm-wrestling match. I smiled, imagining how nice it would be to finally be better than Edward at something-even if it was only for a year.
Edward laughed, then penned, 6. Buy Bella a really fast car and challenge her to a race.
“I’m not abandoning my truck,” I huffed, though secretly I thought the idea of Edward drag racing was sort of hot. It might even be worth it to let him buy me a car just to see the intense, joyous look on his face as he attempted to break the sound barrier.
“Once you can walk faster than the speed limit you’ll be begging me for a car,” Edward teased, tracing an ice-cold finger down my neck. The image of Edward and me speeding along an abandoned road made me shiver as his skin touched mine.
Who said discretion was the better part of valor, I thought, and muttered, “We’ll see who’s begging who.” Edward raised his eyebrows at me. I flushed as I slowly wrote 7. Learn to give amazing blow jobs.
I handed the diary to Edward and he studied it passively. I knew he was perfectly aware of my heart fluttering in my chest and I wondered, briefly, if he would miss this one insight into my thoughts and feelings.
Edward didn’t look at me as he wrote a response to my entry. A part of me-a very large part of me-was terrified that I was doing this wrong. Even as I felt my body responding to fantasies of Edward, even as I sensed the heat rising along my skin and making me hunger for Edward’s touch, I wondered if I seemed terribly naïve. Although Edward was as virginal as me, he still had a century of human experiences to work with, plus an unobstructed view into every person’s most intimate thoughts. What did I know about being sexy? No matter how much lingerie Rosalie and Alice made me buy, I would still be uncoordinated and tomato-red once it came off.
I was so busy fighting the simultaneous urges to jump Edward and jump out the window that it took me a second to comprehend what Edward had written.
8. Make Bella scream my name.
I looked at him looking at me. His head was tilted towards the bed, so that he gazed at me through his dark eyelashes. I knew intuitively that, if he was capable of it, he’d be just as flushed as I was.
My heart beat faster as I placed the diary on my nightstand and climbed onto Edward’s lap, straddling him.
“Nine,” I whispered, letting my warm breath ghost against his ear. “Make Edward’s every fantasy come true.”
I felt sick with lust; my head was literally buzzing, and I was unable to stop myself from kissing along his jaw line. My hands clenched his shoulders tightly, as though I was trying to anchor myself to him.
“Bella,” he said, and while he’d probably meant it as a warning, the way the words came out sounded more like a moan. The thought of Edward losing his self-control-the self-control he wore like a shield every moment of every day-undid me. I pushed my hands underneath his shirt and rocked against him. I felt the pressure of his erection pushing against my jeans, and the jolts of pleasure made my thighs shake.
“Please,” I gasped, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and moved my hips back and forth, putting as much force into the motion as I could. I felt myself getting sweaty, and my cotton underwear becoming damp. I imagined him entering me… if only I didn’t have these clothes on…
Edward’s only answer was to flip me onto my back and continue the frantic rhythm I’d started, holding his upper body erect and thrusting against me.
I tugged him down so that his chest was flush with mine as we moved our hips in tandem. Even through two layers of clothing his body mimicked the sensation of stepping into an air-conditioned room after hours spent lying in the sun. The coolness swept over me, and I wanted to dig my fingernails into his skin, rake my hands through his hair, pant into his mouth how much I loved him, wanted him, needed him inside me.
“Edward,” I whispered against his throat, and I angled my hips so that his thrusts were hitting that same pleasurable spot every time-
Then Edward kissed me, his bottom lip just barely grazing mine.
The contrast between the friction of our bodies and the soft pressure of his mouth made me gasp, and even Edward’s cold skin couldn’t keep the rush of heat from overtaking me. My legs shook and I could no longer keep up with Edward’s rhythm. I just lifted my hips and pushed against him as hard as I could as my muscles contracted, spreading waves of pleasure through my body. My breath left me entirely and my heart beat louder, as if to compensate for the other organ’s failure.
My uncontrollable shaking lasted for a few seconds as I finally recovered my breath. Strands of hair were sticking to my forehead, but my body felt boneless, so I didn’t attempt to brush the sweaty locks aside. I lay beneath Edward, panting as the rush of my orgasm subsided.
“Ten,” Edward said, sounding hoarse. “Spend every day making you look like this.”
*
I sighed, reluctant to move from my position curled against Edward. My head fit perfectly in the crook of his arm, and the lush leather sofa was immensely comfortable. Edward heard my sigh and shifted, disentangling his arm from around my shoulders.
“Time to go?” he asked.
I nodded and stood up, trying to remind myself that I was happy for the opportunity to make Charlie dinner. It was harder than I thought it would be, especially since bodily contact with Edward was even more tempting than usual. I wondered if the smell of my blood was changing with all the additional hormones that had undoubtedly been released in the past few days.
I waved good-bye to Alice and Jasper, who were both watching the weather report on T.V. Alice had already scheduled the wedding for the one clear night this month, so I knew she only watched it because she thought the meteorologist’s predictions were funny.
Edward picked up his car keys from the kitchen counter and I smiled, thinking about his proposed race.
“What are you thinking?” Edward asked as he led me into the garage.
“Just remembering something,” I said, trying to will myself not to blush.
Edward sensed the flow of blood to my cheeks and chuckled as he opened the passenger door for me.
“Can I drive?” I asked abruptly, suddenly inspired to see how well I could handle a sports car. Before I’d been terrified by the prospect of driving faster than 55 mph, but after feeling the rush of riding on a motorcycle, completely freeing myself to the wind and the pavement and the grip of my hands on the handlebars, I realized how much fun it could be. And while I felt a pang for Jacob, I knew that this was something I could share with Edward. Of course, it also helped that there was no real danger in my driving at high velocity with him; his reflexes were so honed that he could easily prevent an accident. Compared to his plan to save me from a jet plummeting to Earth, rescuing me from crashing into a deer in the road would be laughably easy.
Edward smiled, apparently delighted. “Of course,” he said, and faster than I could see he opened the driver’s door and waited for me to walk over to him.
At first I thought I was going to feel intimidated by his Volvo’s sleek dashboard and smooth handling, but I was beginning to understand the temptation to drive so fast. With a car like this, 70 miles an hour was as calm as a stroll through the park.
Not that I’d admit it to him.
“So, do you like it?” he said, grinning and adjusting the rearview mirror for me.
“It’s okay,” I hedged, pumping the gas pedal. The speedometer inched its way to 75 mph, but it still felt more like 20. Amazing.
“So, I have a question for you,” Edward said. “It’s about your list.”
The feeling of ease quickly vanished and was replaced by something akin to an adrenaline rush that was entirely unrelated to my driving at dangerously high speeds.
Edward smiled, correctly interpreting my reaction. “Not that list. The one you wrote as a child.”
“Oh,” I said, struggling to remember what I’d written. The list that followed was so much more powerful than the first that it eclipsed it entirely. “What about it?”
“Did you ever finish Anna Karenina?”
I laughed, the tension that had been building in my shoulders easing slightly. “No, I didn’t. I tried very hard but I just couldn’t get through it. I kept getting the different characters mixed up, or forgetting who said what to whom. It was a New Year’s resolution every year for a while until I finally admitted defeat.”
“Death by Russian literature,” Edward said solemnly.
“How about you? Have you read it?”
“No, actually,” Edward replied. “Tolstoy was supposed to be the world’s greatest novelist, but I was always afraid I would read it and be disappointed by-Bella, slow down!”
I eased my foot off the gas but I was miffed; I was only going 75, and Edward routinely went over 100.
“Slower!” Edward said, and it was then I realized something was wrong. There was a desperate edge to Edward’s voice and his words came out much sharper than usual. His eyes were scanning the road in front of us, as though he was expecting something-
And then a giant wolf leapt into the road directly in front of us.
I didn’t have time to react. I didn’t even have time to brake.
Edward ripped my seatbelt in half and yanked me from my seat, drawing me toward the passenger’s side of the car. I felt his arms reach around me like a cage, and heard a sound like a drain being pulled from a bathtub full of water. A suctioning roar filled my ears and I finally understood: Edward had removed the car door.
The next thing I knew we were flying through the air, but it wasn’t in a graceful arc. I felt myself tumbling, jostled from side to side as if I was on a roller coaster. It was then I realized we weren’t flying through the air-we were hurtling across the pavement at 75 miles per hour, and the only thing protecting me from becoming road kill was the granite arms locking me in place.
I think I screamed, but the sound of Edward’s body hitting the pavement was like a gong inside my head, so loud that I couldn’t hear my own voice. I felt rather than simply heard the reverberations, and my body shook with each impact.
After what felt like several terrifying hours, but what must have actually been seconds, we came to a stop. I looked up into Edward’s face, too dazed to do much more than blink at him, my mouth open in shock.
He gave me an agonized look before standing up and turning away from me to face the wolf that had run us off the road.
“Paul,” Edward said, and his voice was so cold, so lethal, that it reminded me of Edward’s fight against Victoria. This time, however, he wasn’t facing an unpredictable vampire-he was facing an unpredictable werewolf who had the power to forever banish the Cullens from Forks.
Edward snarled, but it must have been in response to Paul’s thoughts because there was no change in Paul’s stance. His teeth were bared, the long canines on level with Edward’s eyesight. From my position lying sprawled on the ground, Paul looked gargantuan. It was easy to see now why Jacob had thought himself a monster.
“I’ll tell her,” Edward snapped, and it looked like he was frozen. He hadn’t moved an centimeter, his body locked in a protective stance between me and the wolf.
“Leave now, or damn the consequences,” Edward said, enunciating every syllable with murderous precision. I hadn’t known it was possible for his voice to get so cold.
Paul gave a snap of his jaws and left, disappearing into the trees on the side of the road.
Edward remained still, presumably waiting until he could be sure Paul had truly gone.
“Edward?” I asked, trying to sit up. The world tilted, so I lay back down again.
“You’re going into shock,” Edward said, instantly lowering himself into a crouch beside me. “I’m taking you straight to Carlisle.”
“What did he want?” I asked, trying to remember what I’d just overheard, but it was like water slipping through my hands and sluicing off my skin. Even my vision was watery; Edward’s beautiful face was hazy, like an impressionist painter’s portrait.
“He had a warning, that’s all,” Edward said. I didn’t feel him lift my body, but my hair was swirling around my face and trees were moving, so I supposed that meant we were on our way back to his house.
“You’re so beautiful,” I said, closing my eyes. I thought I might even be asleep. “You’re like a painting, or a statue, or a tree.”
There was silence, and then a huff of breath that might have been a shadow of laughter. “A tree?”
“With roots, and sunlight and green, like your eyes were,” I said. I was very sure this made perfect sense. “I love trees,” I added, and opened my eyes again so I could see the trees flashing by.
This was a bad idea. The last thing I saw was a blur of mossy green before I blacked out.
*
Chapter 3