Updated September 20, 2008

Hi all! This is officially my first attempt at a story that is not a oneshot. :-) Please review and let me know what you think. And, don't forget you can also check out my Jared/Kim oneshot called My Never.

Disclaimer - Don't own anything that you recognize, just a few OCs.

Prologue

I once read a story that said something like, "It would begin with the end." And, really, that is where my story seemed to take off.

In that moment, looking my death in the eye, I realized that I had failed to do any real living before now. My life was flashing before my eyes and… it was boring.

Born.

Walking.

Talking.

School.

Graduation.

College.

Graduation.

I was 21 and had never lived.

I made a promise in that moment to fix that.

If I survived, of course.

The source of my life or death predicament was very odd indeed, especially for someone like me, whose life was the epitome of average and boring.

I was on the edge of a cliff, the ocean waves crashing below. And in front of me was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. His wavy blonde hair and tall, lean body seemed like the type models would kill for.

Now, this may not seem like a life and death situation, more like a romantic fantasy out of a harlequin romance novel.

Did I mention he had red eyes? Eyes that were slowly fading to a pitch black? And, he had just knocked over several trees while chasing me? Trees that were hundreds of feet high?

But, he was gorgeous. What a way to die…

"I have never experienced a scent" he paused to sniff the air, "mmm… a scent like yours."

Had my heart not been pounding loudly in my ears, I might have taken a moment to ponder why I smelled any particular way to him. I was not one to wear perfume.

As it was, I continued to back slowly to the cliff edge, much like a silly animal over taken by its predator.

To add to the dramatic scene, as cliché as could be possible, a storm quickly hit the coast, drowning me in rain and adding a sense of terror with thunder.

As if I wasn't already sure of death, I was now in the forest with lightning crashing around me.

Yep, I was going to die.

I let out a laugh at this thought.

"Not many laugh at a moment like this," my gorgeous predator said, looking slightly confused, as though questioning my sanity. "Most people scream."

"I'm not most people," I said, finding my voice. I quickly decided that I was not going to spend my last minuets in a continued state of silence. If he was going to kill me, I could at least annoy him.

As the wind rustled a bush to my side loudly, I took a deep breath.

"What gym do you go to? I would kill to be in such good shape. Although, I suppose you do kill to be in such good shape. Do you kill often? Why are you eyes red?"

All this poured out as he moved closer to me. With each question, his grimace became more pronounced. I could see I was wearing his patience down. I only hoped he snapped and killed me quickly, so I didn't suffer.

The rustling in the bush suddenly increased, causing both me and my attacker to glance over.

That glance would change my life.

The rustling I had earlier ignored, attributing it to the sudden storm, now seemed to be caused by a large beast. Its features seemed canine, much like a wolf. Only it was large, much too large. Its size was more like a bear.

Oddly, it was still not as scary as the now black eyed man. More odd was the position it took, seeming to protect me, and the expression on my predator's face, one of shock and fear.

It took maybe a second for the man to decide a course of action. Much to fast to be humanly possible, confirming my suspicion that he was something other than human, he fled into the woods, the wolf-bear flying after him.

Was it possible? I wasn't going to die?

As I felt ice hold hands grip my shoulders, pulling me into a rock hard body, I mentally groaned.

Spoke to soon.

"Gotcha," the beautiful monster whispered in my ear. As the hairs on my neck stood up, I felt his mouth move to my neck. In that moment, a movie floated into my mind. Underworld.

The man and the creature someone sparked the memory of vampires and werewolves. Was that the answer to this situation? Was this man a vampire?

"Will you taste as good as you smell?" he asked, his mouth now on my neck.

Yep, he's a vampire.

At that moment, the newly dubbed werewolf plowed into the vampire-man, knocking him away from me.

I cringed away as the wolf tore the man to pieces. When the cries of the vampire ended, I chanced a glance.

Standing there, dressed only in a pair of cut-off shorts was a young man, native in appearance, seemingly close to my age, lighting the vampire bits on fire.

When he turned to face me, I could not help myself. As though pulled to him by a magnetic force, I threw myself in his arms. When I met his eyes, embarrassed by my action, the expression on his face shocked me and caused me to do something I would never do, that was ten times as embarrassing.

I kissed him.

Chapter One

I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. For someone who needed to make a living turning the thoughts in my mind into words on paper, I was thoroughly screwed.

Writer's Block.

I suppose with the recent events in my life, I did have some excuse. But that did not pay the bills and keep my life moving forward.

I, Megan Akers, worked as a columnist for the Seattle Times. At only 21 years of age, I had worked very hard to get this position, normally held by people twice my age or more. I had graduated early and top of my class. And, I was a damn good writer. It was thought I was a contender for the Pulitzer this year.

'Not having a life helped,' I thought wryly.

My column focused on seemingly unknown current events in the state of Washington, picking cities and towns and discussing their local top news.

It took skill to make some of our small towns sound like they had things happening that everyone should care about; to make something that should be 50 words into a 500 word column.

I was currently looking at the city of Issaquah and their seventh annual 'Dogs, Dogs, Dogs' party. It was very cute. But somehow, my gift for making this seem interesting was not with me.

I jumped at a knock on my door.

"Meg? You got a minute?" I heard my boss call outside my office door.

"Yeah!"

As my boss, Greg Merki, walked in, I noticed right away he did not look happy, nor stressed about a new issue. That was not a good sign.

When he took a seat in my office with a heavy sigh, I only got more nervous.

"Meg, I have known you a long time," he began. And he had. Greg had known my family for years. When the last Metro Editor had retired, I had been the one to suggest my father's long time friend, who at the time was a journalism professor, be considered for the position.

Since most of my job was done on my own, we had an easy work relationship. Trips to my office were rare for him. So, I had to wonder that I had done.

"You need to take a break," he said softly, still avoiding looking at me. "I am not firing you. Think of it as a sabbatical. Go and work on your novel and take a break from all this. You are the only employee we have who has never touched their vacation time. Take a few months. Please?"

With his final word, he finally looked up and met my gaze. For the first time, he really looked old. Graying hair. Wrinkles. But, most noticeable were his eyes. He looked at me much like a frustrated father.

I realized that for all my attempts to keep my life in check and move on from the events in September, only last month, I had failed to hide my stress from Greg.

My father, Nathaniel Akers had died from cancer almost a year ago now. After that, my mother, Danielle, became pretty catatonic. I had never realized how connected they were, but without him around she seemed to lose her reason for being. She passed on only a year later, heart attack. That was September.

My dad's death, although painful, was expected. I had time to mourn before he was really gone. But losing my mother hurt the most, because it felt like I was not good enough. That anger had caused me to through myself into work, trying to prove that I was worth something. I didn't want to fail and let them down.

Looking at Greg, I would have done whatever he asked, with that expression on his face. Lucky me, he asked me to go on vacation.

Before I could reply, my door opened quickly to show one of the news newbies looking excited.

"Meg! I think I have a story for your next column! We just got word of bear sightings! In the area around Forks and that reservation La Push!"

Both Greg and I shared a glance that said, 'Oh boy…?'

I decided to take this and let Greg have a moment.

"Bears are hardly news in the northwest," I said calmly.

"These bears are huge! And did I mention the bodies?!" He said bodies with a grin as though dead bodies were Christmas gifts with big red bows. Which in a news room, they were. They were gold.

As such, they caught Greg's attention. "Bodies?"

"Yep! I heard the feds have got an eye on the situation, but are letting the local PD try to get a handle on it. Animal Control is having a field day out there."

At this point, my attention was caught. As a journalist, I had to cover this story. I HAD to. And, if I was going to write that novel like Greg wanted, I needed to go somewhere quiet. And I always wrote better during a rain storm. Forks was perfect.

"Greg, I got this," I said turning quickly to face him.

"But, I just told–"

"Where better to write than Forks?" I said cutting him off. "I have a family friend that lives there. And I can see first hand what is going on down there."

So, with a nod from by editor, I was on my way to the little town of Forks.