A/N: Finally here it is, I'm so sorry for the long wait.

Thank you edwardzukorocks, JeNnNn, justjennie and cdunbar for helping me make this worth reading. I know it was a bit different to what you expected.

And extra thanks to cdunbar for beta'ing this, even though she was reluctant at first and scared the bejesus out of me.

DIsclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer, 'Jane Eyre' belongs to Charlotte Bronte and Sonnet 36 belongs to William Shakespeare.

1. Let Me Confess That We Two Must Be Twain

' "On a stile in Hay Lane I saw a quiet little figure sitting by itself. I passed it as negligently as I did the pollard willow opposite to it: I had no presentiment of what it would be to me: no inward warning that the arbitress of my life- my genius for good or evil- waited there in humble guise." '

Mr Rochester talking about the first time he saw Jane ~ 'Jane Eyre' by Charlotte Brontë

I felt her before I saw her. I knew she was here at this party. I didn't know her name, I didn't know what she looked like, but I knew she was here. I could feel it in the hairs that stood up at the back of my neck and I could hear it in the strains of conversation floating nearby. There was no sense of being pulled, of being drawn like a magnet to the person l'd spent six years looking for, a person who I'd never met or seen. I simply knew she must exist, how could she not. I sometimes fancied maybe she was looking for me too, that one day we'd find each other. I traveled whole continents looking for her. I searched among Italian singers, French dancers and English violinists. she was nowhere to be found. And now at this small, unimpressive gathering, celebrating the glee of an overgrown child's bloodlust, I might just find her. Ironic, how in all my wanderings it was back home in Chicago I'd find her. Finally.

I scanned the crowd, the tempest of people swilling around me caught up in their mating rituals. I wasn't here to waste time and play games; she was here and I would find her. She was hidden, too much rhetoric and extravagance was in the air. I knew this wasn't for her. I knew she'd be cowering somewhere, her brilliance dimmed by the proximity of such monotonous company. But she would shine, I would find her and make her shine. And she would be the most brilliant, dazzling star ever to shoot into the world. I would let myself be destroyed by her fire, I would let her consume the very atoms of my being if it would bring me close to her. To feel what it would be like to hold her, to feel what it would be like to be loved by her. I knew her love would be guarded and carefully metered out to very few. She would measure each drop of that precious commodity, not wasting any, for how can you waste something so precious? Something I'd give my life to obtain, something I'd had and lost so long ago.

Over by the wall I caught a glimmer, a shining beacon like a halo by the wall. I forced my way through the cattle around me, fawning over and hating each other. Near the corner of the room I focused in on where I thought I saw the light. An unremarkable girl stood sipping wine, dressed all in black with long, damp brown hair. The girl was hunched over slightly, one arm wrapped around her waist, her eyes cast down. I was wrong. This was no shining star. This girl was blank, a void, nothing. There was no fire, no passion, no spark. Her face was empty, her posture indifferent, this girl was not who I was seeking.

I frantically turned my head around looking to see where the beacon had moved to. She was still here, I knew she was. It was a simple fact nothing could deter me from. I moved away from the inconsequential girl who had gotten my hopes up, who I couldn't help but feel a little hate towards. I knew it was irrational, illogical, but her presence had taunted me, mocking me with a promise of fulfilling every hope and wish I knew was my right to own. I'd had my fill of mannequins, hollowed out shells with a mask of beauty and promise. I wanted the real thing, the vessel I could pour myself into and give everything I was.

I repeatedly searched around me, my neck starting to strain with the exertion. But I could not find her, I could not see her no matter how hard I looked. The beacon had disappeared into the thick lust filled atmosphere of the party, and my hope with it. My heart felt heavy and sore, the disappointment a dreadful anguish that crippled me. I cast my head down and ran my hand over my closed eyes, pushing back the hair that fell across my forehead. Suddenly a powerful scent engulfed me; it was sweet and permeated every pore in my skin. A cool pressure on my shoulder caused me to turn around and I found myself looking into a pair of beautiful, periwinkle blues eyes.

"You look like you could use a drink," the beauty said.

The temptress had long strawberry blonde hair that rippled and cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. She wore a form fitting blue dress that matched her eyes. She was devastating, dangerous and well aware of the fact. This was not the woman whose presence I felt so strongly, the woman I thought was here. I realised my love was a ghost flitting through crowds and dark places. She made me follow her blindly like a fool, beckoning me with her glow and her warmth, and every time she was just in reach she slipped out of my grasp, vanishing. The light she brought with her extinguished, and all hope with it. No, she was not here. This crooked vision before me was not the one I sought. But she offered me a brief escape from solitude. I had not been with a woman for over six months and I was a man. I had always been virile, unaccustomed to abstinence. My quiet sensitive nature hid how truly primal I could be.

I surveyed the creature before me, her beautiful lips curved into a flirtatious smirk, her periwinkle eyes twinkling. She must have sensed my approval because she moved her hand from my shoulder down my arm to my hand. Taking it, she moved us through the crowd. Plucking up two glasses of wine from a nearby table she stationed us by a bookcase. For the next few hours I allowed wine to cloud my senses, dull my sight, slow my thought process. The noise of conversation around us faded away, we drew closer, angled ourselves to show our desire. I reached out to graze her skin, gliding it over her shoulder, her neck. She in turn reached out for me, but it was only flesh she touched, insubstantial and yielding. Soon the desire in her eyes stoked the fire within me, and I could resist no longer. I grabbed her forcefully by the waist and pressed her to me, forcing her head to roll back so I could look her in the eyes. I wanted to see her feel me. I was not disappointed, her eyes widened and she gasped. She clutched at my shoulders, acknowledging I was the stronger, the more powerful, the more dominant. She may have started this little game of seduction, but the alcohol had numbed the ache in my heart sufficiently to end it. My lost hope was carefully tucked away for me to mourn tomorrow.

"Please, Edward." Her voice was rough and needy, her body pliable as a piece of straw. She was completely in my power, her body now solely for me to derive pleasure from, I thought in my drunken, exulted state.

Our next movements were a blur as we clumsily fled the living room and ran upstairs, bursting into the first door we saw. It had a bed, it was more than adequate. I would have taken her on the floor otherwise, without a moment's hesitation. She pulled away from me and tugged off her clothes, the moonlight revealed a slim figure, carefully maintained and utterly unoriginal. There was no unique beauty to her. She was much like any other woman I had had before, beautifully empty, exquisitely common. But I no longer cared, I no longer thought. I acted on my basest instincts.

I unzipped my trousers, threw her to the bed and thrust into her from behind. I was vaguely aware of her repositioning herself, of her guiding one of my hands to the apex between her legs that was a source of such sweet pleasure to her. The other of my hands she moved to her breast. I circled them both lazily and mechanically, too concerned with reaching my own Valhalla to worry whether she found hers. I dimly heard her talking, but I had regressed to grunts and groans, no longer blessed with the power of speech. I was an animal, I was a man. I was rough, and selfish, and greedy. I drilled myself into her, not caring if I tore her in two, my need was too great, my release too important. Just as I was about to explode within her, grant her weak, unattractive body the privilege of housing my sperm, a shrill cry of expletives tore through my ears into the deepest fathoms of my muddled mind.

I lifted my head dumbly in the direction of the noise where a girl stood in front of the closed bedroom door. She shouted some more loudly, what I couldn't hope to understand. She then seemed to slump back against the door, her small body sagging, held up only by the scarf she clutched to that hung on the back of the door. She registered in my mind. I knew I'd seen her before, she was the unremarkable girl. The silent plain one the beacon had tricked me into believing held what I had been searching for. But she looked different. Her eyes were glassy and wide, her face expressive, contorted in panic and fear.

She was different than what I had seen downstairs and a wicked thought crept into my head. The possibility that the ethereal glimmer I had followed had not misled me, that it directed me truly and did not disappear, but crept back to where it rightfully belonged, the heart of this girl. And I had spurned the possibility, for she had shown no promise, no grace or interest. But what if I had been wrong, and now this girl, who truly was in fact her, witnessed my attempts at distracting my soul from drowning in that ever present well of sorrow where my heart should be. That evil spirited thought took root in my addled brain and made me laugh. My recent lack of control over my body caused it to come out manic and hysterical.

The woman who I had been using to pleasure myself abruptly moved away from me, causing me to feel a chill on my chest and member. I realized my shirt had been unbuttoned and, still laughing, I covered myself back up, trying to rein in my less than human side by appearing appropriately attired. I felt my mood lighten, even though I had not achieved what I had sought it would not be hard to find again, I still felt almost cheerful. I found the small girl's antics amusing, her anger that of a small kitten. And the irony if she had been her, I was drunk enough to still find that funny too. The bumbling man child that was Emmett McCarty burst into the room, sending the girl to the floor, earning another chuckle or two from me and alerting him to my presence. He asked me why I was here, wherever here was, the girl told him and he turned to me for validation. I proudly verified her statement, for I had proven my strength tonight, over powering and dominating one who believed herself stronger than I. Emmett foolishly questioned my motives, so I answered equally foolishly. I tried to rise but my balance was impaired and I clutched at thin flimsy material for support. This of course made Emmett painfully aware of my inebriated state, but I was unashamed.

I managed to manoeuvre myself over to a bookcase I saw in front of me against the opposite wall. I clutched the shelf and tried to force my eyes to focus on the titles, as though I was trying to force sobriety upon myself. It was having no effect and I was about to give up and allow my body to slump to the floor when a presence beside me made itself known.

"Why are you sill here? Why haven't you left with your girlfriend? What kind of freak laughs after being caught having sex in other people's beds anyway?"

I looked down on the angry little sprite that had appeared next to me, petulantly thrusting its lower lip out at me. Her eyes glinted and shone, her hair was in disarray, a perfect veil of disorder. She was a child, even intoxicated I saw that. Her curves indicated she was a woman, but her eyes were young and naive. Her voice soft and high. Her nose was slightly scrunched up and her forehead crinkled. She was a comical picture of adorableness and I couldn't help but grin at her. Her anger and annoyance increased and she childishly demanded, "Why are you smiling!" I expected her to stomp her foot and believed I saw the temptation in her eyes. I decided to answer equally as childishly, wanting to provoke her. "You look really cute when you're angry." I leaned toward her and effectively backed her into the wall. I continued on my path despite her glare, looking into her eyes and seeing my reflection in deep brown discs. She truly did have eyes you could get lost in. I began to feel like Narcissus. I could not pull away from her stare, nor could I keep myself from closing the proximity between us. I briefly wondered what it would be like to kiss her, certain she would be just as soft and yielding as the woman before her. Yet this little one, with the body of a woman and the innocence of a child, was a curiosity I wished to decipher, I could no longer disregard the possibility that this was her.

A blinding, all consuming pain exploded in my testicles. I twitched, gasped and sank to the floor cupping myself. I felt hands on my shoulders as I willed my testicles to descend from my ribcage. Slowly the pain lessened and I was able to grunt in reply to Emmett's question over my wellbeing.

To help the pain ebb away I let anger well up in its place, anger I directed at the vicious little witch who had inflicted such pain upon me. I turned to look up at her and with all the malice I felt toward her I said, "So not only will I probably never be able to have sex again, I'm probably infertile now as well. Thanks a lot." Shock momentarily registered on her face before she set her jaw stubbornly. Drawing on an inner power her stature and demeanor wouldn't indicate, she coldly said, "Well you shouldn't try and kiss people who didn't want to be kissed. I was defending myself."

"I don't recall you saying no," I answered equally coldly.

"I think me shouting at you just moments before made it pretty clear I would not want to kiss you if the opportunity arose."

"Well closing your eyes seemed to be a clear indication." My voice slurring over the words.

"The grimace wasn't," she spat. "Why is it my fault you won't be able to have sex again?" she asked in a confused tone, arching an eyebrow.

"I think you'd have difficulty too if someone started screaming at you just before you were about to cum. I nearly had a fucking heart attack. I'm probably gonna get flashbacks whenever I try now," I answered, speaking coarsely and impatiently. She placed her hands on her hips and fought to hide my amusement at such a childish gesture. Such an indication of her naivety.

"Good," she spoke with hate.

I raised my eyebrows, surprised by the force of the malice she had shown in just that one word. "Why is that good?" My voice came out forced and I stood up, shrugging off the weight of Emmett's hands. I stalked toward her as she began speaking again.

"Because it is. I sincerely hope that the next time you find yourself on the brink of nirvana, so close to paradise you could practically taste it, whether you're with someone or by yourself, you hear me screeching in your ear and that exquisite pleasure is denied to you forever."

I stood in front of her once more, using my height to crowd her and make her feel vulnerable. I stared her down, she looked back at me and I felt myself falling once more. Yet her calm and steady gaze only infuriated me further, and I was sure I was visibly shaking from the need to unleash my anger. I felt Emmett's hand on my shoulder once more.

"Edward, dude step away from Bella. Remember what happened last time." The memory made my testicles ache even more despite my overwhelming anger. I felt a growing feeling of unease as the alcohol began to take its toll, mingled with my pain.

"Don't worry, Emmett, I have no intention of kissing her. I don't like the taste of lemon," I sneered, still looking the girl directly in the eye, unsure whether I would ever be able to look away. That is until I heard what she said next.

"Good, because I'm not particularly fond of the taste of vomit."

That was all it took, bile rose in the back of my throat and nausea caused my knees to buckle. I felt Emmett catch me as my vision faded. I was pulled over to sit down on the bed and I rested my limp arms on my knees, my head a dead weight that hung down. I could only focus on two things, fighting the extreme urge to rid my stomach of the poison I had taken into my body, and the thought that if I had indeed found her, I very well may have just lost her before I had truly begun.

A/N: Please please please review cos I have no idea what you're going to make of this.

Oh and I'm a beta now, so go check out The Coven by phoenixhunter47. It's creepy, atmospheric and amazing.

Thanks for reading.